The Demarco Mystery Woman Case

here is a new case handled by Chase and Hunt. Please check the prologue if you want some context on them. You can also get the full book here (kindle version).

Thursday starts with a bang, actually several real loud bangs as the kind made by gunshots. It’s still pre-dawn outside but the gunshots get both ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ moving like what they’d heard were the gunshots that start a foot race or a swim meet. Both men come bolting out of their separate bedrooms with their handguns already chambered and cocked for action.

“What the hell was that?” Hunt asks.

“Sounded an awful lot like gunshots to me partner;” Chase replies.

 The two men look out their street side second floor window and see a young man lying on the sidewalk across the street. The young man seems to be trying to prop himself up. He crawls over to the building he’s in front of and tries using it to pull himself up to his feet. Almost simultaneously Chase and Hunt see a sinister shape dangling from one of the man’s hands; it’s a handgun. Suddenly a second shadowy figure shows itself. This one is standing and looking down at the prone man from about 30 feet away. This figure also is clearly wielding a gun in his hand. Both ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ bolt down their stairs into their office area and head for the front door.

By the time the two detectives make it to the door numerous gunshots start ringing out again. Both of the men are once again shooting at each other. The man already down appears to have taken another hit. The standing man isn’t doing so well himself now. Apparently, in desperation to keep his would-be killer away; the man on the pavement had begun spraying the street with bullets of his own; two seemed to have reached their intended target. Though still standing; he is now very obviously hit. His form starts to slowly crumple over against a light post for support.

“FREEZE;” Chase screams at the top of his lungs.

Both the shooters look over to where the new noise is coming from.

“I said freeze assholes. Throw your weapons away and let me see your hands.”

Hunt, who had moved off to one side of Chase, suddenly speaks “you’ll never get both of us. Drop your weapons NOW!”

This seems to disorient the two wounded men even more. They no longer know in what direction to point their weapons.

“Drop em; drop the weapons; drop em;” Chase keeps repeating over and over.

Finally, the weapons begin to fall; first the one that is in the still standing man’s right hand suddenly falls and clatters on the ground. The man on the pavement seeing that his adversary has disarmed weakly tosses his handgun away as well.

‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ move in quickly, kick the offending weapons way out of the reach of either of the ex-shooters and then try to position both the wounded men more comfortably on the ground and rip portions of their clothing away to either wrap around or stuff into the shooter-victims more obvious wounds. Once that task is quickly completed, Chase shouts to his partner:

“I’ve got these two partner; get back inside and call 911 and let them know what just went down here. Remember to tell them not to shoot me;” is the last thing he manages to scream out as Hunt races into their offices to call for police and an ambulance.

Hunt is still on the phone with the 911 Emergency Operator when the first patrol cruiser pulls up. When the patrol car pulls to a stop Chase immediately grabs his pistol by the barrel and holds it up over his head in plain sight so the officers can see it. He stands completely still. Two officers get out of their cruiser with their weapons already drawn and pointed at Chase. The officers both seem hesitant to do anything so they just stand there not moving or issuing any commands. The scene is bizarre looking. Neither officer seems to know what to make of it. There are two men lying on the sidewalk like a paramedic had already positioned them and started treatment. There are two cocked weapons already on the ground and well out of the reach of any of the primary players in this little drama. There’s a man standing in the street in a pair of black boxer shorts and nothing else but a 10mm Glock upside down in his raised hand.

The whole scene is too damn bizarre for these two patrolmen so they choose to just stand there covering the one man still holding a gun in a non-offensive fashion and wait patiently for back-up. To add to the two patrolmen’s confusion yet another man, also only in boxer shorts, comes waltzing out of the door of an office across the street with no visible weapon but his hands raised high over his head. Both patrolmen are so relieved when they begin to see other patrol cruisers rolling up.

An EMS van suddenly pulls up and two paramedics jump out, grab some equipment from their vehicle’s storage compartments and race over to attend to the two men lying on the pavement.

Finally a sergeant rolls in and jumps out of his cruiser yelling out: “Which one of you guys is Hunt?”

“I am sergeant;” Hunt answers.

“You’re the guy who made the 911 call?”

“Yes sir;” Hunt politely answers.

“That would make you Chase then right?” The sergeant addresses Chase.

“Yes sergeant;”Chase answers equally timidly.

The sergeant smiles; “OK boys you can both put your hands down now.”

“Thank you sergeant;” both men almost answer simultaneously.

The sergeant then waves around to all the patrolmen on the scene; “you boys can all put your hardware away unless you want to shoot our pair of celebrities here. These two snappy dressers are the two boys that took down that Roach critter last weekend.”

All the patrolmen chuckle a bit at the sergeant’s ‘snappy dressers’ comment but then all holster their weapons. A more or less sigh of relief escapes from both Chase and Hunt. The sergeant walks over and stands in front of the two, now celebrity P.I.s, standing in the street in only their boxer shorts. He’s grinning but saying nothing. ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ just stand there; more than a little embarrassed at the attention. The sergeant finally wanders away and Chase turns to Hunt and whispers:

“This is why my mother always told me to wear clean underwear. She said there would be times like this.”

The pair gets everyone’s attention again when they both break out laughing. A detective unit shows up and then much to the two briefly clad good Samaritans’ dismay the press finally shows complete with their invasive cameras. The detectives come over and stand in front of ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’.

One detective asks: “Either one of you two want to tell me what happened here?”

“We’d be happy to detective but may we please go get dressed first?” Chase politely requests.

The detective smirks a bit and then waves them towards their offices to get some proper clothes on. ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ both thank the detective as they make a beeline for their still open front office door. It takes them less than two minutes to get presentable and then they come back outside. The lead detective gives ‘Chase’ and ‘Hunt’ the expected, but still unwelcomed, news that their exalted presence would be needed downtown.

The detective tells them that they’ll have to have ballistics checks done on their weapons to confirm that neither was fired and then they’ll both be given paraffin tests to make sure that neither one of them had fired one of the weapons found on the ground followed by a quick Q&A period where they’ll each be asked to give their rendition of what exactly went down. Chase and Hunt understand but it’s still a pain in the ass for them.

After three hours downtown at police headquarters all the results are finally in and the verdicts are as anticipated. Neither Chase’s nor Hunt’s weapon was fired. Neither Chase nor Hunt had fired any weapon. Only one set of prints are found on each of the two weapons that were fired and they belong to the two wounded men. Both wounded men will live. The perp who had been lying on the ground had taken three hits; one to his right shoulder, another to his right arm just above the elbow and the third one to his abdomen. The second perp, the one who had originally been standing had taken two hits; one pretty much shattering his left clavicle and the second one hit him square in guts. Now as for Chase’s and Hunt’s interrogations; they are first separated into adjoining rooms and asked to recite, in detail, exactly what happened using their own words. Both men deliver virtually identical stories of what had ensued that morning. Also, when asked, neither Chase nor Hunt had even the vaguest clue as to who the two men were or why the two men had been shooting at each other. After their individual questioning and recorded statements they are brought back together at the lead detective’s desk.

At that time, a surprise element is revealed to Chase and Hunt by the detective in charge. The detective tells them that both the shooter-victims are young, hot-headed, coked up members of two of San Francisco’s high-society families. From what detectives have so far been able to put together, from the gibberish the two young men had sprouted out until each was silenced by his lawyer arriving, is they were having a disagreement over a certain lady friend which each man claims as his. As Chase and Hunt sit quietly waiting to be cut loose by the detective running the case; both their new friend Bill and Lieutenant Bergsman, from the Assault-Rape unit, walk into the room they are in. The two Lieutenants both have huge smiles on their faces.

Chase grins back and then asks: “OK guys what’s with the Cheshire cat grins on your faces.”

Bill breaks first through a suppressed laugh; “Nice boxers you guys have. Do you have them tailored for you or are they off the rack?”

“Excuse me?” Chase looks puzzled.

Bill is still trying to suppress his instinct to laugh.

Lieutenant Bergsman jumps in: “The entire San Francisco – Oakland metro got a peek at you boys’ boxers on like six channels this morning. Every local morning news show in the Bay Area had you two standing in the middle of the street in your boxers.”

Chase’s and Hunt’s heads both slump down to their chests.

“Jesus this is embarrassing” Hunt mumbles out.

Chase groans: “Oh man, Candice is going to have a field day with this when we get back to the office. She’s already given me two thumbs down on my wardrobe. It’ll be months before we stop hearing about this.”

“Cheer up Chase” Bill says, “at least you had your Glock in your hand making you look like a hardboiled private eye.”

Chase shoots Bill a dirty look.

Then Bergsman jumps back in with another cheap shot to add to Chase’s growing embarrassment: “Hey Chase, come on fella, buck up. You made such a great impression on that model Ms. Dubois maybe she’ll get you set up with a new career as a male underwear model.”

“OK guys, that’s enough; not funny, not funny at all;” Chase fires back.

The two S.F.P.D. Detective Lieutenants break out laughing. Neither Chase nor Hunt follow suit.

