TT Spalding - The Preston Case

"What do you have?"

Maggie took over again and showed her the report Bruno had provided.

"Pictures of Mr. Preston and a man named Charles Knickerson. Charles is much younger and Mr. Preston has set him up in an apartment on the West side. We have receipts for the rent payments made by Mr. Preston, pictures of Mr. Preston and Charles in that apartment, pictures of them engaging in oral sex, anal sex and manual manipulation of each other's genitals. This should be enough to convince him to divorce you with a very nice settlement."

Mrs. Preston reviewed the pictures and slowly began to smile. She had him! And now she could divorce him and take some of his money and get on with her life. If she could get a million or two, she and Helen could discuss the future, maybe without Wesley in the picture.

Maggie and I got up and quietly left the room. I told her to wait while I went back in to be with Mr. Preston. I told him that I had some things waiting for him to sign in the conference room and asked him to follow me. He stood, still looking at the pictures he held in his hand and walked out with me. I moved to the door of the conference room and opened it for him. Still looking down and smiling at the picture in his hand, he walked in. I pulled the door shut.

As Maggie and I stood there, we heard the first shout of anger and then it was bedlam. Yelling and screaming and slamming of chairs. I think I heard one of the ashtrays hit the wall with a bang. A chair was thrown and I listened for a crash but it seemed to come out of it unscathed. Well, I could afford a chair or two. It was really going on. I smiled at Maggie.

"Well, was the extra $800 I took for Bruno worth it? Was it not brilliant of me to hire him to get the goods on the Mr.?"

"You are a genius. I have to admit. Just listen to that. Isn't love grand?"

We had a good laugh and walked out with our arms around each other. It was certainly a good way to end a bad couple of weeks. My world had almost collapsed but this certainly made it worth while. I kissed the top of Maggie's head.

"Did you get the tickets?"

"We're booked all the way, babe."

"When do we leave?"

"Tonight. Everything is taken care of. Bruno and Polly's checks are in the mail, the office is closed and the answering machine recording is in place. No more jobs till we get back."

As Maggie went home to pack our bags, I sat down in my chair behind my desk and considered my future. I love what I do and I always tried to do it as my hero would have expected me to do it. With grace and dignity, but always with humor. I followed the teachings of my mentor, Mickey Spillane. Now that he had passed on to that great guild of deceased writers in the sky he would be remembered.

But what about me. Do I go on? Do I continue in his footsteps? My cases were simple compared to his. My characters, Polly and Bruno, were just a couple of kids with stars in their eyes and digital cameras in their hands. Neither carried a gun, just a microphone. They didn't get hit over the head with a sap, just yelled at by a disgruntled building super or suspicious doorman. They were gentle and kind and wouldn't hurt a fly, but they would gladly do their job just to find some justice for someone. But they were great and I loved them to death.

Mickey had it good and I would miss him, but I had it better. I had Maggie.

With a smile, I closed my log, turned off my computer and went up to be with my wife. Hawaii, here we come.

Maybe to be continued . . .