Sarah's Private Dick Ch. 01

"I know you cared about him, loved him even, but honey... there were no signs that either of you were ever in love with each other. And I know you'll miss him, but you seem more like you're grieving your best friend than the love of your life." Sarah blinked and looked away, feeling tears of shame spark in her eyes, knowing that her friend was right. She wanted to protest and say that she'd been in love, but was that really true? She wasn't even sure what that would feel like. "You two had a great friendship. And it made for a decent marriage. But I know you, you're ready to just go back in your shell, working on making jewelry, and letting life slip you by. You'll feel guilty for not feeling more grief and that'll keep you all bottled up, but no one's going to judge you for not grieving more. We could all see Martin's health getting worse, and it's awful that he passed so young, but no one was really shocked by it either."

Harsh but true. That was Patricia. No beating around the bush from this friend. And at the same time, it was like a balm for Sarah to hear it, to have someone reassure her that she wasn't a heartless bitch because she didn't feel like the world was ending just because her husband had died. It felt like... there was a loss. A hole inside of her. But her world was still going.

"I'm not going to let you sell the restaurant and just disappear into your house," Patricia said. "I'll come drag you out kicking and screaming if I have to. You know I will."

Sarah laughed, she could see her friend doing just that. "I won't," she said, making the promise to both Patricia and herself. "I don't want to be completely shut off from everyone. I actually had fun at the meeting this morning, finding out more about how the restaurant runs."

It had been a pleasant surprise actually. Martin had talked so often about the restaurant with her that she was on the same page as everyone else for the most part, knowing what the problems were and even what some of the solutions he'd wanted to suggest were. Mostly because he usually talked those problems out with her, seriously taking her advice on a lot of the suggestions she made. Even though Sarah had been a housewife, spending most of her time cooking, cleaning, or indulging her passion for making jewelry which she sold on Etsy, she'd realized this morning how invested she felt in the restaurant and making sure that everything was running smoothly. Everyone had been so welcoming to her, which was wonderful. Vincent had seemed rather surprised at her knowledge; he'd started the meeting treating her very patronizingly until he'd realized how informed she was. That had been a good moment, being able to knock him back because she knew exactly the issues they'd been having with their seafood supplier showing up late recently, and the other suppliers that Martin had been looking into.

"Good," said Patricia, pleased by Sarah's statement. "Lloyd texted me, said that you did as good a job as Martin with running the meeting."

She flushed with pleasure at the compliment. "That's nice of him."

"No, it's true. Lloyd doesn't beat around the bush, it's why I married him."

Well that was also very true.

Sarah laughed and relaxed for the first time in ages. It was so easy being around Patricia. She was the most loyal, unjudgmental and caring friend Sarah had ever had.

*****

When his phone rang and Derrick saw the caller ID he picked up immediately.

"Quintin."

"Don't start that," his cousin drawled, with his best Southern flare. "You're the only person besides my parents who call me that."

"Q," Derrick said agreeably. "What's up?"

"Are you still doing that investigating thing?"

"Sort of. I'm trying to get out of it," he said. The private investigating "thing" as Q liked to call it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Mostly spying on trophy wives or their lecherous husbands, occasionally getting to do something satisfying like hunting down an abuser who had kidnapped his (and once her) kid from the spouse. Of course, not all of those cases were satisfying, satisfaction depended on it being a successful hunt. Derrick was tired of spying on people and tired of all the cruelty that he saw in his line of work. He'd been searching for awhile to find something different, but so far hadn't succeeded in finding anything that interested him. He'd tried a year of college, but unlike Q he wasn't one for the educational environment. The basic classes bored him to tears and he considered it a waste of time and money.

Now he kind of wished he'd taken more of them, just because then maybe he'd have an idea of what the hell he wanted to do with his life. He had no idea what his talents were, other than being able to charm information out of people. Maybe he should go into sales. Yeah... that didn't sound boring at all.