“Oh boys” Bergsman starts up again, “Do you two plan on taking only celebrity cases?”

“Now what the hell are you talking about Bergsman?” Hunt snaps out.

“Well, your first case was saving one of our local supermodels from a horrible fate; now take a look at this;” and the detective Lieutenant holds out a copy of a morning paper

Hunt grabs it away from him and looks at a two column headline which reads – ‘Local P.I.s stop two HiSo bad boys from killing each other.’

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hunt growls out.

Chase grabs the paper away from Hunt and starts reading the story.

‘Two young men, Jeremy Cotter and Vincent Demarco Jr, from two of the Bay Area’s leading families were stopped early this morning from killing each other by two local private investigators who are somewhat celebrities in their own rights. James Chase and John Hunt, the two private detectives who, only recently, stepped valiantly in to save local supermodel Andréa Dubois from a stalker bent on murder have once again stepped in to rescue, perhaps unwillingly, two of San Francisco High Society’s most notorious bad boys from gunning each other down in the street…”

The article goes on but Chase can’t. He throws the paper on the floor.

“We didn’t know who those two guys were or why they were trying to so hard to kill each other. We were awaken by gunfire and we did what we could to stop it. That’s all. We’re not seeking celebrity status or celebrity clients. We stumbled into the Dubois case through a bartender in a club. We literally stumbled out of bed and into that mess this morning. Now we’re getting labeled by the media and chided by the local police.”

“Easy Chase, Hunt” Bill breaks in only this time with a much more compassionate tone, “we’re not chiding you guys, we’re just pulling on your chains a bit for a few good humored laughs. You two take everything too much to heart to maintain your façade as hardnosed, hardboiled private eyes in the tradition of Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe. If anything you should consider yourselves lucky. Hell, you two stumble blindly into, and yet somehow manage to successfully pull off, high profile cases that a lot of guys work years trying to do.”

Both Chase and Hunt raise their heads.

They kinda grin at each other and then Chase speaks first “I guess you could call us kinda lucky partner?”

“Yeah, I suppose partner but I’d rather think that we’re also good. I don’t want to have people thinking about me as just some lucky bumbler. I’m starting to feel like that harebrained inspector in the Pink Panther movies or that Mr. Bean character Johnny English who both stumble through high profile cases but manage to somehow come out with another undeserved tick in the win column.”

Everyone in the room, including Hunt, breaks into a snigger at the last set of comparisons. Chase and Hunt ask if they can leave. Their request is approved and each detective who sees them gives Chase and Hunt a friendly pat on the back as they exit.

Hunt’s still feeling a little down as they leave police headquarters: “Damn partner I wish I had slept more soundly this morning. I wonder what kind of fruitcakes were going to attract with this publicity?”

“I don’t know partner but that’s just it isn’t it, we don’t know. Some actor said once that any publicity is good publicity. Maybe he’s right. We may get a few fruitcakes but then again we may get some bonafide clients out of this.” Chase tries to cheer his partner up.

Hunt grins at him. Chase smiles back and Hunt’s grin grows to a full-blown smile: “You may be right old buddy. I hope you’re right.”

Chase pats Hunt on his back and then throws his arm around his partner’s shoulder and virtually drags him to their car.

“Oh man” Chase suddenly groans out once they’re both in the car.

“What’s the matter now partner? I thought we were trying to get in an optimistic mood?”

Chase simply mumbles out one word: “Candice” and the mere mention of her name brings on a groan from both men.

“Hey partner, I don’t want to go back and face her yet;” Chase whines out.

“Hey, who says we have to? It’s our agency ain’t it? Let’s take the morning off and go shopping for some new clothes or something.”

“Yeah, partner, that sounds like a plan. Let’s skip out of Candice’s class this morning. We’ll play hooky like we use to back in Junior High when we both hated Mrs. Pink’s Algebra classes.”

Both men are smiling now conspiratorially. They head off to a mall in the opposite direction from their offices. The two set free dudes are having a great time flirting with sales clerks and restaurant waitresses some of whom claim they saw the two on the morning news. Well, this notorious celebrity status may have some benefits; both men manage to get the names and numbers of three pretty hot looking women. Its lunchtime and the two boys are enjoying a great meal and some friendly chatter with their buxom waitress when their euphoric feelings are shattered, Chase’s phone chimes. He pulls it out and looks at his caller ID, shit, it’s Candice. Well, they had managed to avoid her the entire morning anyway and they both know that they can’t play hooky forever as nice as it sounds to them at the moment.

Chase reluctantly hits the accept call button on his phone and simply answers: “yes.”

What comes next neither man was expecting. Candice’s voice comes over the phone but it isn’t sounding critical, in fact, it’s sounding almost darn right chipper.

“Hi guys;” Candice begins “hey believe me I was willing to let you two play hooky all day since your day started off so early but business is business and we got a call from a Mr. Vincent Demarco Sr about twenty minutes ago and he requested both your illustrious presences at his estate at 3pm this afternoon so you two better get your asses back here and change into something besides your boxer shorts.”

“Candice” Chase’s voice almost sounds serious “did he tell you what he wants us there for?”

“No Chase; he didn’t, but making a guess I’d say he wants to thank you for saving his son’s life.”

Chase looks over at Hunt to get an impression of what he’s thinking about this new development. Hunt just shrugs his shoulders and then gives Chase a slight nod.

“OK Candice, we’ll be back at the office in about a half hour.”

“OK.” she responds almost perky, “I hope you bought something nice” and she just signs off.

“What do you make of this partner?” Chase asks.

“What? Do you mean Candice’s surprise perkiness or the Demarco thing?”

Chase hesitates replying: “Both, I guess.”

“OK, well, as far as Candice’s perkiness goes; I think she agrees with that actor dude you mentioned earlier that said any publicity is good publicity. She’s probably happy with us because we got our faces, and our tushes, back in the media. As far as this Demarco thing; Candice is probably right, as usual, Mr. HiSo probably just wants to thank us for saving his rebellious son’s life.”

“I can live with that’ Chase states. “We better get our asses back to the office fast though or Candice’s good mood may evaporate.”

Both men laugh.

“Hey!” Chase adds “let’s pick up a box of her favorite pastries before heading back. It can’t hurt to hedge our bets pal.”

Both men laugh again.

“Good thinking partner.” And they head off first to pick up Candice’s pastries and then back to the office.

Both men are in surprisingly good moods considering today started off with them having to break up a gunfight which was followed by spending three very stressful hours in a police station. This day has also included the embarrassment of having themselves, clad only in their boxer shorts, broadcast metro wide for all and asunder to see. And soon they’ll be meeting face to face with a community leader whose son’s head they had pointed guns at only twelve hours earlier. When they return to their offices Candice is already on them as they enter the door. Her greeting isn’t what either man expected. First she hugs Chase and asks him if he’s alright and then she does the same to Hunt. Both men looking a little shocked assure her that they’re fine and then Chase hands her the package with her favorite pastries. Candice smiles, thanks them, tells them that they are both considerate bosses, sets the box of pastries down on a small stand near her desk and then gets down to business.

“What do you have in the boxes and bags boys?”

“Some new clothes we bought to spark up our wardrobe some.” Chase replies.

“You might be better off if you just run around in your satin boxers Chase. You looked good on the news, kinda sexy. I think Channel 5 got the best shot of you standing there looking hardnosed in your black boxers with your Glock in your hand.” Candice responds with her usual sarcasm. “Now let’s take a look at what you two bought.”

She opens one of Hunt’s boxes first and finds a brown suit.

Candice’s response: “Jesus Hunt, You’ve kept the receipts I hope because otherwise it’s going to be a bitch for me to take this back. Damn this is ugly.”

Hunt cringes under the verbal assault. Next she opens one of Chase’s boxes which has six ties in it. Candice takes the ties out one by one.

Her comments: “Oh, not too bad Chase, ok, this one sucks, ugh, this one goes back, Oooooh, I like this one, this one’s nice, Ah, yeah this one’s ok. These four are keepers Chase; these two go back or in the trash. You should wear this one this afternoon to Demarco’s. Not bad Chase, four out of six. There’s hope for you yet.”

Chase tries to smile but manages only a smirk and remains silent. Next Candice breaks open another box that’s Hunt’s; it has three shirts; a satiny light grey one, a light blue one and a light green one.

Candice’s comments: “These are all OK Hunt, I have no idea what you were thinking when you bought that ugly brown suit to go with these light grey, blue, and green shirts.”

Hunt only grimaces this time. Candice opens another of Hunt’s bags. Hunt begins to recoil even before Candice speaks. The small bag has three ties in it. Candice pulls each tie out one at a time gives each one her eagle eye stare and then matches them up with Hunt’s already approved shirts.

“Not bad Hunt” and she picks up the blue shirt and tie match; “wear these with your dark blue suit this afternoon to Demarco’s.”

Chase would swear he hears an audible sigh of relief emit from his partner. The next bag Candice opens holds Chase’s shirt selections.

