Chapter 4

I could tell that she didn't believe me. Still though, I went on as if nothing were amiss. I said, "So, what kind of compensation are we talking about here?"
She motioned to the chair that I had so recently vacated and said, "Why don't ye take yer seat, Mr. Bowman? I find it's best to discuss business upon one's posterior."
I smiled and sat down. This was going to be an interesting discussion. I decided to let Victoria lead this dance because… well, she had the upper hand. She knew it too. I could tell by the smug smirk on her pale, be freckled, mick face. Don't get too uppy. I'm a kraut mick, myself. She knew that I knew that she had me by the balls, and she liked it.
Rather than just putting an offer on the table, like most rich rubes that I come across, Victoria started by asking me questions; questions like, "How much do ye generally charge fer yer services, Mr. Bowman?"
Rather than embellishing like I would have done with any common wealthy dupe, I said, "I charge five-hundred a day for footwork; minimum of two days. I charge two-hundred per picture disc, and three per video."
Victoria nodded and said, "Those numbers would put ye in the top thirty percent as far as p.i.s go, wouldn't they?"
I was fucking insulted. I said, "Statistically, I'm in the top fifteen percent, fuck you very much."
Victoria narrowed her eyes and took a drag from her second cigarette. She said, "With a mouth like yours, I'm surprised you keep yourself fed."
I glanced down at my lean frame and said, "Barely." Not true, but who the fuck really cares.
A spark of recognition lit in Victoria's eyes and she said, "Ye work with the police alot. I saw ye on the box a couple of years ago. Ye helped the cops bring down old man Sanccini for racketeering and murder."
Fucking newsies. They'll end my career for me; violently! I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Evil twin?"
Victoria laughed and said, "Ye have a sense of humor, Mr. Bowman. That's a good thing," her expression turned suddenly stony as she said, "because I don't."
The finality of that "I don't" made my skin crawl like a thousand spiders. She waved it off though, and said, "I d'nae care if ye work with the police. Obviously yer scruples are a bit out of the ordinary. What I do care about, Mr. Bowman, is that the people who work fer me, do so with my best interests at heart. This keeps me working with their best interests at heart. Do ye ken?"
I did. I kenned quite well enough. Visions of fire dancing through my building, with me and my bull-shi-tzu still inside, entered quite freely into my mind. I nodded, and she continued. She said, "Good. Now, I would like very much te know how much my bruther is payin' ye."
I could tell that I was so not going to take the lead again, but I decided to try anyway. I said, "Alot."
Victoria smirked. The music downstairs had taken a turn toward rock and roll. The DJ was playing "Runaround Girl" by the Bodyrockers. Victoria's left pinky was tapping to the beat as she said. "You are a very frustrating person, Mr. Bowman. Perhaps I should have Mr. Sweeney come in from the hall and persuade ye te be a bit more amicable."
After what I had seen and smelled in the hallway, I really didn't want that. I was suddenly in a much more accommodating mood. I said, "Seven-fifty a day and regular price for the extras."
She smiled cheerily and said, "Much better. Why don't ye take those numbers and double it then, Mr. Bowman."
I nearly came in my pants. This was better than the first time that a girl lifted her ass off the couch so that I could pull down her pants; not by much, but better none-the-less. Fifteen-hundred a day for footwork alone; I was slightly flabbergasted. I said, "Now, when you say double…"
She nodded her head and said, "Yes, Mr. Bowman. I mean everything. As extra incentive for ye te do an extra good job, I'm even willing te trow in whatever equipment ye need as a sign on bonus."
The term, "sign on bonus" caught my attention. When I asked her about it, she said, "Look, I d'nae really have the time or even the inclination te try te earn yer trust, Mr. Bowman. What I do have is the money and the power te buy it. When I say sign on bonus, what I mean is that I could use a man like you in my organization; a man who does nae stand out, who is good at shadowing people unnoticed. I need a man with police ties, who is nae afraid to buck authority every now and then.
If ye get me what I need and do it in a timely fashion, ye just might have a future working for me."
I started to argue that I only work for myself, but she cut me off saying, "I do nae expect ye te come to board meetings, or change yer office location, or even ennythin' like that. What I'm sayin' is that if ye do yer job well, I would like te keep ye on retainer at an on call fee of fifteen percent. Does that sound fair then?"
Fuck, dude. Fifteen percent would cover all my monthly bills. For a moment, I just sat there slack jawed and starry eyed. When I felt tears of joy welling up in my eyes, I forced myself to regain my composure. It would do no good to start blubbering all over myself. My throat was closing up a little bit from heavy emotions and I had to beat my chest a couple times and clear my throat. Victoria opened the bottom right drawer of her desk and pulled out a half full bottle of Maker's Mark and two nine ounce rocks glasses. She poured two fingers into each glass and handed one to me as she took in the aroma of her own. I saluted her with my glass, then downed the whole thing in one big gulp. The bitter-sweet fluid burned it's way down to my stomach, opening everything back up as it went.
