“I believe, Sarah, that I have this dance?”
“Why yes, Sir, I think you do.”
I extended my paw, she took it in hers and we wandered off to the dance floor. This was nothing to do with our mutual careers as PI's, we thought. This seemed to be all about the other side of my career as a fine upstanding lawyer and pillar of the community, whatever the hell that meant. I wasn't objecting. I was comfortable in a suit so a tux was hardly too much of a stretch from there and the same tailor made both outfits so they were not quite as constricting as they might look. Sarah looked positively radiant, her dress offsetting her pale fur and she snuggled herself against me in a rather distracting manner. I was going to use that as my excuse.
Excuse? Well, yeah. I should admit up front that for all the “grace” and “poise” normally attributed to felines, I wasn't a good dancer. Fortunately the band were playing a waltz which let me turn in at least a moderately competent performance, not stepping on her hind-paws and at least knowing SOME of the ways to cue my partner into anything other than the basic step.
This was Frank Andrews' Charity Ball and four tickets had arrived at our office.
I was nudged back to reality by the interaction between a sharp feline elbow and my ribs.
“Hey, space cadet.. Something's on your mind.”
“Thinking of you and I and of Liz and Brad.”
“We're waltzing, Dafydd. If your mind isn't on me I'm doing it wrong.”
“You have my full attention, dear one.”
We danced, circulating around the floor, it was a shame the evening was about to go completely to hell.
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About a month earlier, Frank Andrews had shown up in my office. I'd known him for years, played golf with him and shared a few drinks, faced each other across courtrooms from time to time. He had been practicing law in the metro area as long as I had. He used to joke with me that if my law clients didn't have such a high percentage of hoods on the list he'd offer me a partnership at his firm. My usual response was that if he didn't have so many corporate sleazebags on his client list, I'd offer him one. We usually ended up laughing over the fact that when you took into account the massive overhead of his plush downtown office and all the staff at his firm, we each managed to make about the same amount of money off our respective lists of crooks.
Seeing him in my office rather than at the golf club or at some Bar Association function was therefore a bit of a surprise.
The other thing that came as a shock was that his body language was lighting off some very well-honed instincts and that the big bison bull positively reeked of fear. Unlike most of my clients, who I'd see in a side room, I immediately ushered Frank into my back office. He looked around.
“I see you believe in working comfortably, Dafydd.”
“Yeah, I do. Sometimes it's just easier to get your head around the problem relaxing on the couch than sitting behind a desk. It's all salvage stuff though. The oak paneling and the bookshelves came out of that old mansion on Summit Avenue in Saint Paul that halfway burned down about a year after we both started in this game. Owners heirs opted to raze what was left and sell the lot for someone else to rebuild, I helped set them up with a decent salvage firm and kept the deal honest so they let me pick a few things for myself. The couches and chairs, I picked up in antique malls and had them reupholstered. Things like that. We're not here to talk about my taste in office décor, though, are we?”
“No.. I need your help, Dafydd.” His voice trailed off and I waved a hand at one of the chairs I'd just mentioned.
“Take the weight off your hooves, sit down and I'll pour us both a drink. Then you can tell me about it.” I grabbed the single malt out of the top drawer of the filing cabinet and poured a generous shot into each of two glasses. As I settled into another chair, he sipped at his drink and started talking.
“I think my daughter might be in trouble.”
“Kelli, right? Followed your hoofprints through law school but refused your offer of a place at the firm because she wanted to make her own way first? Come back and be hired for her ability not because she's the bosses daughter?”
“Yeah. She's doing fairly well actually. You remember Bill Lyon? She joined his firm.”
“How's she liking Vegas?”
“Well enough, I think. Bill called me yesterday. Told me she'd vanished.”
“Just that? Anything else?”
Frank laid out the details for me. One Monday morning, she'd simply not shown up for work. When her manager had called her, he'd discovered that her number was no longer in service. Apparently she'd moved out of her apartment over the weekend and fallen off the face of the earth.
The cops weren't interested, which was understandable, they had enough on their plate looking for furs who were made to vanish, not folks where it looked like the disappearing act was their own idea. What the cops were able to turn up only made it more and more certain in their eyes that Kelli had vanished because she intended to. She'd been remarkably thorough about it too. Her bank accounts and credit cards that anyone knew about were all closed out. She had, without a doubt, planned to disappear.
