Fair Is Foul and Foul Is Fair (The Malone Mystery Novels Book 2)

Chapter 1

"Mr. Malone, it's a very serious matter that brought me here," she said. "I need a private detective, not a stand-up comic. I'd very much like to hear a little evidence of your qualifications before discussing anything with you."

"I'm licensed as a private investigator by the State of California," I said. "I could show you my BSIS-issued photo ID card if you like. In the recent past, I was a Los Angeles police homicide detective."

She seemed satisfied, even without seeing my gun.

"Can you help me with a serious problem?" she said.

"I can't say until I hear what the problem is about," I said.

"I've got to trust you I suppose," she said. "I'm desperate for help. I have no one else to turn to."

"What is it you want, Mary?" I said. "What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word, and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

"Please don't make light of my situation with movie quotes, Mr. Malone," she said. "I have a serious problem that I need help with."

"What's the problem?" I said.

"I saw something that I shouldn't have," she said.

"What did you see?" I said.

"A crime," she said. "A serious crime."

"What kind of crime?" I said.

"A murder," she said.

"Murder certainly qualifies as a serious crime," I said. "Perhaps you should be speaking with the police."

"I can't go to the police," she said. "That's part of the problem."

"Why not?" I said. "Were you involved? Are you a fugitive from justice?"

"Of course not, try to be serious," she said. "I'm not a criminal, Mr. Malone."

"Then I don't understand your reluctance to go to the police and tell them what you saw," I said.

"Because the police would ask all sorts of questions about how I happened to be at the location where I witnessed the murder," she said. "They would inquire about my involvement with the victim. The press might get a hold of it. That would all be terribly inconvenient. I just can't afford to take the risk."

"If you're worried the killer would come after you, the police would protect you," I said.

"That's not my chief concern," she said.

"Then what is it?" I said.

"You said you were a policeman, Mr. Malone," she said. "I assume you're familiar with the term 'escort' and what that term entails."

"I assume you aren't referring to that awful Ford automobile model from several years back," I said.

Another raised eyebrow suggested she wasn't talking cars.

"Then if you mean escort in the sense of an upscale call girl, then yes, I am knowledgeable and conversant on that subject," I said.

"Being an escort entails a great deal more than just sex for money, Mr. Malone," she said. "But yes, essentially that is what I'm referring to. I'm employed part-time by an escort service. I don't do it to support myself financially. It's more that I'm pursuing a personal interest you might say."

"Always nice to have a hobby," I said.

She responded by raising another eyebrow. I found myself trying to mimic her. But I couldn't feel my eyebrows moving, certainly not one independently of the other. Instead, the effort only opened my eyes wider. I figured that probably made me look wild-eyed, like Charlie Manson, so I stopped.