Someone to Watch Over Me
Chapter 5Stuart was just finishing his coffee when his mother appeared in the kitchen, promptly at nine o'clock. "Good morning, darling. Did you eat breakfast already?"
"Yes," he lied.
Helen Bailey glanced at the sink, which was bereft of dishes. "What did you have?"
"Coffee."
She sighed, knowing that if she offered to cook breakfast he would turn her down. "Is there any more?"
He turned and withdrew a coffee cup from the bottom shelf of the cabinet the everyday dishes resided in. "Yes, ma'am." Without hesitation he poured some for her and put what was left in his cup, then set both of them on the table. Stu pulled out a chair for his mother and sat down next to her.
"I might have some business for you," she told him.
"Oh?"
"Do you remember Gladys Miller?"
"Little Gladys? Married to Henry? Sure, I remember them."
"Well, talk around town for months has been that Henry had a . . . a lady friend."
Stu chuckled. Gladys Miller was all of five feet tall, which is why everyone called her 'Little Gladys.' She was a sweet lady and deserved a whole lot better than Henry. Stu wasn't at all surprised that Henry had a lady friend, only that it had taken him several years to find one. Rumor had it that Gladys stayed married to Henry only because she couldn't find any reason to divorce him. Considering that most of the money in the family belonged to Henry, she wasn't about to kick him out without a damned good reason. It sounded like maybe she finally had one. "Does Gladys want to divorce Henry?"
"That's awful, I know, and Gladys is just fit to be tied. There's never been a divorce in her family, but Henry has been flaunting his friend all over town and Gladys is humiliated."
"How do you know all of this, Mother?" Stu questioned.
"She's been talking to the church group for weeks. She just doesn't know what to do. Can I give her your card?"
"Yes, but please do it discreetly. I'm sure Gladys wouldn't want her personal business known all over Burbank. Although it sounds like it might be too late to hide it."
"I will, I promise. When I see her this afternoon."
"Then she can make up her own mind about what she wants to do. Here, give her this," and Stu handed his mother one of his business cards. "Are you ready to go now?"
"Yes, darling, I am. I can't wait to see your office."
They were almost there when Stu thought he'd better remind his mother what she was walking into. "It's nothing fancy, not like any of the offices you're used to seeing. But it's clean and simple, and it will work while I get started here in California."
"Oh, my," his mother remarked when they pulled up in front of the building.
"Believe it or not, the building in New York was older than this. At least the rent here is decent."
When they got upstairs his mother ran her fingers over the gold stenciling on the door. "Bailey Investigators, Private and Confidential," she read. "It sounds so professional."
Stuart sighed. He wasn't sure his mother completely understood what it was he did for a living. "It is professional, mother." He unlocked the door and turned on the lights, beaming with pride.
"It's . . . it's small, isn't it?"
"It will work just fine. I don' expect to need anything larger for quite a while. I have to get started all over again here."
"But, Stuart, it's . . . it's . . . "
"Yes, it is. But it's mine. I don't have to answer to anybody for anything. Except the people that hire me. There's a switchboard downstairs to pick up calls when I'm not here, and a restroom at the end of the hall. I know the walls are bare right now, but I'm going to add some pictures when I can afford them. It's certainly a step-up from my place in New York."
"Let me, let me buy you something for the walls. As a gift, for your new office. Will you let me do that?"
His mother had excellent taste in artwork – he loved everything she'd hung in the house. "Alright. I appreciate that. But nothing else. I have everything I need. Except clients, of course." Stu chuckled.
They rode home without much conversation; both mother and son were lost in thought. As he pulled into the driveway, Helen leaned across the front seat and kissed his cheek. "I hope you're successful, Stuart. I'll pass your business card along to Gladys, and with any luck she'll call you. I love you."
"I love you too, mother." Stu got out and opened the door for his mother, then watched as she went in the house. He blew out a breath, not entirely sure that she'd been as pleased with the office as he was. But then, she'd never seen the place he'd worked out of in New York. The space he'd rented in Burbank was definitely a step up.
Three days later he'd passed his firearms test and received his carry permit. He'd placed an ad in the Los Angeles Times newspaper and arranged to be included in the next printing of the Yellow Pages. And he sat in his office and waited for a phone call from Gladys Miller that, so far, hadn't come. He even had flyers printed and spent the better part of a day putting them up all over town.
Stu took to reading used true crime novels he bought from the bookstore on the first floor. It wasn't his favorite reading, but at this point it was the cheapest paperback he could buy. Plus, if he returned the books in reasonably good condition after he finished with them, they'd buy them back for fifty cents on the dollar. Whenever his mother called and asked how things were going he told her they were fine, he'd had several inquiries from potential clients and it was just a matter of time until he landed his first job. "Anything from Gladys?" his mother asked.
His answer was always, "No."
On the morning of the fourth day his phone rang. "Bailey Investigators," he answered, sure it was another wrong number.
"Mr. Bailey?"
"Speaking."
"Mr. Bailey, this is Gladys Miller. I, I have a problem that you might be able to help me with."
"What kind of a problem, Mrs. Miller?"
