Tracy Hayes, Apprentice PI

Chapter Eleven

In the light of day my previous night's fears seemed silly. No one was watching me and no one followed us when Pippin and I headed to the subway. I was anxious though, when I settled on the couch in Jackson's office with a large mug of coffee. This was the moment of truth.

"So, how did it go yesterday?"

"I got the evidence, but I'm not sure you'll like what happened," I said.

"And what happened?" Jackson directed his best cop gaze at me and I confessed everything like a petty criminal. He blinked when I finished. Then he started laughing. "That's so incredible no one will believe it."

That didn't help my anxiety. "As long as Mr. Jenkins will."

"Let's see the photos, then." He uploaded them to his computer and opened the first one. His eyebrows shot up. "Wow."

"I know."

"These are really good photos." He leaned closer and I was pretty sure he was checking Tessa's assets and not the photographic quality. I tried not to feel miffed. "These should convince Mr. Jenkins." He shook his head ruefully. "I used to have such a crush on Tessa at school, but she wouldn't give me the time of day. Knowing she's into women makes it sting a little less."

I didn't know if Tessa had been gay already at school – she'd definitely been well closeted if she had – but I nodded.

"So I did good?"

He smiled. "You did good." I smiled back, relieved.

We worked in the office the whole morning. Jackson had paperwork to do and I had to study, but he had time to show me some secrets of the trade too. Before I knew it, it was time for lunch. Since Pippin needed his walk, Cheryl headed out to fetch us something to eat. I could've used a walk too – I wasn't accustomed to sitting down all day – but I didn't protest. The novelty of non-achy feet hadn't worn off yet.

The door to the reception area was open, so when two men walked in soon after Cheryl left, we saw them immediately. The first of them was in his early fifties. He was wearing a light gray summer suit and a pink silk shirt, and had lifted his shades over sleekly combed black hair. He looked perfectly normal and respectable, but I was instantly on guard. Maybe it was the way he cased the reception room before proceeding to Jackson's office and giving the doorframe a polite knock. Maybe it was my waitress's intuition that allowed me to spot the customers most likely to cause trouble with their order.

Maybe it was the large man who followed him in. The same man who had shown interest in Pippin the previous evening, still tall and muscled in his fine suit. Still intimidating. I froze on my seat.

"Jackson Dean?" the first man asked. My boss got up to shake his hand. "Craig Douglas."

The other man wasn't introduced and he remained standing by the door like a bodyguard. I kept glancing at him, but he didn't indicate in any way that we had already met, his face calm and impassive – and somehow more threatening for it. I guess that was his purpose.

Jackson showed Mr. Douglas to the guest chair, taking a seat behind his desk. "What can I do for you?"

"I saw your poster. The one for a dog you've found. I believe he's mine."

The presence of the large man had made me anticipate it, but I was still disappointed. I couldn't believe Pippin would belong to him. He was such a happy dog, whereas Mr. Douglas – and definitely his goon – looked like he belonged to the mafia. I didn't trust him, and I was instantly sure he was lying.

Not so Jackson. "Excellent."

My heart sank. He wasn't going to give Pippin to these guys, was he? I wanted to protest, but kept my mouth shut.