Candice mutters, grunts, snorts, sighs and then proclaims: “yeah, they’re ok Chase, the colors are fine but you have to lose your penchant for the satiny shine look. You’re private eye not a Latin dancer.”

Chase manages to choke off a laugh. The final box has Chase’s suit selection in it. Chase had selected a very dark charcoal grey suit cut in the European style. Candice holds it up in front of him, glances over at his shirt and tie selections spread out over her desk; she pushes the suit at Chase until he grabs hold of it; grabs one of the shirts and her choice of matching tie and thrusts them at Chase as well:

“OK guys, you’ve got what you both are going to wear to Demarco’s so get your butts upstairs and get dressed. OH, and change your underwear; ya never know what might happen.”

Both men grimace but then take off as Candice commanded.

Candice smiles and thinks to herself: ‘they did good. I’ll have to lose Hunt’s brown suit and Chase’s two atrocious ties but overall they did good.’

And she goes about cleaning up the mess on her desk the unwrapping had created. By the time the two men come walking back down the stairs from their living quarters to their offices; Candice has the reception area already cleaned up and is indulging in one of the pastries the boys had brought her. Candice stands and approaches the two men who are already standing as if in formation waiting anxiously for the results of their sergeant’s inspection. Candice walks back and forth in front of the two men. She stops to straighten Hunt’s tie a little.She then checks both men’s left wrists to make sure they have suitable watches on. Next, she steps back for a full package look; holds up one finger to keep them in place turns and goes back to her desk to retrieve two matching Cartier pens. Candice returns to her two charges and slips one of the Cartiers into each of their breast pockets. She once again stands back to get an overall look and nods her approval. Both men let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Do you guys have your little leather bound notebooks? If not, get them. Detectives take notes guys and why would you be carrying Cartier pens and not have something to use them in. Also, make sure that you have your Cellphones, your P.I. ID cases, and your guns.” she orders.

“We don’t need our guns Candice;” Hunt starts to protest.

“Hunt” Candice stops him, “you had them pointed at his son’s head this morning. They’ll act as a reminder that you had them; could have used them but didn’t because you have control, discipline. They also serve to enhance your image as hardass private eyes.”

Hunt looks at his partner with an expression on his face that very clearly is asking Chase – ‘Is she serious?’ Chase just shrugs his shoulders and acquiesces to Candice’s orders. Twenty minutes later they’re ready to leave for Demarco’s. Their little leather bound notebooks are in their side suit jacket pockets; their P.I. ID cases are tucked in next to their Cartier pens in their suit breast pockets; their cellphones in their inside jacket pockets and their weapons now hang in inverted, quick release shoulder holsters under their left arms with two spare magazines hanging from the shoulder rig under their right armpits. If nothing else; the two actually DO look like a pair of successful, hardass private eyes. Even Candice is pleased. They take Chase’s car because it’s the newest and cleanest but not necessarily the best. Chase’s car is a Burgundy, 4-door, 2002 Buick LeSabre. Hunt’s vehicle is a silver, 2-door 1999 BMW 5-Series. The LeSabre’s darker color always appears cleaner and its 4-doors and larger trunk make loading anything larger than a briefcase more convenient.

The drive to Demarco’s takes nearly forty minutes in afternoon traffic. They still arrive twenty minutes early so they sit about two blocks down and each has a smoke to relieve some of the nervousness both men are feeling. At 2:55pm they drive down to the Demarco estate’s impressive front gate. There’s a speaker box at the entrance. Chase leans out and presses the button. A male voice comes over the speaker: “Yes?”

Chase replies: “Chase and Hunt, I believe we’re expected.”

The impressive front gate begins to open electronically. Chase and Hunt wait impatiently for the heavy slow moving gate to make a space large enough for Chase’s large Buick to fit through and then they drive up the long twisting driveway to the front of the house. A tall eloquently dressed man with silver grey hair appears almost immediately from the massive double door entrance to the residence. Chase and Hunt get out and move together.

“Gentlemen my name is Vincent Demarco, welcome. So you’re Chase and Hunt; not exactly what I expected after seeing you both on the morning news in only your skivvies. Please come inside.”

Demarco appears friendly enough to the two P.I.s but both men are still waiting for the other foot to fall. Demarco ushers them into what must be a den and asks if they’d care to have a brandy with him. Chase and Hunt both graciously accept.

Once the drinks were all poured and accepted with polite nods, Chase got down to business: “What is it that we can do for you Mr. Demarco?”

“Ah, Right to business; I like that.” Demarco remarks, “well gentlemen, you of course have done something for me already haven’t you? You stopped the Cotter boy from killing my son; neither of you took the easy approach and just shot my armed son yourselves; and I was told by my son in the hospital that you even tried to make him more comfortable and stop his bleeding before the police and EMT unit arrived. For those acts I believe I owe you both a rather sincere thank you already.”

Chase and Hunt both nod.

Chase states flatly: “we did what we thought was right.”

“Yes, I believe that Mr. Chase and I respect that;” Demarco responds, “And that is why I would like you to do something else for me.”

Now its Hunt’s turn: “May we ask what sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Hunt; but first, the incident this morning are you aware of why it occurred?”

“No more than what we read in the papers Mr. Demarco. According to the press, your son and the Cotter boy had some kind of a clash over a woman.” Hunt answers.

“And that is essentially correct but not nearly the whole story. It’s the woman that I may need of your further assistance with Mr. Hunt. I believe that she’s been playing my son like a harp; as well as the Cotter boy and perhaps other young men from prominent families. Oh, the young harlot is a charmer and a smart one to be sure and few people will deny that she has exceptional physical charms as well. The problem is gentlemen she has no past; she’s a ghost; no traceable family roots. She sashayed into town about six months ago from where I don’t know. She hangs out at all the right clubs and attracts her victims, including my son and the Cotter boy, into her little spider web with her social and physical charms and then she sucks them dry. Gifts, trips, even cash plus invitations to parties, events, social gatherings where she casts her web in ever widening circles.”

Chase interrupts: “You’ve definitely described a classic social climber Mr. Demarco but being a social climber, even a devious one, is not considered a crime in America; An opportunist yes, criminal no.”

“That’s too true Mr. Chase, but I believe this woman has other objectives that are far more sinister than simple social climbing;” Demarco states.

“Such as Mr. Demarco?” Chase asks.

“Such as Mr. Chase, blackmail, extortion, grand theft, perhaps even kidnapping;” the socialite replies.

“Mr. Demarco, you clearly don’t trust the woman nor do you seem to like her much but do you actually have any evidence that would support your suspicions of criminal intentions. I’m not trying to be a kibitzer here Mr. Demarco but she may just be some small-town girl who is trying to use what god given assets she has to climb out of an otherwise dull, humdrum, middleclass existence. Many people would find that admirable.”

“I, myself, may find that admirable if I knew for certain that she was indeed just a middleclass small-town girl. And therein lies the problem; we know nothing about her before she came to the Bay Area. Also Mr. Chase, Mr. Hunt, the young woman’s etiquette, at the social gatherings that I have personally seen her at, is not the etiquette of a small-town girl. My wife could learn a thing or two from her.”

Chase again: “I can see perhaps why you have suspicions Mr. Demarco but criminal intentions such as blackmail, extortion, grand theft, kidnapping; those are serious crimes and they’re most often carried out by two or more perpetrators. Again, suspicions I know you have but do you have any evidence?”

“Mr. Chase, I am a businessman, an investor, an industrialist, a philanthropist and therefore I am someone who is allowed to have only suspicions. The evidence well Mr. Chase, Mr. Hunt; that’s where Private Investigators like you come in to dig it up. I would like to hire your services to find out what you can about this woman.”

Hunt looks over at Chase, Chase simply nods.

“OK Mr. Demarco but one question first.”

“Go ahead Mr. Hunt; what is your question?”

“If we find out that this young woman is nothing more sinister than an opportunist or exceptionally gifted and cunning social climber; will you accept our findings? We have no intention of framing the girl just to get her out of your son’s life.”

“Fair enough Mr. Hunt; I will accept whatever findings you unearth. But I must warn you gentlemen, I have very well honed instincts. One does not obtain my position in society by not being able to read people. I know that harlot is hiding something. She’s got secrets gentlemen; my gut tells me she does.”

“Private Investigators have gut instincts as well Mr. Demarco. We’ll look into this woman’s past and it won’t take us too long to know if both our guts are in sync.”

“Excellent, excellent gentlemen; here is a folder with what little information we have on this woman and my contact information so you can keep me in the loop.” And Demarco hands the folder to Chase.

Chase just nods his acceptance.

“I would appreciate it if you put your every effort into this case. I would very much like to have a firm handle on this woman before my son gets out of the hospital and must face the consequences for his unfortunate actions of this morning.”

“We Understand Mr. Demarco” Chase states matter of factly.

“What is your fee gentlemen?” Demarco asks.

“We charge $1,200.00 per day plus expenses to put all our agency’s resources on the case.” Chase states unemotionally.

“Reasonable, I actually expected higher. Here, in this envelope you’ll find $10,000.00. I suspect that this is an adequate retainer to get you started.”

