Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 03 - Snow Cone (2 page)

“A little oily, but otherwise in fine shape.  Let’s get them to our client.”

-C
hapter 2-

We weren’t racing around the streets in sunny Southern California; we were in Nashville, Tennessee.  Work in California for Icarus Investigation had become increasingly difficult. We had become too popular for our own good.  Even though we didn’t advertise, our phone had been ringing off the hook.  An article in the L.A. Times informed the world that we had been the men that had found a missing hijacked ship—the
Trusian
. The press didn’t know all the details about our conquest, only that we discovered the ship.  The rest of the story was safely stored away. Unfortunately, someone had leaked a portion of the information about the ship’s disappearance, and we could no longer safely do our job in that part of the nation.

We
had been moving slowly across the country in search of new opportunities, and Galveston managed to locate some new work in Utah, Missouri, and now, Tennessee. Our office in San Diego was still our home location, but for now we had to abandon it.  We employed a new private eye named Dave Dyrak to run it.  He was mainly investigating divorces and love spats and agreed to give us a cut of his profits for using our name.

We
had been in Nashville for three weeks, and we were set to return to San Diego after this latest case.  I had grown fond of Nashville during our time in the area.  It was a slow moving city, much slower than the bustle of San Diego, and the price of doing business here was much lower.  The country music scene and the dreams of so many aspiring musicians were prevalent everywhere, as was their quest to strike it rich and become a star.

I
sorely missed Jane, the love of my life, and I was eager to see her.  Galveston, on the other hand, was having a blast.  He didn’t have anyone to go home to and loved bouncing from hotel to hotel.   He reveled in our new investigations.

Things were much different now than when we started the detective agency a few years ago in
Galveston’s apartment.  The boring jobs that we left together were but a distant memory.  We didn’t know what we were doing then, and I wasn’t sure if we knew what we were doing now.  I still woke up on some mornings wondering how Galveston convinced me to join him in this business.  But then I only had to think about Jane, and if we hadn’t started the business, she wouldn’t have been our first employee.  It was a cruel twist of fate.  I had to put up with Galveston to be with Jane.

I
pushed the thoughts of Jane to the back of my mind as I drove the car through the growing Nashville rush hour traffic.  We were on our way to meet our contact and give him the files we had been hired to obtain.

I
pulled up to a small building near Music Row in downtown Nashville.  We were meeting an agent in the country music scene at his business—Nashville Artists International. 

Galveston
and I hurried from the parking lot and found the office of Bill McKay.  Bill had hired us three weeks before when Galveston happened to talk to him at a hotel in Branson, Missouri.  Bill was there scouting new talent, and after a few cocktails, told Galveston how a new associate of his absconded with all his clients.  He was desperately trying to find new country bands, singers, or anyone that would agree to join his firm.  Bill was an old school talent agent.  He didn’t use a computer and kept all of his client lists in file folders.  He only used a lawyer when his talent was able to secure a contract from a record company.

Stan had been the associate that stole the client list, a list Bill had spent twenty years accumulating. 
He had spent the last month convincing Bill’s clients to go with him in their search for fame. 

We
opened the door to Nashville Artists International and saw that the office was a return to the 1970’s.  It had old, steel file cabinets covering a wall, yellow shag carpet, and brown wood paneling.

“Oh,
my God,” I said to Galveston.

“Wow, this is an interesting
décor,” Galveston replied as we stared at the furnishings.

Bill heard
us enter and came out of a back room.  “Well, howdy there, fellas,” he responded politely.  “Do you have good news for me?”

“
We do, Bill,” Galveston said as he maneuvered around a suede armchair.  “We got all your files back.”  He handed Bill the stack of folders.

“Thank
you so much.  You guys didn’t have any problems?”

“Stan was a
little bit upset, but I think he’ll get over it,” I told him.

“Yeah,
I gave him a shot and this is how he repaid me.”

“
You failed to mention that Stan is a rather large man, Bill,” Galveston scolded.

“Sorry ‘bout that.  Should’ve let
you know that he’s kind of a brute,” Bill said sheepishly.

“
We may have approached things a little differently,” I said. 

We
had decided against going in at night, since we hadn’t been sure of Stan’s security.  But now having seen his size and anger, in hindsight, it would have been a better approach.

“Now, what are
you going to do, Bill?” Galveston asked.

