See how Chase and Hunt handle their first case when Andrea Dubois calls for help about the stalker harassing her. If you want to start at the beginning, check origins. If you like what you're reading you can buy the all book at chase hunt investigations.
With their new business being decked out way ahead of schedule and at, what both men consider, a reasonable expenditure; Chase and Hunt decide to take their first weekend in Frisco and get acquainted with their new venue.
They drive around the city making various notes as to where to find certain things. They check out the local police headquarters and give Bill a call. Bill will be free Sunday evening so Saturday evening the two friends decide to check out the local club scene by themselves. At a small local club not more than four blocks from their home and offices the two content friends saunter on up to the bar and ask for a couple of draft beers. There aren’t many people in the club yet because it just opened twenty minutes earlier. Some local office people from the immediate area are already ensconced in a corner table with a pitcher of beer. A couple are whispering in yet another booth tucked about as far away from the main traffic route as possible and a single, rather attractive woman, is sitting at the bar about three seats down from Chase and Hunt.
The bartender seems like a friendly talkative sort.
“Haven’t seen you fellas in here before;” He tries to make idle chitchat.
“We just moved to Frisco about a week ago;” Chase replies; “we opened up a small office only a few blocks from here.”
“Yeah, what kind of work do you fellas do?” The bartender asks.
“We’re Private Investigators.” Hunt answers back.
“Yeah right, Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe;” the bartender chuckles out. “Guys, if ya want to attract women change your pitch. Calling yourselves private dicks was probably great back in the 40s but it won’t work anymore. The women who come in here now want investment bankers, lawyers, real estate brokers or a bonafide celebrity. Even saying you’re a doctor, now days, doesn’t cut it with these chicks.”
The two detectives grin back and forth at each other. Chase then grins at the bartender and says; “thanks for the tip pal but we really are private investigators;” and he flashes open a small card holder with his state P.I. card and concealed weapons permit displayed in their separate celluloid covered windows.
“Hey, No offense guys; I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I just get a lot of guys that come in here trying to pick up some of the local ladies and they invent all kinds of identities to try and impress them. Hell, last week I had a guy come in here telling all the ladies that he was Tom Cruise’s younger brother.”
“No offense taken kid; we’re not here cruising for women anyway;” Chase states.
“Yeah, we’re just looking to relax over a couple cold beers that’s all;” Hunt adds.
“Yeah, ok guys, enjoy yourselves. Hey you two aren’t carrying guns are ya? I mean if you guys start to get a little tanked up I don’t want ya to start shooting up the place;” the young bartender states sounding a bit nervous.
“You’ve been watching too many movies kid;” Chase shoots back. “We carry guns only when the case requires them.”
The bartender nods and then decides to move down the bar to see if anyone else could use a refill.
Hunt looks over at Chase and grins; “That’s what we get partner for being in a profession
that Hollywood has made big bucks distorting its image.”
Chase laughs; “what do you mean distorting its image partner? Hollywood used me as its model for Magnum P.I.”
Hunt breaks out laughing; “the only part of you partner that resembles Magnum P.I. is your big feet. Both of you have got feet big enough you don’t need dive fins when you scuba.”
Chase laughs back; “You’re just jealous because you were born with those little ballerina feet.”
Both men break out laughing again.
The bartender slides back over towards them and leans slightly over the bar conspiratorially; “Hey guys, that woman just down the bar from you to your left. She’s got some kind of problem that maybe you two can help her with.”
Hunt jumps in; “we told ya man; we’re not here trying to pick up women; we just want to down a few cold ones and relax.”
“Hey, I’m not joking with ya guy. She says she’s worried about her girlfriend. She got a call on her cell a few minutes ago and her girlfriend is afraid to come out with her because she has some strange dude stalking her. That’s what the chick told me;” the bartender looks serious.
“Can I tell her that you guys are private dicks? Hey maybe it will get you a case.”
“Look, fella, we don’t like being called private dicks, ok, but as far as you telling her what we do that’s fine with us but a stalker, a genuine one, should be reported to the police;” Chase states.
The bartender leaves making his way back down the bar.
A couple minutes later the single woman picks up her drink and moves down to sit on the stool next to Chase.
“Excuse me;” she says softly; “the bartender tells me that you two are Private Investigators; is that true?”
Chase looks over at the woman and sees a woman who is beautiful but looking a bit exhausted.
“Yes miss;” Chase replies; “we’re Private Investigators. What can we do for you?”
“Oh, nothing for me really but my friend may be able to use your services. My friend is a model and a pretty well recognized one too, at least locally. She appears on the sides of local buses, on billboards, in local magazines. Well, lately she’s been pretty much barricading herself in her house. She’s petrified to come out and even when she has a modeling shoot she insists the agency send a car for her and that there is a security guard on site. She’s got some crazy guy stalking her. He calls her, he leaves messages taped to her mail box, he’s spray painted obscene suggestions on her front gate.”
“Miss, hang on a minute;” Chase interrupts; “has your friend called the police? With the recent stalking laws passed; stalking is a criminal offense that can draw jail time.”
“My friend has called the police and they’ve come out several times; taken photos of his dirty graffiti, taken the notes but they keep telling her that they can’t maintain a constant watch on her to protect her from this nut.”
“Yeah, well unfortunately that’s reality miss. There are simply far more nutcases out there than there are cops to stop them:” Chase comments.
“Listen miss, I don’t know if we can be of any help without a few more facts. I’ll give you my card;” and Chase pulls out one of his new business cards and hands it to her; “and if your friend thinks we can be of help; have her call us, OK?”
“Yeah, I’ll do that;” she looks down at his card; “I’ll do that Mr. Chase. I’ll have her call you.”
Chase politely nods and asks; “Are you going to be alright miss? Can I get you a drink?”
“I’ll be alright Mr. Chase. No, no drink; I better be going. Thank you for the card;” and she gets up off her stool and moves away from Chase to pay her bill and leave.
