Someone to Watch Over Me

Chapter 2

Jeff took the pencil out of his mouth and threw it across the room. He hated what he was working on, proofreading another deposition for the law firm of Sanders, Davis and Byers. He'd known this was exactly the kind of work a junior law associate would spend his time doing, and at the moment he wasn't very happy with himself. He'd let his mother talk him into taking the job after he'd quit working for the government, knowing full well he had no desire to sit in an office all day and read legalese. "But you have a law degree," she'd reasoned. "Why did you get one if you weren't going to use it?"

Good question, Mom. Only I don't have an answer. He thought he knew what he wanted to do, but if he said it out loud it sounded, well, silly. Private Investigator. This wasn't something he took lightly, a career choice a lot of people might laugh at, and it had taken him a long time to admit it to himself. He'd gotten the bug in a most unusual way – Sanders, Davis and Byers had hired a local 'private eye' to dig up some information they'd been unable to get any other way, and they'd sent the junior associate along with the detective to make sure nothing was obtained illegally. He did things he wasn't used to doing – like sitting in a car all night on a stakeout. There was plenty of time to pick the P.I.'s brain . . . and pick it he did.

There was nothing glamorous about the work. Sometimes it was dull, boring, dangerous, and sometimes it wasn't. Sometimes it was interesting, exciting, fascinating . . . something his current 'desk job' was never going to be. The more time he spent shadowing the detective, the more he knew the job in a law firm, any law firm, wasn't for him. But he kept hearing his mother's 'sound reasoning' in his head and couldn't find a good enough reason to quit. At least, one good enough for his mother.

While he sat glaring at the aforementioned deposition, Jeanie stuck her head in the door. She was another junior associate at the law firm, though he suspected what she was actually doing was husband-hunting. "We're going to lunch, Jeff. Want to join us?"

"Can't, Jeanie. Sorry. I've got to finish proofing yesterday's depo . . . the one in the Lawler case. Thanks, just the same."

"Okay," she said and left without him. He suspected he might be on the short-list of potential husbands, but he had no intention of getting involved with someone at his age. He waited until he heard the elevator doors close before he made a decision. He couldn't do this anymore, wouldn't do it, and he pulled a clean sheet of paper out of his desk drawer and laid it carefully in front of him. Then he dug in his left coat pocket for the slip of paper with the phone number. It was the number for the state licensing bureau. He listened carefully for footsteps in the hall and, hearing none, picked up the receiver on the phone.

"Operator, get me Underhill 7-6825. Yes, is this the state licensing bureau? I'd like to know what it takes to become a licensed private investigator. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. No, I don't , but I have a law degree from Fordham University. Yes, I was a Lieutenant in the Army for four years. And then I, well, I worked for the government after that. Yes, ma'am. Uh-huh. And the test is given how often? Where can I get that material? And the firearm permit? Certainly. My name is Jefferson Spencer, 417 Milford Road, Los Angeles, California, 62. Certainly. Thank you. Goodbye." Jeff hung up the phone with a feeling of satisfaction he hadn't felt in a long time. Now all he had to do was wait for the material to come in the mail, study like he was back in law school, and pass the test. Oh yeah, he had to go practice at the firing range. He felt so good he was bursting at the seams to tell someone – only there was no one to tell.

For now he'd just have to wait.

XXXXXXXX

Jeff spent an hour at the firing range attempting to get used to a sidearm again; he had time to relearn the intricacies of a .38s, but he intended to be as proficient as possible when he went to get his carry permit. After that he went home to face his mother. He had two things to tell her – he was quitting the law firm and he was moving out. The fledgling lawyer didn't expect either to go well.

When his older brother left home it was to go to college, and Sam never came back. He went straight into the army and married a girl from North Carolina when he got out. He and his new wife bought a house and stayed there. His younger sister, Katherine, was still in college and living at home. When Jeff accepted the position at Sanders, Davis and Byers he warned his mother he would be moving out soon, so at least she was prepared for that. He was sure she would not be happy about his other news, and on his way home he decided not to tell her just yet.

There were one or two apartments he wanted to look at, and he'd made appointments to see them on Saturday. Neither was especially close to the law firm, but he wasn't concerned about that. He needed someplace quiet and neat, so he could study for his license test. And furnished. He didn't want to spend all his money on furniture; once he quit the law firm it could be quite a while before he had any more money coming in, and he needed to hold on to what he had. Fortunately he still had his enlistment bonus in the bank, along with most of the money he'd earned from working for the government. He would have to make that last as long as he could.

Everything seemed hectic at home; he kept waiting for just the right moment to remind his mother he was looking for a place to live, but it never came. Consequently, he went back to Sanders, Davis and Byers the next day without having gotten any closer to moving out than he was on Thursday. This was Friday, and he only had to wait one more day to see the apartments. Once that was in place he'd have more leverage with his mother.

Jeanie stopped by his office again with an invitation to lunch, and this time he accepted. "Why so morose, Jeff?" she asked as they walked down the boulevard.