Chase and Hunt both nod in the affirmative.

Chase affirms: “If we can beg your leave then Mr. Demarco we’ll get right on it.”

Mr. Demarco walks the two detectives to the door, shakes both their hands and wishes them both good hunting. Hunt smiles at the ‘Good Hunting’ send off by Demarco.

“Well Partner, how are you feeling now?” Chase asks.

“Like a hardnosed, hardboiled, hardass private eye partner.” Hunt answers with a huge smile on his face; “let’s move our asses’ partner we’ve got some bonafide investigating to undertake.”

Chase smiles back “Let’s show Frisco we’re not just a pair of lucky bumblers partner.”

As they drive back towards the office both detectives are in exceptionally good moods. While Chase drives, Hunt reads from the file they have on the mystery woman.

“Hey partner, the woman’s name is Diane Catherine Kramer. She’s got a California driver’s license and a passport application both with the same local Frisco address. No credit cards, at least none listed in this file, no bank accounts either. Odd, either this is a really flimsy file or she doesn’t have a job as well. No known living relatives. No previous addresses. Get this; she has a cellphone number listed here but no landline for her residence. Ah, partner, I’m starting to understand why our client is so suspicious. I’ve got a few red flags popping up in my head right now as well.”

“Jesus partner, only a few; I’ve got all kinds of bells and whistles, horns and klaxon going off in my head.” Chase shoots back.

“Hey partner, how about we take a drive past this address that’s on both her California driver’s license and her passport application.”

“Sounds good to me; point the way.” Chase replies.

Hunt provides the address and a few suggestions as to how to best get to it and they’re off. Twenty-five minutes later both men are standing in front of a condominium building which should be really nice once its completed; which probably won’t be for another six months at least.

“Oh shit!” Chase exclaims.

“Yeah partner, I couldn’t of put it better myself, Oh shit. Any suggestions?” Hunt asks.

“I think we should get back to the office and have Candice ring Bill up and have him run the woman through D.M.V., Immigration Passport Control, Social Security, Internal Revenue, and the N.C.I.C. network. We’re going to need a picture of this woman at the very least.” Chase suggests.

Hunt agrees. When they get back to the office both are in a hopped up mood, Candice starts in with the questions.

“What happened at Demarco’s?” Is Candice’s primer question.

“Timeout Candice; we need you to do something for us before we start answering all your inevitable questions. OK?”

Candice can tell how serious Chase is acting so she shifts into work mode.

“What can I do for ya Chase?” She asks,

“We need you to call Bill and have him run a Miss Diane Catherine Kramer through D.M.V., Immigration Passport Control, Social Security, Internal Revenue, and the N.C.I.C. network. We’re going to need a picture of this woman at the very least and anything else he can get us including her Social Security Number, birth certificate, any car registration information anything at all because right now we’ve got Buttkiss on her.”

“Is this for a case?” Candice asks.

Chase throws the envelope that Demarco had given them with the $10,000.00 in it onto Candice’s desk.

Candice opens the envelope and exclaims rather unladylike: “Holy shit! Move your ass Chase; you’re blocking my phone and I’ve got to get a hold of Bill before he leaves his office.”

Chase heads for his partner’s office and Candice goes to work. About thirty minutes later Hunt’s phone rings.

“Pick up: screams out Candice.“it’s Bill.”

Hunt reaches for the phone, picks up and then puts it on speaker.

“Hunt here.” He says.

Bill seems agitated: “what the shit are you two boys into now? Is that crazy ass partner of yours with you?”

“Easy Bill, Yeah, I’m here;” Chase tries to cool his new pal down: “What put a bee up your ass?”

“You did hotshot with your request to rundown a Miss Diane Catherine Kramer.”

“I take it you found something then?” Chase asks.

“It’s more what I couldn’t find that’s gotten me agitated. The woman has a California driver’s license and a passport both with the same local Frisco address and both within the last year.”

“That we know already pal.” Chase interrupts.

“Yeah, but I bet you don’t know this hotshot; the woman has NOTHING else.”

This time it’s Hunt “She has to have a birth certificate Bill or how the hell else could she get a passport?”

“Yeah, OK, she has a birth certificate but nothing else. I’m faxing you what I was able to get on her over to you fellas as we speak and there ain’t much.”

“Jesus Bill, what systems did you run her through?” Chase asks.

“All of them and then some. N.C.I.C. had nothing on her; no prints, no photo not so much as a traffic ticket. That’s not too unusual but Social Security has no listing of her, Internal Revenue has no tax records on her which means she’s never held a regular job, D.M.V. has that driver’s license but there are no vehicles registered to her. I checked with the credit agencies and she has no credit cards, no outstanding loans, no bank accounts, and no types of insurance. It’s like she suddenly materialized as a 23 year old woman 6 months ago.”

“OK, here’s something for you Bill; Hunt and I checked out that address on her California driver’s license and passport application; it’s a Condominium building over on Laughton and it’ll probably be a pretty nice one too when it’s finished in six to eight months.” Chase comments.

“Well where the hell is the woman living?” Bill shoots back.

“That’s a real good question Bill? I don’t suppose you’d have an answer?” Chase fires back.

“Funny hotshot, very, very funny;” Bill retorts. “Why are you looking for this invisible lady anyway sport?”

“Demarco and Cotter, the two boys who tried to kill each other this morning;”

“Yeah, what about them?” Bill interrupts.

“The invisible lady is the reason. Each claimed her as his own and they decided to shoot it out old Wild West style.”

“How did you find this out?” Bill asks.

“From the Demarco kid’s father;” Chase answers

“Are you working for him cowboy?”

“Yeah, our case is to find out whatever we can about this mystery woman.”

“Something doesn’t smell right here guys. I don’t think I like this.” Bill throws his two cents in. “In my experience there are only three types of people who have shadow identities like this Diane Kramer chick; deep cover cops or intelligence people; people in the witness protection program or very serious criminal operators and none of these types should be approached unnecessarily because there is likely to be some very unwanted consequences if they are.”

Candice walks in with everything Bill has faxed to them. Bill wasn’t kidding, there isn’t much but at least now they have a picture of her and her birth certificate. These are at least something to start on.

“Watch your backs on this case boys” Bill says sounding extremely serious; “I wouldn’t even trust your client’s motives.”

“We hear ya Bill. Believe us we’re as concerned about these early developments as you are. We’ll keep you updated pal and thanks, I mean it, thanks for the paper chase ya did for us already.” Hunt stresses.

Chase jumps in: “Yeah Bill, everything ya did for us is appreciated pal.”

Bill replies: “Yeah, well your welcome. Hey, I’m just starting to like you two cowboys so how about you don’t go out and get yourselves wasted alright?”

Both Chase and Hunt chuckle nervously: “we’ll try real hard not to disappoint you there buddy.” Chase quips.

“OK cowboys, I’ll check on you tomorrow. Try not to do anything too stupid tonight.”

“We’ve got no stupid things planned for tonight Bill.” Hunt jumps in.

“That’s supposed to reassure me. I figure you didn’t have that little gunfight at the OK corral this morning planned either. It’s the unplanned shit that gets ya.”

“I hope that that wasn’t your best effort at trying to relieve the acidity sensation both of us have in our guts right now Bill. Because if it was; I have to tell ya it didn’t work buddy.” Chase fires off another wisecrack.

Bill sniggers; “Just keep your heads down Spade and Marlowe; I’ll talk to you two tomorrow.” and the line goes dead.

“Wow” Candice finally speaks “I’ve never heard Bill sound that worried before. You two should just order in and then hit the sack early tonight and both of you get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow maybe we can make a few calls based on what Bill sent us and get a better handle on this case.”

“You sound worried yourself Candice; relax, we’re a couple of hardnosed, hardboiled, hardass private eyes remember.” Chase jokes to lighten the mood in the room.

The joking doesn’t work: “Yeah right, just do as I told you. Don’t make me handcuff you two to your beds.” Candice teases.

“Wow, you’re a kinky one.” Chase manages to get out through his chuckle.

“You have no idea Chase, now if ya don’t want a pants down spanking you’ll tell me what you want ordered in so I can call them.”

Both men laugh at that and then decide that they’ll have her order in Chinese. Candice just grunts and goes to her desk to make the order. Chase and Hunt stay where they are and pour through what little information they actually have on their mystery woman until dinner arrives. When the Chinese food arrives, Candice takes off for home leaving Chase and Hunt to eat alone. Just before locking up she screams out one last warning for the pair to just stay put and then shuts the door and battens down the hatches. Chase and Hunt at that moment both feel like children being put to bed early by a mother who just happens to be one year younger than either of them. After finishing their Chinese takeout dinner; both men are feeling restless so against Candice’s direct orders they slip their suit coats on back over their shoulder holstered handguns and head out to the club where their newest friend Jack Daniels works to show him the woman’s photo they received from Bill.

When they get there Daniel’s greets them with his usual exuberance: “Hey Mr. Chase, Mr. Hunt; you’re both looking especially smart tonight. I suppose you’re trying to make up for your boxer clad only appearance on every channel in the Bay Area this morning.”