“Frank, if you're about to ask me to find her there's some things I need to tell you. When somebody disappears like this, thoroughly and obviously with some planning behind it, it's usually for a reason. That reason often falls into one of two categories. Either they are trying to escape something or they are trying to get into something. In the first case, finding them my lead whatever they are running away from straight to them. In the second case, finding them may expose them. It's a little dangerous to start shaking trees and rattling bushes without more detailed knowledge of the situation than we currently have.”
“So be careful, Dafydd.” I shrugged, walked to my desk and called Liz in the front office.
“Standard forms and contract for a missing persons case, out of state. Can you ask Sarah to step in here when her current client leaves too?
“Of course, Mr Owen.” she hung up and I went back to the comfortable seating.
“Frank, here's how this works. My fees cover my travel and living expenses. You get billed for consumables. If I need to engage any other resources or have any extraordinary expenses then you get billed for those on a monthly basis. I'll say up front that if Sarah's case load permits I want her in on this too so you'd be on the hook for her standard rate as well. That ok?”
“Sure. Can you give me a rough idea how high the consumables bill gets?”
“Depends on how much ammo I need to use up, to be honest.” Seeing the look on his face I explained further. “Look it's just the way it is. I don't go out looking to shoot up the landscape but if I have to start doing that I can promise you that the cost of the rounds isn't on my mind at the time. “
“When you put it that way, Dafydd, yeah it makes sense.”
“If I can avoid a firefight rather than risk going through it, I always will. Churchill claimed that there was nothing more exhilarating than to be shot at without result, but personally I think he was full of shit. Once they start shooting at you, you're already in too deep. Way better to never give them reason to open fire in the first place, and if you can't do that not give them the opportunity.”
We finished our drinks in silence but then there was a tap at the door. Sarah walked in with a stack of papers.
“Liz asked me to bring these in and said you needed me?”
“Yep. Grab a seat, Sarah. You've met Frank at Bar events. Now it's a little different – he's my latest client, and if you got a gap for an out of state trip I want you on this case too.”
“Well considering I just closed out Mr. Fanshawe's case, I'm free. So maybe I can haul your furry ass out of trouble like I usually do.”
“Frank, I presume you want us to get right on this as fast as we can?”
“I'd appreciate it, yeah.”
“That means I need to ask a favor from you. I've two law clients with court dates coming up and I can't be out of town for that unless I find a decent lawyer to take my place. Got anyone in your firm who might fit?”
“Dafydd, I'll take those cases myself, at your usual rates and I'll give your clients the best I have.”
“Frank, I'm going to bring your daughter home or report to you on why she can't do that.. And if she's been harmed by anyone I promise you they will pay for it. I'll have Liz forward the files to you.” I looked over to Sarah. “So, honey.. Up for a trip to Vegas?” I looked at my mate as I slid the papers she'd brought in over to Frank.
------------------------
Before supper that night we were sitting at home, planning our trip. This case had some wrinkles in it that we were going to have to deal with. For one thing, neither of us had operated in Vegas before. Upside to that was that we were going to be completely under the local radar but on the other paw I'd put in a certain amount of effort to gain a little respect in the local underworld, mostly by making a few messy examples of people that failed to show it. That was an advantage I wouldn't have on this one. Sarah padded in from the kitchen with a couple of drinks in her paws, set them on the coffee table and sprawled across the couch, leaning back across my lap. I reached for my drink with one paw while the other gently stroked the soft fur at the base of her ears. She was the first to speak.
“We can't fly with some of our gear so it's going to be a road trip. Put a trailer behind the jeep and take the bikes?”
“I like that idea, and it gives me one of my own.” I grabbed my phone and dialed a number from memory.
“Hello?”
“If Marty is in the clubhouse tonight, could you ask him if he can spare a few minutes for Dafydd Owen?”
“Wait.” I did as I was told and waited, having little choice. It was only a few seconds before I heard a familiar voice.
“Dafydd, been a while. What's up?”
“Got any contacts in Vegas where Sarah and I might be able to get a little help if we need it?”
“Sure, I can hook you up with a friend. He won't be up for being pulled into anything but he'll arrange a few introductions so you wont get any hassle. I'll give him a call tomorrow and ping you his number.”
