Someone to Watch Over Me
Chapter 12"I'm sorry it took me so long," Jeff apologized to Mr. Talbet as they sat at the outdoor café and drank coffee.
"A whole four days," the old man replied. "I can't believe it only took you four days. Who knew that Ron was such a sneaky soul. And to steal from an old man. What was he thinking?"
"He was thinking he could get away with it, and for a while he did. If you hadn't noticed the small items going missing . . . "
"Well, I did. And you caught him at it. Was he really about to start disappearing with the larger items?" Talbet asked, not for the first time.
Jeff chuckled softly. Even now, when the evidence was irrefutable and Ron Cummings had been caught red-handed, the store owner had a hard time believing he'd so thoroughly misjudged an employee. "He was . . . that was the way he operated. Get your trust, start with the small things, then haul the bigger equipment out all in one night. According to the police, he had a rap sheet as long as your arm."
"I can't thank you enough, Jeff. I have to admit, it was nice having a grandson around the store."
The private investigator smiled. "It was nice being a grandson, Mr. Talbet."
"Your grandfather is dead?"
"A long time ago. My father, too. I grew up with an older brother and a younger sister. And my mom, of course."
"She must be very proud of you."
Jeff shook his head. "I haven't given her much to be proud of, recently. She wanted me to be a lawyer, and I tried, Mr. Talbet. I just couldn't stand sitting in an office all day, working on dry and pretentious documents. So I quit."
"Are you happier, now?" Talbet asked.
"Yes, I am. I wish I had more business, though," Jeff answered wistfully.
"Would it be all right with you if I put some of your business cards out on the counter? On occasion, I get asked to refer someone and I'd be proud to recommend you. I can even attest to your efficiency."
Jeff chuckled. "I think that would be a wonderful idea, and I appreciate it greatly." The waitress came with the check, which Talbet snatched up before Jeff had a chance to do the same.
"My treat. A small bonus for a job well done. And don't forget to bring my invoice by so I can pay you."
"Thank you. Would you . . . I mean, could we do this again? Have coffee and talk, I mean."
The old man beamed with pleasure. "I would be delighted, Jeff. Absolutely delighted."
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Jeff received his check from Talbet and put it in the bank. The next call he received was from Henry Jones, who was trying to locate his missing sister. Their parents were killed in a car accident when they were young, and the boy and girl were split up, each child going to a different grandmother. That one was a little harder, and took a little more time, but after much searching he was able to put the siblings in touch with each other.
The cases dribbled in slowly, one at a time, and some months the only thing standing between Jeff and poverty was an unexpected job. But dribble in they did, and somehow he managed to pay the rent on both the apartment and the office, without borrowing from his mother or selling his car. Still, he was happier than he'd been at Sanders, Davis, and Byers, and he didn't for one moment regret the move he'd made to the little office on Monroe Street.
At least once a week he had coffee at the café with Sam Talbet, who always insisted on paying the check. They got to be good friends, and Sam had Jeff thoroughly check out the background of the next part-time employee he hired. Then one morning when they were talking and laughing as usual, Talbet got suddenly serious. "Jeff, I have a friend who needs your services."
"Sure, Sam. What's the problem?"
"It's his wife. He thinks she's having an affair while he's at work."
"Has he got anything to go on besides his suspicions?" Jeff asked.
"Yes, his next-door neighbor has noticed a man going in and out of the house during the daytime. He stays about an hour or an hour-and-a-half each time he's there."
"Does the man wear any kind of a uniform?"
Sam shook his head. "The neighbor says he looked for that, but the man wears casual clothes. He does drive an unmarked van."
"Have you ever seen the wife? Do you know what she looks like?"
"I got this from Ralph. That's my friend – Ralph Henderson. Here," and he handed a photo to Jeff. The woman in the picture was attractive, but not what one would call pretty. Dark hair, short and curly, with light eyes and a soft smile.
"I need a phone number and an address. An address for the house, and a phone number for Ralph at work. And tell him I'll call him on Tuesday."
"He'll be so relieved. To have somebody working on the case, that is."
"I'll take care of it, Sam."
It didn't take Jeff long to resolve the issue with Ralph Henderson's wife. Ralph wasn't happy about the proof Jeff gave him that Sally Henderson was indeed cheating, but his anger wasn't aimed at the private investigator. "You don't happen to know the name of a good divorce attorney, do you?" Henderson asked after Jeff went to his office to see him.
"You might try Sanders, Davis and Byers," Jeff suggested. "I used to work there."
"As a private investigator?" Ralph questioned.
"As a lawyer," Jeff replied.
"Really? Why'd you leave?"
"I didn't want to sit behind a desk all day . . . or go to court and badger people."
"And they can handle the divorce?"
"Oh, yeah. Without any problem," Jeff insisted to Ralph.
"You're very good at what you do," Ralph assured the private investigator.
"Thanks. I hope you're right."
Ralph stroked his chin for a moment. "I've got an idea." He watched Jeff and smiled. "There's something I need to check into. I'll get back to you, I promise."
"Okay," Jeff answered, and looked at Ralph Henderson like he was crazy. Little did Jeff know that Ralph would set him on a path that would ultimately change his life.