3. The Investigator Job
3
The Investigator Job
S pencer may have only been a PI for a measly year, but he picked up many tricks of the trade as a kid from his old man. It was how they bonded. Stakeouts, blending in, and knowing when to keep your mouth shut were a few of the skills his father taught him. But the most valuable lesson he learned was how to recognize a guilty man. And the one sitting across from him screamed it.
Mr. Curtis Johnson waltzed into Spencer’s office, seeking his help about his unfaithful wife. At first glance, he seemed like an ordinary client. Desperate for answers and willing to pay top dollar. But as Mr. Johnson rambled on about his suspicions, Spencer knew something was off. Sure, money was tight, and he needed this case, but something about Mr. Johnson didn’t sit right with him.
It could’ve been his twitch or the way he couldn’t look Spencer in the eye for too long. Either way, it was clear to Spencer Mr. Johnson’s story was smoke and mirrors. And he had no problem calling him out on it.
“So,” Mr. Johnson concluded. “You think you can take me on?”
“No.”
The man looked confused. “I don’t understand. Do you have too many cases?”
“You would be my first since I performed a background check on a catfish two months ago.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Mr. Johnson, your wife isn’t cheating.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because I have a strong feeling, the only cheater in the relationship is you.”
The man’s face grew pale. “I — How—”
“For starters, you’re not wearing your wedding band. You could claim you left it at home, but I doubt a man who is that distrustful of his own wife would be the type to take it off. And the tan line is very faint, as if you haven’t worn it in months. Probably around the time your affair began.”
Mr. Johnson gawked at him.
“I wouldn’t be happy if I were your wife. Not only are you the one having an affair, but you have the gall to accuse her of having one? Look, I don’t know if you’re looking for something to ensure she doesn’t take you for all you’re worth. Or maybe you like wasting people’s time. Either way, you won’t be using me or my father’s agency to do your dirty work. Leave the way you came in.”
“The only one losing here is you. You’re going to run this agency out of business by refusing to take cases like mine.”
Spencer didn’t bat an eye. “Get out before I call your wife and help her build a case against you.”
The man glared at him, but didn’t dare to challenge Spencer further. He gathered his briefcase and stormed out. As the front door slammed shut, Yara hurried into his office. “What did you do?!”
“Mr. Johnson will not be a client of ours.”
“It was a simple infidelity case. How on earth did you manage to not only turn him down, but make sure he never comes back?”
Spencer understood Yara’s frustration. The phones weren’t ringing off the hook. They needed money to sustain the business, not to mention themselves. But he would never work with a guilty client. A lot of lines got crossed in this industry, keeping a moral code was important to him. It was what separated his father’s agency from the sleazy ones.
“He was guilty, Yara.”
“He could’ve been an arsonist for all I cared. As long as he could afford to pay us, you should have taken it.” She threw herself into the chair across from his desk, her body deflating.
Yara was a junior in college who found the secretary listing on LinkedIn. She took the position because of how close it was to her campus, thinking it would be easy money to pay for books and supplies. She couldn’t have known she would be boarding a sinking ship.
“Yara, I’m sorry. Clients will come.”
“With how often you turn them away, we’ll need a miracle to find one that’ll stick.”
As if on cue, the bell attached to the front door rang. “Anyone here? The sign on the window said you were open.”
Yara bounced up and walked out to meet the male voice. A few seconds later, he appeared in the doorway. The man was older, late 40s or early 50s, Spencer guessed. Fair skin, salt pepper hair, aquamarine collar shirt, jeans, white slides, and sunglasses.
“Afternoon. How can we help you, sir?”
“Is there a private investigator I can speak to?”
“That would be me. Spencer Shaw, the owner,” he forced himself to add despite how wrong it still felt to say. He offered his hand, which the man shook firmly. Yara closed the door behind them as they settled down in their seats.
“I’m sorry for walking in without an appointment. I’m not from around here. Your agency was the first one I spotted on my drive and I thought it seemed like a sign I should come in.”
“First time in Philadelphia?”
“No, I was here last year on business. This year I’m here for something personal.”
The man looked like he wanted to say more, but for whatever reason, was hesitating. Spencer gave him the go ahead. “I’m guessing it has something to do with why you’re looking for a PI?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, taking his sunglasses off. “Five years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. In a moment of weakness, I cheated on my wife with her nineteen-year-old daughter.”
