Someone to Watch Over Me
Chapter 9Stu Bailey was amazed by the number of phone calls he received – all from one little lady's referral. And he had no idea there were so many unhappy housewives, either in his parents' neighborhood or in California. It seemed like he just got finished with one case and another one would pop up. A steady stream of business was coming his way – Ethel Stanford, Joan Collins, Sylvia Waterbury, Barbara Branton, Deborah Knight – on and on until he was ready to scream. If he got one more case concerning a cheating or dishonest husband, he wasn't sure what he'd do.
He did have to admit, the continuous flow of income was just what he'd hoped for when he began the business. But he had no desire to be forever sneaking around at night, following men he didn't know into bars or bedrooms or illegal gambling dens, then taking pictures to present to their long-suffering wives.
Stu needed to find a different kind of client, something bigger, steadier, work that would pay more money, and clients that weren't errant husbands. And then, one afternoon as he was just about to think it was never going to happen for him, the call came. Lucien St. John, CEO of Cumberland Insurance Company, called to speak to him. They agreed on a meeting time for one o'clock the next day at St. John's office, and Stu immediately called his mother and asked to borrow her car. She told him yes, of course, and Stu checked to make sure he had the clean and appropriate wardrobe for the meeting. He was still living in his office, waiting to see how much money he had at the end of the month, before he went out and rented an apartment. He borrowed his mother's car whenever necessary; sometimes it seemed he drove it more than she did.
He wore his best suit, and when he arrived at his parent's house Helen was suitably impressed. "You look so professional," she gushed.
"I'm supposed to, Mother," he explained gently. He'd all but given up trying to make her understand what it was he did, and why he did it. She handed him the car keys and kissed him on the cheek, and Stu set off for one of the most important meetings of his life.
Lucien St. John was around Stu's age, maybe a little older, and both men discovered they had been in the Army. Stu, of course, was quickly gobbled up by the OSS – St. John finished his service as a Captain. "Obviously, that's not why I called you, Mr. Bailey. Very often we have the need for an investigator that's familiar with but not part of the company. For example, right now we have what looks and smells like an insurance fraud case. The potential perpetrator of the fraud is familiar with the two investigators we employ full-time. We could really use an outside party's point-of-view, and that's where you come in.
"You've developed quite a reputation among the unhappy housewives of this community. They find you personable, kind, professional and thorough. We'll pay you fifty dollars a day with a two hundred fifty dollar retainer to look into our problem and, if things go well, we can discuss putting you on a full-time retainer. How does that sound to you?"
"I think we can work something out, Mr. St. John. I would like to ask a question, though. How did you hear about me?"
St. John laughed. "Do you remember a woman named Estelle Long?"
"I do," Stu replied. Estelle Long was a nice, respectable middle-aged widow, being taken in by a con-man named Frenchy Brooks. Brooks ultimate goal was to separate Mrs. Long from her money. Stu got enough evidence against Frenchy to separate him from his freedom instead. "She was a client of mine."
"She is a sister of mine, Mr. Bailey. When you rescued her from the hold Frenchy Brooks had on her, you did more than liberate her. You safeguarded what she and her husband had worked so hard over the years to earn. You gave her back her freedom, her self-respect, her dignity. And you did it without splashing her name all over the papers, or making her feel something less than intelligent. You don't know what that meant to me. Your work was quick, quiet and efficient. That's what Cumberland needs. A man both honest and effective. That's how I heard about you."
"Just curious, Mr. St. John. Can you give me the particulars about the problem you have at the moment?"
They talked for another thirty minutes, St. John filling Stuart in on the current situation. When the private investigator had learned all the details he could from the insurance man he had one final question. "You have no qualms how I go about catching your potential thief?"
"None at all. Do whatever is necessary, within the law, of course, to find the truth for us."
The men shook hands and Stu left with a check for the two hundred fifty dollar retainer. He had enough to go looking for an apartment, and that's what he intended to do as soon as it was feasible. For now, he had to return his mother's car. He shook his head. How had he, a grown man, gotten himself into this mess? Living in his office, borrowing his mother's car, chasing down cheating husbands. He'd fled New York and returned to California to 'right the ship,' as it were, and instead the ship seemed to be sinking.
He sighed and tried to focus on the case he'd just been handed. Gerry's Family Jewelry had reported a robbery of gems and jewelry that totaled almost three-hundred-thousand dollars. St. John suspected an inside job, possibly involving even the owner, and Stu had asked enough questions to give him the information he needed to get himself 'inside.' It wouldn't be quick, but it could be done. The first step was to explain to his mother that he mightn't be around for a while.
Helen looked, to say the least, dismayed when he gave her the news. "That job again. Is it always going to be like this, Stuart? Am I only going to see my son when his job doesn't occupy his time? It's like living with your father all over again."
