The Theif
The man was lying. There was no doubt in Carter’s mind. An unmistakable red glow emanating from the man made his deceit undeniable, not that Carter expected this guy to tell the truth.
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“It wasn’t me. You’ve got to believe me!” The man dressed in jeans and a black hoodie said, “I swear it wasn’t me.”
Yeah, right. Aside from a few seconds when the man had rounded the corner before him, he had been in Carter’s sights since he fled from the deli. The beads of sweat and his heavy breaths confirmed this was the man he had been chasing. “So, what you’re saying is that it’s all just coincidence?”
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“Yes! Exactly. One big misunderstanding, that’s all.” The man was of average height, much like Carter, but a little thicker than Carter’s lean frame. He had heavy stubble and a minor cut over his left eye that looked to be only a day or two old.
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“You know what?” he asked in a sympathetic tone. “I think I believe you.” The man’s expression morphed into equal parts surprise and hope. “So, tell me what happened.”
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“Umm, well,” the man said. Carter could see the wheels spinning in the man’s head as he scrambled to grab hold of any explanation, other than the truth, that might seem plausible. “Some guy came running around the corner and crashed right into me! I think he must have known you were right behind him because he got back up real quick and ran off again.”
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“Hmm, makes sense. He probably tripped over that chunk of heaved concrete in the sidewalk.”
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“Yeah, that’s exactly what I - he did.”
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Of course it is. And he just happened to be the same size and build as you are and wearing the same outfit. Clearly, this guy is no pro. “And what’s in the bag?”
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“I’m not sure. That guy must have dropped it when he fell.”
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More red. More lies. “Dollars to donuts the money he stole from the deli is in there. Check it out.”
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“Sure enough,” the man said, looking inside the paper bag sitting on the ground next to him. He was doing his best to appear innocent, but his darting eyes said otherwise.
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“In that case, you should be the one to take it back to the deli. After all, you’re the one who stopped him. I bet you get a citation out of it, or maybe even some kind of reward!”
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“You think so?”
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“Sure!” Carter watched as the man climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. I can’t believe he’s playing along with this. He’s probably thinking the same thing about me. But, I guess, 90 seconds ago he was on the verge of getting caught red-handed. Now that I’ve offered him a get out of jail free card, he probably thinks he can’t afford to pass it up. “Come on. I’ll go with you and vouch for your story. After all, I saw the whole thing.”
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“Really?” the man asked, sounding shocked. “I mean, you’d do that for me?”
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“Of course! What are friends for?” I honestly don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it’s not this! Carter stifled a laugh.
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“Thanks man, I really appreciate it,” he said, the red glow finally fading.
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“Not a problem, but you’re gonna owe me one,” Carter gave a friendly grin, enjoying the late-June breeze as it cooled him down from the pursuit.
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“Deal.”
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As the pair walked back to the small deli just a couple of blocks away, Carter kept the man distracted by engaging him in an in-depth discussion of the Red Sox’s pitching rotation. The goal was to make the man feel so at ease that he would almost forget he was holding a bag of stolen money. The thief tensed up again when he saw the police had already arrived on the scene, but Carter reassured him that, with an eyewitness as his alibi, there was nothing to worry about.
“Hold it right there, fellas,” a police officer said, holding his palm out toward them. “Boston PD. I’m afraid this is a crime scene at the moment. I’ll have to ask you to go around.”
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“It’s alright officer,” Carter said, putting a reassuring hand on his companion’s shoulder. “We’re actually here to see you.”
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“Who are you?”
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“My name is Carter Everton. I am a private investigator. And this is… sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
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“Um, I’m, ah, Joe Franks.” The man stumbled over his words and subconsciously inched away from the officer.
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“And watcha got there in the bag, Joe?” the police officer asked, lowering his arm.
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“Oh, great news, officer,” Carter answered with a broad smile as he wrapped his arm around Joe’s shoulder. “This is actually money stolen from the deli. Joe here is just being a good citizen and returning it.”
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The police officer gave Carter a skeptical look as he slowly stepped forward and took the bag from Joe. He opened the top and peered inside. The officer’s eyebrows rose as he said, “Well, I’ll be! And exactly how did you end up with this bag in your possession?”
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“Well, I, um…”
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“Would you like me to explain it for you, Joe?” Carter offered politely.
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“Yeah. Yeah. That would be great.”
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“It’s really quite simple, officer. I saw the whole thing,” Carter explained. “Joe here ended up with the bag because, well, he’s the one who took the money.”