The liquor was laced with marijuana resin. I could tell by the stringent after-taste. I was not happy that I was being drugged, but at least I knew that it wouldn't incapacitate me. I set down my glass and thanked my hostess for her hospitality. She asked if I would like another, and I politely declined, saying that any more liquor might put me to sleep behind the wheel. She just smiled knowingly.
She set down her glass and said, "So, do we have a deal then, Mr. Bowman?"
I knew that the drink had been drugged, but drugged can be to cover poisoned. I hadn't seen Ms. Malloy drink from her glass, so I thought it best to make sure that if I went to the ER, so did she.
I said, "I'll call Percy as soon as that glass is empty."
She smiled and tossed back her drink as quickly as I had downed my own. I was already starting to feel the effects of the THC, so I pulled out my phone and dialed the office immediately so that I could speak to Percy before it was too apparent that I was stoned. Percy picked up after two rings, and before he could give his customary greeting, I said, "Percy, could you check and see if we've got any blank retainer contracts?"
Percy answered my question with his own saying, "How much is she going to pay us?"
When I told Percy how much Ms. Malloy was willing to pay, I heard him topple to the floor as his chair rolled out from under him. I heard him scramble to his feet as he said, "Please; oh God please, don't tell me that you're joking."
I confirmed that it was indeed the truth, and he said, "Is this the same kind of deal as with the brother?"
I told Percy to hold on for a sec, and turned my attention to Victoria. I said, "How often do you want your reports?"
Without hesitation, she said, "I want yer assistant te repart te me via phone, daily, whether ye've sumthin' te repart or not. For some reason, I feel that he will be more forthcoming with me. Also, I want you te repart te me here, in person, any time that ye've sumthin' concrete. I will pay ye retroactively upon each personal repart. As te yer sign on bonus; I will be givin' ye a black card before ye leave her so that I can track what ye've parchaced fer equipment. It will be a new card that I will activate online tomorrow under yer agency name, in affiliation with my lawyer's firm."
I took a moment and processed all of this, then un-muted my phone. To Percy, I said, "I'd say that we've got a better deal here. Why don't you fax over one standard contract with the modified numbers, and a retainer contract."
My speech had already slowed from the THC in my drink. This did not pass Percy's notice. He said, "Jack?"
I said, "Yeah?"
"Are you stoned?"
"Not by choice."
"Drink a Monster before you try driving anywhere."
"Sure thing, mom."
Percy's disapproval oozed out of my phone; none-the-less he got right on the fax, and we hung up. Victoria raised her eyebrows at the fact that I had not once asked for her office fax number. A moment later, when it rang and started printing in the cabinet where it was hidden, she looked in it's general direction and said, "Y'are very thorough, Mr. Bowman."
I just smiled. Now she had an inkling of what I knew about her. Now she had an idea of what I had to offer. Now, I had an advantage. Yeah, right! Advantage, my lily white ass! If I'd known everthing about the Malloy family, I'd have grabbed that contract from the fax machine, and then and there, shoved it up Victoria Malloy's pert little ass with a splintered piece of balsa wood; but I digress.
Victoria rolled her chair over to the cabinet; a distance of no more than two feet, then opened it to reveal the smallest, sleekest, most modern looking fax machine that I'd ever seen. Instead of buttons all over the place, it had a ten inch lcd touch screen panel framed by a two inch thick pitch black chassis. The paper fed in from underneath to be almost magically transmogrified into exact replicas of the two different contracts that every gumshoe should have on hand in his top left desk drawer.
Victoria tore the sheets off at the perforations. Each contract is seven pages of legalese that I don't understand so much as appreciate. It's kept my butt out of big bald Bubbah's hands on several occasions. We sat for almost an hour, pouring over the details and particulates of our future working relationship. Were Victoria a more sentimental person, it might have taken longer, but thankfully her god is gold and she has enough god to make things move at the pace that she wants.
We filled out the standard, signed it, and made two copies so that I would have a back up, just in case. The retainer, we filled out, but did not sign. Ms. Malloy placed it in a file folder marked, BOWMAN in bold black letters on the tab, then placed said folder back into the file cabinet left of the fax machine. It was agreed that we would sign it upon a satisfactory completion of her pending case.
