Joe had just barely settled into his convertible and was preparing to start the engine when a familiar face suddenly appeared at the passenger side. "Joe! What the heck are you doin' at a fancy place like this?"
Joe jumped a mile. "Harry?" He turned to look at his mentor in surprise. "For that matter, what are you doing here?"
"Word gets around. I heard that you were coming for a tour of the place today." Harry opened the passenger door and climbed in uninvited. "This is the last place I ever thought you'd come to work."
"I wasn't coming to work!" Joe exclaimed in a bit of exasperation. "I . . . well, I helped the big cheese out of a jam last night and we got talking about the practicality of using computers in a detective agency. So he wanted to show me how they worked."
"Sure, sure."
"It's the truth," Joe insisted. "You know I'd never go for working here."
"I wouldn't think so," Harry replied. "You still stubbornly refuse to even carry a pager. You'd go bonkers in a place like Intertect!"
"You've got that right." But Joe hesitated, tapping his hand on the steering wheel. "Have you ever met the guy who started this place?"
"Lew Wickersham? Yeah, once or twice."
"What'd you think of him?"
"Nice guy. I'm not sure I like so much reliance on computers either, Joe, but I can tell you that it's the most modern way of detecting. This Wickersham guy is going to keep private investigative work current and up-to-date. He'll probably just get more renowned for his methods as the years go by."
"Yeah, probably." Joe glanced to him. "Can I drop you somewhere?"
"Nah, I've got my car," Harry said. "I just had to come by and see if those rumors were true." He grinned. "I thought it'd be more logical to find snowflakes falling in you-know-where than you in Intertect."
Joe leaned on the steering wheel. "Where did you hear this stuff from, anyway?" he wondered.
"Oh, just around," Harry said vaguely. "Private eyes have quite a grapevine, as you should know by now."
"I know," Joe retorted. "And you can just tell your grapevine that my plan is still the same—get my license and strike out on my own."
"Okay, okay. No need to get touchy. Although . . ." Harry paused.
Joe gave him a Look. "What?"
"It might actually be a feather in your cap to start out by working for an outfit like Intertect. It'd give you more credibility when you go your own way." Harry smiled self-depreciatingly. "Working for Harry Forrest for three years just ain't as big a deal."
"Come on. It's a big enough deal," Joe insisted. "And working for you is more the kind of thing I'd want on my resume. Besides, Wickersham doesn't want any green agents. He's only been hiring agents who already have independent licenses and have worked on their own for a while. I guess that's one reason why Intertect does so well," he realized.
"Then you've already talked to him about a position for yourself," Harry said with great amusement.
"No, I haven't. We were talking in general."
"Maybe," Harry said as he climbed out of the car. "But I still say you should give it some thought. Maybe Mr. Wickersham would change his mind."
"It's fine by me if he doesn't," Joe insisted. "Just because he's a nice guy doesn't mean I want to work for him. The governor's a nice guy too and I don't have any desire to work for him."
"Yeah, but the governor's not in the same line of work as us," Harry replied.
"Neither is Mr. Wickersham," Joe immediately shot back. "I don't want any part of this computerized private-eyeing."
"You're kind of harsh," Harry commented. "It's just a computer. Like I said, constant reliance on them isn't my favorite brand of detective work either, but I can appreciate that they're pretty useful to have around. You know I've got one or two at the office."
"Yeah." Joe finally gave a lopsided smile. "So maybe it is harsh, but you know me, Harry—never afraid to speak my mind."
"I think I'd be afraid if you weren't speaking your mind," Harry quipped, shaking his head. "Okay. See you later, Joe. Come by for dinner on Sunday, why don't you? Ruth's been asking when you're coming over again."
"Sunday dinner sounds great, Harry," Joe said, already hungry. "You know I'll be there."
"Great. I'll tell Ruth." Harry waved as he headed off.
"We can make it a celebration of me getting my license!" Joe called after him.
"They probably won't process your application that fast!" Harry said over his shoulder.
Joe shrugged. Well, probably not, but there was no reason why they wouldn't accept it. He would be an official private detective before long.
He was in a fairly good mood as he drove away from Intertect. He would need to take the state exam before he could fill out his application, and he planned to do that right after brunch at his favorite eatery.
Odd to think it was Lew Wickersham's favorite eatery too.
He picked up the afternoon paper from the newsstand next to the café when he arrived. The headline made him pause and raise an eyebrow.
Fading Star in the Spotlight AgainAccording to the article, an aging movie star had long been suspected of orchestrating payoffs, beatings, and worse to keep her skeletons in the closet. There was no official proof, and she claimed that she was being investigated and the evidence fabricated by either the detective or someone else.
Joe frowned as he studied the photograph of her, standing at the bottom of a staircase in a slinky black dress. There was something that wasn't quite right; he wasn't sure if it was the photograph itself or the subject.
She certainly looked appropriately sullen, her wrinkles clearly marking her as a relic from another time. Her hair, incredibly still red despite her age, fell in curly waves to her shoulders. The photograph had been an attempt to recreate a scene from a film she had made in the 1940s. It seemed authentic enough. But perhaps what was off was simply that it was not the 1940s and she looked like a product of two different times.
He shrugged and set the paper aside to make way for the menu. Even if something was off-kilter, and even if it was something more than clashing time periods, it didn't matter that much to him. It wasn't his type of case. Anyway, it was already being investigated.