“Well that was weird;” Hunt states.
“The modern world we live in partner. There’s a hell of a lot of sickos running around nowadays;” Chase comments.
The two men go back to their beers.
A couple minutes later the friendly bartender returns; “You guys going to be able to help that lady?” He asks.
“Not sure yet sport. I gave her my business card and told her to pass it along to her friend who is the one in trouble;” Chase replies.
“That’s cool; that woman comes around here often and sometimes brings her friends. They’re pretty nice chicks, friendly, chatty and good tippers; not bad on the eyes either;” the bartender states.
The two private investigators grin and nod.
“Hey guys, I get a shit load of people in here with problems ya know but hey I’m just a bartender, I can listen and all, but I can’t really help anyone. Why don’t you guys give me a business card or two? If I get someone in here with an interesting problem that maybe a private investigator can help solve; I’ll be glad to pass the card along to them;” the bartender says sincerely.
Chase and Hunt look over at each other to sense their partner’s reaction to the bartender’s offer.
It appears both approve.
“OK sport, if ya hear about something that sounds like a legit problem for a P.I. you can pass along one of our cards;” Is Chase’s friendly response.
Both Chase and Hunt then pull out a couple business cards each and hand them to the young bartender.
The bartender looks down at the two pairs of business cards and blurts out; “you’re kidding me right? Are those your real names? Come on; you guys made them up didn’t you?”
Chase and Hunt both look a little confused.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Hunt sputters out; “What’s wrong with our names?”
“Come on guys; Chase and Hunt? Jesus, what do private investigators do? They chase down bad guys and clues and hunt for evidence and lost people and things; Gimme a break. Hollywood couldn’t come up with two better names for a pair of detectives.”
Hunt turns to Chase with a big grin across his face.
Chase actually breaks out laughing.
Now it’s the bartender’s turn to look confused.
Both Chase and Hunt pull out their little card holders with their state P.I. licenses and concealed weapons permits and hold them right in front of the bartender’s face.
The bartender looks closely at both sets of identification, both holders’ name, both pictures and then back at the faces of the two detectives.
His response is unexpected.
The young bartender breaks out into a loud laugh and blurts out; “Man, you two were born to be private eyes. Hollywood look out; Frisco’s got Chase and Hunt P.I.s”
By now all three men are laughing.
Chase finally speaks; “So what’s your name kid?”
The bartender breaks out laughing before answering; “you two are never going to believe me but I have a pictured bartender’s license to prove it as well.”
And the young man digs in his pocket for his wallet and takes out his pictured bartender’s license and holds it before the two detective’s staring eyes.
The name on the bartender’s card reads; ‘Jack Daniels’.
“Holy Shit;” Hunt spits out first and begins laughing until he’s almost splitting is gut.
“Goddamn;” Chase follows and he also laughs uproarishly. “I guess all of us were born for our professions; Jack Daniels; like the world’s best Tennessee sipping whiskey. Oh we have to buy you a drink for that one Jack my boy.”
The bartender grins; “I don’t actually drink alcohol. I see too many people say and do stupid things every night and decided I didn’t want anyone looking at me the way they’re looked at. I’ll take an orange juice though.”
“You’re not only a good bartender you’re a smart guy Jack. OK, pour yourself an OJ and put it on my tab. Also, since we’re going to be drinking together you can call me Jim and this here is John.”
“Thanks, but actually, if you two don’t mind; I’d really rather address you as Mr. Chase and Mr. Hunt. I don’t know guys; it kinda makes me feel like I’m playing a sidekick role in a movie with two hardnosed, hardboiled private eyes.”
Chase and Hunt both grin.
‘Hardnosed, hardboiled private eyes;’ they think.
Something about that image appeals to them as well.
“OK Daniels, get yourself that OJ and get us both another draft:” Chase says as Sam Spade like as his voice will permit him.
The bartender smiles broadly and his reply is; “You got it Mr. Chase, Mr. Hunt; two suds coming up.” And he dashes off to get the drinks.
“I think I’m going to like this town and its weird, quirky people. Between kooks like Carmel Candy and Jack Daniels; this place could turn out to be ok;” Chase states.
“I gotta agree with ya partner. Things are going a damn side better than I expected them to.”
And the two friends clink glasses in a toast.
When Daniels returns with their new draft beers; the two detectives toast their new friend as well.
Daniels is practically beaming.
The two friends are enjoying their first real night out in their new adopted city.
Their new bartender friend, Jack Daniels, is a real kick to be around.
Daniels gives his own personal read on each new patron that comes in his bar.
“I think that guy’s here to hit on chicks;” he comments; “the couple in the corner are definitely a married man and his mistress and she don’t look too happy; “the gomer in the corner is out of work and drowning his sorrows; that the little guy at the end of the bar is looking to pick a fight to prove he’s a tough guy; the two women at the far table are lesbians trying to avoid attracting the attention of any of the men in the bar; the guy in the $2000.00 suit looks like an attorney who just lost a case;” and his assessments continue on and on like that.
Chase and Hunt don’t agree with all Daniels’ calls but they are amused by them.
“What are you Daniels; a sociologist?” Chase asks.
Daniels chuckles before replying; “Nah Mr. Chase; I’m just a bored bartender.”
That gets a chuckle out of all three men.
Very un-expectantly Chase’s cellphone chimes in.
“Hello, James Chase here;” he answers expecting it to be a wrong number.
A soft, almost melodic voice answers; “Mr. Chase, my name Andréa Dubois and my friend Karen just gave me your card. Mr. Chase, I’ve got a problem that I hope you can help me with. I’m being stalked by some fanatical nut case and I’m scared to death. I even think he’s been in my house because some of my things seem to be missing. Can you come over to my house so that I can tell you the whole sordid story? I really need someone to help me. I am getting to the point where I won’t even be able to work or sleep or eat.”
“Slow down Ms. Dubois. Your friend told me and my partner that you’ve already called the police several times; is that correct?” Chase asks.