"Just got a lot on my mind," he answered, appalled that he'd let his mood show on his face.

"Got any plans for the weekend?" she asked invitingly.

"Yes, I'm looking at some apartments tomorrow."

"A bunch of us are going sailing. Why don't you come along? I'm sure everyone would be happy to see you," Jeanie told him.

Jeff shook his head. "Nope, got those apartments to look at." They'd arrived at the restaurant and he held the door open for her.

"I can't imagine why you'd rather look at apartments than go sailing."

That's the difference between us. You can't imagine . . . I can. "Already made a commitment. But, uh, thanks, just the same."

"Sure. Maybe some other time?"

"Maybe."

Jeff hurried home that night, determined to tell his mother about his appointments tomorrow. When he got there he remembered his mother had gone to dinner with a friend from the neighborhood, and there was a manila envelope sitting on the kitchen table with his name on it. He hurried to his bedroom and closed the door, then carefully opened the envelope. Inside was the study course for the private investigator's license. Jeff changed clothes and went back to the kitchen. He made himself a peanut-butter sandwich and poured a glass of milk, then took both back to his room to see what he'd gotten himself into.

Somewhere around ten o'clock there was a soft knock at his door, followed by the immediate entrance of his mother. He loved his mother, no doubt, but she tended to forget that her children were no longer eight-years-old and might want some privacy. He was lying across his bed studying the material he'd been sent, and his mother just stood there and watched him. "Yes, Mom? Did you want something?"

"Work?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, turning over the papers in his hands.

"Did you get dinner?"

"Yes, I did."

"What?" she asked.

He tried not to be frustrated with her. "A peanut butter sandwich and milk."

Dorothy watched her middle child and shook her head. "That's not dinner. Let me make you something."

"I don't want anything else, Mom; I'm busy."

"But, Jefferson . . . "

"Mom, please? I'm busy."

"Alright," she replied, looking disappointed but making no attempt to leave.

"Don't forget I have two appointments tomorrow," Jeff reminded her as gently as he could.

"On Saturday?"

"To see apartments. Remember?"

"You're really going through with that?" she asked, oblivious to the fact that standing in her grown son's bedroom at ten o'clock at night might have something to do with his determination to move out.

"Yes, ma'am, I am."

She sighed deeply. "Anything I can say to talk you out of it?"

"No."

She stood in the doorway another minute, then left the room and closed the door behind her. Jeff blew out a breath. At least she hadn't asked to see what he was working on. His concentration broken, he put the study material back in the envelope it had come in and put the envelope in his briefcase. Just to be safe, he locked the briefcase. Then he got undressed and got into bed. The alarm was set for seven o'clock, which would give him plenty of time to shower and dress for his first appointment, at ten. The second one was at noon. With any luck he could cancel that one.

He hadn't seen his sister the night before but the next morning she was at the table drinking coffee when he got to the kitchen. "Hey, Jeff, I need to go downtown. Can you take me?"

He shook his head. "Can't this morning. I have to be someplace at ten."

"How about after that?"

Jeff poured a cup of coffee and dropped two slices of bread in the toaster. "Got a follow-up at noon."

Katherine suspected there was something up, and was certain she was the only one that knew nothing about it. "Work on Saturday?"

"It's not work. I'm going to look at apartments."

"Mom know that?" Katherine asked.

"I reminded her last night."

"Maybe that's why she's out back weeding the garden." The garden was Dorothy Spencer's refuge, and anytime something bothered her she retreated there. Jeff sighed. That didn't make him feel any better, but it was time for his mother to let go of him. It wasn't like he was leaving her completely alone – she still had Katherine, but she'd been unhappy about his threat to get an apartment ever since he first floated the idea. Now that his departure from the nest seemed imminent, she was taking her unhappiness out on the tomatoes.

The toast popped up and Jeff grabbed the bread and his coffee and sat down at the table. "She'll get over it," he announced.

"You think? The way she got over Sam?"

"That's not fair, Kat. That was a complete shock to all of us. She's known about this for some time."

His sister poured more coffee. She wasn't quite sure what it would be like in the house with her 'big brother' gone. She was finished with that subject, however, and went barreling on to the next. "What was in the manila envelope?"

"Work stuff."

"Oh yeah? Then why was the return address from the California License Bureau?"

"One of our clients had them mail me something to look over. And when did you get to be such a snoop, anyway?"

"Who's a snoop?" Dorothy asked as she came inside and took off her gardening gloves.

"Me!" Katherine popped up brightly.

"Are you teasing your sister again, Jefferson?"

"Nope. Not at all."

"Did you get something to eat?"

"Toast and coffee," came Jeff's reply, and knew what was coming.

"Sit down, both of you, and I'll cook breakfast."

Jeff shook his head. "Can't, Mom. Gotta run." He left his cup in the sink, kissed his mother on the cheek, and hurried out the back door.