Page 29 of Mann Hunt
“Oh, thank God. You’re in. We need your help. He’s gone.”
* * * *
It was six p.m. when the office door opened and Declan entered. Charlie was still at his desk. He stared at Declan, trying to judge his emotional state. He looked a little rough.
“You’re still here,” Declan said.
“Yeah, I was just taking care of a few things before I headed out…”
“You’re a terrible liar. I wasn’t planning on throwing myself into the river.” Declan headed back towards his office.
“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” Charlie said. Even Charlie could hear the lie in his voice.
He continued, “Hey—we had a call when you were out. It’s a potential new client.”
“What’s the story?” Declan’s eyes seemed to brighten a bit.
“A couple in one of those new condos along 9th Avenue in Inglewood,” Charlie said, referring to his notes. “A Marc Robichaud and Cory Menchin—they were tag-teaming me on the call and sounded like a cute gay couple, for what that’s worth… They lost one of their dogs.”
“A lost dog?”
Charlie consulted his notes again. “They’re sure it was kidnapped by one of Marc’s exes.”
“A missing dog?”
“Its name is Mini-Wheat—it’s a wheaten terrier. Anyway Marc is devastated and their other dog, Shredded Wheat—”
Declan’s mouth broadened into a smile.
“Don’t you start. Anyway, Shredded Wheat won’t eat—”
Declan started laughing uncontrollably.
“Look—this is serious. It could mean money coming in. I was just looking at the books, and you’re not exactly flush with cash.”
“Mini and Shredded Wheat?” Declan squeaked out.
“Just count yourself lucky that you didn’t have to deal with these guys. My leg is bruised from pinching it just to try to stop myself from laughing.”
“Oh, God. Thank you. It’s just what I needed. Mrs B would have peed herself over that. But we have to find a better case than that or we’ll both be out of a job.”
“I take it that it’s anowhen it comes to looking into Mini-Wheat?”
“May I never have to stoop that low,” Declan said before heading toward his office. He stopped and turned back towards Charlie. “Since you’re still here…do we have anything you can copy Mr Attwal’s non-Monarch client files onto so we can send them over tohim? He’ll probably be anxious to have them when he gets back to work.”
“I’ve got something at home that’ll work. I can courier them over first thing in the morning.”
“Perfect. I’ll let Mrs Attwal know. I’m going to take a long, hot shower and you’re going to get yourself out of here. Your folks’ll have the cops out looking for you.”
He stepped into his office, then poked his head out again. “And, Charlie… Thank you for being here for me.”
Charlie smiled and nodded, then called the dog owners and let them know that Declan’s workload wouldn’t allow him to take on another case at the moment. He was pleased to hear that the dog had shown up. Their house-cleaner had taken it for a walk.
No sooner had he disconnected when the phone rang again.
Charlie answered. “Good…”—Charlie glanced at the clock on the wall—“evening. Declan Hunt Investigations. How may I help you?”
“My husband’s gone missing, and I don’t think the police are taking it seriously. He’s been missing for five days.”
