Corn Field Surveillance

Corn Field Surveillance

                  A short story by Alexa Grace from the novel Deadly Offerings

Chambers Restaurant was a popular watering hole located across from the courthouse and had the best ribs in town.  It was close to one o’clock and as usual, it was filled with the lunch crowd of attorneys, courthouse employees and cops. 

Michael watched as the tall blonde woman entered the bar.  She spotted him and sashayed up to the bar.  She was wearing a red wrap dress that highlighted her curves, which were not unnoticed by a table of men sitting near the door. 

When she reached Michael, he stood to shake her hand, which meant this was business. 

“So you need my services again?” She pulled up to the bar stool and crossed her legs.

“Yes, Douglas Investigations is on the top of my list for private investigation.  How are you, Frankie?”  He gazed at her for a moment.  “This one is a little different from your assignments in the past.”

“How different?” 

“Still like apple martinis?” 

“Ah, you remembered.”

While he looked for the bartender, she checked him out noting how good the man looked in jeans. Usually, they met in his office and he wore nothing but suits. He looked good in a suit. But looking at him in these body-hugging jeans, her heartbeat kicked up a notch.

“I have a witness I want you to keep an eye on.”

He waved the bartender over and ordered an apple martini for her and another Coors for himself.  She watched him, wondering who the witness was who had him drinking his lunch.

“Homicide case?”

“Yes.  I have reason to believe the killer is targeting her.”

“Who’s after her?  Who’s your suspect?” 

“Don’t have one,” said Michael.

“Can’t you put her in protective custody?”

“No, there’s no money to do that.” 

This meant he was covering her expenses on this assignment himself.  Again, she wondered who the witness was.  “Understand.  What do you want me to do?”

“Tail her and cover her at her house.  I don’t want her out of your sight.  Do you understand?” 

“Yeah, I get it.  What’s her name?”

“Anne Mason.  She owns Golden Acres Farm.”

“Isn’t that the woman who found Rachel Mitchell’s body in her corn field?  I read the story in the paper.”

"That’s her.”

“Are you telling me that Rachel’s killer is now after Anne Mason?”

“Yes.” 

“When do you want me to start?”  She couldn’t read his expression.  She couldn’t tell if he was pissed or just really worried about this girl.  She also wondered exactly what his relationship was with her.  She’d been sending him some pretty clear signals for years that she was interested, but nothing.

“Now.”   He chugged the rest of his beer and set the bottle on the bar.  “Right, freaking now.  And keep me updated.”  He slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar.  She watched him leave, and then pulled her cell phone out of her purse and googled Anne Mason.