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Joe’s face dropped, and he tried in vain to make a run for it. Carter’s hand latched on to the thief’s shoulder, momentarily holding him in place. Before he could wriggle free, the cop had grabbed Joe’s arm and twisted it behind his back. A few seconds later, he was in cuffs.
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“He should be a perfect match to the security camera footage,” Carter grinned in self-satisfaction. “You can find the ski mask he wore during the robbery tossed over the fence about a block that way. And don’t forget to reclaim the cash he stuffed in his pockets when he thought I wasn’t looking.”
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“Thank you,” the officer said as he led Joe to the squad car. “I’m going to need you to wait inside for a few minutes so I can take your statement once I’m done with our buddy Joe here.”
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“No problem,” Carter said. “I still have to pay for my sandwich anyway.”
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The deli was housed on the bottom floor of a narrow building squeezed in between two much larger ones. Carter walked inside and gave a friendly nod to the man behind the counter. “You okay?”
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“Sí,” the stout Hispanic man with graying hair replied, still looking rather shaken. “Muchos gracias, Señor Carter.”
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“De nada, Guillermo. The police have your money, and the guy who took it.”
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“I am lucky you were here when he came in. How can I ever thank you?”
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“Extra mustard on that Rueben should cover it,” Carter grinned.
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“No problema!” Guillermo finished prepping the sandwich, slipped it into a bag along with a package of chips, and handed it over the counter. “On the house.”
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“No, you don’t have to…”
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“I insist.”
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“Thanks.”
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After giving his statement to the police, Carter returned to the street and gave a cordial wave to Joe, slouched in the back seat of the patrol car. He turned back toward the narrow building and opened the door next to the deli’s entrance, then walked inside and headed up to the second floor. There was a small landing with a door directly ahead and another to the left.
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Opening the second door, the young P.I. walked into his simple yet homey, one-bedroom apartment. Carter flopped down on his couch, clicked on the TV, and unwrapped his sandwich. Another weekend down the tube. Of course, I don’t have a case to work on tomorrow, so I guess that makes this a long weekend! “Fellowship of the Ring - Extended Version it is,” he said, selecting the movie from the menu screen on his TV.
* * *
A loud pounding on his front door roused Carter from his bed the next morning. He waited for a minute to see if the visitor would stop knocking and leave. They didn’t. With a sigh, he rubbed his hazel eyes and glanced briefly at the clock. Ten o’clock. He had stayed up far later than he should have last night, but with no concrete schedule for today, he didn’t see the harm. Sauntering toward the front door, he patted down his wavey blonde hair, thankful as always for its low-maintenance style. As he reached for the doorknob, the knocking finally stopped. Now that I’m up, I might as well take a look. He opened the door but saw no one. “Hello?” he called down the stairwell.
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He heard the tread of footsteps below slowing to a stop and then a female voice shouted back, “Yeah?”
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“I think you may have been knocking on my door.”
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The only reply was the sound of footsteps climbing back up the stairs. Moments later, a young woman with brunette hair rounded the corner and stood in on the landing. “Oh, I’m sorry.” The woman repositioned the soft curls of a lock of hair away from her face, leaving it gently hanging over her shoulders before continuing her apology. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was actually knocking on this other door.”
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“Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.” Why did you say that? It happens all the time? Hardly anyone ever comes up here.
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“I’m sorry for bothering you all the same.”
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“It’s no bother,” Carter smiled politely. “What are you here for?”
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“I’m here to apply for a job.”
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“A job? What job?”
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“I saw an ad in the paper, saying this guy was looking for an associate.”
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“Right, right. I heard about that.”
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“But I guess he’s not here so…”
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“Do me a favor,” Carter said. The woman gave no reply, so he continued. “Wait right here for just one minute, please.”
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“Alright.”
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“Thanks.” He left the woman standing somewhat impatiently on the landing, waiting for his door to open again. Two minutes later, the other door opened.
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“I’m so very sorry for keeping you waiting,” Carter greeted as he opened the door wide. He had traded his sweats and old t-shirt in for jeans and a clean t-shirt and had combed his previously disheveled hair.
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“What is going on here?” the woman inquired.
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“I apologize. My name is Carter Everton. This is my office.”
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“And what was that?”
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“That is my apartment,” Carter said. “I bought both units and put in a door to join them together.” The woman continued to look at him with a puzzled expression. “I wasn’t expecting visitors this morning, so you kind of caught me off guard.”
“Sorry. I probably should have called and made an appointment,” the woman said, shifting and glancing down before but only for a moment as her eyes recaptured a confident look. “I’ve been trying to talk myself into answering your ad for two weeks. This morning I finally felt the motivation to do it, so I decided I should just come straight over before I chickened out.”