"Could you take on a case? As a favor for a family member?"

Derrick groaned. The last time he'd taken on a case for a family member he'd ended up with a broken arm, a broken nose and a niece who had previously had no idea that her boyfriend was a crack dealer, but was now more terrified of him than of her ex. He rubbed the ridge on his nose where the break had been. If he crossed his eyes he could just barely see it. At least the crack dealer had come out of that one looking a hell of a lot worse. But he still wished he'd been able to take the asshole out somewhere other than right in front of his nineteen year old niece Caroline. Watching her Uncle beat her boyfriend into submission had given the poor girl nightmares for weeks. And despite the fact that his sister had asked him to intervene and knew that he'd had to beat up the guy in self defense - okay and maybe a little anger about a 32 year old being with a nineteen year old and messing up her life - they hadn't talked much since the incident other than at holidays.

"No drug dealers or anything, I promise."

The overly cheerful sincerity in Q's voice grated on his nerves.

"What's the case? And I'm not saying yes until I hear it."

"The restaurant I've been at -"

"I thought you quit that."

"No, I still work a couple times a week, just to get some extra spending money. And they're good people. Anyway, Martin, our owner, died two weeks ago and left his share of the restaurant to the widow. The other owner wants to buy her portion, but she's feeling weird about selling it to him. Wants a background check, see if there's any dirt, or maybe if his intentions aren't honorable. She doesn't want to sell it to him and have it turn around and make it into a corporate place. I'd mentioned I knew a guy before, and she asked me about it. I was wondering if I could have her call you."

Grieving widow. Trying to make the best of her loss while also taking care of the people she cared about. Making sure that her husband's work wasn't for nothing and that his employees were looked after. One of whom was his cousin. Damn. Q knew him too well.

"What's the buyer like?"

Q hesitated. Ah ha. Here was the catch.

"Vincent. He's... okay. Didn't have much to do with running the restaurant, more like a silent backer except that he's always around. Martin was definitely the one in charge though, always. Drinks a lot. No one really knew much about him, just that he and Martin were best friends. He doesn't get close to anyone else, not even the management. Really into clear lines and boundaries."

Well that didn't sound so bad. Didn't sound like a great guy, but at least he wasn't dealing drugs or beating women. Derrick could deal with that.

"Yeah, alright. Have her call me."

"Thanks man. So how've you been?"

As the conversation devolved into small talk and ribbing, Derrick was able to relax and enjoy just chatting with Q. They'd always gotten along well, although they hadn't had much time together growing up since Q was from Alabama and Derrick was Washington DC born and raised. Even after Q had moved up here they hadn't spent a lot of time together. They were just both always busy. And Derrick's job didn't exactly allow for regular hours. He was glad to be able to do Q a favor.

Just, hopefully, unlike the last time he did a favor for a family member, he wouldn't end up regretting it.

*******

Sarah wandered through her house, alone, feeling both sad and unexpectedly freed. She couldn't help it, even though it made her feel guilty. When Martin was alive he'd expected her to keep the house exactly to his standards, snapping at her for dust - anywhere - or a smudge on a window or dinner five minutes late on the table. Those days he'd been home for dinner anyway. The restaurant life was so busy that she was used to being home alone, but she'd been anxious about him coming home to join her. Hoping that maybe he'd bring her flowers or some chocolates or wine. He never did. Worrying that he'd find something wrong with the house. He was supportive of her making jewelry, a creative activity that took a lot of her focus and helped her to relax, but he hadn't considered that a real job that took time or helped with the finances.

Now he'd been gone for two and a half weeks, and the house felt a little empty, and yet she didn't feel lonely. Part of her wished that she had some children to fill that emptiness, but she wouldn't wish losing a father on any children of hers, not at such a young age. Even if she and Martin had had children when they'd first gotten married, the kids would still be in high school now. For a moment she flushed, thinking about how wonderful that would be, to have children... and then the image faded. She was too old. Even if she wanted to find someone - which she didn't - she was too old. Maybe eventually she'd look into fostering or something.