“Thanks, Marty. I owe you one.”
“We still owe you from last year, man.”
“You say so, Marty. You know how to reach me if you need me.” I hung up the phone and looked down at Sarah, still leaning across my lap.
“We'll have at least one contact when we roll into town. We just got ourselves an introduction to the local biker community.”
“Sounds good. We'll discuss the details on the road. Now, I'm hungry and not just for food.”
I smiled down at her. “I'm hungry too, and you can be dessert.”
--------------------------------
We planned to take three days for the trip so that we'd arrive around the middle of the day. On the road we roughed out the details of getting ourselves set up to work the case. Sarah would arrive in the jeep and get our “respectable” base of operations set up. I'd get in touch with Marty's contact and see about the other side of our operation. So, we looked quite the “odd couple” as we headed out of our last motel stop. Biker and businesswoman. We actually had four bikes on the trailer, since neither my Indian not Sarah's Harley were exactly suited for off-road and we were going to be operating in the middle of the desert. For this run, however, it was all on the roads so I got busy stripping the tie-downs off the Indian.
We left together, but in a few miles I opened up the bike a bit, to keep us from pulling into town together. It wasn't too long before I was starting to see the Vegas skyline. I hit the next rest area and pulled out my phone, dialing the number Marty had given me.
“This is Jake.”
“Good morning, Jake. Dafydd Owen. I believe Marty told you I'd be calling. Where do you wish to meet and when?” He gave me an address.
“I'll be there all morning, so anytime you roll in is fine.”
“Ok, look for a panther on an Indian Chief.”
“Nice bike. Been a while since I've seen one around here so we'll spot ya.”
“See you soon. I'm about an hour out.” I punched the address he'd given me into my phone's GPS and clipped it to the holder on the bars. I stomped the bike into gear and hit the road.
About forty minutes later I was getting the hairy eyeball from every Vegas cop I rode past. This was a good thing, because I really didn't want to look too squeaky-clean when I met up with Jake. I wasn't breaking any laws, Nevada is an open-carry state so the knife on my left hip and the Sig on my right were perfectly legal. The faded patch on the back of my jacket was the SBS badge, not a set of MC colors, so they couldn't infer anything from that. Hell, I doubted they'd ever seen that badge before. Everyone knows the winged dagger and “Who dares, wins” logo of the SAS, The upraised sword of the SBS and the “By strength and guile” motto, I doubted anyone on this side of the pond who hadn't earned their own green beret would recognize. They'd know it was military though, not the insignia of a biker gang.
Turns out the address I'd been given was a bike repair shop. Lounging around were an easy half dozen guys wearing patches. One of them, a big bear with a scar where his left eye used to be, wandered over as I rolled in and parked my bike a little off to the side of the row of parked Harleys. He gestured at my jacket.
“You wearing that by right?”
“If I aint, it must be some other cat that got that many bits of his body turned into mince and to be honest, I wouldn't mind having my right nut back, but I guess that aint happening so yeah, the badge is mine by right.”
“Good to meet you, bro. I was Delta when I was in. Worked with you guys a bit. They call me Cannon around here. Dumb handle but it's what they stuck me with.” He stuck out his paw and I reached out my own and took it.
“Dafydd. Here to see Jake if he's not too busy.”
“He's expecting you. Come on in.”
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Jake was a canine, looked like a chesapeake/lab cross, but the grin on his muzzle was friendly as I walked in.
“Dafydd, good to meet you. Marty says you're a mean asshole and we should help you out.” I laughed.
“Marty exaggerates, but I guess you know that. I just need a few introductions so I can stay under the radar while I'm in town tracking down my target.”
“I can handle that, but there's one or two folks I introduce ya to who are going to want to test ya some. Up for that?”
“If that's what it takes, let 'em bring it.” I heard Cannon laughing quietly behind me.
“What's funny, Cannon?”
“Jake, if you're talking about who I think you are, they aint ever met this kind of trouble before. Gonna be fun to watch.” Oh great. I was going to have to fight some biker dude and a big ex-delta bear thought it was going to be fun. I hope Sarah is in the mood to be gentle with me tonight.
“Come on, we're meeting 'em at the old warehouse.”
to be continued...