“
I’ll do what you told me.  I’ll learn the computer and get my list on there,” Bill replied.

“Right, and what else?”

“A lawyer, I’ll get myself a good lawyer.”

“Very good. 
Get those files on a computer and with a lawyer, and start setting up some contracts with your talent.  Things are different nowadays,” Galveston informed him.  “You may think about changing your décor here, too.”

“What’s wrong with
my office?”  Bill asked, looking at his outdated furnishings.

“Conway
Twitty isn’t going to be walking in here.  You need to upgrade so you can attract some new, fresh talent.”

“
I’ll try.  It’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks you know.”

“Understood,”
I said.  “We just want to see you succeed.”

Bill nodded
his head.  “Yup. You’re right.  I could move this stuff to my house.  It will fit right in there.”

Galveston
and I looked at each other and smiled.  Bill was still living in the 70’s.

“
I sure thank you again, and here’s your payment.”  He handed us a bulging white envelope.  “I’ll be callin’ if I need anything else.”

“Thank
you, Bill.  It was a pleasure,” I said as I placed the envelope in my pocket.  I fought the urge to count the money, but it was never polite to do so in front of a client.

We
shook the agent’s hand and turned to leave.  “San Diego, here I come,” I thought as I reached for the door.

“Oh, wait,” Bill called to
us.  “I almost forgot.  I have something that may interest you.”  He disappeared into the back office and came out holding a sheet of paper.  “I told a friend of mine about y’alls work.  He was wondering if you could give him a call.  His name is Joseph Stanwick.  He’s a geologist at Vanderbilt University, and he’s been having a heck of a time with his research.  It all was over my head.  I don’t know about rocks on the ground; I only have rocks in my head.”  Bill chuckled at his own joke and handed us the paper.

Galveston
eagerly grabbed it, and I cringed.  I had a bad feeling this would be another reason he could use to continue on the road.  Galveston didn’t say a word, and I knew he would wait for a prime time to bring up the subject.

We
left the office and returned to our car.  I began to start it when I noticed a blue sports car speeding up the road to the building.  It had an iridescent, oily glow.

“
Uh, Galveston,” I said pointing at the car. “It seems that Stan deduced why we were in his office.”

“Oh, man. 
I had a feeling he wouldn’t give up,” Galveston sighed.

I
moved the car out of sight as the sports car pulled to the front of the building.  A disheveled Stan stepped out the door and almost fell on his face due to the excess oil on his shoes.

“What do
you want to do?” I asked.

“Let
me make a call,” Galveston answered and dialed his phone.  “Hey, Bill, Galveston here.”

“
You forget somethin’?”

“No, no.  Listen, Bill,
your ex is coming up.  You better lock your office door and hide,” Galveston stated calmly.

“Oh, that crazy, witchy woman.  Why won’t
she leave me alone,” Bill muttered.

“No, Bill,
your ex-associate, the big guy, Stan,” Galveston replied, attempting not to laugh.

“Oh, hell. 
I’m goin’ right now to lock up.  What should I do?”

“Just hide,
I’ll take care of it.  Don’t open your office for any reason, okay?”  Galveston ordered.

“Yes, sir.  Thanks.”

“And don’t shoot anybody,” Galveston added, but Bill had already hung up.

Galveston
figured the talent agent had a shotgun hidden somewhere in his 1970’s décor and couldn’t help but picture Bill blasting a hole through Stan as he walked in the door.

Galveston
dialed 911, and using a high pitched voice, made up a story about a crazy man with a gun going into office 47 of Nashville Artists International.

We
waited about three minutes contemplating whether we should go in and help our client.  I, for one, was averse to the idea, and Galveston seemed to share my feelings. But we knew the right thing to do was to make sure Bill was safe. 

We
were just about to leave our car to help when a Nashville Police cruiser bounced into the parking lot with its siren blaring and lights blazing.  Galveston’s call that there was a gun involved got the police there in less than five minutes.  A pair of officers stepped from the police car and raced into the building. 

We
waited in the car to make sure the cops did their job, and Bill was left unharmed.  There was also no reason for us to be questioned by the police in our involvement in the situation.

Finally
the officers reappeared, and thankfully they were leading Stan to the cruiser in handcuffs.  He was placed in the rear seat and happened to turn his head in our direction.  I tried to slouch in my seat, but Galveston merely smiled and waved. 

