Starting Over Ch. 02

Jeff walked me out to the front door and down the steps to the street. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "John, let me give you some advice. Stay away from these guys if you can. I know they may look for you, but they are smart enough to know that their best option is to just ignore you and move on. They have a multi-million dollar operation and we haven't been able to break it. They don't want to threaten that." He handed me a business card that he had taken out. "Here's my brother's card. He started a private detective agency and is trying to make a go at that. He could use some help if you could spare the time. He just lost his last partner. The guy thought it was going to be all glamorous women, chasing bad guys, making lots of money, and shooting people. But that's not exactly the normal PIs daily fare. Most of what Craig does is grunt work, research and stuff, but it pays the bills. Give him a call, at least, and say hello. He'll be glad to know you are in the area. Like you, he doesn't talk about that day and as far as I know doesn't even know where his Silver Star is. You're free to go. We have your address and phone number if we need to contact you. Oh, and those guys are in jail until at least Monday when they go before a judge."

I stared at the card and at him. "Uh... okay, thanks. I'll give him a call."

He left me at the curb and I looked around. They were not going to transport me home. I was going to have to hail a cab. I walked down a block and found a cab and got home a little after midnight.

I found that my door had been hastily taped over by someone, so I entered my other apartment entrance and checked out what I would have to have done to make it functional again. The lock and jamb had been pretty well damaged with the jamb fairly well splintered. The door was actually okay as the jamb had been the part that gave way. I got a hammer and nails and went back out into the hall. I ripped down the plastic and hammered a few nails into the jamb to hold it in place. I had to remove some of the wood. I then went in and closed the door. I toe-nailed a few nails into it to hold it closed from that side and then did the same in the hallway. As I finished I turned around to see Sam standing in her door.

"Hey, Sam."

She looked at me for a few seconds. "Hi. I hear you had a run in with Justin and his band of thugs."

"Is that his name?"

"Yeah. He's sort of a former boyfriend. When I found out he was starting to use drugs heavily, I told him it was over."

"Yeah, he didn't seem to believe that."

"I know. But why did you have to challenge them? You know that you put a target on all of us, right?" She almost seemed a little pissed off at me, but I figured she was just scared.

"I know I'm a target, but why you?"

"Because they are assholes. They will give me and my daughters a bad time. I wish you hadn't done that. You should have just left it alone."

I looked at her and tried not to get pissed off. "Well, what's done is done. I'll deal with 'em. You just keep yourselves safe."

"That's easy for you to say. I don't need my daughters being harassed or even worse because you have poor impulse control."

She was starting to piss me off. "Poor impulse control? Where'd you learn that phrase, from watching TV?"

"Yeah, so?"

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my anger. "Look, I didn't mean to make your life harder, but you know him well and you know that he really acted like a jerk and pissed me off. Sorry if that upsets you."

"I just don't want my daughters involved. They have enough to deal with in this world without low lifes like Justin and his friends."

"Okay, look. I'll keep an eye on them when you're not around. I'll do what I can. I didn't mean to put them in harm's way. Okay?"

She looked at me for a second, probably trying to determine if she could trust me. Then she nodded. "Okay."

I finished and went to bed. Ugh! What a day.

Monday was uneventful. I went to the police station to complete my statement and sign it and it went smooth. Nobody there seemed to even blink at my involvement or the outcome. They told me I'd hear more after the D.A. decided on whether or not to press charges against my attackers. I also stayed away from the bar and Mary.

I spent Tuesday and Wednesday taking my time and repairing my door. The landlord was giving me a hard time about it, so I just did it myself. There was a Lowe's nearby and I fixed it up easily. On Wednesday I went to the bar and Mary looked at me sheepishly until I tried to alleviate her fear that I was angry with her. I think we're fine as friends.

On Thursday, Sam had confronted me again and was still not happy about what she considered I had done, which was put her and her daughters in harm's way. I didn't point out that just associating with that asshole had already done that.

