Allen Two PIs Are Better Than One

1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-1-62287-780-5
Verlag: First Edition Design Publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Wasserzeichen (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 100 Seiten

Two private investigators are on the trail of a potential bank robbery they believe will happen the weekend of the Route 66 Days Parade in Flagstaff, Arizona. Working together on the case will either rekindle an old flame between the two, or drive them and everyone else crazy.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Allen, Rick

Leseproben

CHAPTER 2
  Hicks McGuire bore a striking resemblance to the mascots of his Northern Arizona University alma mater, the Lumberjacks. Thick as a Ponderosa pine and nearly as tall, he measured in at six feet five inches, his impressive appearance enhanced by forest green eyes that were almost iridescent at night. While the full beard, a recent addition, helped to complete the lumberjack ensemble. It was dusk and the moon was just beginning its nightly journey across the Flagstaff sky as Hicks exited the bank with his trademark limp, and rejuvenated himself by inhaling the pine scented air deep into his lungs. Being the creature of habit that he was, made his way to Allison’s Diner for a bite to eat like he did most nights before heading home for the evening.   Although Hicks had recently started working the occasional weekend shift as the bank security guard to earn a little extra income, he was a private investigator by trade. About six months ago he and his business partner, not having seen eye to eye, dissolved their agency and were now owners of rival private investigation firms in Flagstaff, Arizona. Hicks owned and operated Eagle Eye Investigations while his former partner, Mandy Jenkins, headed up Hawk Eye Investigations. Unfortunately, since venturing out on his own, Hicks, found his tail feathers being plucked by Mandy and Hawk Eye Investigations on a routine basis and he was now struggling to keep his fledgling business in the air. The fact that Hicks and Mandy had a previous personal history together only muddied the waters. The two had dated exclusively throughout high school and their first two years at Northern Arizona University at which point Hicks had decided to go on a two-year mission for his church, putting their relationship temporarily on hold. And since Mandy had remained dedicated to him while getting her criminal justice degree, Hicks had returned from his two-year stint in the Dominican Republic, finished up his schooling and the two having obtained their state private investigator licenses had decided to open their own agency. About three months into the venture, the business, and their renewed relationship began to heat up. It was about this time that Hicks came to the realization that he had never seriously dated anyone other than Mandy, and advised her that he thought it would strengthen their relationship if they dated other people for a while. Mandy advised Hicks what he could do with that particular bright idea and dissolved the business and the relationship without further discussion. It did not take Hicks long to realize the folly of his ways but by the time he did, Hawk Eye Investigations was thriving and Mandy was, as he himself had proposed, was dating other people. Multiple attempts by Hicks to repair the relationship having failed, he had demonstrated his resiliency by opening his own private investigation firm, thus publicly moving on with his life. His heart, on the other hand, refused to move forward as he discovered that he was still very much in love with Mandy, whereupon he became convinced that if his firm were a bona fide success he might once again attract the attention of Mandy Jenkins and turn her heart. It was now going on four weeks since Eagle Eye had seen a new client walk through its doors, but he refused to hit the panic button just yet. All the same, Hicks was grateful for the extra work at the bank that kept food on the table and his business viable. His stomach, sensing the proximity of food, emitted an audible groan as he pulled into the parking lot at Allison’s Diner. Attendance at the diner was always a good way for him to take his mind off of his troubles and was also an excellent way to keep his finger on the pulse of what was going on in the city. The cast of characters ebbed and flowed but usually included both locals and visitors alike and was his preferred way to unwind at the end of a long day. “Hello, Allison,” Hicks greeted the proprietor, a tall, blonde, beauty as he walked through the front door. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she replied. “It’s good to see you, Hicks. Pull up a stool. What can I get you tonight?” she added as he bellied up to the counter. “I’m thinking a Rheuben might just hit the spot.” “Oh, no. You should definitely go with the meatloaf this evening,” a voice to his left announced. “Don’t you agree, Jeanna?”  Jeanna was the florist of Tulips Are Better Than One. A large, jovial woman, now in her early sixties, she kept her hair dyed a deep auburn to disguise the encroaching gray hairs. Her companion, Corbin, was a local handyman who sported impressive lamb chop sideburns in an unfortunate and totally ineffective attempt to draw attention away from his ears that looked like satellite dishes affixed to the sides of his head. Both he and Jeanna like to keep Hicks abreast of the latest Flagstaff happenings in hopes that it might help him with a case. “Come on, Corbin. Can meatloaf even qualify as amazing?” Hicks demanded, grinning. “A starry night, the Grand Canyon, okay, I’ll give you are amazing. But meatloaf? That’s pushing it isn’t it?” “You’ve obviously never tasted Allison’s meatloaf,” Corbin replied. “You’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven,” Jeanna added. Hicks turned and looked at Allison who shrugged. “That was completely unsolicited. I swear,” she assured him, returning his lie-detecting stare with an expression of convincing innocence. “Okay,” Hicks said. “How can I pass on a meal with endorsements like that? I’ll take the meatloaf.” “You won’t be sorry,” Corbin said. “Guess who ordered flowers at the store today?” Jeanna asked with a crooked smile. “I’m not playing this game again, Jeanna,” Hicks replied patiently. “I’m not interested in who bought flowers today.” “I’ll bet this time you might just care to know who it was and where they’re going to be delivered,” she persisted while Hicks maintained a disinterested expression. “It was Bill Torres,” Jeanna declared, unfazed by Hicks’ stonewalling. “The sheriff’s deputy?” Hicks said, suddenly interested. “Yes, the same one who’s now dating your girlfriend.” “Mandy Jenkins is not my girlfriend anymore,” Hicks said, returning to his straightforward stare and doing his best to seem uninterested. “I told you he still had the hots for her, Jeanna,” Corbin announced proudly. “You told me no such thing,” she protested. “I told you, our boy here, was still in love. A woman always knows these things. Bill ordered flowers for one Miss Mandy Jenkins to be delivered here at the diner tomorrow afternoon.” “Here?” Hicks asked, scratching his head. “Why would he have them delivered here?” “No idea. But off topic don’t you think that Bill looks like a young Antonio Banderas?” Jeanna said. “Really?” Hicks muttered. “I don’t get that.” “Well, I’ll tell you what I think,” Corbin said, the smugness written all over his face. “I think Bill Torres is an illegal alien.” “You’ve been watching too much television, Corbin,” Hicks said, drawn back into the conversation despite himself. “There’s no way he could be an illegal and work as a sheriff’s deputy.” “Think about it,” Corbin said, taking on the appearance of a trial lawyer about to make his closing argument. “If you were in this country illegally, what would be the perfect job to keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble? Law enforcement,” he answered himself. “Nobody messes with law enforcement. Law enforcement does the messing. A little razzle-dazzle with the old documents and presto, he’s in. And come on, isn’t he a little too young to be a sheriff’s deputy anyway?” “Oh, I don’t know,” Hicks told him. “I think he’s just got a baby face. He’s probably early to mid thirties.” “Thirties? You’ve got to be kidding. Baby-face Torres. Say, wasn’t there a famous bank robber named Baby Face?” “I think you’re a little off base on this one, Corbin,” Hicks said. “Am I? I mean look at his name for crying out loud. Bill Torres. Come on. Doesn’t that sound made up to you? And have you seen those shifty eyes? I’m telling you, the guy is dirty.” “And you’re basing this man’s guilt on what? His shifty eyes? His first name? His last name? This is sounding more and more like racial profiling to me.”  “Racial profiling? No. It’s not just the name.” “Then what?” Hicks prodded. “Well, let’s just say, I’ve heard a few things?” “I’ll bet you have,” Jeanna piped in. “Is that some sort of crack about the size of my ears?” Corbin asked. “You’ve got a lot of room to talk, Big ‘Fake’ Red.” ...