“Yes Mr. Chase and they come out each time I call them but they’ve done nothing to stop this bastard from harassing me. In fact, after each time the police come; I get a threatening phone call or note in my mailbox telling me not to call them again or I’ll be made to suffer for my actions;” the obviously terrified woman states.
“OK, Ms. Dubois; when would you like to see us?” Chase asks politely.
“Oh, Mr. Chase, I wish you were here already. I really can’t take much more of this being frightened all the time.” Andréa Dubois answers.
“OK Ms. Dubois; calm down and give me your address;”
Andréa Dubois rattles off her address so quickly that Chase has to seek clarification twice to make sure that he got it all correctly.
“Ms. Dubois; My partner and I aren’t at our office right now so we’ll have to go get some equipment from there before coming over. It shouldn’t take us more than a half hour to forty minutes at this time of night to get over to your place. Is your friend with you?”
Dubois answers to the positive.
“Good she knows what my partner and I look like. You lock up everything and stay calm. Don’t open the door for anyone. When we arrive we’ll stand visible at your front gate so that your friend can identify us. Ok?”
“Yes, yes please hurry Mr. Chase.”
“We’re on our way Ms. Dubois.” And Chase rings off.
“Come on partner, we’ve got a case.” Chase more or less orders Hunt.
“You’re shiting me; we just opened officially for business yesterday;” is Hunt’s response.
“Yeah, but as our new friend Jack Daniels pointed out; we were born to be private eyes; now let’s go be em.” He then calls out to Daniels to bring them their bills.
“You guys leaving already? It’s early.”
“It’s partly your fault pal. That woman you brought over to us hooked us up with her friend who has stalker problems. We’ve got a case.”
“Holy shit, no kidding?”
“No kidding pal. We’ve got to scramble.”
There total bill came to $45.00.
Chase gave Daniels $60.00 and tells him to keep the change and then he and Hunt take off.
At their office the pair picks up a pair of micro recorders that can easily be attached to phones.
The recently christened Private Investigators also both strap on their handguns for the first time in their newly adopted city.
Chase is carrying a Glock 20, 10mm with a 17-round Mag and Hunt has on him a Sig Sauer P-226 9mm with its optional 20-round ammo magazine.
Both men also grab a pair of handcuffs, some rubber gloves, a stun gun and a whip baton.
Feeling now like real hardnosed private detectives the two men set out for the home of Ms. Andréa Dubois; stalker victim.
They arrive there only 28 minutes after having left the bar.
When they drive up; they find the gate locked.
Chase parks the car and the two detectives go up to the gate, ring the bell and stand in front of the gate to be visible to the house’s occupants.
A face suddenly appears in one of the house’s front windows.
It’s the face of Ms. Dubois’ friend Karen; the woman that they had met in the bar.
The men hear a buzzing sound and the gate begins to open.
They both walk through and stand there until it once again is closed.
Chase and Hunt walk up to the porch.
The porch lights are already on.
The front door opens and there are two women there; Karen, the friend, and supposedly their new client, Ms. Dubois.
“Ms. Dubois I presume;” Chase begins; “I’m James Chase and this is my partner John Hunt.”
In that soft whispery voice of hers; Andréa Dubois ushers them quickly inside.
“I’m so glad you could come, Mr. Chase, Mr. Hunt. I have something to show you.” Andréa Dubois almost whispers and points her visitors to two chairs in her lavishly decked out living room.
Both Chase and Hunt take a seat.
Karen, the friend, asks the men if they’d like some coffee.
The two detectives graciously accept.
Ms. Dubois brings over an envelope.
“Mr. Chase, Mr. Hunt, this was somehow slipped under my front door this afternoon. It’s the reason I refused to go out with Karen this evening.”
Chase takes out a pair of thin rubber gloves and puts them on before taking the envelope from Ms. Dubois.
He opens the envelope and finds a 3 by 5 index card with a typewritten message.
The message reads – ‘Get ready, your time is coming soon ya filthy slut. No more men will have to put up with your fucking cock teasing anymore very soon. I’m going to make your cunt and ass suffer before I finish you for good. If you call the police this time; I’ll have to do some of your friends as well in retribution.’
Chase shows the card to Hunt.
After reading it; Hunt shakes his head.
“Ms Dubois, have you shown this to the police yet?” Chase asks.
“No, No I don’t want my terror to be spread onto my friends. You read what the note says. If I call the police my friends, like Karen here, will be harmed as well.”
“Ms. Dubois, that’s very noble of you to think about the safety of your friends but you realize, don’t you, that this is an undisguised death threat. I don’t think this man is playing around Ms. Dubois. In fact I think he’s damn serious. How often does he make contact?”
“At first it was intermittent; then it became like weekly or twice weekly; lately it has been almost daily.” The frightened woman replies.
Hunt interjects; “for some reason his rage is building partner.”
“You’re right John; this is going to come to a head soon.”
And like the devil is listening to them speak they get an unwelcomed response in the form of a ringing phone.
Everyone in the room jumps at the first ring.
Ms. Dubois cringes away from it.
Karen, Dubois’ friend, looks like she is going to pick it up and give the bastard a piece of her mind.
Chase stops her.
Hunt is already digging in his bag for the micro recorder that can be hooked up to the phone.
He attaches the device in less than 10 seconds.
Chase hits the speaker button on the phone and then picks up.
The stalker starts his monologue of hate. “I know there’s a couple of cops there with you ya cunt. I told ya what I’d do if ya called the cops again. Some of your cunt friends are going to have to join you in hell now and I’m going to have to make all the filthy sluts suffer first. Are you hearing me cock tease? Are you hearing what I’m saying? You cops can’t trace this number ya fucking losers and ya know ya can’t protect these sluts either. They’re mine and they have to pay for their crimes against men.”
The caller suddenly hangs up.
The two women in the room are nearly in shock.
Chase and Hunt sit them down next to each other for comfort on the small sofa.
