Short Stories
Sometimes, ideas come from the strangest of places
It took a few weeks, but the throw away comment from the policeman when he had driven me home didn't stop nagging at me. "You should consider becoming a policeman with your curious mind," he had said. But I had never really been on that side of the fence. I wasn't a crook or anything like that, I just preferred to view the law in a more flexible way, you know, like a politician or a government adviser, if you know what I mean. So "join the police?" I was really not sure it was for me. But then I noticed this ad in a magazine.
"Become A Private Detective" the ad said, and went on to tell me that "No experience needed, no exams, no license, just complete this course." And the course was cheap. I did some checking, and, in the UK, you could become a PI with no training or exams or license, although apparently this could change in the future. And having been made redundant from my job because of the lock down, I thought I might give it a go. So, I went online and registered for the course. I knew it wouldn't be up to much, but at least I could learn the basics, and who knows where it might lead.
It didn't take me long to do the exercises and answer the test questions and after a few weeks, I was the proud owner of a certificate saying I had successfully completed the course. Well, I would have been if I had printed it out. Next, I needed some clients, so the logical thing was to put ads in the local paper - I put some postcards in the local shops as well. Nothing much happened for a while and, although the course had warned me it could take some time before I got any interest, I was beginning to think I had wasted my time when I got my first phone call. "I hope you can help me," said a woman's voice when I answered the call. "I think my husband is up to something illegal and I don't want to see him end up in prison."
To be honest, I was surprised. All the films I had watched and the books I had read had got me prepared for the "My wife/husband is cheating on me" kind of call, but this sounded a lot more interesting. We agreed to meet at 9am the next morning and I suggested we met at a cafe in the town, a bit of a greasy spoon type of place, but it was generally empty at this time of day, the early birds had been and gone, and the shoppers hadn't left home yet. I arrived early, it didn't seem right to miss the opportunity to have a full English, and positioned myself in the window where I could get a good view of the street. Nine o'clock passed and then nine thirty. By the time it got to ten I had to accept she wasn't coming. I was just about to get up and pay my bill when my phone rang. It was the same voice. "I am so sorry; I couldn't get away. I will be about ten minutes, can you wait?"
I was halfway through my 4th cup of coffee when she arrived. I was the only person in the cafe, so she came straight over and sat down. I guessed her age to be about forty, perhaps a little younger but stress was clearly taking a toll on her. Kate, the cafe owner came over and she ordered a tea.
"Thank you for waiting and I am sorry for being so late," she said as her tea arrived.
"I think I need to start at the beginning," she continued. "My name is Jackie, I have been married for almost five years and money has always been tight, even worse when we had our children." She looked up from her tea. "But then one day suddenly we were no longer so hard up. Naturally, I asked him where the money was coming from and he told me had got a raise at work, but I know where he works and pay rises are not in their vocabulary." She paused for a while. "I must admit I enjoyed the extra money, but then people started to phone in the evenings and Mike, that's my husband, would go out, sometimes for hours. At first, I thought it might be another woman, but he never minded when I answered the phone, and it was always a man when I did. He told me he just did a few extra jobs on the side to give us a bit more money."
She paused again and looked at me. "But I think there is more to it than that. He doesn't have any great skills in anything, he's not even very good with a paintbrush, so it's not going to be handyman type jobs. And then some of his new friends started to call round to the house, and I must admit I didn't like the look of them at all. I know you can't judge by looks, but they were so, I don't know, so furtive?"
As a first job for me, it was a little daunting, but as always, I was curious. What was her husband doing? And how was I going to find out? "When he goes out in the evening, does he take his own car?" I asked her.
"Not always, sometimes someone calls and collects him."
"If I gave you a small box, about the size of a pack of cigarettes, would you be able to hide it somewhere in his car without him knowing? I should warn you, it's not exactly legal, but it might help me to find out where he is going."
"I guess so, what is it?"
"Just a tracker," I told her. "It's like the ones that are fitted to trucks so the owners can see where they are. This one's a bit different because it doesn't have to be wired into the electrics. Get it into his car when you can and give me a call next time he goes out in the evening."
A week went by before she rang. It was 9pm. I went over to my computer and checked the tracker. To my relief it was working, and I could see the red spot travelling along one of the main roads out of town. It stopped in an area I knew quite well and was renowned for its lowlife. I began to believe Jackie might be right. I got in my car and drove to where the tracker had told me Mike would be. It wasn't until I drew near that I realised exactly where I was. It was a backstreet casino, quite well known among the gambling fraternity. I made my way inside and could see a man who looked like Mike from the photo Jackie had given me. He was playing poker and he had clearly found something he was good at. Piles of poker chips were stacked in front of him. I went over to the makeshift bar and got a beer and sat on the bar stool and watched an expert playing cards.
Soon, he stood up, took his chips over to the cashier and got his winnings, walked back to his car, and headed home. I finished my beer then called Jackie and gave her the good news. Maybe this private detective lark was going to pay off after all. Jackie came to the cafe a few mornings later to settle my bill and return the tracker. She looked like a different woman. For some reason, Mike had decided to tell her where he had been going in the evenings. Why I would never know, but it could have been the amount he had won that evening. It looked like it was in the thousands. Apparently, he had booked them a holiday cruising in the Mediterranean for two weeks, I guess he had to explain that somehow.