Friday, 28 September 2012, downtown Seattle

I took Friday off and wandered around down by the Space Needle. There was some construction going on around it, but I enjoyed the day. The weather cooperated and the sun tried to peek out of the clouds every so often. I again stayed away from the bar when I returned to my apartment, but I had a late night visitor -- Mary.

I was just getting ready to get into bed at about midnight when there was a knock at the door. I went and looked out the peephole and saw Mary. I opened it and she walked quickly past me and into the living room.

I waited for her to turn and tried to be a little funny. "Hi, Mary. Won't you come in?" I grinned and the proverbial lead balloon would have gotten more of a rise out of her.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure." I moved toward her and pointed toward the couch. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thanks." She sat on one end of the couch and I sat on the other. She looked tired and worn down. Her eyes were a little sunken and it appeared she had had a little to drink, too. "It's about Dave." I nodded and waited for her to continue. "He moved out of our house and in with a woman he works with." She looked at me, waiting for me to say something.

"Okay. Are you mad?"

"Hell, yes, I'm mad. He didn't give me any warning. There was no talk about our future, just a sheepish goodbye as he finished loading the last of his items into a truck."

"Were you guys getting along better than the last time I saw you?"

"Not really."

"Well then, isn't this what you wanted to happen? You wanted to know if he loved you or you wanted him to move on, right? And this proves that he doesn't love you, right?"

"Well, yeah, but it really pissed me off the way he did it!"

I reached over and grabbed her hand. "Mary, I know you are angry because of how he did it, and that hurts your pride. But if you two weren't meant to be together, then just accept it and move on. You are a beautiful, desirable woman and will have no problem finding somebody to be with who really appreciates you. If you dwell on this, you'll just make yourself crazy."

She stared at me for a second. "I've been angry all day about this and now that you say that, I can't imagine why. You're right. I wanted him to change and be what I wanted him to be, and he wasn't going to do that, so why was I staying with him? Why were we living together other than for convenience? God, you are so right!"

I smiled. "It's much easier to notice these things when you are the disinterested party."

She moved over and hugged me. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

She didn't release the hug for a couple of minutes and then pulled back. "Can we have sex?"

I laughed. "Talk about changing the subject!"

She giggled, got up, and disappeared into my bedroom. "Waiting..."

I chuckled and got up to go into the bedroom. She was already under the covers. I took off my sleeping shorts since I only use them to have something to wear, and crawled in beside her. She was as naked as I was. She turned to me and kissed me. I pushed her back and looked at her. She was exhausted.

"Mary, turn and face the other way and let's just cuddle for a while." I figured this was better for her than sex right now. I wanted to fuck her, but it seemed to me she was a bit out of it. She turned and faced away from me and I spooned up against her. She was warm and I stroked her along her side. I slowly stroked from her thigh, up over her hip, to about where her waist started. I did that a few times and I felt all the tension drain from her body and she started breathing deeply. She went to sleep in about 5 minutes. I smiled to myself and pulled away, already getting too hot from having another warm body next to me. I was out 5 minutes after that.

Saturday, 29 September 2012, John's apartment, Seattle, Washington.

When I awoke the next morning, there was again a note from Mary. She said she was sorry she had to leave, but she was supposed to meet her family for brunch and didn't want to wake me. She thanked me for being so understanding (shit, I was the horny one now) and she said she'd call me later.

I decided to call SFC Smithson, or Craig. When it was a guy who you knew from the military, it was tough to set aside the ranks and names you were used to calling them. I called the number and he answered.

"Smithson's Investigations."

"Don't you have anything better to do than work on a Saturday morning, Sergeant Smithson."

I heard him laugh. "Is that you Colonel Jackson?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"My brother called earlier this week and told me about the incident. Sounds like you pissed off the wrong people."

"You mean they pissed off the wrong person, don't you?"

He laughed again. "Roger that." He chuckled again and then stopped, becoming more serious. "Jeff said you were not working and he gave you my card. Are you looking for something to do?"

"Yeah, I just moved out here and I'm looking."

"I mean it will be strange if you come to work for me to think of myself as your boss, but I guess it could work. Didn't you have a master's degree?"