Spencer couldn’t stop himself from cringing. What was it about his father’s business that attracted the scum of the earth? He had qualms working with a cheater, but someone who would cheat with a kid was on a whole other level.
The man noticed his reaction and rushed to defend himself. “I know what you’re thinking. Believe me, I have already said it to myself. But it must be worth something that I came out and admitted it instead of hiding it from you, right?”
Spencer supposed he had a point. He didn’t see himself taking him on, but Yara would throw a fit if he threw him out without letting him present his case. “Go on.”
“As you can imagine, my wife wanted a divorce. She got it plus a hefty settlement. Because of the infidelity clause in our prenup, I couldn’t argue the price. After it was official, she left the city. That was the last time I heard from her. Until last year, when she contacted me on Facebook.”
“Was she looking for more money?”
“No. She invited me to her wedding shower. Against my better judgment, I was in town and took her up on it. I was the one who screwed her over. It was the least I could do. ”
Something didn’t pass the smell test. “Did anything seem… off to you?”
“Call me gullible, but no. Not until I spotted her now 23-year-old daughter there. The last I had heard was they weren’t in communication anymore because of our situation.”
“Affair,” Spencer corrected. “Continue.”
“Anyway, that set off alarm bells. I confronted her. We got into a spat and I got thrown out. The day after, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I rethought everything about my interactions with my ex-wife. I remembered the woman I married wasn’t forgiving. In hindsight, it was weird she invited me to her wedding shower. Unless she wanted to rub it in my face. But coupled with her daughter there too, I knew something was up. I contacted her again and asked to meet.”
“How did that go?”
“Not how I expected. Starting with it wasn’t her who I had been in contact with. It was her fiancé’s daughter who was looking for dirt on her.”
“Why?”
“She suspected she was a gold-digger after her father’s money. By swapping stories, we found out her suspicions were right.”
“She was a gold-digger?”
“More than that. She was a con artist.”
Spencer was beginning to feel his interest pique. “Don’t leave me hanging now.”
The man lightly smiled. “Turns out, me sleeping with her daughter was a trap. She and her daughter set me up to violate the infidelity clause in our prenup. She got her daughter to seduce me, then caught us in the act. All the proof she needed to take me to court. They did the same thing to her husband before me and the one after me.”
“So, she’s been orchestrating these elaborate cons to trap her husbands? ”
“Exactly. Then she uses it as leverage in the divorce settlements to walk away with a fortune.”
“That’s diabolical.” And genius. It was a plan that required meticulous planning and cunning execution. If what the man told Spencer was true, it was one of the most twisted schemes he ever heard of. It would also be the biggest case he would have worked on.
“You said you found out about this last year? Why have you been sitting on it?”
“Her fiancé’s daughter said she was going to take care of it. Record proof of them admitting it and send them to jail. I trusted her word and looked online every week for news of their arrest. It never came.”
“Have you been in contact with the daughter since?”
“She didn’t return my calls or texts for months. Then finally she answered and said she was letting it go and suggested I do the same.” He scoffed, like that was an option. “Forgive and forget may work for her, but not for me. I want justice. I’m hoping you can help me get it.”
“What exactly is justice for you?”
“I don’t care about the money I lost. It wasn’t enough to hurt me. I want them sent to prison where they belong. I don’t care how much you want to charge me. Like I said, money isn’t an issue. I just want them out of the picture.”
The man was no saint. Even if he was set up, he wasn’t forced into getting involved with a woman young enough to be his daughter. With that said, the con artists were no better. By the sound of it, they weren’t Robin Hoods. They weren’t stealing from the rich to give to the poor. They stole to make themselves richer.
Spencer’s code normally wouldn’t have let him overlook the man’s misdeeds, but his choices were limited. He needed a case, an income to sustain the agency and support him and Nessa. He couldn’t be choosy over the client. Not when they were actual victims. Flawed or not. The best Spencer could hope for was he was helping the lesser of two evils. God, he hoped that was the case.
Spencer offered him his hand. “You’ve come to the right place, Mr. —”
“Mr. Harrison was my father and a Beatle. So call me William,” he added as he took Spencer’s hand.
“Well, William, it looks like you’ve found yourself a private investigator.”