“Very funny Daniels, we’re both armed tonight so don’t say anything to provoke us.” Chase growls back but then smiles.

Daniel’s mockingly raises both his hands as if he’s surrendering and then asks: “So what can I get you two porn stars tonight?”

“You’re right on the edge Daniels; right on the edge:” Hunt mumbles.

“Two drafts meathead and pour yourself an OJ while you’re at it;” Chase orders

When Daniels comes over with the drink, Chase pulls out the picture of the mystery woman.

“Daniels, have ya ever seen this woman before?” Chase asks.

Daniels laughs: “Jesus Mr. Chase; is the pope Catholic?”

“What the hell kind of answer is that Daniels?” Chase asks almost angrily.

“Easy Mr. Chase, cool down there big fella; I’m just trying to make a point.” Daniels jokes.

“Yeah, well we’ve had a pretty long day today already Jack so how about you make your point a little clearer for us.” Chase growls out again only this time it’s not followed by a smile.

“Sure, sure Mr. Chase; the woman in the photo is known by everyone who frequents clubs; and I mean everyone. She’s a barfly. She goes from table to table flirting with every guy who looks like he may have a decent amount of folded bills in his wallet. She’s a social climber; talks almost exclusively with men who have money to toss around. She’s a real looker; and I mean looker NOT hooker; she dresses sexy as hell but with a touch of real style and class thrown in. I don’t know what she does for work. She never comes in wearing a woman’s business suit or nothing like that. She likes champagne cocktails but she’ll drink anything a man has at his table. I think her name is Diane something or other. I can’t remember; bartenders like me aren’t high on her list of people to talk to. I get a hello, give me another champagne cocktail Jack several times a night and a friendly wave goodbye whenever she’s in here.”

By now, Hunt already has his Cartier pen and his small leather bound notebook out taking notes.

“How often does she come in here Jack? Does she come regularly?” Chase asks in a very serious tone.

“Well, I’d say fairly often at least three or four times a month. There’s nothing regular about it though. It could be any night of the week. Sometimes she just pops in to see what the crowd is like. If it doesn’t suit her she has only one drink then splits. When she shows and when she leaves is all over the clock. There’s no set time she comes in, no set amount of time that she stays and no specific time that she leaves. It depends on that night’s clientele and if she scores a sugar daddy or not.”

“Jack, has she ever come in with somebody in tow?” Hunt asks.

“Yeah sometimes she does Mr. Hunt but not really often.” Jack replies.

“Have you ever seen her with the same man more than once?” Chase asks.

“That’s even rarer Mr. Chase but there is one guy who’s maybe about late twenties or early thirties I’d guess and a good dresser that she’s been in here with on several occasions. Good looking cat.”

“Can you describe him Jack?” Chase is really sounding serious now so Jack tries hard to please.

“Well Mr. Chase he’s tall; I’d say about six foot four maybe six five somewhere around there. He’s very slender; I figure he’s probably only in the 170 to 180 range even though he’s tall. His hair is black, cut kinda like a male model; neat, thick, healthy head of hair that’s combed back but not long enough to put into a ponytail. His eyes are dark but I can’t tell ya the exact color. He has like a chiseled face; long, with strong high cheek bones and a small square jaw. I’ve never seen him with any facial hair; no goatees or mustaches or even long sideburns. His skin is really white; I mean really white and there isn’t a blemish or scar showing. As I said before he always dresses real smart. He always wears a sport or suit coat. Handsome guy; looks kinda like you’d think a male model should look.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know his name would you Jack?” Chase continues sounding serious.

“Well, she calls him Pierce, you know like the actor who plays James Bond, Pierce Brosnan; but I don’t know if that’s a nickname or his real name and I’ve never heard her use his last name in any introductions. Maybe Pierce is his surname. I don’t know.”

“Does this Pierce guy ever come in here on his own without her or with someone else?” Chase keeps the grilling up.

“No, never Mr. Chase; I’ve never seen him in here without her.”

“Is there anything else that you can tell us about either one of them Jack?” Chase now is sounding almost like he’s pleading.

“Yeah Mr. Chase; I figure this Pierce guy is English or at least from the U.K.”

“Why’s that Jack?” Chase interrupts.

“Well for starters Mr. Chase he’s got a very clear English accent and not one of those Cockney types either; he’s got one of those rather snooty sounding high-brow accents like movie Brits have. And his clothes; they’re mostly all European style. He’s got leather driving gloves and the wallet he pulls out when he pays up; they’re both crafted by Aspinal of London I’m sure of that. He wears Harrys of London the Charlie Shoe or John Rushton shoes and they’re both from London. Some of his suits look like Brook Taverner Epsom, single breasted, two button, pinstripes and they’re from the U.K. as well.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Stop, stop, stop, stop Jack. How do you know all these brand names and stuff?” Chase demands.

“Hey, Mr. Chase I’m a bartender in a HiSo club and besides I’m a GQ man:” Daniels replies.

“You’re a what?” Chase irritatedly asks.

“A GQ man, Jesus Mr. Chase don’t tell me that you don’t read GQ Magazine;” and Daniels pulls three editions of the magazine out from under the bar’s counter: “I read them whenever it’s slow in here. They’re classier and more informative than Playboy.”

Chase just shakes his head; “OK Mr. GQ go on with your description.”

“Well, let’s see; his shirts are mostly from the Calvin Kline Collections, his ties mostly Versace and his cufflinks are definitely William & Son design. He wears a Breitling Blackbird self-winding Chronograph. He carries a Porsche Design P’9521 Mobile Phone; a pair of black Persol 649 sunglasses and a Cartier Pen pretty much like the one Mr. Hunt is using now. His fragrance of choice is Marc Jacobs’ Men. He drinks Glenfiddich whenever they are going to settle in for a long night or Guinness Stout if they’ve just dropped in for a look-see. Oh, and I saw them drive away once when they stayed until closing. This Pierce dude drives a dark green Jaguar XF, real nice.”

“You didn’t happen to get a license plate number did you Jack?” Hunt Interrupts.

“No, sorry Mr. Hunt but they’re not California plates; I can tell you that.”

“Dare I ask, can you give us anything else?” Chase snorts out.

 Daniels thinks a few seconds and then answers: “Well, I’ve seen him smoke Dunhill Black Elites and also some small black cigars on several occasions; if that helps and he carries them in a gold cigarette case and lights them with a gold Dunhill lighter.” He says with a smile.

“Jesus Jack you missed your calling; you should be a fashion consultant;” Chase comments.

“Yeah, or maybe a private detective.” Hunt adds “nice detailing Daniels. You’ve got a sharp eye. Can you do that for all your regulars?”

Daniels is almost beaming at Hunt’s comments when he replies: “would you guys like me to tell you what you’re wearing?”

Both detectives chuckle: “I think we’ll pass on that one Jack. Our wardrobes are critiqued enough already by our finicky executive assistant.” Hunt declares.

“You still have our cards don’t you Jack?” Chase asks.

“Well yeah Mr. Chase of course I do” Daniels replies.

“Listen Jack, this is important; if either one of those two come in; no matter what day or time it is, I want you to give us a call immediately. OK”

“Sure Mr. Chase. Has this got something to do with a case you guys are working on?” Daniels asks.

“Listen Jack; I know this sounds cool like being in the movies to ya but this is some serious shit OK? Don’t try to play private eye with them or try to get unusually close to listen in on their conversations. Don’t ask them any questions you wouldn’t normally ask them. Yes, this has to do with a case were on my friend and it’s also why were carrying tonight. Do you understand; if ya see either of them alone or together just call us immediately don’t do anything else. Got me sidekick?” Chase almost commands.

“I got ya Mr. Chase, see, call, nothing else;” Daniel’s answers.

“OK Jack, I think we’re going to call it a night. We were up pretty early this morning.” Hunt mutters out sounding pretty tired as he puts away his pen and notebook.

Their bill is only $15.00. Chase hands Jack a $50.00 bill and tells him to keep the change, grins, nods and then he follows his partner to the door both men looking like they are really dragging but still smiling with their notebooks full of new Intel.

On the walk back to their residence Chase comments; “that kid’s a fount of information. We may have to consider putting him on retainer if his assistance helps us crack this case.”

Hunt softly sniggers; “Or make him a partner; his attention to detail is way greater than mine and he’s obviously got a hell of a good memory.”

Chase nods his head and snorts. When the two tired detectives arrive back at their office they find the door unlocked. Each looks at the other and then simultaneously they draw their pistols. Chase pushes the door inwards and then enters quickly going right with his Glock out in front of him. Hunt is right on his partner’s heels only he goes left with his Sig Sauer sweeping steadily back and forth. Suddenly Candice comes from out of the back offices and recoils backwards as she sees the twin deadly handguns swinging in her direction. Both men instantly recognize her and they lower their weapons and let out individual sighs of relief.

“What the hell are you doing back here at this hour? You scared the shit out of us.” Chase yells at Candice.

