PRIVATE EYE - Chapter 2

The call that I'd received on that quiet night at the bar had come from a lawyer, one I wasn't familiar with up until now. Daniel Fern. Just another one of many law firms in the city. Not one of the top dogs as far as I could tell, but I guess they can't all be.

Daniel had asked to meet.

So that night, at the Crescent Moon jazz bar, Carlos was seated at the bar, glass of whiskey in front of him as is usually the case. It was dark in the club, with a small stage at the back on which a jazz band was playing. There was an area in front of the stage where people were seated at tables, eating and drinking. Between the seating area and the stage was a small dance floor where a few couples were dancing to the slow number the band were playing.

Carlos knocked back what remained of his whiskey and put the glass down on the bar. The barman approached. "What'll it be?" he asked.

"Jack. Lots of ice," came Carlos' reply.

The barman walked away to get the drink.

I'd actually been to this joint a few times before. I liked to come here to unwind. That particular day I'd just closed a missing person's case. I'd found the person...dead. Then I had the unpleasant responsibility of informing the next of kin.

Nobody knows how hard that is. Telling somebody that a family member is dead. After all the waiting and the speculating about whether they're all right. Wondering if they'll ever see them again, or if they're ever coming home. You'd think it gets easier the more you do it. It doesn't. When you tell them, it almost feels like it's your fault. You feel guilty. You feel like the bad guy. Ripping apart someone's world like that and then watching them break down is never an easy thing to go through.

As Carlos was going over the tragic events of that day in his mind, the lawyer, Daniel, appeared at the bar and slumped himself down into the stool next to Carlos with a sigh. The barman approached and put Carlos' drink down on the bar. He turned to Daniel.

"Whiskey. Make it a double," said Daniel. "On the rocks."

The barman walked away again to make the drink.

Carlos turned to Daniel. "Man after my own heart. Long day, huh?"

"Aren't they all?" replied Daniel.

"You must be Mr Fern."

"Daniel." He shook Carlos' hand.

"Carlos."

The barman returned and put the double whiskey down on the bar, then walked away to serve another customer that had just approached the bar at the end.

"So," began Carlos. "You wanted to meet. How did you get my number?"

"Classifieds."

"That's classified? I'm just asking how you got my number."

"No, I mean I got it from the classified ads. The old fashioned way."

Carlos raised his glass as the penny dropped inside his mind. "So, what can I do for you, Daniel?"

"I've just taken on a case. A murder case. The brother of the victim came to me to get a trial and prosecute the suspect. The key witness to this murder has been killed just days after she saw it. I've got no decent evidence to work with to convict and the whole thing is just a total ball ache. We can't even find the suspect to prosecute."

"Going nowhere fast, huh?"

"There's just no progress. I don't know how to proceed. The cops have got nothing to work with. Which is where you come in. You've got more of a chance of finding any evidence than I have. Maybe better connections too. This murder is very clean so far. We've got no leads, nothing to go on. I need your help."

Carlos sipped his drink and took his time to swallow the smooth liquor, as he thought about giving an answer.

"I charge nine hundred dollars a week, for a maximum duration of a month spent on any particular case," Carlos eventually replied. "If no results are produced within that period, it is at my discretion as to whether I want to pursue the case or not. That's dependant on if I think it's worth it. If I think I'm close to producing results. All extra work is charged at the same rate."

"I'll speak to my client, but I can't see it being a problem," said Daniel. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

"Don't mention it."

"I'd like to meet tomorrow for lunch, if that's ok with you? So that you can meet my Client and I can bring you up to speed."

"Fine with me."

"Cafe Omar. Say, about twelve?"

"It's a date."

The tempo of the music was beginning to speed up now as the band moved into playing more lively numbers. The dance floor was gradually filling up and the vibe was turning more upbeat.

"So, it must be pretty interesting in your line of work," said Daniel.

"Interesting is one aspect, sure."

"You located that missing painting from the art museum right? That was a big story in all the papers. That painting was worth hundreds of thousands."

"You heard about that, huh?"

"I can't believe it was in the curators office the whole time. What a scumbag. The last place you'd think to look. What made you look there?" asked Daniel.

"Because it was the only place left to look."

"You must do pretty well out of this gig?"

"I get by. I don't take big cases all that much."

Daniel sipped his drink, a frown forming as he swallowed. "Why not?"

"The bigger the case, the heavier the pressure. More responsibility. More stress. I like to take each day as it comes. I'll take a big case from time to time, they pay the bills."

Daniel drained the last drop from his glass. "Well, I'm dry. Another round?"

"You twisted my arm, sir."

"Hey, bartender? Two more."

* * *

Next day.

Cafe Omar.

12:37pm.

The small cafe was very busy, with people seated at almost every table. Waitresses were rushing from table to table, then to the counter, then to the kitchen, and repeat. The smell of grease in the air was almost sickening and a sharp smell of coffee infiltrated the nose.

Daniel Fern and his client, Nathan West, were seated at a table in a booth, mugs of coffee in front of them.

A moment passed and Carlos slid into the booth next to Daniel. "Hey," Carlos said.

A waitress approached, seeing that another person had sat down. "What'll it be?" she asked.

"Full breakfast, mushrooms, no tomatoes. Coffee, black, no sugar. Thank you."

The waitress wrote the order down on her notepad. "Comin' up." She swiftly walked off to place the order.

"You're not eating?" asked Carlos.

"We already have," replied Daniel, with just a hint of annoyance in his voice. "You're late."

"I'm hung over."

"Carlos, this is my client Nathan. Nathan, Carlos. He's a Private Investigator."

Carlos and Nathan shook hands across the table.

"So, explain the scenario to me again," said Carlos.

"Okay," began Daniel. "Nathan's brother, Ben West, was murdered in the alleyway next to Reno's Bar. The only witness to this was recently found dead, shot in the head in her home. She'd already gone to the police, so it was obviously a little 'should've kept your mouth shut' bullet from whoever she'd ratted out. But there's no evidence to convict the killer. And there's no killer because he's disappeared."

"What's the name of the suspect?"

"Well, like I said, the witness went to the police and did an E-FIT of the guy she saw," said Daniel. "Plus he's known to the police for previous allegations. His name is Harry Marconi."

Carlos' eyes widened. "Harry Marconi? Are you serious?"

The waitress approached and put the breakfast, coffee and cutlery down on the table. "There you go, hun," she said, and scurried back out into the kitchen.

"Is that a problem?" asked Daniel.

"Looks like my fee just went up."

"What's wrong?"

"You know nothing about Harry Marconi?"

"Only that he's known to the police, like I just said. Look, I'm aware that he's dangerous. I don't know any details. I also know he's never been hit with a single conviction."

"Who is this guy?" Nathan asked.

"Harry Marconi works for his father, Oliver Marconi, who owns a chain of hotels across the US. Five Star. They're called Diamond Plaza," continued Carlos. "All legal. All totally above board. What isn't above board is what the other half of the organization does. Oliver puts money from gun running, drugs, extortion, protection, you name it, through his hotel business. Uses rooms in his own hotels to facilitate things. He provides women, men, whatever for prospective clients and business partners. Even though he makes a lot of money through his hotel business, that is nowhere near the whole bag. He's got his dirty little fingers in a lot of dirty little pies. So, while Oliver takes care of the hotel business, he leaves Harry in charge of the criminal side. He's a gangster, Daniel."