“Did you hear the background noise Chase? He’s calling from a car. He knows that were here so he’s gotta be cruising around the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, you’re right partner but now we have to figure out a way to draw him out. He’s not going to show himself if he knows we’re here. These kinds of psychopaths are cowards by nature but we can’t leave these two here alone. Hold on, Let me think a bit.” And Chase stops talking.
A minute passes in almost total silence, then a second minute and a third; suddenly Chase bolts erect; “I think I may have it partner. First, we’ve got to get these two ladies to a safe place and we’ve got to do it in such a way that we’ll be able to spot a tail.”
“I’m listening partner; I assume you have a plan.”
“Yeah and I think it may work but we’re going to have to bring a couple secret weapon in to help us.”
“What are our secret weapons?” Hunt asks.
“Not what partner; who; we’re going to have to give Candice a call and have her call Bill.”
“Candice? Bill? What are they going to do?”
“Do you know that street sleight of hand con game where you have three cups and only one ball? You put the ball under one cup and the manipulator starts rotating the cups about at an increasing speed until his victims lose track of the ball.”
“I’m listening shoot.”
“Candice and Bill will have to drive over here. Bill can drive over in his unmarked detective car and Candice can use her Mini-Cooper. Meanwhile we’ll pull Karen’s car up and over in the driveway to give us more room and I’ll pull my car into the driveway. When Candice and Bill arrive we’ll have them pull in as well. We’ll have five cars, including Ms. Dubois’ car visible in the open garage, and six people. OK, we send Bill out in his unmarked cruiser with both Ms. Dubois and Karen hidden in the back. The little prick stalker won’t follow a police cruiser. We then send you out in my car with Candice with her hair up wearing my suit coat and tie in the passenger seat. He already thinks we’re undercover cops so he probably won’t follow you either but if he does I trust you to handle him. That will leave three visible vehicles in the yard all belonging to women and ME inside. Now all the women will be safely relocated to some unknown place, maybe our offices. The stalker prick will have to assure himself that his main victim, Ms. Dubois, is still here with maybe two of her female friends. He’ll call again; I know it. I know how psychopath’s minds work. I’ll pick up but won’t speak. You said it before partner his rage is building. When he’s done ranting; I’ll get in Ms. Dubois’ car and open the gate and go tearing out like a terrified stalking victim. One of two things will happen; either he’ll pursue me or he’ll go through the opened gate to see who’s left in the house if anyone. If no one is on my tail in say six blocks; I’ll circle back to the house to see if our trap worked. The worst case scenario is he doesn’t bite and we get all the women out safely to a location he doesn’t know about. Best case scenario he tries to case the open house where he thinks that there is at least a friend or two of Ms. Dubois’ there or an empty house that he can pilfer from and vandalize only to have me close the trap. Well, what do you think?”
“Well, I think it will probably get all the women out safely and hidden from him but it will leave you partner to face him without back-up. I don’t like that part at all. How about if Candice and I don’t pick up a tail in six blocks or so; I let Candice drive on and I come back on foot, find some cover, snoop about the neighborhood a bit and be ready to back you up when the time comes?”
“You’ll be leaving Candice exposed by herself. You better make damn sure you don’t have a tail before abandoning Candice and you better ask her if she’s willing.”
“Agreed, do you want to try this partner?” Hunt asks.
“Let’s do it.” Is Chase’s reply.
Chase calls Candice and begins telling her the predicament they find themselves in.
Chase is not half way through his monologue when Candice tells him to shut his cake hole and stop wasting time.
She’ll call Bill and they’ll both be there within the hour.
Actually in way less than an hour Candice arrives.
Bill arrives in about 50 minutes.
Once everyone is inside Chase starts spelling out the plan in detail.
There are several objections but all are smoothed out.
The front porch lights are doused.
Bill’s car is backed right up to the front of the open garage directly in front of Ms. Dubois car.
Ms. Dubois and Karen are taken out of the house through the connected garage and are ensconced on the floor in the back of Bill’s unmarked police cruiser.
The front gate is electronically opened and Bill drives out.
As suspected, Bill’s police cruiser isn’t followed.
Bill calls Chase on his cellphone and gives him the good news that they are now two miles away with no sign of a tail.
Ms. Dubois and her friend Karen are safe and being taken to the offices of Chase and Hunt Detective Agency.
Next, Hunt walks out and shows himself rather boldly standing at the passenger front quarter panel of the car as his partner, Candice, with her hair up and Chase’s suit coat and tie on quickly exits the house through the garage and slides into the passenger seat and slams the door.
When Hunt hears the door slam he comes around the front of the car to the driver’s side; the electronic gate is once again opened and he drives out, he waits for the gate to reclose and then quickly speeds away.
Chase now sits alone quietly in the house.
Perhaps only minutes pass but to him it seems a hell of a lot longer.
Finally, the phone rings and it makes him jump.
He turns on the micro recorder, then hits the speaker button and lastly picks up the phone.
It’s the same voice – “See bitch, I told you the fucking cops wouldn’t stay to protect you. Did they tell you that if you brought more friends over that you’d be safe? Stupid fucks. Now I’ll have more of your friends to play with before I finish off all you cock teasing sluts. I’m coming for you cunt. Have your asshole open and waiting for me.”
It’s time.
Chase runs out through the connecting door into the garage and jumps into Ms. Dubois car.
He slumps down as far as he can in the driver’s seat; hits the gate opener button, waits a few seconds for the gate to open and then drives out of the property like a person possessed.
Chase hangs a quick left turn at the first corner and speeds up even faster.
Un-expectantly, he receives a call on his cellphone.
The chime almost gives him a heart attack.
He pulls the phone out and looks at the caller ID number.
It’s Hunt.
“Yeah,” is all Chase manages to get out.
“Take a look in your mirror partner; you’ve got a 1995 Ford F-250 van about three blocks behind you but closing up fast.”