“Yeah, and you didn’t stay put like you were told so you scared the shit out of me FIRST.” Candice rebukes Chase back. “I called your private lines upstairs and got no answers; then I tried the office lines and still got no pick-ups so I came back over here to see if I was going to have to find two new bosses because of you two being dead. Where the hell have you been?”

“We’ve been out playing hardnosed detectives;” Chase grunts out.

“We were out doing our job Candice; what we’re paid to do. We were trying to run down leads on that mystery woman.” Hunt adds.

 “Yeah Sherlock and did you get any?” Candice gruffly inquires.

Hunt just throws his little black leather bound notebook on Candice’s desk and gestures with his head for her to take a look. Candice picks it up and starts paging through it page after page after page.

Finally she grunts: “I’m going to have to translate and then transcribe all this from your hieroglyphics Hunt but it looks like you may have found a way of tracking this chick and the guy who may be her boyfriend or partner or boss. Nice detailing, who’s your source? Vidal Sassoon?”

“It’s the bartender kid you and Bill met Tuesday night, remember, the one with the appropriate professional name Jack Daniels.” Chase replies.

“Yeah, yeah, I liked him. Kinda cute in an almost gay like way.” Candice mutters.

“So this mystery chick frequents that club; that’s convenient. Maybe you two will get lucky and she’ll make an appearance soon; hopefully with her European boy toy in tow. Not bad detective work guys. You two may grow up to be real Shamuses afterall.” Candice wisecracks.

“Real funny Candice; maybe your career calling should be a stand-up comedian?” Chase wisecracks back.

“I’ve thought about that career already but then decided my humor is just too sophisticated for most people;” she retorts with a smile. “Now will you two ass dragging detectives crawl up to your beds and get some sleep. We’ve got a full day ahead of us tomorrow.” Candice barks out.

Both men nod and make towards the stairs to their residence. As each man passes Candice they both give her a one arm hug and a kiss on the head.

“See you in the morning mom;” Chase says.

“But not too early ok?” Hunt adds.

“Goodnight guys;” Candice calls out and then smiles to herself; ‘they really are good bosses.’

Both men sleep like they had been given anesthesia. When their alarms go off at the usual 7am wake-up time both men hit their snooze buttons at least once. After their morning rituals are completed both men come down the stairs looking fresher but a full ten minutes later than usual. Candice is already there, as expected, but what wasn’t expected; she’s sound asleep in her chair in front of her computer with its screensaver up. Chase carefully leans around the sleeping Candice and hits the spacebar on her keyboard to see what file is up.

Candice has created a case database file for the mystery woman case and entered all the information the men had gotten from the file Demarco gave them, all the information from the stuff Bill sent over and all the information Hunt had taken down in his notebook last night. Chase looks at Hunt and then down at the sleeping Candice. She had never gone home last night. Chase sees another file on the queue bar. He hits it to bring it up. It’s a ‘To Do’ list for Friday. Hunt taps Chase on the shoulder and uses his thumb to signal his partner to pull back. Chase nods and the two tiptoe back to Hunt’s office and close the door. Hunt immediately swings his chair around to turn on his computer and access the two files they had seen on Candice’s screen.

Chase mutters: “Geez, that woman is something else.”

Hunt just nods in agreement as he works to get the correct files up on his own computer. Once they’re up, both men start studying them closely. With the information categorized, linked and organized in the database it’s a hell of a lot easier to ascertain where the greatest gaps are in their Intel and what tasks they’ll have to perform to fill those gaps. To get the ball rolling; Chase and Hunt decide first that they’ll have to call Mr. Demarco to get his permission to talk to his son in the hospital. Both men hope he’ll be cooperative. The two pour through all the now organized and linked data. They generate a list of questions they’ll want to ask the Demarco kid in the hospital if they get both his father’s and his doctor’s permission. They also generate a few more questions for their bartender friend, Jack Daniels, to fill in a few gaps in the profile of the woman’s frequent European male escort.

All their file perusing and question generating takes them to nearly 9am. As they both sit hunched over Hunt’s desk writing down notes from the file, making up new questions for the Demarco boy and developing a list of people they have to see; Candice walks in with a tray covered with coffee cups, cream and sugar dispensers, Danishes and croissants with accompanying bowls of honey and whipped cream.

“Hi guys.” she says cheerfully, “I see that you’ve found the files I’ve been working on.”

Candice sets the tray down in one of the few bare spaces on Hunt’s desk and looks down at Chase’s question sheet. She scans it at her usual speed reader rate and suggests: “You should ask the Demarco kid if he’s ever met the European boy toy and also ask him if he knows what her job is.”

“Thank you Candice; I’ll be sure to do that.” and he begins scribbling down the two questions she suggested in his note book.

Hunt interjects: “Candice what on Earth prompted you to stay all night creating these files? We found you at your computer this morning sleeping like a baby.”

“Yeah, sorry about that Hunt, next time I’ll set the alarm on my cellphone to wake me.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He barks out. “You produce more in normal working hours than the both of us combined. You should never have to feel that you have to stay all night and work. You deserve a rest even more than we do.” Hunt proclaims.

Chase breaks in: “yeah Candice, we really don’t want you to burn yourself out. What would the two of us smucks do here without you? No more all nighters young lady or we’ll have to give you a pants down spanking.”

Candice has a huge smile on her face; the biggest either man had seen before.

She replies: “You’d really enjoy that now wouldn’t you ya big kinks? Now shut up and have some coffee and pastries. You two need your nourishment. You’re going to have to make a number of stops today.”

She smiles again and then does a smart about face and walks out of the office. Both men just shake their heads in utter amazement at the woman. A few minutes later after each man finishes downing a cup of coffee and woofing down a pair of pastries each; Hunt gets on the intercom to Candice and asks her to get Mr. Vincent Demarco Sr. on the phone. Barely a minute later, Demarco’s voice is coming over their speaker: “Gentlemen, I’ve heard that you work fast but it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I hired you. Do you have something for me already?”

“Some sir” Chase starts, “enough to confirm your gut feeling that there’s something suspicious about Ms. Diane Kramer.”

“Really?” Demarco asks.

“Yes sir, very really. We checked on the address that was found on both her driver’s license and passport application. It turned out to be a phony. Oh there’s a condominium building there alright and I’m sure it’s going to be a real beauty too when it’s finally finished in say six to eight more months.”

“I knew it!” Demarco growls out, “anything else guys?”

“Yes sir.” Chase continues: “she’s obviously never had any legit form of employment because neither Social Security nor the I.R.S. have any records on her. D.M.V. has no vehicle of any kind registered to her and she has no credit history at all.”

“Interesting gentlemen, very interesting; does she have a criminal record?” Demarco asks.

“None that we’ve been able to chase down sir which means no one using that name was ever fingerprinted. We have a birth certificate and some D.M.V. and Immigration Passport Control photos of her but that’s about it so far. Mr. Demarco, my partner and I were wondering if we could get your permission to talk with your son if he’s up to it and ask him a few questions.”

Demarco hesitates for a few long seconds and then replies: “his doctor will have to approve and our family attorney will have to be present.”

“Of course sir, we’re really not interested in asking him about the shooting anyway.”

“Then I see no problem in it. I’ll clear it with the hospital. When would you like to speak with him?”

“The sooner we can speak with him the better sir.” Chase states.

“Fine, I’ll call the hospital and our attorney and get back to you as soon as possible.” Demarco assures them. “Do you have any other leads gentlemen?”

“Yes sir, we’re chasing down a lead on a European man who may have some, yet unknown, connection with the Kramer woman and we’re trying to run down some of her local haunts.”

“Excellent, excellent you two are not disappointing me. You’re making fast progress. My gut has been right twice now concerning this affair; first its negative warning about the woman and second the positive feeling it had about you two.”

“Thank you sir.” both Chase and Hunt reply.

“Now, I’ll make the necessary arrangements for you to meet my son and let you two get back to work.” Demarco states.

Another “Thank you sir.” voiced by both Chase and Hunt and the line goes dead.

“What do you think partner?” Chase asks Hunt.

“I think partner that we’re starting to act more like hardnosed, hardassed private investigators than just lucky stumbling, bumbling idiots.” Hunt snorts out with a broad smile on his face.

Chase smiles back and nods and then says: “I think I’m going to get another cup of coffee partner, want one?”

“Yeah, it’ll go well with this cream filled chocolate croissant.” Hunt replies.

“Ah gee partner; I was going to take that one.” Chase fakes a whiny voice and both detectives break out laughing.

When Chase comes out into the front reception area with his and Hunt’s cups in his hands, Candice rebukes him: “You could have just called; I would have gotten you both refills.”

Chase shoots back: “yeah, well I figured I got more sleep than you last night so I’d give you a chance to rest a little.”

