Someone to Watch Over Me

Chapter 7

Henry Miller wasn't hard to track down. Stu found his car in the parking lot at Henry's place of business and simply waited. When Miller left for the day, Stu followed him. For the first three days he went straight home and stayed there, but on the fourth day he drove in the opposite direction of his house - right towards O'Shayne's, his favorite watering hole. Stu sat in his mother's car and waited for Miller to come out. It was close to midnight before he made another appearance, going straight for his car. Stu waited until Henry had pulled away from the curb before starting the engine and following him, directly to the 'floozy's.'

Stuart took photos of Miller at the front door, greeting the woman, and going inside. Then, his least favorite part of the job – catching the cheating husband and his paramour in the act. Like so many did on a hot summer night, the bedroom window was left open, curtains flapping in the breeze. When Stu had enough photos to prove to Mrs. Miller that she was correct about Henry's activities, he went back to the car and waited. When Henry reappeared some two hours later, there were more photos – of the lovers bidding each other farewell, kissing and Henry leaving, to return home, believing Gladys was none the wiser.

Stu drove back to the office and constructed a makeshift bed out of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk. The door locked, he took off his coat and hung it on the back of the desk chair, then did his best to get comfortable and catch a couple hours sleep. When he woke up, it was almost nine o'clock and he had a stiff neck. He took the camera down to the photoshop and found Jake standing behind the counter.

"Rough night?"

Stu nodded. "But I got what I was after. Have you got time to develop it?"

Jake checked the clock. "Give me another fifteen minutes and my counter girl will be here. You want a cup of coffee while we wait?"

"You may have just saved my life. I would love some coffee." Stu smiled . . . Jake was turning out to be a good man to know.

The two men sat and drank coffee while they waited for Jake's counter girl to arrive. They got to know each other better and discovered they had a lot of things in common, including the desire to be their own boss. This would prove to be the basis of a strong and lasting friendship. When Barbara, Jake's counter girl arrived, they went into the back room where the photos were developed and began the long process. "Looks like you caught him dead to rights," Jake remarked as he searched the photos grimly.

Stuart nodded sagely. "Yeah, I was lucky. He provided more than enough evidence for the poor lady married to him to get a divorce on her terms, instead of his." Stu shook his head. "Why do some men think it's perfectly alright to cheat on the woman they married? If you're going to do that, why get married in the first place?"

Jake looked just as perplexed as Stu. "I don't know, Stu. It doesn't make any sense to me, either."

Everything was dry and ready to go within twenty minutes. Both men were pleased with the way the photos had turned out. "Can you make me a second set of prints? I need them for the file."

"Sure. How soon do you want them?"

"Tomorrow would be fine," Stu decided. There was no reason he needed them today. Besides, it would give him an excuse to come back down.

"No problem. Tomorrow it is."

"How much do I owe you, Jake?"

"Four dollars, Stu, for the two sets of prints."

"Four dollars? Are you sure that's all?"

"That's all. Just remember I'm here for any business you've got."

"Don't worry, I will." The two men shook hands and Stu left, relieved to have found someone with a like mind.

Stuart took the photos back to his office and left them in his desk, then drove to his parent's house to shower. He wanted to get cleaned up and change clothes before returning to Old Sebastian Road to write his report. His mother caught him as he entered the house. "Where were you last night? I was worried sick."

"I'm not fifteen years old, Mother." He stepped around his mother and headed for the kitchen, to see if there was any more coffee. He was in luck; the coffee pot was half full. He poured himself a cup and sat at the table.

"You look like you slept in your clothes."

Stu nodded while he drank. "That's because I did."

Helen didn't understand what had caused her immaculately groomed son to do such a thing. "Why did you do that, Stuart?"

Stu sighed. He had to get an apartment, or at least find a place to sleep. Maybe he should go back to the thrift store and buy the couch he'd seen there. The lady at the store told him he could return anything he'd bought that didn't work out, as long as he did it within fourteen days. He could trade the two chairs in on the couch, and at least he'd have somewhere to sleep. Of course, he still had the matter of buying a car to get around in. He couldn't keep borrowing his mother's forever. "I was on the job, Mother."

"For Gladys?" his mother asked, and it was like a curtain had come down around her son.

"I can't answer that, Helen."

"What did you call me?" His mother didn't know whether to be insulted or dismayed. Or both.

"I called you Helen. I can't disclose any information pertinent to the case I'm working on. No matter what our relationship is, when you try to get information from me, you're just another person that isn't the client."

"Is this the way it's going to be, Stuart?" His mother asked, and now her feelings were wavering between offended and proud.