“Where the hell are you?” Chase asks.
“Right now I’m running towards Ms. Dubois place to get Candice’s Mini Cooper to come back you up. Stay on the phone partner and keep me informed of your whereabouts.”
“Hey partner, I see my tail but Ms. Dubois’ car has a little too much horsepower for him to catch up. I’m going to slow down a mite to keep the bastard hopeful and do a big loop and head back towards the house. Be ready partner. I’m going to bring him back to you.”
“I’ll be ready, I’m back at Dubois’ place now and I’ve got Candice’s car up and running.”
“OK partner, I’ve let him gain about a block on me and I’ve made my first right hand turn. If he stays with me I’ll make my next right hand turn on Dubois’ street and make a run for the house. I’ll encourage him a bit and let him get within a block of me. You get out now and sit on that first street up from Dubois’ house. When I blast by your nose headed for her driveway; you get ready to slam the trap closed.”
“I’ve got your back partner bring the bad boy home.”
“I just made the right turn on to Dubois’ street and the dirtbag is still on me. He’s closed up to about a 100 yards behind me and is probably feeling pretty confident right about now.”
“I’m setup and ready partner what’s your ETA?” Hunt asks Chase’s estimated time of arrival.
“I figure that I’m going to blow past your nose in less than 20 seconds with meathead about two seconds behind me.”
Hunt sits with his headlights off but car running.
About 15 seconds pass and he sees Chase, in Ms. Dubois’ car, blow past the street he’s sitting on.
Another second or two after an ugly 1995 Ford F-250 van goes racing by.
Hunt slams the shifter into first gear and floors the little Mini-Cooper’s gas pedal.
Chase has driven Dubois’ car straight up into the garage.
The old van soon follows it up into the driveway.
Barely a second later Hunt cuts the engine on the little Mini-Cooper and coasts quietly into the driveway behind the van.
Chase hits the button to close the electronic gate.
The stalker gets out of his van and starts screaming; “you really are a dumb cunt aren’t ya? Ya close the gate after the fox is already in the hen house. Ya stupid bitch.”
The stalker, who doesn’t seem to be even vaguely aware of the Mini-Cooper now parked behind his van; pulls out a Taser gun in one hand and opens a stiletto like switchblade in the other.
He sees the driver’s door on Dubois’ car swing open and he leers in anticipation.
The leer disappears quickly when Chase, instead of the tiny model Ms. Andréa Dubois, steps from the car.
The stalker points his Taser at Chase only to see Chase’s hand come up filled with a much more lethal Glock 20 10mm.
The piece of shit turns back to get in his van only to see Hunt standing there in the standard Weaver stance pointing his Sig Sauer P-226 9mm at him.
The man does the unexpected; he bolts off running through the yard towards the property’s side wall.
He drops both his weapons and begins scrambling over the wall.
Chase takes off after him a microsecond later and is already gaining.
The filthy mouthed pervert makes it over the wall but never makes it through the neighbor’s yard before Chase slams into him hard from behind and knocks him flat on his face.
Chase knees him between the legs and then crawls up and kneels in the middle of his back.
He roughly rips the pervert’s arms back and pulls out his handcuffs; cuffing the now whimpering stalker in about five seconds flat.
Chase gets up and yanks the pathetic excuse for a man to his feet.
“Let’s go dickhead; were going to make you somebody’s girlfriend in the state pen for a few years. I’m sure you’ll love being called bitch all the time.”
Hunt is peering over the wall with his cellphone in his hand talking to Bill.
Bill is already on his way back to the Dubois house and tells Hunt that he’ll call in the cavalry on his police cruiser’s radio.
Less than ten minutes later; Ms. Dubois’ yard is filled to overflowing with patrol cars and unmarked detective vehicles all with their emergency lights flashing.
The stalker is sitting handcuffed and looking terrified in the back of one of the detective cars.
Two detectives from S.F.P.D.’s assault and rape unit are standing by Bill, Chase and Hunt getting the details of what just went down.
A forensic Crime Scene Investigative unit drives in a few minutes later to go over the perp’s van with a fine tooth comb.
Uniformed officers are securing the house, property and surrounding area.
Meanwhile, Ms. Dubois, and her friend Karen, are sitting safely in the reception area of Case and Hunt Investigations being fussed over by Candice.
Chase calls Candice and gives her the good news which she passes along immediately to the two women currently under her care.
Their faces light up like Christmas trees when they hear the news.
Soon, everyone involved would be headed downtown to police headquarters to get this sordid affair wrapped up.
Case Wrap-up
At police headquarters the stalker is processed.
His mug shot is taken and he’s fingerprinted.
His prints are then almost immediately sent out over the F.B.I.’s National Criminal Intelligence Computer System more commonly referred to by police as simply N.C.I.C…
The Stalker, whose name turns out to be Brian Roach, a somehow fitting name for this human excuse for a cockroach, is placed in a line-up for Ms. Dubois and her friend Karen to identify.
Ms. Dubois can’t pick him out.
“I’m sorry;” she says; “None of these men look even remotely familiar to me detectives. I don’t recognize any of them.”
Her friend Karen is quiet for a long time and then she points to Number 4 in the line-up and almost shouts out; “HIM, number 4; he works as a gofer or something like that at agency photo shoots. He brings people coffees and towels and picks up debris that may find its way into a shoot; tasks like that.”
Number 4 in the line-up is Brian Roach; a pathetic 34 year old, 5 foot 5 inch, pudgy, thinning haired agency gofer who was virtually ignored like a piece of set decoration by the models he craved attention from.
One of the detectives calls the agency to see if they have a Brian Roach working for them.
It takes the agency secretary a few minutes to locate Roach’s name but she does eventually find it in employee records.
Roach, she tells the detective, was hired about five months ago as a low-level, minimum wage roustabout or gofer on shoots who picks up trash and gets people coffees and stuff.
The detective thanks her and signs off.
