Snooping (Prologue)

[Gerald Tarrant]

The required ingredients of a good sandwich: lots of horseradish, or lots of spicy mustard, or lots of onions. A sandwich without these may be ok, but it won't be great. These ingredients serve two purposes, first I love the tase, second and most importantly if your co-workers decide to pilfer your food from the fridge, you can follow your nose to the culprit. I'm just finishing a very good sandwich, (the only drawback is your bagged lunch should include some mouthwash.) By way of introduction, I'm a private eye, and rather cynical even for that profession. My original recipe for a perfect sandwich had included a radio transmitter designed to look like a pickle, but I couldn't get it to survive the chewing.

Oh, 6:30, time to take another look at the target. Or as his wife calls him "That Cheating Bastard", she even had her lawyer stick that in the official divorce papers, which haven't yet been filed. Ahh, his car is starting to pull out of the garage. Well, time to get out of this park and do my thing. Let's see, roll up the blanket, grab my suntan lotion, stuff it all in my back-pack, Lap-top in lap-top bag. Anything else? Just the garbage. Ok, time to clear out. I'd staked out a place where I could get good LOS to his work. Unfortunately I couldn't really stay here all day without arousing some sort of suspiciong, so I needed a cover, or lack thereof. For me it was sunbathing, while I play around on my lap top.

Apparently his wife's suspicions have been communicated to a few of his co-workers, and "The Cheating Bastard" has gotten word of it. So he tries to play spy. Extraneous turns, roundabouts, random stops, the whole works. If I were following him more closely, and if this wasn't rush hour traffic, it might work. But I've been doing this for longer than him, plus my car is a completely ordinary Saturn rented from an agency, also I stuck a radio under his bumper. I'm not even going to be getting within 3 blocks.

Oh good, he's stopped his random turns, after only five minutes of trying them. N00b. It would take me a lot longer to convince myself that no one was following me. He's clearly new to this try and keep his affair a secret thing. Well that only makes my job easier, and I won't really complain.

The GPS says he's turning off into a largeish cul-de-sac. I've tracked him here before. But I've always backed off. I think it's time to take a little risk. So a quick drive-by will minimize the chance that he sees me, but I can see which house he goes into.

What? He's walking up to the same one he parked by. "All Too Easy." Pull out the camera for a few quick wide angle shots, blurry shots. I'll get close ups of his car and license plate later.

So let's see, 5 minutes for him to stare out the window of his paramour's place ("That Slattern", according to his wife) and convince himself that no one is tracking him. Then he can go enjoy himself with the subject in question. So that gives me some time to go set up. I guess "The Bastard" thinks he's safe, this house is in one of those nicely wooded sub-urbs. The blinds on the window to the bedroom are wide open. From the ground no one would know see was up, the angles aren't right. Fortunately if a hypothetical observer were situated 20 feet up in a thick willow tree it would be pretty easy.

So bring the camera bag, and that expensive long range lense. 15 minutes since he parked, and I'm finally in position. He and "That Slattern" have probably been through a bottle of wine by now. Time to start snapping pictures.

I can't say I blame him, she looks really good in that lingerie. And I can't say I blame her, he looks really rich in that sports car. But my job isn't blame, it's to find out the facts. And that is most definitely not his wife, and they most definitely aren't discussing work. Oh well. I'm getting pictures and lots of them. And my client will get a better divorce deal.

Ring Ring. I don't normally get calls at work, but since this case is all but done, I might as well check this out.

"Jenny, baby. You busy?"

"No just wrapping up right now Frank. And you're married, what would your wife say."

"Another one of those cases, huh? Sorry to hear it. But I got something you might be interested in."

"Look, I want some time off. I've had a whole string of 'those cases'. I want some time to get drunk and read trashy literature where everything turns out fine."

"I don't think you'll want it after you hear my pitch. For our purposes I'm waving my finder's fee. Although it would be a very sweet one."

Long pause. Frank is a nice guy, and we've got a good working relationship. But it's a working relationship, he doesn't really give me freebies. "Did they already pay your fees?"

"This client actually gave me a $10,000 dollar retainer to find them good PI's. I get an extra $10,000 if you finish the job to their satisfaction. "

Another pause "That's a lot of money to just find PI's , I'm wondering how much I'll get."

"200 grand plus expenses."

"I'll do it."

"Great just let me fax some stuff over."

[Academia Nut]

So what could possibly be worth $200k for a PI? And how insane will things get once the truth comes out?