“Ah, that’s sweet Chase.” and Candice immediately switches tracks back to business. “OK Chase, listen up; while you were talking with Demarco I was running down the Kramer chick’s birth certificate. I talked to a nice old town clerk in Clarksville, Pennsylvania who still has to hand leaf through the little hick town’s records because the old stuff hasn’t ever been entered on computer. According to Mr. Grayson, the clerk, there was indeed a Diane Catherine Kramer born in Clarksville May 6, 1982 to a Mr. Robert J. Kramer and a Mrs. Deborah M. Kramer. I asked if any of the family still lived in the town and he responded ‘no’. When I asked him when they had moved away; he said ‘never’. Hey he’s a hick but he was a nice hick. I was patient with him. I told him that I didn’t understand and old Mr. Grayson said; ‘they’re all in St. Michael’s cemetery’. I asked for clarification and the old coot said ‘what don’t you understand young lady; they’re all dead and have been for nearly twenty-one years. The Kramer family, god rest their souls, were all killed in a horrible car accident in 1984. A semi driver fell asleep at the wheel crossed the line on a county highway and crushed the lot of them in their car.’ I asked if little Diane had been in the car at the time and he answered; ‘oh yeah, that was the real tragic part of the accident. The semi driver couldn’t live with killing a little two-year old girl so he committed suicide soon after.’ I asked him if anyone had ever requested a copy of Diane’s birth certificate and he said ‘about a year and a half ago some slick looking young hotshot New York City lawyer had come in and tossed a bunch of big legal terms around explaining why he needed a copy.’ I asked if they keep a log of who makes requests of public records and old Mr. Grayson rebuked me saying; ‘well of course young lady we ain’t backwards here and he gave me this name – P. Andrew Sinclair, Esquire. So what do you think Chase?”

“Good god Candice, are you even from this planet. Jesus you produce. I think young lady we have a possible name for Kramer’s European boy toy that we can try and run down. You typed your whole conversation with the clerk into a file I take it.”

“Well of course young man we ain’t backwards here;” Candice mutters out imitating the old Grayson’s rebuke of her.

“Give it a name you sweet efficient darling you and send it to Hunt’s and my computers.”

“It’s on the way Chase as we speak; do you want me to get you boys that coffee now?” She asks.

Chase leans over, gives her a peck on the cheek and states warmly; “nah, Candice since you’ve been doing all of the detective work; I’ll handle the coffee on my own.”

Over five minutes after he’d left his partner’s office Chase finally walks back in with the two steaming cups of coffee.

“Damn Chase, what did you do go to Brazil for the coffee?” Hunt bellows out jokingly.

“Nope, I was just getting yet another lesson in detective work from our golden girl Candice. You should have another file on your computer already; check it out pal;” Chase replies as he hands his partner his coffee before stealing the last cream filled chocolate croissant.

Hunt reads while Chase munches and sips his coffee.

When Hunt’s head pops up from looking at his screen Chase asks; “So what do you think partner?”

Hunts sits quiet a moment then declares; “we’ve got to give that woman a raise Chase, She got us a name for our boy toy. ‘P.’, as in ‘Pierce’ Andrew Sinclair and we’ve got a possible location to start looking for him – New York City.”

Chase smiles and simply says; “agreed on both counts partner.”

Just as the two detectives were reveling in their luck they receive a call from their Burglary-Auto Theft Detective Lieutenant friend Bill Harmon.

“Morning guys; I hear that you’ve got yet another mystery person for me to run through the computers. You want the full 4-1-1 on some Eurotrash named ‘P’ for ‘Pierce’ Andrew Sinclair, probably originally from London and more recently from New York City who drives a dark green Jaguar XF.” Bill spiels off.

“Morning Bill;” both men reply back; “we were going to ask you real nicely pal but it looks like Candice got to you first;” it is Chase who continues; “we’ve got a rather detailed physical description of our mystery woman’s escort if that will help you?”

Bill laughs; “Oh Candice has sent me that as well sport. She’s also told me about our mystery girl already being dead for 21 years and that our two mystery guests sometimes visit the club that you two took us to last Tuesday and that you’ve got Jumping Jack Daniels keeping an eye out for them. Candice also informs me that you two are setting up an interview with the Demarco kid. Good luck getting anything out of him. Is there anything the pint sized whirling Dervish may have left out?”

Chase and Hunt both laugh; Hunt answers; “what are the odds of Candice leaving something out?”

“No odds any Vegas bookie would take a risk on I can assure you that;” Bill jokes.

All three men laugh.

“So this pretty boy Brit; do you have him pegged as our mystery girl’s pimp or what?” Bill asks.

“No Bill these two are way too sophisticated to be just a pimp and his whore trying to hustle a couple grand a night out of Johns.” Chase states.

“Chase is right Bill;” Hunt picks up where his partner left off; “We figure these two are real players, pros; either top shelf con artists with some big money scams or maybe a team of blackmailers where she’s used to dig up the dirt and he shoves it down the victims’ throats forcing them to cough up some big bucks not pocket money.”

Bill chuckles; “Trouble really seems to find you two shamuses don’t it? You’re both like trouble magnets.”

Both Chase and Hunt laugh at Bill’s observations and then Hunt says; “Trouble doesn’t find us Bill; we hunt for it.”

“Yeah, and then we chase it down;” Chase adds.

All three men once again have a good laugh.

“I’ll get back to you two sometime this afternoon with whatever I find on this Pierce Sinclair dude.” Bill says; “Right now I’ve got to go do my own work; your two mystery players aren’t the only criminals in this city that need hunting and chasing down;” he quips.

“Go get em tiger;” Chase jokes.

“Yeah Bill remember to leave a few bad guys for your colleagues;” Hunt adds.

“You two are a real laugh riot you are;” Bill laughs and then hangs off.

Not five minutes after Bill hangs up Chase and Hunt get their confirmation call for their meet with the Demarco kid in the hospital. Their meeting is for 3pm that afternoon. They decide that they’ve got plenty of time to have a nice lunch so they drag Candice out with them for a leisurely meal of Indian food. After a beautiful relaxing lunch with the three of them trading barbs at each and laughing like three young kids they return to their offices all in excellent moods. Candice gets them all coffees and the men retire to their offices to sip their coffees, have a cigarette or two and read through their questions that they have put together for the Demarco boy to see if they left anything out.

About twenty after two, the two detectives suit up and start their trip over to the hospital the Demarco boy is in. Both are feeling pretty confident. When they arrive at the boy’s room; the family attorney is already present. The attorney steps out into the hallway, politely introduces himself and then sets the guidelines for the interview. The crux of the guidelines is don’t talk about the shooting. Both Chase and Hunt readily agree. The three men enter the room.

Chase begins; “Vincent, my name is James Chase and this is my partner John Hunt; we’re…”

The Demarco boy cuts him off; “I know who you are Mr. Chase, Mr. Hunt; you’re the two guys that saved my life the other morning. I was hoping that I’d get a chance to thank you two.”

Hunt jumps in: “we’re glad that you’re going to be alright Vincent. You’re looking a lot better than the last time we saw you.”

The boy laughs and Chase and Hunt can both see that the laughter hurts him.

“Easy Vincent.” Chase puts his hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder: “you don’t want to open any stitches up.”

The boy laughs softly again: “I was just thinking what Mr. Hunt said about looking better than the last time we saw each other. I guess that’s true for all of us isn’t it. I mean the last time we met; I was on the ground bleeding out and you two were leaning over me dressed only in your boxer shorts.”

That comment generates a chuckle out of everyone including the attorney.

“Yeah Vincent, I don’t know if you know it or not but the local media broadcast us in our boxers all over the city that morning. Talk about embarrassing;” Chase chortles out.

The boy has another painful laugh but then he responds: “I saw the replays Mr. Chase, ya looked kinda macho standing there in your black boxers with a Glock in your hands.”

“I have to be honest with ya Vincent; it isn’t easy to feel macho with a dozen cameras staring at you when you’re wearing only your drawers. My talleywacker had shrunk so small it was climbing back up its chute.”

The boy really busts out in a painful laugh at Chase’s last confession.

“Easy Vincent, you’ll bust a gut boy;” Chase tries to calm him.

The Demarco boy calms down some but still snorts and chuckles a bit.

“So my father tells me that you want to ask me a few questions.”

“That’s right Vincent if that’s alright with you?” Hunt asks.

“Yeah sure Mr. Hunt; I wouldn’t be here to answer any if it wasn’t for you two. Go ahead shoot;” and he chuckles again; “I guess that’s a bad choice of words considering.”

“Yeah, we’ll stick with ask politely;” Chase jests and then starts in.

“Vincent, we’ve got some questions about your lady friend.” Chase begins.

“Do ya mean Diane?” the Demarco boy asks sounding concerned; “has anything happened to her?”

“Yes Vincent, Diane, Diane Kramer and nothing’s happened to her that we know of and that’s the problem. We can’t seem to find her.”

“Well where have you looked Mr. Chase?” The boy is sounding genuinely concerned.

 “Well Vincent the first place we went to was the address on Laughton Street that’s on her driver’s license.” Chase tells him.

“Laughton Street? Diane doesn’t live on Laughton Street; she lives on Burgess Street in a large fourth floor two-bedroom apartment.” The Demarco boy states rather authoritatively.