One of the department’s C.S.I. men comes into the detective bureau with a bit of news.
“Lieutenant Bergsman;” the crime scene investigator addresses the detective in charge of the case; “we found several interesting things in the perp’s van. We haven’t been to his apartment yet we’re still working on getting a warrant. What we found in his van, however, would indicate to me, personally, that Ms. Dubois was NOT the perp’s only victim.”
“What are you talking about Rheisner?” The detective Lieutenant barks back at the crime scene investigator.
“Well, we found some items reportedly missing from Ms. Dubois residence but we also found a lot of other items, some of which are photos, and others which have names or initials on them that are clearly NOT Ms. Dubois’;” the C.S.I. man states matter of factly.
Lieutenant Bergsman yells over to another detective in his unit; “Tony, have we had any other stalker cases involving models recently; say in the last few months?”
“Hell yeah Dave, we’ve had three;” the detective yells back.
“I’m going to need their case files Tony. I’ve got to find out if any of those models works for the same agency as Ms. Dubois.”
“It’ll take me a minute Dave; I’ll have to round them up. The cases are being worked on by different detectives;” Bergsman’s colleague states.
Bill, who is sitting in a visitor’s chair at Bergsman’s desk, asks the C.S.I. man if he can have a peek at the file.
“Hey Bill; what’s a burglary detective doing sitting in on a stalker case?” The C.S.I. man named Rheisner asks.
“Just helping out a friend;” Bill replies.
Rheisner hands Bill the report he has in his hand.
Bill starts reading.
About a minute into his perusing of the report Bill suddenly bolts erect.
“Dave, can I use your phone?” He asks the detective in charge of Ms. Dubois’ case.
Bergsman just waves his hand in a way that indicates ‘yeah go ahead’.
Bill, rather excitedly, grabs for the phone and punches in the extension of his partner in Burglary.
The extension is answered after only two rings; “Burglary Beckman.”
“Johnny, this is Bill; do we have an open file yet on a Ms. Dina Delano?”
“Hang on Bill, let me check.”
After only several seconds of dead air over the phone detective John Beckman’s voice comes back over the line; “Yeah Bill she reported a number of items stolen from her home on two occasions. What’s up?”
“Just listen Johnny, are there lists and descriptions of the items stolen?”
“Well yeah, sure; we got it all. Are you going to tell me what’s going on Bill?”
“In a minute Johnny, first, is there anywhere in the file stating where Ms. Delano works?”
“Let me check, hold on a sec; yeah Bill, she gave us an address and a phone number for a Rhine Modeling Agency as part of her contact information.”
“Johnny, this is important, do we have any more open cases where women have reported strange things missing from their homes where the women can be linked to that modeling agency?”
“Oh Jesus Bill, that’s going to take a little bit to track down. Our cases aren’t filed by victim’s contact information.”
“I know Johnny but get on it. I need it soonest partner.”
“OK Bill, I’ll get right on it. When I get the files together where can I reach you?”
“Just bring the files up to the Assault-Rape Unit Johnny, OK?”
“Assault-Rape Unit? Ah, OK Bill. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Both the C.S.I. man Rheisner and Lieutenant Bergsman of the Assault-Rape unit had gotten real interested in Bill’s conversation about half way through it and are now both hunched over staring at the Burglary detective when he finally hangs up the phone.
“What’s up Harmon?” Bergsman asks first.
“I found a name in Rheisner’s file here; a Ms. Dina Delano. According to the report her name was engraved on the back of a gold bracelet. Ms. Delano is an active burglary file my partner and I have been working on. Apparently, Ms. Delano’s house has been hit twice and she’s also had her car ransacked if I remember correctly. All of Roach’s victims may not have reported their crimes as stalkings. Some may have reported them as simple thefts or burglaries.” Bill finishes his explanation.
“I’ve got my partner running down any other cases we have in burglary reported by models, especially those who have contracts with the Rhine Modeling Agency; the same agency Ms. Dubois is contracted to and that Roach was employed by. I’m going to need Rheisner here to take his C.S.I. team back to some of our victim’s addresses. If C.S.I. can pull some prints or fibers or hair samples that match Roach’s and our victims can identify personal items found in his van and his apartment then we may be able to close a shitload of cases with this scumbag’s arrest.”
“Now that would be nice wouldn’t it Bill? If we can trim our workload with one arrest; I may have to cut your two new P.I. pals some slack. I’ve never been a big fan of private snoops. I think they get their jollies peeping through windows trying to snap photos of cheating housewives and husbands having sex with assorted others.”
“Yeah, well Dave; you should consider cutting Chase and Hunt some slack anyway pal. You haven’t read their files. Those two were Chicago P.D. before going private. Chase had worked Robbery-Homicide and Hunt, Vice-Narcotics. Besides enough departmental citations for both of them to fill a squad room’s wall both received Chicago P.D.’s Medal of Valor for taking down four armed bank robbers without firing a shot.”
Bergsman has a shocked look on his face when he manages to mumble out “No shit, four armed bank robbers without a shot ya say? Damn, I may actually have to buy those two boys a couple of drinks. So why did they go Private Bill?”
“Sick of seeing dead bodies and having to deal with psychopaths and perverts is what they told me.”
Bergsman laughs; “well that’s kinda ironic then don’t ya think? Their first case as P.I.s and they end up hunting and chasing down a psychotic stalker.”
Bill laughs back; “yeah, but their names sure fit their chosen profession well; I mean Chase and Hunt; could anyone have picked two better names for a pair of P.I.s?”
Every detective around the desk laughs at that one.
It will take nearly a day and a half before S.F.P.D.’s C.S.I. and the detectives from both its Assault-Rape unit and its Burglary-Auto Theft division can gather enough evidence to pin Roach’s ears back to the wall.
A total of three stalker cases, in addition to Ms. Dubois’, plus four burglary cases and two reported cases of simple thefts can all be closed with Roach’s arrest.