My eyes were burning from the cigarette smoke after half an hour, so I was more than happy to be done with business in Victoria's office. After everything was in it's place, Victoria pulled out from her bottom right drawer, a simple black envelope with a security number on it. From this envelope, she produced the mythical black card. I'd heard about law firms and banks using black cards as a form of payment or compensation, but I had never actually seen one before. There was not a jot of color marring the jet black surface except for the magnetic strip on the back, and the sixteen digit card number emblazoned in silver.
Victoria held the card up in the air as if to taunt me and said, "This card has no upper limit. It is only to be used to parchase equipment. All parchases made on this card will automatically be noted in my accountant's e-logs. Enny parchases not falling under the parameters of professional private investigation will result in cancellation of the card. If ye use it to buy booze, you will be immediately terminated." Anyone could understand what she meant by terminated. "Do we have an accord, Mr. Bowman?"
I looked her steadily in the eye and said, "Yes, we do."
She handed me the card which disappeared into my trifold wallet before she even realized that I had pulled it out. She radioed security, letting them know that I was coming back down to the party, and that I was to be allowed wherever I liked for the next hour.
After setting down the two way radio, she looked at me and said, "Just a couple more things, Mr. Bowman."
I raised my eyebrows, not really knowing what to expect. She could be preparing to ask me for a cough drop. She could be getting ready to ask me for a kidney. It was one of those pot luck moments where you know that something is coming directly at your head because you can see it getting bigger and bigger, but you just can't quite tell what it is, and you have two choices. You can either catch it and roll with it, or you can let it smash into your cranium and knock you over. Fully prepared to relinquish full custodial rights to my first-born, I nodded my head and said, "Such as?"
In that moment, her eyes looked truly old. If I had to guess Victoria's age, I would put her on the lighter side of thirty. For just a second though; one tick of the universal clock, as if a stray memory had lowered it's own brief little curtain of morose sensitivity, her eyes reflected much closer to a hundred years on this here spinning ball. Considering some of the things that I've seen in this line of work, it wouldn't have surprised me in the least to find out that those eyes gave a more accurate reflection than the firm and sensuous body that housed them.
The shadow of reminiscence passed as quickly as it had come. She looked up from her silent reverie with the same icy gaze that she had favored me with upon our first meeting down in the party. Projecting a creeping frost across the massive expanse of the oaken desk in my general direction she said, "I'm certain that ye noticed the calibre of certain among my guests."
I simply nodded. I didn't need to tell her how many a-list faces were on my little mp3 recorder. I also did not need to hear her request to know what it would be.
"I and my friends would be extremely grateful if ye were to do some creative editing on this disc before turning it in to my bruther."
At that moment, I smelled the sweet aroma of opportunity again. What can I say? When opportunity comes knocking, I don't ask for credentials. I straightened up, leaned forward and asked, "How grateful?"
The frost halted in mid creep and Victoria narrowed her eyes and said, "That depends on yer definition of gratitude."
I steepled my fingers and stared at my nails for a moment in mock thought before saying, "I want to hire on a crew. I figure three k a week should be enough."
Victoria pursed her lips in silent indignation for a moment. Perhaps she had thought me above extortion. When you live on the back fence of the law, no one is above a little extortion. Wordlessly, she reached into her left bottom drawer and pulled out an over-stuffed rolodex. She quickly flipped three quarters of the way around, and pulled out a business card, then slid it across the desk.
There was nothing especially strange about this card. It smelled like paper and ink. It was stiff the way that a business card should be. The number on the card was a seven-seven-three number. The only thing that truly struck me as odd was the name. Aside from the number, it was the only thing on the card, and it was just one word; Punch.
I laughed quietly at my own private irony then said, "Punch?"
Victoria shrugged with a lax daisy expression on her face and said, "Punch is my accountant. That's the name that he used when I met him. That's the name that I know. I'm sure that I must have heard his real name at one time or another. I've since forgotten. It doesn't matter. Call him tomorrow. Tell him that Vic wants ye te have a stack of applications. He'll have them in your hands before the end of the day."
Isn't it nice when someone brings prime rib to the pot luck dinner?
It took an effort for me to keep from smirking, but I did it. I said, "Percy will made the necessary changes. No one will know that your friends were ever here. Now, as to the other thing?"
Victoria stood up and came around the desk. She said, "Ye will allow yerself te be escarted by a person of my choosing for the remainder of your visit here."
I tucked Punch's card into my inside pocket, stood myself up, and said, "It's not going to be Sweeney Tank out there, is it?"
Victoria actually laughed a bit of a real laugh, and I could smell the jasmine and patchouli that is her scent. Her jade green eyes sparkled, revealing a hint of the youth that she still had left over. She snatched up my left hand and said, "No no, Mr. Bowman. I wasn't lying when I told you that someone wants to meet you. You caught the eye of one of my girls down there. She has a thing for mangy, lone-wolf types."