Page 4 of Buck Baxter and the Mysteries of Love

“Just step outside the room… please. In fact, step outside the building. Go buy yourself a drink, find yourself a good time, do whatever you like. Just please, give us a few minutes, would ya?”

“Fine,” she hmphed. “Maybe I can bum a smoke off that dirt-bucket I sold your pot to, if he ain’t chugged his way to Chattanooga by now.” With aclippety-clopof her heels she strutted out of the office, slamming the door on her way out.

“Will she be okay?” Harry asked.

“Stella? Stella willalwaysbe okay. But clearly you’re not, so talk to me. What’s going on, Harry?”

He wriggled restlessly in the chair. “It’s my mother. She’s been acting strangely lately. Nothing too obvious, but enough for me to notice that she’s not herself. I started paying attention to the moments she’d sneak away to be alone. I overheard a telephone call she made, planning to meet up with someone. Then, a few nights ago, I saw her climb out of a window and meet up with my father’s chauffeur.”

“You think she’s…”

“Having an affair? Without a doubt. She drove off into the night with him and didn’t return until it was almost dawn.”

“Does your father know?”

“God, no. He doesn’t even seem to suspect anything’s going on. But that’s what worries me. If—or rather when—he does find out, I don’t know what he’ll do. My father is a powerful man. Powerful and proud. If he discovers my mother is having an affair, it will crush him… and he will in turn crush her.”

His feet tapped the floor, his breathing became short, and his fingers bunched into fists on his thighs. I had never seen him so agitated, scared even. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to find out who this chauffeur is, where he lives, why he feels such a burning desire to put my mother’s marriage—her safety—at risk like this. I need you to convince him to call it off. I need you to do what it takes to remove him from my mother’s life before someone gets hurt.”

His request sounded more like something you’d hire Bugsy Brown or Mamma Marlow to take care of. “Harry, I’m a detective, not a knee-breaker. I can find this guy, but it ain’t my business to ‘remove’ someone who’s having a fling with your mother.”

“Buck, I need you to do this. Or find someone else who will.” He stood, and gripping my forearms he kissed me forcefully then said, “Trust me, Buck. No good can come of this. I need this affair to end before any real trouble begins. Will youdo this for me?”

What could I say? The man I loved was rattled.

He was begging for my help.

He was fearful his mother’s wayward actions might trigger something terrible and tyrannical in his father.

Having grown up without parents to care and worry for, what he was going through was completely foreign to me. I couldn’t imagine how he was feeling. Perhaps one day, I would.

I kissed him back. “If you need my help, you got it, babe. No matter what I gotta do, I’ll take care of it for you.”

CHAPTER 3

“Extra!Extra! Read all about it! Hart Industries to launch whizbang new rocket-train this Saturday. The future is here! Extra, extra, read all about it!”

Dressed in his tattered jacket with holes in the toes of his shoes, Skip the newsboy was spruiking the news of the day just to make a dime.

I had more than a dime, thanks to the advance payment from my latest client. Before he left my office, Harry had pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and jammed it into my fist.

“This should cover costs… and then some.”

As much as I needed the cash, I shook my head. “Harry, I’m not taking any money off you. You’re my—”

“Client. At this moment, I’m not your boyfriend. I’m your client. If I expect you to do this job properly, then you’ll need a down payment in order to start your investigations. Take it. I mean it.”

I hesitated. “It seems so… transactional. I don’t want our relationship to become business over pleasure.”

He smiled. “If you’d prefer pleasure over business, then comeover later tonight. I promise, I won’t be so stressed. Knowing you’re on the case makes me feel more at ease already.”

I took the money, kissed him before he left, then headed out onto the streets of Wilde City.

Skip was always a good place to start. The kid had his nose to the ground and eyes like a hawk. Yes sir, those peepers of his didn’t miss a trick. If there was a scandal on the streets, you could put your money on Skip knowing the who, where, why, and how of it. And so, that’s exactly what I did. As I strolled casually up to him, I pulled out a dollar bill—enough to buy his entire bundle of rags—and handed it to him.

Skip winked, handed me a newspaper and asked, “What kinda news you lookin’ for today, Mr. Baxter? You wanna know the latest on Mr. Hart and his rocket-train?”

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