The Price of Beauty in Strawberry Land (2 page)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Today I was having my weekly lunch date with my lawyer and partner, Jack Logan, at the Rendezvous.
 

He was giving me the latest from a few shared clients and bringing me up to speed on his involvement with Judy Strong and Maxwell Trucking in Humboldt.
 
Things were looking good – it seemed that Mary Ellen would be able to save the business and, along with Judy’s help, put Maxwell Trucking back on the right track.
 
Mary Ellen and Judy would jointly run the business with Judy eventually assuming full control when all legal issues had been settled.
 
Jack had worked hard on her case, and I certainly think his 'personal interest’ in Judy had made his work much easier than normal.

As we were finishing lunch, Jack mentioned that he had acquired another client from the Humboldt area and would be requiring my assistance.
 
He promised to stop by later today with the details.

I walked back across Union to my office and stopped by the front desk to pick up my mail – which was unusually small.
 
Just two letters and the regular junk.

As I walked away, Marcie yelled at me from behind the switchboard, “Hey handsome.
 
You’ve got a client waiting for you.
 
I put her in your office and she’s not just ANY client.”

“Oh yeah. Who is it?” I think Marcie knows everybody, or at least thought she did.

“It’s the mayor’s wife, or rather the ex-mayor’s wife – since he didn’t get reelected.”

“Interesting.
 
Did you get her name?”

“I certainly did. It’s Monica Jeffers – I guess Mrs. Brian Jeffers would be a better way to put it, and she’s a looker, if you know what I mean,” Marcie giggled.

“Yes Marcie, I do know what you mean.” Even though I really didn’t know what she meant.

“And she’s got a dog with her.”

“A what?” I exclaimed.

“A DOG. You know, the little four legged furry things with tails that wag.”

“Did you put this dog in my office too?”

“Well, not actually.
 
I didn’t, Mason did. After the dog ran all the ducks out of the fountain, he chased one up the mezzanine stairs and Mason finally got his hands on the dog.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Oh Lord!” I sighed.

“You’re telling me!
 
What a fiasco. Ducks flying and running everywhere, the dog barking and chasing ducks, feathers flying, guests running for cover and Mason chasing that stupid dog like a chicken chasing a worm.
 
I think it would still have been going on, except the elevator operator left his doors open and the ducks finally ran in there for cover.
 
They were ready to go back to the roof.
 
You didn’t notice they weren’t in the fountain when you came in?”

“No damn it.
 
I wasn’t looking for the ducks.
 
Marcie, sometimes your thought process is simply amazing. What kind of dog is it?
 
Do you know?”

“No idea, just a little white dog.
 
Cute but loud,” she added.

“And is it now in my office?” I frowned.

“Yes, along with Mrs. Jeffers.
 
Did you vote for the guy – her husband?
 
Maybe she’s working something political and needs to know how you voted.”

“Well, I doubt that, but I suppose I’ll just need to talk with Monica – Mrs. Jeffers, to find out – won’t I?”

“Yes, but be careful.
 
As I said, she’s a looker and probably nothing but trouble, if you know what I mean,” she giggled.

“Yes Marcie. I know what you mean.” This time I DID know what she meant.
 
And as it turns out, Marcie was right – she usually is.

New Clients

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
M
ason ‘Booker-T’ Brown is the headman around the Peabody – nobody questions that.
 
The labor union just describes him as ‘Head Porter’ – but Mason takes care of everything.
 
In addition to being totally responsible for the ducks, he makes and coordinates all work schedules for the doormen, elevator operators, porters and parking garage workers. If you aren’t a maid or a cook, you best look to Mason for instructions – he is the man.

I was unhappy that Mason had put that dog in my office, but guess he didn’t have much choice.
 
I’d talk to him about that later.

 
~

I
cautiously walked into my office and introduced myself.
 
Immediately I understood what Marcie meant by a ‘looker’.

At about 5’ 5” and 105 pounds, Monica Jeffers was well put together and handling her age well – which I guessed to be about 45.
 
Other than being a little wide at the hips, Monica had taken good care of all her other parts and pieces.
 
Long dark hair, dark eyes and an everlasting tan that added emphasis to a woman who had the ‘air’ of importance about her.
 
She had ‘high society’ written across all her parts, looks and mannerisms. She also had a small white dog in her lap – which, I think, helped with my first impression.

Her voice fit her description, “Mr. Reno, I am confused.”

“Please, how may I ‘UN-confuse’ you?” I think I knew where this was going.

 
“Your friend Rita, at the Starlight, suggested I discuss my problems with you.
 
But I couldn’t find a Carson Reno on the hotel directory or even in the phone book – just on the door of this office.
 
Do you work for the Drake Detective Agency?
 
I certainly didn’t get that impression from Rita. I feel rather odd asking, but something is strange.”