The closing of the local cases is, of course, a victory for the good guys but Roach’s trial on these cases will have to be put on hold for awhile.
Apparently, when Roach’s picture and prints went out over the N.C.I.C. network some other detectives in the not too distant metropolis of Seattle, Washington took an interest in S.F.P.D.’s prize perp of the month.
Brian Roach, known in Seattle as Brian Rivers, had been considered a prime suspect, by a pair of Seattle P.D.’s Homicide detectives, in the murder of a model named Cindy Loftman about six months back.
Roach, or Rivers, had skipped town when he had got wind that the Seattle detectives were asking around about him.
The Seattle Homicide detectives have been trying to pick up his scent ever since.
Seattle’s crime scene investigators have a whole cupboard of evidence waiting to be tested to see if it belongs to Mr. Rivers.
The Seattle C.S.I. boys have semen and blood samples that DNA can be pulled from, hair samples, fiber samples from clothes, tire track casts to check against their perp’s vehicle.
Roach’s fingerprints already have been found to match several found at the scene of the rape-murder of Ms. Cindy Loftman.
Yeah, Mr. Roach may have to wait for some time to be tried on his total four counts of stalking, four counts burglary and two counts of grand theft.
In fact, Brian Roach may have to wait a lifetime to be tried on those ten counts if he’s convicted on the charges of first degree murder and first degree sexual assault on Ms. Loftman.
Either way, Roach is going down and he’s going to go down real hard.
With only a public defender to take his case in either venue and evidence still continuing to mount against him for all his crimes; Brian Roach is not likely to see the outside of a prison for at least twenty years or maybe ever.
On Monday evening, Lieutenant Bergsman calls Ms. Dubois with the good news.
Bill calls Candice, Chase and Hunt.
All informed are, of course, ecstatic about the news.
Candice, well, being Candice, wastes no time; she almost immediately gets on the phone to her friend on the Herald to tell her she may have to expand her story a bit.
Candice tells the Herald feature writer all the sordid facts as she knows them including the punch line that her two hero bosses took down a scumbag perp in one night that police, in two major metro departments, have been investigating for over six months and who will eventually be arraigned, in two courts, on twelve felony counts including rape and murder.
Candice’s friend is almost in a frenzy.
She can’t wait to tell her editor about the new developments.
Chase and Hunt have, themselves, been more or less strutting about the office like a pair of hardnosed, hardboiled private detectives since hearing the news.
Candice’s behavior should have been anticipated.
She drops all the cutesy nicknames she’s had for Chase and Hunt like ‘Jimbo’, ‘Jimmy, ‘John boy’’ and collectively ‘Bossmen’ and ‘you clowns’ and begins calling them only by their surnames ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ because she figures that adequately describes what her bosses do – they ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’.
On Tuesday evening ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ take Candice and Bill out for a meal and drinks afterwards to celebrate.
After a fine meal at a German restaurant; they take them to the small club where all the recent events started.
Candice and Bill are introduced to ‘Jack Daniels’; which brings a laugh out of both of them.
‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ give their bartender friend some of the sordid details of what went down that auspicious night.
Daniels knew a little about what happened already as their story had appeared in the crime sections of several local papers on Sunday.
Tuesday’s little celebration truly turns into a festive night for all members of the party.
Wednesday morning, however, finds ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ a little hung over but Candice manages to cheerfully storm into the offices at her usual 7:30am time.
There isn’t being much accomplished by either ‘Chase’ or ‘Hunt’ who instead spend most of their mornings drinking strong coffees and trying to remember the last time they had gotten that drunk.
Candice, of course, carries on with her duties.
About 11am, after opening that morning’s mail, Candice charges into Chase’s office.
“Chase;” she starts; “ya got a little love letter from that hotty model Ms. Dubois.”
“You’ve already read it I take it;” is Chase’s response.
“It’s part of my job;” Candice rebukes him; “I risk my life every time I open you two’s mail. What if some disgruntled client or pissed off perp you’re chasing sends you a letter bomb?”
Chase laughs; “OK great protector, what does Ms. Dubois’ letter bomb have to say?”
“Yeah well, this one isn’t a bomb. To summarize, she thanks you for chasing down her stalker; says she’s landed an important new contract as the local product model for a multinational perfume company’s new scent. She credits you and Hunt, rightly or wrongly I may add, for her present good fortune. Says here she doesn’t think she could have handled the new account if Roach was still out there. It also says that this new contract could help her career go national. She hopes that the two of you can keep in touch. She says that she feels safer knowing you’re out here and she can call you if she needs you. Kind of a sweet little letter, well, a bit too syrupy for my taste;” Candice concludes.
“That’s a nice note Candice; thanks for reading it for me;” Chase smirks.
“Yeah,” Candice snaps back; “any time. So Chase; have you billed this woman yet?”
“Oh, ah no; I thought I’d wait a bit. You know; she just went through a real terrifying experience. It just didn’t seem like an appropriate time to toss another burden on her plate.”
“Gee, that’s just so sweet of you Chase. Between her and you I just don’t know who’s sweeter. I DO know that if my sugar levels rise any higher I may slip into a diabetic coma;” Candice states factiously. “Ya know Chase this is a business. Ya can’t just ride around on your white charger and save beautiful damsels in distress and not get paid for it.”
“Yeah I know boss lady but hey, don’t you feel a little sorry for the woman; you being a woman yourself?”
“Sure Chase, I DO feel sorry for her. Let’s see, I feel sorry that she was pursued by a scumbag stalker slash rapist slash murderer to be sure. No one deserves that. And let me see; oh yeah, I feel sorry for her that she had to be rescued by a white knight with such an atrocious taste in ties. And I feel real sorry for her being born drop dead gorgeous and oh, yeah, I’m just heartbroken for her that she’s just landed a contract where she’ll be paid $12,000.00 per day at shoots plus residuals when her gorgeous profile is plastered on billboards, bus sides, and magazine covers plus additional thousands of bucks whenever she has to dress up in $3,000.00 gowns to make personal appearances at celebrity gatherings or chit chat on talk shows. Yeah boss, I’m sorry as hell for the little princess.”
