Dylan
THE PHONE PEALED and Addison’s hand reached out to hover above it. She said we shouldn’t answer on the first ring, lest we come off as desperate, so we held our breath and waited for the second ring. As soon as it started, she snatched up the receiver and held it to her ear.
“Safe Detective Agency, how may I help you?” Her voice sounded professional and inviting, as it should, sinceshe’d been practicing for the past three days. I couldn’t blame her for her excitement though. This could be it...our first assignment.
Addison sighed and shook her head at me. “No, there is no John Watts here,” she said. “I don’t care if he gave you this number last night, this is our business line, and he’s not an employee. Stop calling this phone number!” She slammed the receiver down andput her head in her hands.
I did an Internet search for John Watts in the Portland, Oregon area, coming up with fifty-nine possible matches. “Maybe our first job should be finding this guy?” I suggested.
“Probably not a good idea,” Addison countered. “If I ever get my hands on him, I’ll show him debt collectors are the least of his problems.”
I understood exactly how Addison felt. We’d workedhard to get where we were, and every wrong-number phone call only pointed out the absence of real ones. And neither of us could understand why people weren’t calling. Our agency logo was etched into the glass on the door, we had cute business cards, matching cherry-wood desks, new phones, fast laptops, a kitchenette with an espresso machine and a mini-fridge, healthy plants, and even a cozy receptionsofa.
Our office was immaculate, with high ceilings, custom crown molding, and floor-to-ceiling windows that gave us a much-coveted sixth-story view of downtown Portland. We’d each taken five hundred hours of pre-licensing education, paid the fees, passed the necessary exams, and earned our investigator licenses. At Addison’s insistence, I’d even gotten my concealed carry permit, a holster,and a cute little Glock 19 Gen4, nine-mm Luger, which came standard with a fifteen-round magazine. Addison had offered to up the ammo to the seventeen- or thirty-three round magazine, but I reminded her I was a small-town girl who’d been hunting since I could walk. If I couldn’t take out a threat with fifteen rounds, I deserved natural selection type consequences.
So...we had a gorgeous, well-positionedoffice and our state-mandated qualifications, but what we didn’t have, was clients. We’d been open for almost three and a half days, and had so far clocked twenty-seven hours and thirty-two minutes of sitting on our asses in ergonomically-correct chairs. I’d checked local papers and Craigslist ads for potential clients so many times my laptop browser was suggesting dating sites. Feelingdefeated, I closed my computer, laid my head on the desk, and stared at the phone, willing it to ring.
“Nobody’s gonna hire us,” Addison announced, voicing my worst fears. The wheels of her chair spun against the hardwood floor as she stood and walked to the window. “And I bet it’s Jake’s fault. He blackballed us. I know he did.”
I died a little inside, dreading yet another spiraling Jake conversation.Addison had a complicated relationship with a Portland police detective by the name of Jacob Parker. Complicated because they were both bossy and stubborn, and nobody had told Jake the number one rule about being with Addison: don’t tell her she can’t do something.
Almost five months ago, Jake had come to Addison’s house to let me know I’d been exonerated for murder charges. I left him and Addisontogether for five minutes. No joke, five minutes max. The next thing I knew she was calling my cell, all hopped up on righteous indignation and ranting incoherently. By the time I got her to sound a little less Tasmanian Devil and a little more like the beautiful, intelligent, charming heiress she is, we were dressed in business suits and sitting in an office, waiting our turn to make a dealwith the real devil. Okay, not the real one, but for the record, Bruce Allen has been known to sprout horns on occasion.
Addison’s father steepled his hands, leaned back in his chair, and listened intently to her proposal before not so politely declining to take on the financial responsibility of two inexperienced private investigators. Addison has never been one to take no for an answer, andshe dug her heels in, guilt-tripped, and threatened to blackmail her own father. Besides, technically, it was her money. She’d received a settlement from her trust fund on her twenty-fifth birthday, but it hadn’t funded yet. It wouldn’t for about a week and she wanted access to the money immediately. She was basically asking her dad for a bridge loan and I thought for sure he’d have security tossus out on our designer-suited rears, but instead, he conceded. And judging by the slight upturn of his mouth, I’m pretty sure he was proud of his daughter for standing her ground. He made a phone call to move the money into her account while Addison and I headed out to begin the three-month process.
By the way, squeezing five hundred hours of education into three months is no joke. But we didit. We even have the certificates on the wall to prove it.
“Well, Jake can suck it, because this is gonna be the most successful detective agency in Portland,” Addison seethed. “We’ll be solving so many crimes, the mayor will have to cut back the police force. We just need to figure out a way to get our feet in the door. We need marketing and credibility. How can we get reviews and recommendationswithout solving a case?”
So far, the only case we’d solved was mine, and I didn’t think anyone would hire us based on a review from one of the investigators. Besides, I’d been shot and shot at, and Addison and I had both broken at least one law during the escapade. So, if I was being honest, I couldn’t give us more than a solidC.And that was being generous.
“Think.” She crossed her arms andleaned against the window. “There has to be something we can do.”
Addison wasn’t known for her patience, and this three-days-and-still-no-clients thing had to be eating her up inside. After my exciting case, she’d been expecting a life of mystery and intrigue, whereas I’d been dreading the likely possibility of more hospital visits and legal fees. Turns out neither of us were getting what weexpected.
“I’ve gotta find a way to get Jake to ease up so we can get some clients,” she said.