Heading into the television room, Sarah kicked off her slippers. Her feet were starting to get too warm, and she'd always liked the thick cream carpet in this room anyway, feeling it squish pleasantly between her feet. Snuggling up in her favorite chair she turned on the television. She'd spent a lot of nights like this, in her pajama pants and tank top, hugging a pillow, and watching TV. Martin was always busy at work, and she appreciated how hard she worked. The best thing about it, in retrospect, was that she was used to being at home alone all evening. Going to sleep alone. Waking up alone was still strange, but after the first few days she'd gotten used to it.

Flipping through the channels, Sarah came across a re-run of Murder She Wrote, which reminded her that she needed to call the Private Investigator that Q had recommended. It just seemed so weird to be hiring a person to nose around in someone else's business... but she really shouldn't put it off any longer. Vincent had taken her out to dinner over the weekend to discuss business. Although she'd tried to hint to him that it was too soon after Martin's death to make any decisions, he'd made the very good point that life does go on, whether we want it to or not. He'd dropped a few other hints as well, that she had thought best to ignore completely.

Well if he annoyed her that much then she needed to just go ahead and get him investigated. That way she hopefully wouldn't have to have anything to do with him other than when she went in to visit her friends at Polenta, and then only in passing. Hitting the mute button on the TV, Sarah pulled her cell phone out of her pajama pocket and pulled up the number that Q had given her. Derrick Blake. She gnawed on her lower lip a moment, indecisively. This was not the first time that she'd pulled up the number.

Was it nerves over invading someone's privacy? Or was she starting to want to keep her portion of Polenta? Then Sarah shook her head. Even if she did want to keep her portion, she knew nothing about running a restaurant, not really. Just the things that she and Martin had talked about over breakfasts and on his days off. It was enough for her to get by for now, when her opinion was needed, but it was best for the restaurant and the staff if the person in charge knew what they were doing, and Sarah had never actually worked in a restaurant. They deserved better than someone with no practical experience. And Q wouldn't send her to someone untrustworthy. She felt much better about calling his contact, someone who was recommended, rather than looking through search engine pages.

It was only 8:07 pm. Q had told her she could call Derrick anytime before 10pm. Okay. She'd do it now.

Steeling herself, Sarah punched the call button and put the phone to her ear. He'd obviously never changed his ringtone from the default setting that his phone company used. Boring elevator music. If she were a private investigator she'd have the theme music from Dick Tracey. Or James Bond. Although he was technically a spy, but still, something more exciting -

"Hello, this is Derrick Blake."

Holy cripes... the richest, deepest, most velvety voice she'd ever heard was coming out of her cell phone. The kind of voice that made a person's insides rumble and tighten, the way it would to a steady bass beat. It was like hearing a sexy version of James Earl Jones. Liquid, smooth... and Sarah realized, waiting for an answer.

"Um, hello. Sorry, I've never... um, this is Sarah Brown. I'm a friend of Q's, he told me that I could call you." Thank god they were on the phone. Sarah banged her head into the cushy armrest of her chair, wishing it was a brick wall. She had an urgent desire to hang up and never call again, but then she'd have to face Q and explain that she'd felt too idiotic to continue. That didn't really seem like a good enough reason.

The deep chuckle that reverberated through the phone sent some kind of electrical current zinging through her. Geezus, what was with this guy? Who had a voice that actually sounded like that?

"Yeah, he mentioned you, but I thought you would've called a few days ago."

Sarah blushed. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Another laugh. She was okay with making him laugh, even though it was at her. Hell, hearing his laugh set off all sorts of tingles throughout her body and made her feel things she hadn't felt in... years. In fact, feeling those tingles was probably the closest she'd gotten to sex in years. Suddenly reminded of Martin and the fact that she was supposed to be a grieving widow, Sarah clamped down on her body's responses. How embarrassing. Not to mention demoralizing. What the hell was wrong with her?