"Yeah. I have a master's from U-Dub in computer science." [ Author's note: U-Dub is the short name for the University of Washington, a shortened, spoken version of UW.]

"Cool! That would be really helpful in my line of work. We always need computer stuff done and if you also know how to do research, that's what most of our work is."

I thought it over. It would be a little strange working for someone who was in my battalion when I was the operations officer, but it could work. "Sure, I'd love to do that. What do I have to do to get a license?"

"Well, that's a little more difficult. I see you applied for the concealed weapon license. That won't take too long. They just have to do the background check and since you just moved here, that might take two months. Then we have to get you to study for the exam, which is time-consuming. Since you don't have any experience at it, they'll schedule you for the exam right away and you'll have to start studying. Are you ready for that?"

"Sure, what have I got to lose?"

"Outstanding! Until then, maybe you just help me with the computer side of the game."

"Sounds good to me."

"Give me your email address there and I'll send you a note from my official work address and we can discuss pay and the kind of work you'll be doing. We can skirt the license thing for a little while and say you are just getting training from me. That sound good, Colonel?"

"Sounds great, but I think you'd better start calling me John."

"Yeah, well, that may take some getting used to. If you call me Craig, that may remind me that we are using our first names now."

I chuckled. "I'll try." I passed along my email address and we hung up. Well, at least I would be doing something. Even if it was just boring computer research, I could probably make enough to get by for a while.

Mary called later and said she'd be spending the weekend with her family and would see me on Monday. Damn, I was still horny!

Sunday, 30 September 2012, John's apartment, Seattle, Washington.

I got my first assignment from Craig on Sunday. It was a mother and stepfather looking for their daughter, Jeanne Welch. She was legally an adult, but they were worried since she had just turned 20 and had left home a year ago. They hadn't heard from her in a while and just wanted assurances that she was okay. Craig was working on a 16-year old missing person request, so he asked me to look into this one.

I didn't hear anything from Mary, but I had my weekly Sunday phone conversation with my daughter. She seemed to be doing well. We decided not to get together for Thanksgiving, but spend two weeks together at Christmas doing what her mother loved to do -- skiing. I would have to quickly make arrangements as it was already the end of September.

I went for another long bike ride and tried to keep up my physical conditioning up.

Monday, 1 October 2012, John's apartment, Seattle, Washington.

Craig passed along that he had a contact at the DMV who would look up driver's license addresses for a small fee. I called her and she looked up the driver's license and gave me the current address on it, then faxed me a copy so that I had a basic picture. That would cost us $100, but he said it was chargeable to the customer, so I didn't care. Craig had also sent a photograph that the parents had, so between the license and this photo I felt that I had a decent idea of what she looked like. The license said 5'5", 110, brown hair, blue eyes. The pictures showed a somewhat cute young girl.

Craig told me that about 50% of the addresses on the licenses are still accurate with the way people move around, and this one had been recently renewed. I packed a lunch, hopped in my Honda, and headed over to check it out. By now it was 11am, so I figured that if she worked late or some kind of shift that I might catch her as she got up or did some errands. If not, I'd wait a while and then check it out the next morning.

I found her apartment building with no effort. It was in the middle of the block and easily identifiable. I parked just down the street and approached the building. I looked at the mail boxes and found her name. She was in 5A. It was a 6 story apartment building, but not very big. It wasn't new, but looked fairly well maintained. Not a bad place, overall. She must be working at something that at least pays the bills.

I walked back to my car and opened the small cooler I had brought. It contained my obligatory Diet Pepsi, a turkey sandwich, and a small bag of some vanilla cookies. I didn't know how long I would be, so I had come prepared. I opened the Diet Pepsi and the sandwich and ate. It was overcast, so I didn't have to worry about heat and I could just keep my windows cracked while I sat there. There were no trees in my line of sight, but the parking area was behind the building and I couldn't see it from where I sat. I didn't want to park in the occupants parking area. I was afraid that that would draw attention. I just had to hope that I had a decent look at her as she came out and drove away. That was the only way I was going to get to follow her. I figured I'd wait until about 1pm, and then try again tomorrow. If there was no easy way to catch her coming in or out, I'd have to start knocking on doors and asking about her. I had an idea on how to do that, but didn't want to unless absolutely necessary.

