Page 3 of The Burnt
“Sleep’s for people who have nothing better to do with their all-too-short lives,” Tom snapped.
As they approached the house, Simon said, “I guess you’ve heard the rumours that Harlen Feist is in hospital. Pancreatic cancer, I hear.”
Tom nodded. “He probably won’t last long.”
“No.”
“I guess the company will be looking for his replacement,” Tom added.
“I suppose so.”
“Simon, you know you’re the obvious one for the job, don’t you?”
Simon turned to Tom. “All the more reason to clear up this Milo letter business. And fast.”
Chapter Two
Charlie Watts sat at his desk in the front room of Declan Hunt Investigations. He’d spent the last few hours trying to find information on a guy named Tyler Chipping. It wasn’t that there hadn’t been anything to find. His social media accounts were overflowing with images of Tyler out dancing, Tyler out drinking, Tyler out at restaurants. Some of them were Tyler alone, but most were of him in the company of attractive men. Not unusual for a young gay male. What was unusual was that he appeared to have no followers. Either nobody was particularly interested in him, or he had intentionally adjusted his privacy settings so that others could view his photos, but couldn’t comment or follow.
Declan Hunt Investigations had been hired to find anything on Chipping that could support his company in firing him. Management were of the opinion that Chipping was, in their words, a waste of corporate space. Declan had given Charlie the job—his first solo case as a private investigator in training. Charlie was using the tool he was best at wielding—the computer—yet he could find nothing of value. Point scored—Tyler Chipping. Charlie was batting zero, and he wasn’t happy about it. His ego was taking it personally.
Charlie glanced down at his desk, spotting the box of business cards that had just arrived from the printers. He picked up one of the cards. It was crisp, white, and bore the name and logo of “Declan Hunt Investigations”. Embossed in black below, it identified the cardholder as—
Charlie Watts, Researcher.
Charlie had come up with the job title himself, and Declan had approved it. It was too soon to print cards that said “Private Investigator” since Charlie was only in training, but it carried more clout than his previous title of “Office Manager.”
“Researcher. Yeah, right,” he muttered as he flipped the card away from him. It gracefully sailed across the room and landed at the feet of his boss.
“How goes the hunt for Mr Chipping?” Declan asked, propping himself on Charlie’s desk.
“Fine, if we’re looking to find out what he ate for dinner on his birthday,” Charlie answered, then looked up. “Which was steak, medium rare, mashed potatoes with sour cream and a side of roasted cauliflower. Care to know what he ate for dessert?”
Declan smiled. “Part of my brain is telling me to ask if you found anything pertinent to the case, but the rest of my body is telling me to keep my mouth shut.”
“Smart body.”
Declan nodded. “The standard searches yielded nothing, right?”
“Nothing that could pertain to his employment. It’s almost like he doesn’t work.”
“That’s what his employer is saying.”
Declan walked around to Charlie’s side of the desk.
Charlie sighed.Why does Declan always look perfect? It’s like every piece of off-the-rack clothing was made specifically for his body.
Charlie was wearing his best long-sleeved dress shirt and khakis and still looked like he’d either slept in them or stolen them from a charity bin.
Declan leaned over and kissed him on the top of the head. “I think the time has come for you to earn your stripes as a real gumshoe.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Not all problems can be solved at a computer, although you’ve done things with this machine that amaze me to this day. As scary as it might sound, sometimes you have to hit the pavement and ask your questions in person.”
“As I recall, I did that when I first started here and almost got myself killed.”
Declan nodded. “Yeah, but in this case you’ll be talking to people from a human resources firm, not the mob. You just have to make sure you don’t let Tyler Chipping know you’re there. That’s where all this research you’ve done will come in handy,” he said, patting Charlie on the shoulder. “You know exactly what he looks like.”