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“I see,” Carter said with a slight chuckle.
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“That was stupid. I shouldn’t have said that. It makes me sound like a wuss. You’re not going to hire a wuss.”
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“You realize you’re talking out loud, right?”
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“I’m sorry. I do that sometimes when I get nervous. No filter. I just say everything I’m thinking.”
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“That’s not such a bad thing,” Carter grinned. “Well, you’re here now. I’m here, finally. Why don’t you come in and we can chat?”
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“That sounds good,” the woman said, releasing the tension from her shoulders.
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The two entered what had been the living room of the original apartment. The small and rather plain room housed a desk with a plush chair behind it and two wooden framed chairs in front. There were several filing cabinets against one wall, a buffet against the other wall, and a short hallway leading to the kitchen, bathroom, and another small room. Behind the desk was a sizable window that looked out over the street in front of the deli below.
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Carter offered the woman one of the wooden chairs before sitting behind the desk. He took a moment to straighten up a few things on the desktop, which gave him time to discretely examine his guest. He estimated her to be an inch or two shorter than him, with a build that seemed neither overly heavy or thin. Her facial features were soft but not rounded, her eyes dark brown, and her smile subtle yet warm. She wore dark blue jeans and a dark purple Henly shirt with a thin, light-gray sweater over top. Having stalled for as long as he dared, Carter said, “So, you saw the ad, did you?”
“Yes. I told you that’s why I’m here.”
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“Of course. It’s just that you’re the first one who has actually responded to it,” Carter confessed.
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“Well, that doesn’t bode very well for you, does it?” the woman asked in a matter of fact, but not rude way.
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“Not really, no. But now you’re here, so perhaps things are looking up.”
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“Perhaps,” she said. Neither her tone nor her expression revealed whether she shared Carter’s optimistic sentiment.
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“Okay, how about we begin with your name?”
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“Jessica Reynolds,” the woman said with a confident, albeit somewhat rehearsed, smile. She extended her hand over the desk. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Everton.”
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“Carter, please,” he gently corrected. “It’s nice to meet you too, Jessica.”
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“It’s nice to meet you too,” she repeated herself, then blushed slightly.
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“Okay, let me tell you a bit about what I’m looking for. Being a P.I. is not all glitz and glamor like it is in the movies. Most of it is digging through files, making phone calls, and following people doing painfully mundane things.”
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“You sure are selling it, aren’t you?” Jessica said with a grin.
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“Hey, if you don’t know what you’re getting into, you’ll probably quit on me in a couple of weeks and then I’ll have to go through this entire process all over again.”
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“You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” she teased.
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“You’re not shy, are you?” Carter remarked. It wasn’t a complaint, more of an observation. He kind of liked that about her. He had always preferred people who said what they were really thinking.
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“So I’ve been told.”
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“I need someone to help with all that grunt work. But I’m also looking for someone with the potential to become something more than a glorified secretary or research intern. I need someone who can work independently and, with some training, go out on their own and work at least some aspects of a case by themselves.”
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“Sounds good to me. I would make a lousy secretary.”
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“Alright, let’s get down to brass tacks then,” Carter said, sounding slightly more formal. “I’m going to ask you a few questions.”
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“Okay.”
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“But you can answer them truthfully, or you can lie.”
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“Okay?” Jessica said, as she raised one eyebrow quizzically. “So, you want me to lie?”
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“A little of both would be ideal.”
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“Why?”
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“Mostly to see if you’re any good at it,” Carter said, which was true but also only part of the story. “But it’s also fun for me to see if I can tell the difference.”
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“I guess that makes some sense.”
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“In this line of work, the ability to lie and spot a lie are prerequisites,” he stated. “Now, question number one: How old are you?”
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“18,” Jessica quipped.
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“Did you miss the part where this is supposed to be fun for me? Make it believable. You’re nowhere close to 18. If I had to guess, I’d say…” Carter caught himself mid-sentence. It suddenly occurred to him that she might find a wrong guess unflattering. “Nothing. I would say nothing. So, let’s try again. How old are you?”
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“27,” she replied with a blank expression.
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There it is. Carter smiled, but only on the inside. A faint red glow enveloped Jessica as she sat in the chair. She was lying, but not a lot. More like bending the truth. “No, you’re not, but you’re very close.”
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“That’s incredible,” Jessica remarked, genuinely impressed. “Technically, I’m 26… until tomorrow.”
