help but roll my eyes. In other words, he knew someone who knew someone—and with probably one phone call the whole homicide department would be laid out at my feet. Tom’s world always seemed to work that way.
“I’m not licensed in Pennsylvania, Tom.”
“Already looked into that. Takes at least 30 days to get a license there, so you’ll have to work under someone else’s. I’ve already contacted an old friend of mine, Duane Perskie of the Perskie Detective Agency. He says it’s just a formality, that as long as you keep him posted, you can work on your own. You know the drill, Callie; we’ve done it plenty of times before.”
“But not in a criminal case, Tom. I haven’t done any criminal investigating in a long, long time.”
Tom knew that I had begun working for a private detective when I was in high school. I loved that job, and I had stayed with it through college and law school. I still kept my PI license current. But the day I passed the bar was the day I unofficially “resigned” as that type of private investigator. The next morning, I had traded in my Nike sneakers for a pair of Dolce & Gabbana pumps and headed for my new position with a law firm. My career had taken a few twists and turns in the eight years since then, but I still had no desire to go back to the gritty, full-time PI world of liars and murderers, coroner’s reports and crime scene photos.
“What are you talking about, ‘a long, long time’?” he asked. “You do investigations for a living.”
“I investigate businesses, Tom,” I said. “I check out their programs, their finances, their legalities. I’m not equipped to handle a murder case anymore.”
He was quiet for a long moment.
“Callie,” he said finally, “you are better than anyone I have ever known at ferreting out information, at getting down to the truth of things. What difference does it make whether it’s a murder or a business? It’s still an investigation.”
“I don’t—”
“I’m not even asking as your boss anymore,” Tom said. “I’m asking you to do this for me, as a friend. Though of course I’ll pay you extra. I’ll pay you very, very well to do this for me. Please.”
I blew out a deep breath, frustration gripping like a headache at the back of my mind.
“My reluctance has nothing to do with money,” I said, thinking that the minds of the rich always seemed to go that way first.
“Of course not,” he replied quickly. “But you know what I mean.”
“What will Marion say to all this, Tom? She won’t want me snooping around here. Her husband just died, for goodness’ sake!”
“I’ll speak to her,” he said. “I’m sure she knows as well as I do that time is of the essence. It’s crucial you act now, before any evidence is lost.”
I closed my eyes, wondering how it was, exactly, that I had ended up in this position. Despite the fact that Wendell Smythe was a kind man, a decent man, I selfishly didn’t want to stay here. I didn’t want to investigate his murder. But I also didn’t want to disappoint Tom, who had never been anything but good to me, who had never once asked me for a personal favor before.
“Of course,” Tom said, “your safety is my uppermost concern. It is a murderer you’ll be looking for, after all. If at any point you feel you are in any danger whatsoever, I would want you to pull out of the investigation immediately. I don’t want you in any personal jeopardy. I just want Wendell’s killer found.”
When he put it like that, I really had no choice.
“Alright, I’ll do what I can,” I said finally, bidding goodbye to the images of my home, my canoe, my dog. “But only until the police allow me to leave.”
“Thank you, Callie,” Tom replied, the gratitude evident in his voice. “You’ve no idea what this means to me.”
Five
I hung up the phone, tucked it back in my briefcase, and turned to the pile of clothing Angelina had placed on the dresser. After going through