Page 39 of Love's a Script
“So to be clear, you don’t have it,” Hattie said.
“No.”
The sisters waited for the man to leave the diner before they pressed their heads together to debrief.
“I don’t like that he lied on his profile,” Mary said.
“Me neither.”
When the second PI arrived with an energy drink, a laptop, and a baby face, Hattie asked, “How old are you?”
“I turn twenty this year.”
“So you’re nineteen right now?”
“Only till August.”
“You’re like the PI version of Doogie Howser,” Hattie said, laughing.
“I don’t know who that is,” the young man replied, and the sisters looked at each other.
He seemed to understand that their apprehension was with his youth, so he straightened in his seat and steepled his hands for the rest of the interview. He didn’t have much experience, only having been an official investigator for a few months, but he was licensed and eager to prove himself.
“I’ve got fifty hours of baton training,” he proudly told them, but the visual of him taking out kneecaps on their behalf made Mary uncomfortable.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Hattie told him.
Once the young man left with an order of pancakes in a Styrofoam container, Mary turned to her sister for her thoughts. “It’s an immediate no,” Hattie said. “I would wring the neck of anyone who had my teenager running around solving grown folk’s mysteries.”
The third candidate walked in wearing a leather jacket and chewing gum like a lead in a plunky police procedural. He sat with his arms draped over the back of the booth bassinet and would wink after each answer. It was off-putting, but Mary tried to keep an open mind. After all, he was registered and not fresh out of high school. He also had experience doing the sort of investigation they needed him for. “I love the hunt,” he said. “And I don’t give up. I do whatever’s necessary to get the information my clients need.”
“Within the law, right?” Mary said, trying to cut the intensity of his proclamation with a bit of humor, but there was a long, ripe silence before the PI answered, “Of course.” His intonation and the proceeding wink did a remarkable job of undercutting the assurance.
It set off warning bells within Mary, and she imagined if they went with him, there was a chance they’d have Mounties kicking in their doors in one to eight months. Mary was relieved to learn her sister felt similarly.
“I say we take our chances with the first guy,” Hattie said once they were alone again. “He’s not licensed, but he seems competent.”
“But how do we know that? If he could lie about his licensing, he could be lying about his investigating abilities,” Mary said. “I think we should keep looking.”
Hattie shook her head. “We don’t have time to sift through more postings.”
“I’ll do it this round. Give me a week.”
“We don’t have time,” she repeated, her voice clipped.
“Hattie?”
Her sister sighed. “Dad sent Aurora more money. Apparently she had damages from the blizzard that needed to be fixed urgently.”
An invisible vice took hold around Mary’s lungs, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask for the dollar amount. Hattie jumped back into advocating for the first candidate, downplaying his shortcomings and calling his hire a necessary risk, but Mary realized they had another option. “I know someone who could help us.”
“Who?” Hattie asked.
“An acquaintance with a contact.”
“That sounds even more sketchy than my suggestion.”
“No, the person I know has good judgment and high standards. I trust him.”