“It sounds more like you’re a little jealous of her than sorry for her Candice;” Chase rather snidely remarks.
Candice snorts; “Yeah, I have to admit that I have a little green monster running around my head right now and what really stinks; the little princess has just done something to make me like her and, even worse, respect her. Talk about internal conflicts.”
“What in the hell are you talking about now Candice?” Chase asks.
“Yeah, well Chase; there’s a little codicil to your love letter from little Ms. Perfect.”
“OK Candice, are you going to tell me or is it going to be your little secret?”
Candice reopens the letter to read the codicil; “Mr. Chase, you took on my case without even discussing payment. Now, because I would have never had the good fortune to land the Estee Lauder contract if you hadn’t been so brave in apprehending that devil Roach; enclosed you will find a check payable to your firm for the amount of my first day’s earnings on my new contract; $12,000.00. I hope it’s sufficient, I feel that no amount of money will properly repay you for the service you’ve done for me. Thank you again and I hope to hear from you soon; Your Grateful New Friend Andréa. Jesus, I can feel my sugar levels rise as I speak;” Candice finishes her reading with one of her sarcastic comments.
Chase smiles; “I can see why you have such an internal conflict Candice; you want to dislike her because she’s beautiful and rich and then she throws you a nasty curveball by also being nice.”
“Yeah, it really sucks;” Candice grumbles back; “so anyway Chase I think you better write the little princess a nice thank you and congratulations letter, Draft something and then I’ll polish it. Meanwhile, sign this check; I’ll hit the bank over lunch and deposit it.
Chase signs the check after looking at it for almost 30 seconds,
He hands the check back to Candice who, of course, has an additional comment ready; “Hey Chase, do ya think you can manage to charm the pants off the client every case. I mean what did we get? I figure that you put maybe six hours into this case and grossed us 12 grand. That’s two grand an hour. Not bad, not as good as a rock star, but not bad;” and Candice turns and walks out.
Chase just laughs.
At lunch, Candice takes off for the bank and ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ head over to the little print shop to have some new business cards printed up.
When all three have returned to the offices each manages to keep busy.
‘Chase’ works on the draft of his thank you slash congratulations letter to Andréa Dubois.
‘Hunt’ surfs the Internet to find new surveillance and other electronic equipment like a good set of concealable communication gear.
Candice does what Candice does creating file upon file that neither ‘Chase’ nor ‘Hunt’ has a clue what they’re for.
At 3pm, Chase finally brings the draft of his thank you slash congratulations letter to Andréa Dubois out to Candice so that she can work her magic on it.
Candice scans the draft like a speed reader, groans and then tells Chase that she’ll fix it.
Chase just grunts and walks back to his office.
Twenty minutes later Candice comes walking back into Chase’s office with the ‘fixed’ letter to Ms. Dubois.
She tosses it on his desk for him to sign.
Chase scans it; not nearly as quickly as Candice had and then looks up with a smile on his face.
What he is now holding in his hand truly is superior to the draft he had handed Candice only twenty minutes ago; in fact, it is so much more superior that it doesn’t even vaguely resemble the letter Chase had slaved so hard over for two hours to write.
The current letter is a work of literary art worthy of Jane Austin.
“Gee Candice, I wasn’t aware I could write this well;” Chase quips.
“You can’t;” Candice states matter of factly back to him; “I threw yours in the trash bin. The woman paid us twelve grand without even being sent a bill; she said all kinds of nice things about you; most of which are undeserved I might add; she’ll probably get us more business either directly by referring us to some of her celebrity friends or indirectly by all the good publicity this case has generated for the firm and she was real nice to me when I was acting as her babysitter in the office that night. I’ve decided that the poor girl can’t help it that she’s drop dead gorgeous and rich so I feel that she deserves a far better letter of thanks and congratulations then that maudlin excuse for a letter you wrote. Sign it Chase. I’d like to get it in the outgoing mail before our princess gets a chance to forget who you are.”
“Must you always be so blunt about my deficiencies?” Chase snaps back but then a smile crosses his face.
“Yes;” Candice snaps back but then a smile begins to cross her face; “you’re like a pure bred golden retriever puppy Chase; ya got plenty of potential but ya need a strong trainer to whip ya into shape. Now, are you going to sign it or do you want me to go back and write a new letter for your approval?”
Chase chuckles then goes “woof”; then takes out his pen and signs the letter.
“Here;” and he thrusts the letter out towards Candice’s already outstretched hand.
Candice snatches it away and turns to leave.
Chase stops her in her tracks; “ya know trainer; a little kindness and a few less harsh words can often get us high potential purebreds to perform better.”
Candice does a very smart about face and both glares and scowls at Chase; “Don’t get all weepy on me Chase. Remember, you’re supposed to be a hardnosed, hardboiled private detective. Now, since you’ve been such a good boy so far this week; I’ll bring you a nice cream filled chocolate croissant with your afternoon coffee;” and her threatening glare and angry looking scowl almost instantly turn into a beautiful warm smile.
But Candice just can’t help herself; she is afterall Candice.
As she starts to leave having put a smile back on her boss’s face she says; “But please Chase, will you get rid of that awful tie. I get nauseous every time I see it.” And she proceeds to walk out.
Once she’s gone Chase grins and keeps shaking his head slowly back and forth, back and forth.
The continuous thought that keeps running through his head as he quietly sits there is; ‘that woman is either going to make this agency a success or she’s going to end up putting both of its investigators into loony bins.’
Five minutes later Candice walks in with his promised coffee and cream filled chocolate croissant; sets it on his desk; smiles, does another very nice about face and simply walks out. The remainder of Wednesday turns out uneventful.
If you want to start at the beginning, check origins. If you like what you're reading you can buy the all book at chase hunt investigations.