a/n- Chapters 1-7 were written quite a while before Larry announced he was going on a space shuttle, and Millie came into the picture.

I kept looking at my watch. Mr. Boveda was due to arrive pretty soon.Since I was now a private investigator as a result of losing an eye during a raid gone bad, there was no way to turn him down eventhough he wanted to see me because someone had painted weird symbols on his beamer.

"Let me know when Mr. Boveda gets here" I told my assistant, Frank. He was a freshman in one of my brother's classes and interested in getting into law enforcement. I hired him because he was good with computers and I needed someone to answer the phones when I was doing fieldwork.

He asked me, "Do you follow Mrs. Pert last night?"

"Yeah I did."

"I could have gone" He protested. Damn this kid was whiny.His brown eyes gave me a reproving look. They were highlighted by his wrinkled brown shirt. Hasn't he heard of something called an iron?

"I had to follow her into a bar" I told him, but added. "You can write the report for me."

"Write the report?" he repeated without much enthusiasm.

"If you wanna get into law enforcement, you're gonna have to learn how to turn facts, and notes into a coherent, informative report." I told him. It felt good to delegate again. I put the various materials on his desk. "I'll need it by tomorrow morning. Mr. Pert is coming at one"

Groaning, he got to work and I went into my office.

Sighing, I sat on the nice leather chair, straighted stuff on my cherrwood desk and looked out at the cityscape. Charlie, along with leasing the space for me, got nice furniture for my office, as a surprise, in the hopes of attracting better cases. Not only did the space have an office for me, there was also an area for a receptionist, not to mention a light colored desk.. Before I knew it, Frank knocked.

"He's here?" I asked in a whisper.

"Yeah." he nodded.

"Let him in."

Mr. Boveda soon came in, and I got up to shake his hand. He had salt and pepper hair, a graying mustache, and a firm handshake.

"How are you? What can I do?"

"As I said on the phone, I need you to find out who vandalized my car. The police were useless!" he took out some photos from a mahogany brown briefcase. "I took my own pictures when the police left."

Carefully, I studied the pictures. Somebody had used regular, not spray paint to draw various odd symbols on the man's car, which was a beamer.

"When did you find your car in this condition?" I asked.

"I saw the damage after my wife and I left the retirement party of a friend of ours. The parking lot was deserted. According to the police, there are no security cameras there."

"Do you know of anyone who would want to do this?" Maybe this guy had enemies?

"I'm an eye doctor...but I haven't had any problems with patients that I can remember"

"How about your wife?"

"She's a teacher, but at a private school, Flintridge Preparatory" he relaxed into the chair.

"Vandalism goes across various boundaries, Mr. Boveda" I said seriously.

"Her students love her!"

"She hasn't mentioned any giving her trouble?"

"No..."

"I'll need to study these, and check with my resources" I told him, knowing that Cal Sci would be my next stop.

"Vincent said you were in the F.B.I" he nodded with understanding.

"You mean Vincent Fullerton?" I asked. Elizabeth, last time I heard, was going to a boarding school in Boston. Her father worried about the cult getting its claws on her again. So he sent her a mere two months ago.

"We've got mutual friends" he said.

"I see..."

"How long do you need to figure out what these symbols mean?" he asked.

"I'll have a report ready in a week?" I suggested with a shrug.

"Five days? Same time?"

"Okay.." I agreed.

After sorting out what my daily fee would be, he wrote a check that covered the next five days. With that, he left, and soon I was on my way to Cal Sci

"I'm going to see Professor Eppes" I told Frank. " I need that report by nine tomorrow at the latest, so I can check it"

"Yes Don"

I drove to see my brother. It felt good to go see him about work, just like old times, even if it involved some young thugs rather than a hard core criminal.

"Hey Don!" Charlie smiled when he saw me holding pictures. "Need help?"

"Yeah...I'll give you half of my retainer?"

"Don't worry about it man!" he insisted, and got the photos from me. Charlie looked at them with a puzzled face.

"My clients wants to find out who vandalized his beamer" I said. "I was hopin' maybe you'd recognize the symbols or decode them?" I shrugged.

"None of them are symbols used in math, if that's what you mean...as for some code, I'd need to study them in greater detail."

My brother began to copy the symbols onto the black board.

"I really appreciate this, buddy..."

"Is this related to some other crime?" my brother stopped writing.

"No..." I shook my head. "My client found his car in that condition, and came to me"

"Oh..." he sounded disappointed.

Just then, Larry joined us.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"I'm helping Don with a case." Charlie said. "Some symbols were painted on his client's car, and I'm trying to see if they mean something."

"hmmmmm" Larry put his finger on his mouth and turned to me. "Perhaps your client is part of some secret society?" He shrugged.

