“James, are we going to do this with everybody we graduated with?”
“What?”
“Go through their backgrounds?”
“No.”
“Good. Because if you’re going to explore the history of two hundred fifty kids-”
“Stay with me compadre. Jody owns his own business.”
“Well, good for him.” James was always interested in people who owned their own businesses. Especially people he knew. “I never knew him that well, and I really don’t care.”
“Ahhh. I think you’ll find this interesting, pard. Jody owns an investigation company.”
“Investigating what?”
“Whatever needs investigating. If you think your office is being bugged by a competitor, Jody is your guy. If you think that your spouse is cheating on you, Jody is your guy. If you think your business partner is stealing you blind, Jody is your guy.”
I dropped my sales case on the floor, pulled off the old worn green tie that was looped around my neck, and tossed my faded blue sport coat on one of the two kitchen chairs. Em would have scolded me for having no fashion sense today. And probably for not hanging up my coat.
“Good for Jody.”
“Good for us.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Not only does Jody do his own investigations, but he sells stuff.”
I flopped down on the stained couch, thinking about closing my eyes for about fifteen minutes. I was tired, grumpy. The cold beer bottle dropped down beside me.
“Drink it, amigo. You’ll feel better.” He stood above me, waiting until I pulled a swallow or two from the bottle.
I twisted the top off and took a long drink. James was right. I felt better. “All right, I’ll bite. What kind of stuff does Jody sell?”
“Spy stuff, Skip.”
“What the heck is spy stuff?”
“Have another sip.”
I did.
“I made some printouts.”
Which meant he’d used toner and paper. With our limited budget, we usually avoided printing.
“Check it out, Skip.” He handed me the first sheet. There was a simple picture of a metal box with GPS-4 printed beside it.
“GPS box. You stick it to the gas tank of a car with magnets, and you can trace the vehicle on your computer. Sit right here at the table, or,” I looked up and his eyes were lit up like Christmas lights, “or from a laptop in the back of the truck.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Check this out, Skip.”
The next sheet of paper featured a laser-beam machine.
“You point this at a window, pard.”
“And?”
“You can pick up any conversation. Bedroom talk, secret meetings-”
“Help me, James. What are we going to do with this stuff?”
“Have another sip, amigo.”
I took a long swallow. James wasn’t the only one who could drain a bottle of beer in three gulps. “Okay, now tell me.”
“We’re going into the spy business.”
“Oh, no.”
“Skip. You’ve already been hired.”
“James. Dude. We were asked to keep our eyes open. That’s it.”
He walked around the couch and I heard him open the refrigerator door. Two more beers. James plopped down on the couch beside me. “Check this out, Skip.” He handed me a picture of a sprinkler head for a sprinkler system.
“Two hundred bucks for a-”
“Camera. Yeah. It’s a great little camera. Look.” Another printout showed a household smoke detector. The price-$171.
“Another camera?”
“And this.” A desk-sized picture frame with a digital temperature readout and a digital clock.
“A camera?”
“Mrs. Conroy said to keep your eyes open.”
“James-”
“These are our eyes. They’ll be easy to install. I mean, you guys are installing security stuff. A couple more things like this won’t even be noticed.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Let’s talk to Jody.”
“Let’s not.”
“You’re making some good money on this gig, compadre. Invest a little in some equipment, and it makes the job easier. We’re working for the owner’s daughter. She’d probably think this stuff was a good idea.” There was a little hint of pleading in his voice. I’ve heard it since we were both ten years old. “Come on Skip. It takes money to make money.”
“But we’re not going to tell her about this stuff.” I took a pull on the new bottle of beer. Never make important decisions when drinking. How many people have learned that lesson over time?
“She’d love it.” He took a swallow.
“James, she’s also the president’s wife. And the conversation I had with her led me to believe that she’s not too fond of her husband. And with the Sarah situation-Sarah pretending to be my girlfriend, and being Sandler Conroy’s lover or whore or whatever-”
“Okay. I know it’s a little messed up.”
“A little?”
“All I’m asking is that you consider it, Skip.”
“James-” I was intrigued. I wasn’t going to okay it, but I was intrigued. Ever since I was a little kid and used to read the Hardy Boys mysteries, I’d had a real fascination with detectives and spy stuff. And I loved to watch the old James Bond movies with Sean Connery and watch Q and all the gadgets he used to invent.
“We don’t need all of this stuff just to keep an eye out.”
“Think big, Skip. It’s not just this job. We could do this, dude. We could get our P.I. licenses and do this spy thing on the side. Maybe turn it into a full-time business.”
“Do you ever listen to yourself? You’re a lunatic. We know nothing about being P.I. s.” I loved the idea.
“We’ll work with Jody. Skip, pardner, you just got offered fifteen thousand dollars to do a job that will last two or three days. If you could get, maybe twenty of those jobs a year, we’d make-”
James had studied to be a chef. His ability to do math in his head, or anywhere else for that matter, left a lot to be desired. Three hundred thousand dollars, James.”
“No kidding.”
“No kidding.”
“Spy stuff, Skip. And we can use the truck. People will think it’s a service truck, but we can stock it with the spy stuff.”
“You’re crazy. Do you remember the Bond movie where Q was showing Bond some missiles that shot from the headlights on his car?”
“Come on, man. You’re talking to the king of movie quotes. Q looks at Bond and says, ‘Need I remind you, 007, you’re licensed to kill, not to break traffic laws.’ ” His British accent was almost perfect.