“Burgess Street, that address we don’t have.” Chase mutters.

“Yeah it’s 1234 Burgess; I never heard her mention anything about a Laughton Street address. Whenever I took her home it was always to 1234 Burgess.”

“Do you have a phone number for her place Vincent? Chase asks.

“No Mr. Chase, I’ve only got her cellphone number and they took away my phone.”

“I can get that for you Mr. Chase;” the silent attorney speaks up for the first time.

“Thank you, that would be helpful;” Chase nods to him and then turns back to Vincent; “Vincent do you know what Diane does for a living? Where she works?”

“Sure Mr. Chase, Diane is some kind of PR person like an image consultant or something. I guess her clients are like politicians and media celebrities and people like that.”

“Have you been to her offices Vincent?” Hunt jumps in.

“No Mr. Hunt, Diane says that some of her work is confidential stuff and that she’d prefer to keep her work and her private life separate. I think her job sounds kinda cool covering up big shots cock-ups but when I’m with her I really don’t want to talk about work much anyway.”

“I can understand that Vincent but since people generally spend so much of their lives at work if we knew where she worked it would probably be easier for us to locate her.”

“Yeah, that makes sense Mr. Hunt but I’m afraid I’ve never been there. I don’t even know what part of town it’s in.”

 “Would you happen to know the name of the firm Vincent?”

“Not sure, it’s something like Breiton Street or Breiton Beach or Brighten something, anyway, it’s a Public Relations and Image Management firm. I’ve met one of her colleagues once. At first I was kinda jealous of him because the guy looks like he just stepped out of a magazine ad but Diane explained to me that they just work at the same firm and not even in the same department and that I shouldn’t worry.” The Demarco boy continues; “they didn’t hug or kiss or anything like that they just stood about talking like colleagues and I’ve never seen him again so I’m not worried.”

“Where did you meet him?” Chase asks.

“We ran into him at a little café about two blocks down from where Diane lives?”

“Do you know his name?”

“Pierce, I think; never got a last name, never asked, never cared; Pierce may even be his last name for all I know.” The boy replies rather offhandedly.

“Where did you meet Diane?” Hunt asks.

“At a club down near the Wharf named ‘Turtles’;” Demarco replies.

“Did you frequent that club often with Diane?” Chase again.

“Ah Mr. Chase you didn’t frequent any place often with Diane. With Diane there was always another club or restaurant or opening or party just around the corner that we just had to try out.” The boy reminisces.

“Can you give us the names of some of the hotspots that you went to Vincent?” Hunt again.

“Mr. Hunt you’d better have a lot of time and a lot more pages for that notebook of yours. You’d be better off opening up the yellow pages to the clubs and restaurant pages and just ripping them out.”

The men all chuckle at that suggestion.

“Vincent, do you know any of Diane’s other friends?” Chase this time.

“Mr. Chase, Diane doesn’t have friends per se she has acquaintances. She talks to everybody and anybody and she knows most of those people she talks to only by their first names or occupations. I’ve never actually met a girlfriend of Diane’s.”

“Does Diane have a car?” Chase again.

“Well sure, she needs one for work but she never drives it when she goes out clubbing because she always gets a little tipsy and she doesn’t want to risk her job by getting a D.W.I. conviction.”

“Smart;” Hunt comments; “what kind of car does Diane own?”

“Oh she doesn’t own it Mr. Hunt it’s a car the company she works for leases.”

“Do you know the make and model Vincent?”

“Well it’s new, maybe even a 2005, a Beemer for sure but I don’t know what series.”

“Really, I own a Beemer, Series 5 they’re great cars. Can you remember the color?”

“Diane calls it British Racing Green. Anyway it’s a dark green. We never use it when we go out; we either take my Porsche or a taxi. I just see it sitting out front of her building sometimes when I go home with her.”

“Does Diane have any family Vincent?” Chase now.

“Nah, I feel kinda sorry for her Mr. Chase; she says she’s an orphan and never had any brothers or sisters.”

“Gee that’s sad;” Chase says solemnly; “Where did Diane live before she moved to the Bay Area?”

“She told me that she was educated, lived and worked in New York City. Her Foster parents were from there.”

“Do you happen to know her Foster parents’ surname?”

“Diane mentioned it once; I think it was Sinclair but I’m not sure.”

“Why didn’t Diane take her foster parents name?”

“I don’t know. I never asked maybe because she was already 13 years old when they took her in and she just felt weird calling herself Diane Sinclair after calling herself Diane Kramer for 13 years.”

“Yeah, that makes good sense;” Chase comments.

“Hey Mr. Chase, Mr. Hunt you’re going to find her right?”

“We’ll find her Vincent; we’re good at our job.”

“When ya find her tell her I miss her will ya and tell her when I get out of this place and the mess I’m in that I hope she wants to see me again.”

Chase and Hunt look at each other and then back at the young man in the hospital bed; “we’ll tell her Vincent;” Chase says first followed by Hunt saying; “we promise.”

 “Now you just keep getting better Vincent. The next time we see you we’d like you to at least be sitting up;” Chase states sincerely.

“Yeah Vincent you take care now and keep doing what your doctors tell you. They’ll get you up and around again in no time;” Is Hunt’s contribution.

Chase jumps back in; “we better get going now Vincent and let you get your rest. Thanks for so candidly answering all our questions.”

“Well answering a few questions seems like the least I can do for the two guys who saved my life and are going to find my girl. I should be thanking you.”

Chase looks down at the boy in the bed and is compelled to make one last comment; “you know Vincent, the press has you hyped up as some kind of hotheaded high society bad boy but I’ve got to tell you young man back in Chicago, where I come from, I’ve met altar boys at the local Catholic Church that were more badass than you.”

Vincent Demarco Jr. laughs so loud a nurse comes rushing in.

After he calms down a mite the boy says; “well Mr. Chase there are four credible explanations for your assessment of me. One, you’ve got some REAL badass altar boys back in Chi-town or two, you caught me on one of my good days or three, ya can’t believe everything ya read or hear in the press or four maybe I just like you two.”

“You’re easy to like yourself Vincent. Get better quickly mate.” Chase says warmly; pats the injured boy on the shoulder, and then both Hunt and him nod to the boy and slowly walk out.

The attorney follows; “Gentlemen, you are a very good influence on that boy. One moment, I have that woman’s number here for you.” And he reads it off the contact list in Vincent’s phone and Hunt writes it in his notebook.

The men shake hands with the attorney, turn and leave.

“Well partner, that went better than I expected;” Chase remarks.

“Yeah, he seems like a nice kid. He’s going to be heartbroken when he finds out that his Wonder Woman is probably more like Poison Ivy.” Hunt asserts.

“Yeah, I hope that we’re not the ones who will have to tell him;” Chase mumbles.

“Now what? Do we go back to the office and see what Bill’s sent us by now or head over to 1234 Burgess Street?” Hunt asks.

“Well partner, since I haven’t a clue where Burgess Street is I say we head back to the office;” his Chase’s reasoned response.

“Sounds like a plan pal; maybe Candice has got everything Bill sent on the Pierce Sinclair guy already organized in the database and I’ll slip her my notebook and she can get this new material entered and we’ll have a clearer picture as to what patch we should hunt in next.”

“One more thing partner, before we get back;” Chase sounds kinda serious so Hunt listens up. “It’s Friday, payday what are we going to give Candice this week?”

“Well, that’s a good question partner. We still got those new business cards in your desk with her new title; ‘Office Manager’; I’d regard that as a promotion wouldn’t you?”

“I sure would; go on;” Chase prompts.

‘Partner she came out and worked five hours on a Saturday night Early Sunday Morning without even twitching. She stayed up all night working putting together our case database which has helped us immensely…”

“Hold Partner, you don’t have to sell me on Candice; I already know she’s worth her weight in gold. I just want to get it settled between us how much were going to pay her.” Chase requests.

“OK, here’s my two cents; I say we give her a full day’s, or rather night’s, pay at our agreed upon time and a half pay for weekends based on the rate she was at before we decided to promote her to Office Manager. That would be her standard rate of $16.00 per hour times one point five or $24.00 per hour for eight hours for her contribution to last weekend. That would be an additional $192.00. Does that sound fair to you partner?”

“Yeah, more than fair, now, how much should we raise her salary in connection with the promotion?” Chase asks.

“Again, in my opinion partner; I feel that she deserves what she originally asked for $720.00 per week;” Hunt asserts.

“That was for a six day week with no additional overtime;” Chase notes.

“True partner but do you think we’ll get our money’s worth from her many times over?”

“To be blatantly honest partner, instead of putting $22,000.00 in the bank already this first full week of being open; I think if we hadn’t found Candice we still wouldn’t be open for business. Yes, I think she’ll earn every penny.” Chase declares confidently.

“OK then we’re in agreement partner this week she gets $912.00 for her salary and overtime before tax withdrawals. Do you think she’ll be happy?” Hunt asks.

“I sure hope so mate; she scares the shit out of me when she’s not.”

Both men laugh.