"Hello, Joe," a smiling waiter greeted as he approached. "What'll it be today? The usual?"
Joe looked up with an answering smile. "Hello, Bob. No, how about we mix it up today? I'm in the mood for something different."
"Oh? Because of you striking out on your own?" Bob asked.
"That's a good enough reason, isn't it?" Joe replied.
"It sure is," Bob agreed. "Congratulations, Joe! So it's really time?"
"It's really time," Joe said grandly.
"Gee, it's strange to think of you not working with Harry anymore," Bob mused.
"Yeah, it is," Joe agreed, a flicker of sadness passing through his eyes. "But he kicked me out, said it's time for me to be on my own. And I can't really say I disagree with him."
Bob grinned. "So you want something different today. Like what?"
"I was thinking of a sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich," Joe said.
"Joe, that's for breakfast, not lunch!" Bob protested.
"So?" Joe retorted. "You advertise that you'll make any menu item at any time of the day."
"Yeah, sure, we do." Bob shook his head, amused. "If that's what you want, Joe, you'll get it."
"And a large glass of chocolate milk," Joe added.
"You sure have some interesting eating habits," Bob said as he headed off to the kitchen.
Joe grinned a bit. He did the unexpected on so many things. Why should food be any exception?
xxxx
Lew was still fuming by the time it was evening and he was going to his mother's for dinner. That woman he had been hired to investigate, the one who had sent her henchmen to cause trouble for him, had been absolutely obnoxious when presented with the restraining order. She had made a big show of crying and acting sorrowful that Lew "just didn't like her" and she "couldn't understand why."
The police officer had been unmoved. Lew had been furious. She had already tried to bribe him into stopping the investigation and coming over to her side. When he had refused, she had instructed her men to follow him and beat him up. And she had the gall to pretend to wonder why he didn't like her!
He tried to get his emotions under control as he pulled up in front of his mother's house. If she picked up on the slightest hint of anger from him, she would worry. She certainly didn't need that. And Lew wanted this to be a relaxing time when he wouldn't have to think about that woman.
The door flew open before Lew even made it all the way up the steps. "Lew!" Mrs. Wickersham hurried onto the porch, holding out her arms to her only child.
Smiling, Lew reached her and hugged her close. "Hello, Mom," he greeted.
She pulled back, looking at him. "You must be starved after all that working!" she declared. "Did you even stop for lunch?"
Lew opened his mouth to reply in the affirmative but then paused. "Honestly, I can't remember," he realized. He had been so outraged that it seemed like he had just stormed back to the office and continued working, determined all the more to bring that woman down for her criminal activities.
She should have been arrested for telling her men to go after Lew. But of course, she had insisted that they had taken her orders too far and that she had never told them to beat him up. And she had a crafty lawyer prepared to help her through any charges brought against her. That did not deter Lew, but it was certainly another obstacle.
Mrs. Wickersham threw up her hands. "Of course you don't remember!" she exclaimed. "Work, work, work. That's all you do with yourself!" She took his arm and led him into the house. "Come! Eat! Forget about work!"
Lew let himself be led, smiling to himself and hoping for that as well. Sometimes he needed a break.
"So what about this Joe Mannix?" Mrs. Wickersham asked as she brought him to the kitchen.
"What about him? Mother, I told you it's not likely I'll ever run into him again," Lew retorted. "Not unless we're eating at the same café."
"Well, you don't offer to take everyone you meet on a tour of Intertect," Mrs. Wickersham said, "even if they don't agree with the idea."
Lew had to admit that was true. "I guess it's because Mannix is different," he said, going to the sink to wash up. "Not only does he not like the idea, he has some pretty strong arguments against it and isn't about to give in. And for some reason, I wanted to show him what it's really like."
"And that didn't make any difference?"
Lew went to the stove and started dishing up the food. "He did admit that maybe the computers are useful sometimes," he said. "But he's still not convinced."
"So give him a job," Mrs. Wickersham said. "Let him see some more."
Lew stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow. "Mom, what makes you think he's into that line of work?"
"He wouldn't be objecting so strongly if he wasn't," Mrs. Wickersham chirped. "And you wouldn't have given him the time of day if he was just a backseat detective."
"A backseat . . ." Lew shook his head in amusement. His mother came up with the oddest comments. But he had to admit, she was usually right. She was this time, at least.
"Alright, so he is a detective," he relented. "Or he wants to be. He doesn't even have his license yet. You know Intertect doesn't take on green agents."
"Maybe it's time you did," Mrs. Wickersham replied as Lew came to the table. "Train up the new generation in computerized detecting."
"He's not much younger than I am," Lew objected.
"But he's still getting into the P.I. business after you've been in the game a while," Mrs. Wickersham said without skipping a beat. "So he's the new generation."
Again Lew was amused. He couldn't argue with his mother's logic.
"And what are you doing starting to eat?" she exclaimed, seeing Lew cutting into the meat. "First we say grace."
"I wasn't starting to eat yet," Lew defended. "I was just getting ready while you were talking about Mannix."
Mrs. Wickersham smiled. "Bring him by sometime," she said as she folded her arms.
It was useless to say again that he wasn't going to run across Mannix another time, except to perhaps politely say Hello and catch up for five minutes. So Lew simply delivered the prayer and did not address the subject.
Mrs. Wickersham let it drop. She had made her point. And she knew she would indeed meet this Joe Mannix eventually—even if Lew didn't yet know it.