There was more than a minute's hesitation before he got an answer. "I think my husband is seeing another woman."
"Can you come to my office so we can discuss the situation, Mrs. Miller?" Stu asked gently.
"I can come in this afternoon, if that's agreeable with you, Mr. Bailey. Say, two o'clock?"
"Let me check, Mrs. Miller." Stu put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and counted to twenty. "That would be fine, Mrs. Miller. You have my address?"
"Yes, I do. I'll be there at two, Mr. Bailey, and thank you."
"I'll see you at two, Mrs. Miller."
Stu hung up the phone and smiled. His very first client.
XXXXXXXX
Well, one thing was sure. 'Little' Gladys Miller hadn't gotten any bigger since Stuart saw her last. "Mrs. Miller, it's been a long time. Won't you have a seat?"
"Mr. Bailey, I remember when you were just a little fellow. You and your sister used to come down and play with my dog, Buffy. You certainly have grown up. Didn't I hear you were in New York for a while?"
"I was, Mrs. Miller, but I wanted to come back to California. But you didn't come in just to chit-chat. Can you tell me about your problem?" Stu preferred to let her think he knew nothing about what was going on with her husband. He had a pad of paper and a pen in front of him, ready to write down anything pertinent to the case.
"Henry – you remember Henry, don't you? He has a friend he's been spending a lot of time with – a female friend."
"And you object to this friendship?"
"I do, Mr. Bailey. He's spending our money on her . . . and making me a laughing stock."
"I take it this woman is a little more than just a friend." Stu sat back and waited to see if Gladys would tell him the whole story, or if he would have to pull it out of her one step at a time. He was hoping for the former rather than the latter. He was in luck.
"I might as well tell you the truth, Mr. Bailey. She's a floozy – a cheap, common little tramp. I've put up with Henry's shenanigans for years . . . the get-rich-quick schemes, the disrespect he's shown me, spending our money all over town on things we don't need . . . but this is the end. I want to know if he's sleeping with her, and if he is, I want proof I can use to get a divorce. I've waited more than thirty years for him to grow up; I'm not waiting anymore. Can you help me?"
"Yes, ma'am, I believe I can do that. I charge twenty-five dollars a day, plus expenses. Is that agreeable?" Gladys started to dig in her purse for her checkbook. "You don't have to give me anything now, Mrs. Miller. I'll give you an invoice when I present you with the proof you seek."
"That's perfectly fine, Mr. Bailey. What do you need to know?"
For the next twenty minutes, Gladys Miller gave Stuart Bailey every piece of information she had about Henry's 'floozy' – what she looked like, where she lived, where she worked, even her phone number. After that, she gave Stu Henry's business address, the make and color of his car, and the bars he liked to frequent. She even provided him with a picture of Henry. Stu took notes and asked several pertinent questions, and by the time they were finished, he had a clear picture of the errant husband. "This could take me several days, Mrs. Miller, depending on the next time your husband visits his 'friend.' I'll call you when I have something for you."
"Could I have several of your business cards, Mr. Bailey? Things aren't quite as happy as they seem in our little neighborhood. Some of my friends could use your help with the problems they have."
"Certainly, Mrs. Miller. I investigate just about anything you can think of." Stu got up from behind his desk and helped Mrs. Miler out of her chair, then escorted her to the door. "Thank you for coming in today. I'm sure I can clear this problem up for you." He watched her walk down the stairs before he went back into his office and closed the door behind him.
There was a photo-developing store about a block away from Stu's office – close enough to walk. He took his Canon VT camera with him so he could talk to the store owner and explain what he was doing. He needed someone who would develop the pictures discreetly and not treat them as pornography.
"Is the manager in?" Stu asked as he pulled out his P.I. license and a business card.
"I'm the manager. Names Jake, Jake Owens."
"Stu Bailey. As you can see, I'm a private investigator. A lot of my business is going to involve tracking down unfaithful spouses. That will require I provide proof to my client, incorporating a written report and corroborating photos. I need someone that can handle all of my pictures without labeling them pornography. I also need someone discreet. Are you interested?"
"I can always stand more business, Stuart. Let's try it and see where it goes." They shook hands before Jake asked, "Is that the camera you'll be using?"
Stu nodded. "This is the only one I own, so . . . I don't have anything yet, but I've got a case I'm working on. I wanted to get things lined up before I started with the photos."
"Good idea. When you bring the first roll in you can come in the back with me and we'll see how it works for both of us."
"Thanks, Jake. Let me leave you some of my cards, just in case somebody needs my help."
"You've done this before, I take it?"
"I have. I worked back in New York, but California's my home, so I came back here to get started. I hope to have something for you in a few days."
"Alright, Stuart. I'm here almost every day, so that shouldn't be a problem."
"Please, call me Stu. All my friends do."
"Good enough, Stu. See you soon."
Stu walked back to the office, eager to get started. He wanted to hurry and get to Henry Miller's business and see just where Mr. Miller went when he left work. The sooner he could provide Gladys with the proof she was looking for the sooner he could get paid. And right now, earning money was his primary goal. He was determined to build a business and make his father eat his words.
