Considering that I had been ready to write this day off as a loss, the fact that I got over a thousand words out is pretty good. This installment ended up being a whole lot of talking, but I’m still just trying to lay the groundwork for the real action to come. Really. I think.
Part of what I wanted to do was show a little “real” PI work, which is why I mentioned a specific private database search (AutoTrackXP), though I think I’ll end up changing that one I get to editing, because I doubt a real AutoTrackXP search works how I described. Oh well, this is a rough draft after all.
A really rough draft.
For Idle Hands (working title) - Part 10
The reports I’d just finished going over where definitely incomplete, but that was to be expected. They detailed an initial one over of the scene and the immediate area and nothing more. The real, full reports would take some time to come in, so these would have to do for now.
It was almost seven now, and I imagined that the sun was starting to come up. I wasn’t sure, as the blinds and curtains were still shut tight, and I hadn’t been outside in the last hour. I woke Derrick up again, this time by accidentally dropping a copy of Black’s law on him as I passed by.
“He thrashed awake, his chin was shiny with drool, and he’d left an impressive wet spot on the pillow.
“For Christ’s sake, Nick, would it kill you to just, I don’t know, talk to me or something to wake me up? Is everything an assault with you?”
The he caught site of my injured forehead, and cocked his head to the side.
“Man, what happened to your face?”
“A kid with a shotgun beaned me after ordering me, at gunpoint, into a van so I could have a conversation with his uncle - a known forger and copyright pirate who, unbeknownst to him was an old high school buddy of mine - who told me that he’d seen Yadira with Wally McCollin, and said that a friend of his who’s a bookie - but who does some dealing on the side - recently bought some stuff from Yadira, implying that she was dirty. I kind of attacked him, so he decided not to stop his nephew - the kid with the gun - from damn near cracking my head open after I got out of the van, because he still thought they were trying to intimidate me and force is probably the only language that dumb kid understands.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Fine then,” Derrick said, smirking, “don’t tell me.”
“You complain that I don’t tell you everything, I’m just trying to improve myself as a human being.”
“Good luck with that. Now what did you wake me up for. I’ve got a whole hour before I have to leave, and I could be sleeping, so this had better be good.”
“I need you to find someone for me. I have a name, now I need and address.”
“So why do you need me for that? You’re the detective.”
“Because I don’t know thing one about running that,” here I stabbed a finger towards the computer on Derrick’s desk, “and because you’re very, very good at it.”
He smiled at this, “flattery, my dear gumshoe, will get you everywhere.”
He pulled himself off the couch, an action that caused him incredible pain judging from the show he was putting on for me, and slunk over to the computer. I watched over his shoulder as he called up an AutoTrackXP search window.
“What’s the name?” he asked once it had loaded.
“Charlie Dyer.”
“Ok,” he said after he’d entered it, “there are five Charlie Dyers in Idle, including people listed with variations on Charlie, like Chuck and Charles. Is it definitely ‘Charlie’.”
“No, not necessarily. He’s supposedly a bookie, and he does some dealing on he side, so I’ll bet he’s got a record of some sort.”
“Alright,” he typed some more, then waited a minute for results to come back. “Here we are. Charles F. Dyer, he was arrested once in 1998 and charged with running an illegal gambling operation out of a self storage unit. And,” he continued after a few more keystrokes, “before 1994 he lived in Portland, so expanding the search radius gives us two arrests, one in 94 and one in 96, for possession with intent to sell. Sounds like your guy.”
“Current address?”
“It’s printing out even as we speak. Looks like he owns that bar right in town, The Sienna. Dollars to donuts he runs his gambling op out of the back room. So, what’s the story, you taking this guy down?”
“Only if he says something I don’t like.”
I related the full story of my conversation with Dante, though I left out the art where I nearly twisted his head off. I also told him about going to see Alyson. Derrick didn’t know the whole story, but he knew enough of it.
“Oh, man, that’s right. That sucks man, I’m sorry. She sounds like a good kid though, from what you’ve said, I’ll bet she comes through alright.”
I didn’t answer. I grabbed the print out and headed for the door.
“I’m going to pay Mr. Dyer a visit. Lock up when you leave.”
“Thanks Derrick,” Derrick called after me, mimicking my voice, “couldn’t have done it without you, because I’m a technophobe.”
“I did it just fine for almost ten years before I hired you,” I said as I opened the door, “I just figured you should earn your keep around here is all.”
I walked out into the new morning, then remembered that I didn’t have a car at the moment. I glanced at the paper with Dyer’s address on it. It was clear across town, near the border with Standish. I could have walked it, but it would have taken half the morning to do it, and I didn’t have that kind of time.
Harvey should be at work by now, he was a morning person just like me. I’d been charging my cell phone as I read the crime scene reports, so I pulled it out and called him up to see if my car had made it there first, and then to see how long until it was fixed.
The car was there, but he had a backlog of work and didn’t think he could get to it before mid morning. No amount of pleading would make him change his mind, and I couldn’t afford the bribe, er, tip he was obviously angling for. I could easily walk to Harvey’s from here, but I’d still waste half the morning waiting for him to fix my car, so tat was no good as well.
Sighing, I went back inside and asked Derrick for a ride.
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