"I'm sorry you feel that way. I could have just vanished, Mother, and left you wondering if I was alive or dead, but I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. I see my efforts were wasted."
His mother sighed with frustration. "They weren't, Stuart. I'd rather know than not know. I'm sorry I get so emotional about things, but what do you expect? You moved out of the house, you're living in your office, and I don't have the faintest idea if you're making enough money even to eat properly."
Stu sighed, beginning to regret staying in touch with his mother. "What do you expect from me? I'm your son, not your husband. I can't keep you happy, mother, or keep you from worrying or being lonely. You need to talk to my father about those things."
He knew they were the absolutely worst words to say the moment they were out of his mouth. He could see the tears in his mother's eyes, read the hurt on her face, and chastised himself for being unintentionally cruel. There was too much of his father in his words, and he knew he'd let his anxiety over the coming job color the way he spoke. He had to correct the situation and make sure he never let himself go like this again. The desire to refrain from saying the wrong thing would temper his reactions for the rest of his life; making him conservative in both thought and deed. It was a skill he'd put to good use in his business dealings.
The immediate problem, of course, was repairing the damage he'd done to his relationship with his mother. He crossed the living room to where she stood and folded her into his arms, kissing her hair and holding onto her. "I'm sorry, Mother. That wasn't fair. You've given me nothing but love my whole life, and I repay you with an unprovoked tirade." Stuart gently placed two fingers under his mother's chin and tilted her head up. Then he kissed her on the forehead. "I love you very much, Mother, and I'm truly sorry."
His mother mumbled into his chest, "You sounded so much like your father, you frightened me, Stuart. You've never spoken to me like that before."
"I'm sorry, Mother. I never want to sound like Dad. I don't know how you've lasted so long with him . . . why do you stay if he makes you as miserable as it seems?"
"I've been married to your father for over forty years. When we first met, he was kind and sweet and soft-spoken. Doesn't sound much like the man he is today, does it? Why do I stay with him? Where would I go, what would I do at my age? I look at these women around me and don't understand what they're going to do with the rest of their lives."
"You're bright, Mother. You could do anything you wanted to do," Stu tried to remind her. If this is what marriage did to people, then Connie had done him a favor by giving him back his ring. It was a belief he'd hold onto for a long, long time.
"No, Stuart, I won't give up what I have to go live in some dim, dingy little apartment. Somewhere down inside the man your father is now is the man I married, and someday I'll see that man again," Helen responded.
Stuart gave his mother a hug, then another kiss on the forehead, and finally let go of her. "I hope you're right. I'd like to meet that man someday."
"Speaking of your father, he's got a lodge meeting tonight and I'm all by myself. Would you stay and have dinner with me?"
"Yes, ma'am, I will. I'll even help cook it, if you'll let me."
"Nothing would make me happier."
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Stu was sitting at his desk the next morning trying to determine the best approach to get inside Gerry's Family Jewelry when he decided the first idea he'd had was the best. He needed to get himself hired at the store and see everything from the inside out. To that end he made sure he was presentable for a job interview. Having showered the night before at his mother's house and slept in a real bed, he chose his clothes carefully. He needed to look like someone his father would hire, and hope that would do the trick. Best stay fairly close to the truth, too, so he wouldn't trip himself up.
He wore a white shirt and a dark suit. His shoes were polished and his fingernails clean, and he had an eleven o'clock appointment for a job interview as a jewelry salesman. He'd learned enough from his Uncle Sol in New York to be fairly proficient with diamonds, and hoped he could bluff his way into the company.
He was early, and charmed his way through the first interview, with the store manager. The last mountain to climb was with Gerry Fox, the store owner. She was an attractive woman in her early fifties, with graying hair swept up into a bun and glasses. Within fifteen minutes he knew she was going to hire him, and the remainder of the interview was casual and relaxed. "Can you start tomorrow?" she finally asked.
"Yes, ma'am. I can start right now if you want."
"Tomorrow is fine, Mr. Andrews. We'll see you at nine o'clock.."
"Thank you, Mrs. Fox. I appreciate you giving me the chance to work here." Stu went back to the office and spent the rest of the day learning everything he could about Gerry Fox and Gerry's Family Jewelry. By the time he was finished he knew that Gerry was the sole owner, having inherited the store from her late husband, John. The business was booming right after the war, but lately sales had slowed and there were rumors Gerry's was in deep financial trouble. A three-hundred-thousand dollar insurance claim could keep the store going for at least another two or three years. And there were those pesky stories about Gerry Fox and her extravagant lifestyle. Uncle Sol had been a great help with the gossip floating around about all the tales; what was real, what was rumor and innuendo, and what existed in the realm of the unknown. By the time the day was over, 'Stuart Andrews' was more than ready to start work the next day.