"This is the way it has to be, Mother." Stu got up from the table, put his empty coffee cup in the sink, and went to his bedroom to get clean clothes. In another minute his mother heard the water running, and knew that her son was taking a shower. She sighed deeply, not sure how she felt about Stuart's choice of profession.

Stu was dressed when she saw him next. He stopped and kissed her on the cheek, then told her, "I'll be back with boxes tomorrow."

"Whatever for?"

"To pack my things. I'm moving out."

"Moving? But where?" Helen asked, startled.

"For now, my office. Until I find an apartment. I'll let you know when I do."

"What are you going to use for transportation?"

Stuart sighed. That was one problem he hadn't yet solved. "I'll bring your car back as soon as I have one of my own. I'm hoping you'll let me borrow it until then."

His mother nodded. Everything was happening so fast; she didn't have time to think. "Of . . . of course. Keep it as long as you need it."

"Thank you. Take care, Mother." He was out the front door before she could say anything else. What had happened, she wondered. She'd just gotten her son back from New York, and now he was moving out. That would leave her alone again, in the big house with an absentee husband. What was she going to do?

XXXXXXXX

Stu had mixed emotions about what had just happened with his mother. When she began asking him questions about Gladys, he had abruptly recognized that as long as he lived under his parent's roof they were going to ask him questions about his business, questions he couldn't answer. There was only one way to deal with the situation, and that was to move out; the sooner the better. He didn't have the money yet for an apartment, but realized, with a bit of maneuvering, he could live in his office – temporarily.

Before he returned to the office to write the report for Gladys Miller he stopped at the thrift store. The lady he'd purchased the chairs from was working, and he made arrangements to return them and purchase the couch instead. The furniture switch could be made the next day, and the couch only set him back an additional ten dollars.

With the question of his sleeping quarters arranged, he drove back to the office. After giving it a lot of thought, he composed a report explaining the situation as he found it. The last step in the process was to return to the print shop and have the report copied. Once he was finally back at the office with his original and a copy, he set up a folder marked Miller, Gladys, put the report copy in the folder, and deposited it safely in the filing cabinet. Then he picked up the phone and called the lady herself.

"Mrs. Miller? This I Stuart Bailey."

"Mr. Bailey, I'm pleased to hear from you. I assume you have the material that I asked you to obtain for me?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do."

"Including the photographic evidence?"

"Yes, ma'am, and a report detailing my activities."

"How much do I owe you, Mr. Bailey?"

"Well, Mrs. Miller, it's four days at twenty-five dollars a day, plus six dollars and forty-five cents expenses. So a total of one hundred six dollars and forty-five cents."

"Can I come get the materials now?"

"Yes, ma'am, everything is ready for you. I'll see you soon."

"Thank you, Mr. Bailey."

It was almost an hour later when his door opened and Gladys Miller entered. Stuart stood and offered her a chair, then handed her an envelope that held the report and the photos. She opened it and read the information first, then went through the images one at a time. She never said anything until she replaced the material in the envelope. "You're quite thorough, Mr. Bailey. I can't begin to tell you how much this information means to me. You've saved me a lot of money and a lot of time." Gladys reached in her purse and withdrew a check, already made out, then handed it to Stu. "I assume this will cover everything."

Stu put the check in his desk drawer without looking at it. "If you're satisfied, Mrs. Miller, then I've done my job."

"Yes, sir, more than satisfied. Thank you very much. By the way, I've spoken to several of my friends and I do believe you will be hearing from some of them. And I'd be happy to recommend you to anyone that asks."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm sorry it was under these circumstances, but it was nice to see you again."

Gladys Miller got up from her chair and headed for the door. "Thank you again, Mr. Bailey."

Once Stu heard her footsteps on the stairs he opened his desk and looked at the check she'd given him. It was written in the amount of two-hundred dollars. He jumped up and went running after her, catching her just as she was about to get into her car. "Mrs. Miller, you wrote your check for the wrong amount. This is too much."

Gladys Miller smiled. "No, sir, it's not too much. I know what you told me, but you have no idea what your information means to me. You deserve every penny of that." With that she got in her car, started the engine, and drove away, leaving Stu speechless. Two hundred dollars! He could look for an apartment or a car. Then he started thinking, and he knew he was going to put the check in the bank until he needed it. The apartment could wait, and so could the car. There were more practical expenses to deal with – electricity, telephone, rent. If he was going to be living out of his office he would need some way to keep food. Too many expenditures to even think about, and he knew he had to wait and see if, as Gladys Miller told him, other of her friends and neighbors would require his services.

He looked at the check again. For a moment . . . this moment, at least, he could celebrate. He'd just had his first paying client.