"Become A Private Detective" the ad said, and went on to tell me that "No experience needed, no exams, no license, just complete this course." And the course was cheap. I did some checking, and, in the UK, you could become a PI with no training or exams or license, although apparently this could change in the future. And having been made redundant from my job because of the lock down, I thought I might give it a go. So, I went online and registered for the course. I knew it wouldn't be up to much, but at least I could learn the basics, and who knows where it might lead.
It didn't take me long to do the exercises and answer the test questions and after a few weeks, I was the proud owner of a certificate saying I had successfully completed the course. Well, I would have been if I had printed it out. Next, I needed some clients, so the logical thing was to put ads in the local paper - I put some postcards in the local shops as well. Nothing much happened for a while and, although the course had warned me it could take some time before I got any interest, I was beginning to think I had wasted my time when I got my first phone call. "I hope you can help me," said a woman's voice when I answered the call. "I think my husband is up to something illegal and I don't want to see him end up in prison."
To be honest, I was surprised. All the films I had watched and the books I had read had got me prepared for the "My wife/husband is cheating on me" kind of call, but this sounded a lot more interesting. We agreed to meet at 9am the next morning and I suggested we met at a cafe in the town, a bit of a greasy spoon type of place, but it was generally empty at this time of day, the early birds had been and gone, and the shoppers hadn't left home yet. I arrived early, it didn't seem right to miss the opportunity to have a full English, and positioned myself in the window where I could get a good view of the street. Nine o'clock passed and then nine thirty. By the time it got to ten I had to accept she wasn't coming. I was just about to get up and pay my bill when my phone rang. It was the same voice. "I am so sorry; I couldn't get away. I will be about ten minutes, can you wait?"
I was halfway through my 4th cup of coffee when she arrived. I was the only person in the cafe, so she came straight over and sat down. I guessed her age to be about forty, perhaps a little younger but stress was clearly taking a toll on her. Kate, the cafe owner came over and she ordered a tea.
"Thank you for waiting and I am sorry for being so late," she said as her tea arrived.
"I think I need to start at the beginning," she continued. "My name is Jackie, I have been married for almost five years and money has always been tight, even worse when we had our children." She looked up from her tea. "But then one day suddenly we were no longer so hard up. Naturally, I asked him where the money was coming from and he told me had got a raise at work, but I know where he works and pay rises are not in their vocabulary." She paused for a while. "I must admit I enjoyed the extra money, but then people started to phone in the evenings and Mike, that's my husband, would go out, sometimes for hours. At first, I thought it might be another woman, but he never minded when I answered the phone, and it was always a man when I did. He told me he just did a few extra jobs on the side to give us a bit more money."
She paused again and looked at me. "But I think there is more to it than that. He doesn't have any great skills in anything, he's not even very good with a paintbrush, so it's not going to be handyman type jobs. And then some of his new friends started to call round to the house, and I must admit I didn't like the look of them at all. I know you can't judge by looks, but they were so, I don't know, so furtive?"
As a first job for me, it was a little daunting, but as always, I was curious. What was her husband doing? And how was I going to find out? "When he goes out in the evening, does he take his own car?" I asked her.
"Not always, sometimes someone calls and collects him."
"If I gave you a small box, about the size of a pack of cigarettes, would you be able to hide it somewhere in his car without him knowing? I should warn you, it's not exactly legal, but it might help me to find out where he is going."
"I guess so, what is it?"
"Just a tracker," I told her. "It's like the ones that are fitted to trucks so the owners can see where they are. This one's a bit different because it doesn't have to be wired into the electrics. Get it into his car when you can and give me a call next time he goes out in the evening."
A week went by before she rang. It was 9pm. I went over to my computer and checked the tracker. To my relief it was working, and I could see the red spot travelling along one of the main roads out of town. It stopped in an area I knew quite well and was renowned for its lowlife. I began to believe Jackie might be right. I got in my car and drove to where the tracker had told me Mike would be. It wasn't until I drew near that I realised exactly where I was. It was a backstreet casino, quite well known among the gambling fraternity. I made my way inside and could see a man who looked like Mike from the photo Jackie had given me. He was playing poker and he had clearly found something he was good at. Piles of poker chips were stacked in front of him. I went over to the makeshift bar and got a beer and sat on the bar stool and watched an expert playing cards.
Soon, he stood up, took his chips over to the cashier and got his winnings, walked back to his car, and headed home. I finished my beer then called Jackie and gave her the good news. Maybe this private detective lark was going to pay off after all. Jackie came to the cafe a few mornings later to settle my bill and return the tracker. She looked like a different woman. For some reason, Mike had decided to tell her where he had been going in the evenings. Why I would never know, but it could have been the amount he had won that evening. It looked like it was in the thousands. Apparently, he had booked them a holiday cruising in the Mediterranean for two weeks, I guess he had to explain that somehow.