"Larry...please.." Charlie rolled his eyes and whispered to me "Don't even get him started on what he thinks of the Freemasons.

"If he were, why come to me?" I pointed out diplomatically.

"Maybe it's only the culprit who's a member?" Larry remarked and came closer to the board.He then began a diatribe about secret societies, their history and what he thought of them. Mercifully, Frank called me.

"Mrs. Sims is waiting for you"

I took a deep breath.

"Did you tell her that I was doing field work?"

"Yeah, but she insists on waiting for you." he said.

With a sigh I said, "Tell her I'll be right there." I didn't like to keep a client waiting if I could avoid it. Besides, there wasn't much I could do until my brother could figure out what those symbols meant. My gut told me that was the best angle I had. So, I said goodbye to Larry and Charlie, and left.

Mrs Sims was a petite, Beverly Hills wife, who was very suspicious of everyone.Her jade green eyes looked wary all the time, while the rest of her botoxed face looked stiff, as did her styled, platinum blonde hair..When she didn't suspect her husband, a plastic surgeon, she made accusations against her staff that ranged from theft to sleeping with her husband. How she found time to be paranoid in between shopping sprees, I don't know. Unfortunatly if I were to tell her that she was wasting her time, the woman would just go to an unscrupoulous PI, who would charge her more and string her along.

Reluctanty, I dealt with her. Finally, after a while, she left.

"So...did you see Professor Eppes about the Boveda case?" Frank asked me when the client left.

"Yeah..." I then explained why.

"I'm no profiler , but why would a tagger bother to write some elaborate code? Besides, how do you know it's not some gang sig?" He stood at the doorway to my office.

I gently explained why and how I figured it wasn't a gang related incident. Suddenly, his face brightened.

"Maybe I could do a background check on Mr. Boveda?" he loved using the databases I subscribed and had access to. More than once, I've told him not to use to to check out friends and teachers. "Maybe there's stuff he didn't tell you?"

"Those databases aren't' toys, Frank" I told him firmly. "Until I've got reason to, I'm not gonna dig into Mr. Boveda's history."

"Okay" he looked like a child, whose parents had taken away his favorite toy with his lips in a frown, and his eyes downcast.

"How's the report coming?" I asked to change the subject.

"Good..."

A few minutes later, I got a call from my girlfriend, Josephine. She ran a funeral home with her older brother. Their father, who started the business, had died a couple of years ago.

"How's work? " she asked.

"The client with the vandalized beamer came in" I told her. "Turns out someone put weird symbols on his car. I'm having Charlie study the photos."

"So you're subcontracting?" she teased. Joey had a great, though sometimes odd sense of humor.

"Ha ha..." I rolled my eyes ."How are you?"

"We just did a wake for a porn star, and the eulogies freaked my mother out." she said. "Let's just say that they got a little too detailed."

"Really?" I chuckled a little.

"yeah...Will you be working late?"

"I dunno" I told her.

"Maybe we could get together for dinner?"

"Sure..."

There was a pause, with background talking, and she told me. "I'll call you back later, I've got someone who wants to buy a coffin, for himself"

"A friend of my dad did that so that his kids wouldn't be burdened."

"The guy wants it to be delivered to his apartment..." she added.

"Maybe he wants to fill it with ice and beer, for games" I joked. We both hung up after affectionate goodbyes and laughter..

My injury and my new business had put me out of the dating game for quite a while. Then, I met Joey at the dry cleaners a couple of months ago. She had been picking up some suits for her brother. We both clicked, when I told her I used to be in the F.B.I and she then mentioned her occupation. She showed true compassion in talking about her work.

"Don?" Frank interrupted my thoughts.

He whispered "Your sugar mama's here"

"You mean Ms. Donovan?" I gave him an annoyed look. She was a rich, red headed widowed, businesswoman, a few years older than me, who was a frequent client.

"She's holding a box. Must be another 'thank you' present." he beamed and gave me that 'congrats dude!' smile he always did whenever she came by.

"Believe me, this is very awkward" I warned him.

"Why? You're a civilian now. I'd love to have some pretty woman give me cool presents!"

"Have her come in" I said, making a point to ignore his comments.

"If you don't want the present, can I have it?"

"No" I told him firmly.

He pouted and led her in.

I put on my best smile, thanked her for the present, and got her to leave on the pretext of my going to meet with my dad. She was, as always a little blunt and over bearing, telling me that the watch I had on was 'too dingy and old' and the one she got me was 'stylish, trendy, and a good match' for me. When she left, Frank suggested

"You could regift the watch and give it to Professor Eppes or your father."

I got annoyed. "Come on! Go Finish that report"

"Okay..." he left my office sheepishly.

Good help is so hard to find.

TBC