Harvestland

FOUR

Smith's Grove, Illinois

The office of Lehman-Daly Investigations sat in a run-down strip mall at the corner of Route 86 and Morgantown Road. They were currently the only business residing in the old strip, the others gutted and empty, For Sale signs staring out the barren windows.

Eliza Lehman would express surprise at this on occasion, that despite the raggedy exterior and interior of the building, more prospective buyers didn't consider the real estate. Some fixing up was all it needed, precisely what she and her partner Andrew did when they bought the space six months ago.

The only sign of life in the old building was the sign painted over their window, the insignia of Lehman-Daly with the fedora hat and magnifying glass, the same design on their business card, a little piece of Andrew Daly genius.

Andrew wasn't at work yet. Eliza was always the one who opened up first, the front door only unlocked if Andrew was passed out on a couch or the bathroom floor from working late or nursing his alcoholism.

But she wouldn't have to yell at him for being late today. She heard him roar in on his motorcycle some minutes later after she started up the coffee maker in the outside waiting room, a waiting room which doubled as a break room since clients have never had to wait.

He sauntered in and shrugged off his tan trench coat, dropping it on the chair behind his desk. He looked disheveled as usual. He never completely buttoned his shirts and always left his necktie loose under the collar. Eliza could almost handle that if the knot of the tie was at least centered, which of course it never was, like today.

"What's wrong?" Andrew asked as he honed in on the coffee maker.

Eliza tried to hold in her discomfort and merely held her hand to her neck in a gesture for him to straighten the tie.

"Oh. Sorry, boss." He straightened it to Eliza's relief.

"I wish you'd button that damn top button and knot the thing all the way up."

"It restricts me, boss. It's not conducive to a healthy working environment. I need to feel loose."

"You're loose, all right."

Andrew poured some coffee into a large mug. "Hey. You got that fuckin' feminine open V-neck thing going on. Must be nice. You make me wear a tie. That's gender discrimination."

"Take it up with H.R."

"H.R. Your ass would be out of a job, you had an H.R. to answer to, the abuse I get from you."

"Yeah, and the sexual harassment I get from you..."

"Sexual harassment. You wish, sexual harassment."

"Just button that damn collar. Or get a half-size bigger shirt, it won't feel so constricting. I have this image of you, shaven, your hair cut and styled, maybe a little bit of gel, your shirt crisp and tie neat, a nice vest. You'd look sharp."

"And you talk about sexual harassment from me. Next thing I know you'll be putting me in some tapered pretty boy slacks and a skinny tie. Earn me a nice 1950s pat on the ass. Shit, I dress like that for you, I'd deserve a good over-the-pants handsy at the very least. Like high school."

"That's your problem though, Andrew. You do nothing and expect me to put out all the way."

"Hey, I did a little today. Tie knot is front and center."

"Doesn't count. I had to tell you."

"Come on. That's got to get me at least a kiss with tongue. Feel your tits with the shirt on, even."