"I meant to call sooner," she said, trying to get control back over the situation. Man she missed the ways when phones had cords. She used to twine the curling cord around her fingers when she got nervous. Now all she could do was smooth out the same spot on her fuzzy pajama pants over and over again. "I've been a bit of a mess lately."

"Ah, yes," he replied, his voice suddenly turning more grave and serious. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Brown." He sounded like he meant it too, there was a lot of compassion in his expressive voice and Sarah felt tears pricking at her eyes. "Q told me a little bit about your situation, you'd like me to look into a buyer for the restaurant?"

"Yes, he's actually owner of the minority share of Polenta," she said. And then, with his encouragement, found herself pouring out all of her worries about Vincent and wondering why Martin had the majority share, her concerns that Vincent's intentions with the restaurant weren't what Martin would have wanted (or what she wanted, for that matter), and her lack of experience with the restaurant business and her determination to do the best for the staff there. Throughout the entire recital he was supportive, listened attentively, and asked concise questions that never demeaned her intelligence. It wasn't at all like talking to Vincent. More like talking to Martin, except that all of the focus was on her. Most of the time her conversations with Martin had been focused entirely on the restaurant, but Derrick wanted to know her impressions, her insecurities with Vincent, even just the niggling that her instincts were giving her. And he made several small jokes, releasing some of her tension.

By the end of the conversation she was feeling very comfortable talking to him, which he assured her she should as that was why he was so good at his job, and even more comfortable handing over her uncertainties about Vincent to him. There was a thoroughness to the questions that he'd asked her, he was obviously very competent and not the type to leave a single stone unturned. Mostly she felt relief, finally feeling that she was making the right decision.

"Can you come by my office sometime this week and drop off the papers? Or I could come pick them up some time that's convenient for you?"

Sarah thought it over. She had the keys to everything in Matt's work and home office. Fortunately all of the past years' accounting books and his notes were in the home office, at the end of every fiscal year he moved all of that paperwork home so that it wouldn't clutter up the office at the restaurant. Only the current year's numbers were at Polenta.

"I have all of Matt's notes and books from previous years here at home," she said. "If you wouldn't mind coming by and getting it. I'd bring it by but I'm not entirely sure what you'll need and there's a lot of papers. I'll be home Wednesday evening, if that works for you." Today was Monday but she and Patricia were going to Polenta for dinner tomorrow, and she'd rather not cancel if she didn't have to.

"Wednesday is fine," he said. "I'll start doing the preliminary background check on Vincent in the meantime, based off the information you've given me."

"Thank you so much."

"My pleasure. Have a good night Mrs. Brown."

"You too, Mr. Blake," Sarah said, and hung up the phone. Glancing at the timer she saw that she'd been on the phone for over two hours. Oops. She'd kept him past his 10pm limit. Although he didn't seem to mind. Leaning back in her chair she felt... strange. Talking to him had been almost as fun as talking to Patricia, and letting all of her worries out made her feel strangely empty inside. And his voice... good grief. Sarah shivered a little. He should do voice overs for commercials. She'd buy what he was selling.

Immediately Sarah felt guilty again, but she brushed it away. A girl couldn't help how her body reacted. There had been other times throughout her marriage when she'd been attracted to some aspect of another man, but she'd always kept her vows, even though Martin hadn't exactly made her feel sexy or sexual. That just wasn't what their marriage had been about. For a moment Sarah wondered what Derrick would look like, and then she giggled. He'd probably look like a troll. No one could have that fantastic of a voice and be good looking. Not unless he was a movie star, which he obviously wasn't.

Definitely time for bed. Even though Martin was gone she always slept on her side. Sarah didn't need that much space... just her small corner of the world. Snuggling under the covers she soon drifted away to her dreams.