Part 1: It's The Beginning Because It's A Beginning
Daylight had finally reached its end. Of course, I found myself in the same place I always do: An empty food court connected to a convenience store in the no-go part of town. Sam, the guy who runs this joint, likes to say this is the "dining area." Sam is wrong: There's no one here, and when there are customers here, they aren't "dining." Also, there are two Mortal Kombat machines in the corner. It's a food court.
Pointless shit like that filled my mind because I've got nothing better to do. The last week or so had been slow. There was one caller who came through looking for help, but they changed their mind and left about as fast as they came in. To pass the time, I end up reading or getting lost in my own thoughts; either being nostalgic for a time period that may not have even existed, or having full-blown arguments with myself about nothing. However, the night in question felt different. Business was about to pick up in a big way. Everything was going to even out, and the week would end on a chaotic and exhausting note.
It's a curse being right all the time.
I took a cigarillo out of my side pocket and lit it. As I was contemplating the fact that this food court has a strict no smoking policy, a woman came to the store and walked right up to the counter. She was frantic, looking like she had fled wherever she came from, grabbing random bits of clothing as she jet out the door. It looked like Sam was trying to console her before pointing her in my direction. However, when she turned her head, the expression on her face shifted for a millisecond. It wasn't the look of a desperate and frantic woman. It was the look of someone who was prepared, rehearsed, and shifting to the next gear. If you blinked, you would have missed it, but then again, maybe I was reading too much into things again.
She approached my table and I invited her to sit down. "I, uh, I need your help."
She could tell I was suspicious, and it threw her off. I replied, "I can see that. What brought you here today?"
"I was, uh, referred to you by someone we're both... familiar with."
She was not doing herself any favors. "Okay. That's not what I asked..."
"Yes, sorry, of course. I'm sorry." Her awkward laughter would have done the opposite of cutting the tension in any other situation, but she was beginning to allay my suspicions.
"Don't apologize. Take some deep breaths, and begin from the top."
"Okay, my name is Elise. Elise Thorne. I recently learned that my husband of 15 years is not only involved in some kind of... criminal enterprise, but that he's also the head of it."
"How long had this been going on?"
"No idea. However, our lifestyle has changed dramatically in the last two years."
"How so?"
"We have three brand-new cars, fully loaded."
"Our bills? Paid years in advance."
"We don't live in a house; we live in an estate."
I honestly couldn't believe what she was telling me. "And, in the last two years, you two haven't had one conversation about this?"
"My husband is an engineer by trade. Straight out of college, he was getting job offers left and right. He accepted a lucrative offer from the Jet Propulsion Lab and was there for almost ten years."
"He was fired?"
"He said that he was, but I don't believe him. He bounced back almost right away, claiming to be helping a start-up grow. He's been with this 'start-up' for two years. When he was at the JPL, regardless of whether we were living here or in Pasadena, we were never... this comfortable. Somehow, that's all from an advisory role at some random start-up? Give me a break..."
I took a long drag as she continued, never slowing down in near-frantic energy. The more she went on, the harder it became to pay attention to every detail. "Hold on. Have you seen this operation first-hand, or is this just spousal suspicion?"
"Can't it be both? No, I haven't seen the operation. However, I've seen the paperwork."
"Paperwork?"
"Plans. Schematics for an off-set printer that's worth five grand, with modifications that would make it efficient at manufacturing LSD tabs."
"...And how exactly would you know...?"
She confidently laughed, almost embarrassed. "My husband isn't the only engineer in our home. Once the money started coming in, he told me I didn't have to work anymore. Now, that's turned into more of a threat than anything. Especially after he caught me."
"Did he attack you?"
"Worse: He's blackmailing me. He's fabricated evidence that puts me at the epicenter of his crimes. If he goes down, he'll take me with him."
"And I take it you..."
"Yes, I can't find the evidence. And I tore that palace apart looking for it."
"So, you want me to find it."
"Yes, please. And intact, I need to know what he was planning to do to me. I'll give you anything, just..."
"Look, you're obviously at your wit's end right now."
"Excuse me?"
"No offense, but you are. I wouldn't feel right trying to barter with someone going through this much. So, I'll tell you what: I'll find the evidence and bring it to you, give you some peace of mind. Then, we can discuss payment, and you can get started with that divorce."
I could tell what I said took her off-guard. "Divorce... right. Yes, of course. Thank you! Thank you so much!"
I stood and extended my hand. She went for a hug instead, so I raised my palm, blocking her before she got too close. After, she rushed out like she was late for an appointment.
Then, it dawned on me: She gave me nothing.
No locations, no leads. Just a story full of holes and her name: Elise Thorne.
If that even is her name.
I needed to figure out what was going on. So, it was time to call Mike.
To Be Continued...