A short, slightly-built man in a tuxedo greeted me as I opened the door, and when I indicated that I was meeting Elias Chaney for lunch, the man said, “Oh, yes, Mr. Barnes, how nice to see you. Won’t you follow me, please?”
Where I followed him was down the heavily-carpeted and wide hallway. I assumed we were going to the main dining room, off to the left, but we continued on past it. I glanced in as I went by, and I saw the mayor, several city council members, and at least one U.S. senator. At the end of the hall, we turned right and entered a small private dining room. When we went in, the man said, “Mr. Barnes, sir,” to Elias.
“Thank you, Jameson,” Elias said, and Jameson left, closing the door behind him.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Barnes,” Elias said to me, standing and shaking my hand as he did. “Please sit down.”
The room looked like the small library of an English estate. Dark-paneled walls, filled with shelves of books written by the likes of Shakespeare and Wordsworth and Dickens. Our table, the only one in the room, was set in a bay window that overlooked the sidewalk below. The tablecloth was fine linen, the china was edged in gold, and there were more eating utensils next to my plate than I generally use in a week.
A waiter appeared from another door, this one in one of the room’s corners. He poured wine for each of us from a crystal decanter, while at the same time asking what we’d like for lunch. I didn’t see a menu anywhere, and for a moment, I wondered if the chef at the College Club would simply prepare whatever one ordered. Before I had a chance to test that hypothesis, though, Elias said, “Shall we try the squab? It’s superb.” I said, “Of course,” and the waiter, whose name was Emilio, then rattled off a variety of options to accompany our meals. After we’d made our decisions, Emilio disappeared, having never once taken a note on our choices. I wasn’t impressed, though, because I knew a waitress at a local Denny’s who could do the same thing. Let’s see if Emilio got everything right the way Brenda does.
Taking a sip of his wine, Elias looked at me and said, “Anything new on that disc angle?”
“No,” I told him. “Probably nothing there in the first place, but I had to check.”
“You like to be thorough, don’t you?” he asked.
“Beats being sloppy, I’ve always thought,” I said.
“Good for you,” he said, and I swear for a minute, I thought he might reach over and pat the top of my head. “At Chaney and Cox, we admire thoroughness.”
That didn’t seem to require a response, so I didn’t offer one.
“In fact,” Elias continued, “William and I have taken note of how diligent you’ve been on this investigation. And that brings me to the reason for this little get-together. Let me get right to the point, Mr. Barnes. For some time now, Chaney and Cox has been considering hiring a full-time investigator, and we think you’re the right man for the job.”
“I’m flattered, Elias,” I said, “but exactly what sort of work would I being doing for you?”
“Oh, a number of things,” he said, and then our conversation was interrupted by Emilio, who brought our salads in, along with a variety of breads and rolls and a small bowl of olive oil for dipping.
Once we’d begun eating the salads, I asked, “Could you be a bit more specific regarding the kind of work you would want me to do?”
“Well,” said Elias, “we sometimes find it necessary to obtain background checks on people with whom we are contemplating entering into business deals, and, of course, it is imperative that those checks be done with absolute discretion. Also, some of our clients like to have all their legal business handled by one firm, which means we’re occasionally asked to involve ourselves in civil and, rarely, even criminal cases. A man of your experience and expertise would be invaluable in such situations.”
“I see,” I told him. “I must say, Elias, this is both surprising and flattering. I’m not sure how to respond. Off the top of my head, though, one thing that comes to mind is what happens to my own firm?”
“Naturally,” he said, “Chaney and Cox would require your services full-time. You would have to give up your current investigatory work. However, we would make it well worth your while. What say we start you with an annual retainer of seventy-five thousand dollars, plus end-of-year bonuses and other incentives that we can discuss later.”
“That’s very generous,” I said. “Say, what about the Pendleton case? Would I have time to complete that before coming on board with you folks?”
“I’m afraid we’d need you immediately, Mr. Barnes. I’m sure the police are quite capable of bringing that investigation to a successful conclusion.”
Bingo!
“Tell you what, Elias,” I said. “A decision as important as this one shouldn’t be made lightly. Could you give me some time to think it over, until, say, Monday?”
He frowned for a second, to indicate that he failed to comprehend why anyone would need to