Stan was
obviously fighting against the handcuffs and yelling obscenities as he realized we were the men from his office in the fat suits.  Stan’s red face pressed against the glass of the door as the police car left—he was clearly unhappy. 

I
waited until the cruiser was well out of sight before pulling out of the parking lot.  I planned to drive back to our hotel to gather our things, but I noticed that Galveston had become eerily quiet.  He was staring at the piece of paper Bill had given us and typing a text on his phone at the same time.

We
had made it all the way to our hotel parking lot before the words I dreaded came from Galveston’s mouth.

“
I think we should call this guy, this geologist,” he said flatly.

“
I knew it, I knew it,” I said.  “I knew you couldn’t let it go.  I just want to go home.”

“
I know, but come on.  One more case before we leave.  I bet it’s an easy one.”

“
You always say that, but it never is an easy case.  No.  No more cases, no more chases, and no more fat suits.  We’re going home because I want to see Jane.”

“Well,”
Galveston started, “you don’t have to worry about that.”

“What are
you talking about?”

“
I sent a text to Jane.  She’s on her way,” Galveston said turning his head, anticipating my reaction.

“
You sneaky son of a…”

“Don’t say something
you’ll regret,” Galveston chided.

I really didn
‘t know whether to be mad or not.  I was going to get to see Jane, but I still wanted to be home in my own bed.  I decided I would just sulk.

“Come on, one more case,”
Galveston prodded.  “I know you want to find out what this guy wants.  You have the bug.”

Galveston
knew me too well.  I did want to know.  I wouldn’t ever admit it to him, but I was addicted to our business.  I was becoming an adrenaline junky and loved the hunt. 

“
I hate you.”

Galveston
laughed.  “But, I love you.” 

“
It better be simple,” I ordered.

“
I bet it’s a piece of cake,” Galveston replied with a smile.

If he only knew how wrong he was.

-Chapter 3-

We arrived at our hotel, and Galveston dialed his phone before we had even made it through the door.  It was a good time to get away from him, at least for a few seconds, since he was busy tracking down our new contact.  I decided to freshen up in the bathroom, since I still had bits of sticky glue on my forehead that had held my fake, brown hair.

I splashed some water on my face and sat down on the toilet seat to gather my thoughts.  I couldn
‘t believe we had almost made it out of Nashville.  Just as I was beginning to relax, Galveston burst into the bathroom, startling me from my moment of solitude.

“
Don’t you knock?” I asked.

“
It’s not like you’re doing anything.”

“
I’m having a moment of peace—away from you.”

“
Yeah, whatever.  Hey, I talked to this Stanwick dude.  Nice guy, but in sort of a pickle.”

“
What kind of pickle?” I asked

“
I would say a type of dill, maybe a gherkin,” Galveston responded with sarcasm.

“
What did he say?” I replied, realizing I had walked into that one.

“
He’s having problems with his research.  I guess some guys gave him some trouble at his research site.  He hasn’t been able to complete his study.  It’s like his life’s work.”

“
How much trouble could a geologist get into?  Was someone stealing his rocks or something?” I wondered.

“
Not exactly.  We’re going to meet with him tomorrow morning in his office at Vanderbilt.  He said he would give us the particulars then.”

“
Okay, sure, sounds easy enough,” I said dismissively.  But I had a sneaking suspicion Galveston wasn’t telling me everything he knew.

Galveston
conveniently didn’t offer any additional information and chose to change the subject.  “Jane will be here after our meeting.  She’s catching the early flight out of Lindbergh.”

“
That’s great,” I said, thinking how nice it will be to see her.  Plus she always provided an important buffer between me and Galveston.

Galveston
turned from the bathroom with a new spring in his step and plopped himself down on the bed to watch television.

I pondered our new, unknown case until my mind drifted back to Jane.  Things were getting serious between us, and our semi-recent vacation to the
Cayman Islands cemented the fact that she was the one for me.  I wanted to take it to the next level, but I was unsure of what that level was supposed to be.  Should I take the careful Roger approach and overanalyze the situation, or should I take the Galveston approach and jump in with both feet?

Galveston
laughed heartily at the T.V. and broke me from my thought.  “Roger, you’ve got to see this.  These guys just jumped off a building wearing panda suits and landed into a vat of pudding!”

“
Oh, God,” I said to myself.  I struggled to a standing position and walked slowly into the other room.