“Mrs. Jeffers, please don’t feel that way – it confuses everyone.
 
Rita should have explained it to you. I own and operate the Drake Detective Agency – I AM the Drake Detective Agency – there is no one else.
 
The name was just the result of my not wanting to use my name, Carson Reno, as the title.
 
I realize it is odd to some, but I assure you I offer quiet and discrete investigations.
 
I can offer some client references, if you desire.”

“Rita is reference enough for me.
 
She and I go way back – probably further than each of us want to remember.
 
And please call me Monica – I hate that Mrs. Jeffers tag.
 
Seems I hear it too much already.”

“And please call me Carson,” I said with a big smile. “Monica, how may I help you?”

At this point, she took the dog from her lap and put it on the floor. It immediately headed for my beautiful fake rubber plant that always sits in the corner of my office. With no outside windows, the only natural light I have is through my glass door and glass office front that face the South lobby entrance – so a plastic plant was the only option if I wanted a plant.
 
A former client had given me that rubber plant as a ‘thank-you’ for a job well done, and I really enjoyed its company.

“Carson, I need to apologize for Daisy – oh, I forgot to introduce you,” she interrupted herself.
 
“This is my dog Daisy.”

I wasn’t sure how to introduce myself to a dog.
 
I love dogs and love all animals, but have never been instructed on proper etiquette for an introduction to a dog.

So, I just said, “Hi, Daisy.
 
Welcome to my office and welcome to the Peabody.”
 
For some reason I don’t think Daisy was listening to me – she was studying my rubber plant.

“Daisy was a ‘bad dog’ when we came into the hotel.
 
I’m afraid she got after the ducks and chased them all over the lobby.
 
If it hadn’t been for that nice man, ‘Booker something’ I’m afraid she might have hurt them.”

“That would have been Mason Brown – we call him Booker –T.
 
Yes, he is a very nice man and I suggest you extend your apology to him – not me.
 
He is the one who cares for the ducks.”

“I will do that, thank you for telling me,” she said dismissing my suggestion. “Now, Carson, as to why I am here.
 
I need a divorce and I need your help.”

“Monica, I don’t do divorces.
 
I do discrete investigations.
 
However, I do know some good lawyers if you would like me to recommend one.”
 
She never flinched.

Glancing at Daisy, I noticed she had started to nibble at the lower leaves of my rubber plant. This dog had probably never seen a ‘fake’ plant and didn’t understand why it had no taste. So she continued to chew on one leaf, and then move to another.

“The last thing I need is another lawyer or to even KNOW another lawyer.
 
My life has been full of lawyers for the past 20 years, and I certainly don’t need another one.
 
No, what I should have said is that I – and one of those damn lawyers I mentioned - need your special talents.
 
I need dirt.
 
I need names.
 
I need photos.
 
I need names, dates and places. I need evidence to crucify that son-of-a-bitch Brian Jeffers.”

Monica Jeffers was one unhappy spouse.
 
And, based upon what I saw sitting across my desk, she is not someone I would want to get on my bad side.

Meanwhile Daisy continued to eat my rubber plant.

“Okay, I’m going to need some specific information.
 
Why don’t we walk over to the restaurant and have some coffee while you tell me about it?”

“I’m afraid I shouldn’t take Daisy out into the hotel just yet – she is still upset. Can we just have coffee here in your office?”

What about the DUCKS?
 
Did she think they might still be upset?

“Absolutely.”
 
I picked up the phone and ordered coffee delivered.
 
Daisy had now progressed up to the second layer of leaves and seemed quite content to continue her attack on my rubber plant.

Over the next hour Monica shared things with me that only a woman looking for revenge would do.
 
As a successful criminal attorney and as Memphis Mayor for 6 years, it seemed that Brian Jeffers had sowed a lot of wild oats across Shelby County.
 

Monica had held her tongue and tolerated what most women would not.
 
Since none of these oats had seemed to sprout, she expected he would eventually get tired of his ways and settle down. Half way into his second term as mayor, Brian was doing just that – settling down. Then, after he lost the election, something happened. One of his closest aides died under strange circumstances – he fell off the roof of the 100 North Main building! The coroner had ruled accidental death, but at least privately, Brian had never accepted that. The aide’s name was Barry ‘Butch’ Lassiter, and according to Monica, Barry’s wife, Darlene, took over his duties.
 
It seems she also began to take on a more active role in the new mayor’s office and a more active role with Brian as he transitioned out of office.
 
So active that they traveled together, took extended trips for business and seemed to always be seen together. Monica was absolutely certain that this was not just jealousy on her part – she actually believed Darlene was in complete control over Brian and the mayor’s office. After her husband’s death, Darlene didn’t go away – she just got closer to Brian.
 
So close that Monica had ordered Brian to move out – which he had done over a week ago. Her attempts to follow him didn’t work and that is why she was sitting in my office.