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“Smart,” Carter commended. “The best lies are always almost true. Next question. Do you really want this job?”
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“Yes.”
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No glow. That’s a good sign. Surprising, but a good sign. “Do you think you’re smarter than me?”
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“Not really, no.”
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Carter couldn’t hold back the grin as he looked at the bright red glow around her. “That’s fine.”
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Caught in the lie, Jessica’s face flushed a little. “Sorry.”
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“Don’t be. Why would I want to hire a dumb person? Okay, rapid-fire time. Do you dye your hair?”
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“Never.”
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“Coffee or tea?”
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“Coffee.”
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“Star Wars or Star Trek?”
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“Jane Austen.”
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That doesn’t answer the question, but so glad she’s lying. “What’s your greatest strength?”
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“Telling it like it is.”
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“What’s your greatest weakness?”
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“Same thing.”
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“What was your first impression of me?”
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Jessica stumbled a bit. “Um, you seem like a really good guy.”
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Red again, not as red as the smarter than me question, but definitely red. “No, seriously, what was it?”
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“To be honest, you weren’t exactly what I expected.”
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“How so?”
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“I don’t know. I guess I just assumed a P.I. would look more like James Bond or something. You’re more, you know, average looking.”
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Carter rubbed his thumb and index finger on either side of his chin over his light stubble beard for a moment and then said, “That should do. Thanks.”
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“I don’t understand. Are you saying I didn’t get the job?”
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“No.”
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“No?” she said, sounding far more upset than he expected.
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“I mean, no, that doesn’t mean you didn’t get the job,” Carter tried to clarify. “That’s just the end of the questions. From now on, honest answers only.”
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“I actually prefer that.”
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“Good to know. Tell me why you want this job.”
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“It sounds interesting to me. I find people fascinating, and the chance to observe and predict human behavior is incredibly enticing to me. I also like the idea of being my own boss and setting my own hours.”
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“Yes, that is nice, but you realize I’m the boss and I set the hours, right?”
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“Of course. I just mean it’s not like this is a regular nine-to-five desk job. There is inherently some flexibility built into it. I mean, I would think so, anyway.”
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“No, you’re absolutely right,” Carter said. “Of course, sometimes that means you have to work at all hours of the night while all those poor slobs with a desk job are out on the town having a good time.”
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“That makes sense,” Jessica said. “After all, they’re the ones you’re trying to catch having too good of a time.”
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“That’s one way to look at it.” Carter paused and took a minute to evaluate the conversation. “I’ll be honest with you. Like I said before, a lot of it is busywork. Research and running down leads. Most of my cases are pretty routine things. Cheats, liars, and thieves, mostly.”
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“As long as it pays the bills, work is work.”
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“But like I said earlier, I’m not looking for a receptionist or clerk to answer phones and do the filing. I would expect you to hold your own and be able to keep pace.”
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Jessica’s eyes widened. Clearly, that prospect excited her. “I can handle that.”
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Not a hint of a glow. She’s nothing if not confident, Carter thought. “In that case, I have one more question.”
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“Shoot.”
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“Why do you really want this job?”
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“I already told…” Jessica looked at Carter, who sat with one knowing eyebrow raised. “It sounds exciting. Like catching bad guys would be a rush. Not that I’m just in it for the adrenaline high. I just want to do something that mattered. I want to feel like I’m making a real difference for real people, not just upping the profit margin of some corporation.”
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A rather healthy mix of philanthropy and ego. “In that case… you’re hired. Welcome to Everton Investigations.”
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“Really?” she said, unable to disguise her shock. “You don’t need to see my resume or check my references.”
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“You’re confident, direct, a decent liar, and brutally honest. You’re qualified. I can teach you everything else.”
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“Wow, I thought it would be more difficult.”
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“It will be, but not until after you’re on the job,” Carter smiled. “You will get thirty-five percent of the fee on cases we work together. Seventy percent of cases you work solo, if you get to that point.”
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“Sounds fair. When do I start?”
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“Tomorrow,” Carter replied. “I’ll see you first thing Wednesday morning.”
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“But tomorrow is Tuesday,” Jessica corrected.
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“I know, but it’s your birthday. No one should have to work on their birthday. Company policy.”
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“Correct me if I’m wrong, but until two minutes ago, weren’t you the only employee?”
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“Yeah, and I always take my birthday off,” Carter laughed. He stood up and extended his arm across the desk. “Welcome aboard, Jessica.”
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“Thanks, Carter,” she replied with a smile as she stood and shook his hand. “See you on Wednesday!”