Just after noon, a late model Toyota Sentra pulled out of the driveway and drove straight past me. I got a good look at the drive and I was pretty sure that it was her. I followed her and she drove to a Denny's for something to eat. Damn! I could really use some more chow, but I didn't dare enter it for fear that if she saw me more than once that she might think I was stalking her. Instead, I waited in the car in the next parking lot over, which was pretty empty. When she got out, I could see that everything about her fit the description of Jeanne. She had the right height, weight, and hair color. She was dressed in as short a skirt as I had seen that could be designated a skirt and not a belt. Her top was a tank top with a light zippered sweatshirt over it. She went in and for the next 45 minutes I salivated over what she might be having... western omelet with hash browns, or maybe waffles. That turkey sandwich was not holding up very well.

At about 2pm, Jeanne pulled out of Denny's and I followed her north of Seattle until she pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of a "gentlemen's" club. Where there hell did they come up with that euphemism? In any case, she entered and I waited for a few minutes. Was she working there? Stripping? Bartending? Was she just meeting someone? After about 30 minutes, I called Craig's cell. He answered right away. I told him where I was.

After laughing, he finally answered my question. "Yes, go in there. If she's working there, get a lap dance, buy her a drink, and then bring up her real identity and tell her why you are there. It's all chargeable to the client. We have to tell them where she is and what she's doing, so there's no secret if we put table dance on the charge sheet." He chuckled. "Although mommy and daddy may be less than thrilled."

"Okay. I got it. This sounds like a tough job, but I think I can handle it."

He laughed again. "When was the last time you were in a strip club?"

"20 years ago."

He chuckled and added. "Have fun!"

"Yeah, right." I hung up and headed toward the club.

I approached the entrance and noticed the hours said 1pm to 2am. They had just opened. That explained the lack of cars in the lot, along with the fact that it was a work day. As I entered, even though it was not sunny outside, I immediately had trouble seeing. It was very dark in there and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. There was a small entrance desk, but nobody was there, so I figured they charged cover after a certain hour or maybe only on weekends. I walked into the middle of the room and saw that there was a central stage that jutted out into the middle of the floor and in a horseshoe shape around it was a line of stools at the stage and a couple of rows of tables on the floor. The lights were very low, with almost everything pointed at the stage. I went to a table and sat down.

The waitress came over and I ordered a beer. I would just have to nurse it since I didn't want to imbibe very much. She was dressed in a g-string bathing suit and it did nothing to hide her well proportioned physical attributes. She was stacked. On the stage, a woman was going through the motions of dancing and was perched in front of two guys who were sitting there feeding one dollar bills into her g-string. She was naked except for that and her tits were definitely artificially enhanced. I sat there for a couple of minutes when, low and behold, Jeanne came out and walked right over to me.

"Hey, baby, I'm Jasmine. Would you like a table dance?"

She was wearing a schoolgirl's outfit, only I was sure no school had ever seen an outfit like this. She was small and young and definitely looked the part. The top was tied in a knot just under her breasts and not a single button was buttoned. Her cleavage was not impressive since she was a pretty small, lithe, and small-boned person, but there were definitely tits under there. Her nipples were showing through the material, which looked like it had been washed within an inch of its life. Her skirt was short enough that her ass was hanging out the back and her cheeks with the g-string showing were readily visible. Ah, men. We are visually stimulated, aren't we?

I smiled when she said that so she took that as an approval to sit on my lap. "C'mon. I know you want at least one table dance."

I grinned. "How much are they?"

She smiled. "$20."

"Sure, I'll have a table dance." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a twenty. I was glad I just went to the cash machine, although I noticed there was one in the corner to ensure us poor saps were separated from as much of our money as possible. Besides, it wasn't really my money since I was going to expense it.