“Can I help you?” I asked pulling out two whiskey tumblers and a bottle of Scotch. Cheap shit, barely aged past three years, but it was all I could afford at the moment. Something told me my fortunes were about to change.
“I’m looking for T. Kane, P.I.” she said.
“How can I help you?” I poured her a glass of whiskey before pouring one for myself. “Take a load off.”
“You’re Kane?” she asked with a mixture of surprise and disgust.
“Tina Kane, at your service. Sorry if I don’t meet your standard, but not all of us can marry rich,” I downed my whiskey.
“Marry rich?” she scoffed. “I wouldn’t have to come here if I married rich.”
She gave the chair an apprehensive look clearly debating whether she should sit down.
“I cleaned that chair about a year ago after Fat Joe sweat all over it. It’s probably the cleanest thing in the office now,” I said.
She sat on the edge of the seat, careful not to let her skin touch any part of it.
“I actually came to you, because my husband is cheating,” she wrung her hands. I poured myself another glass and waited in silence for her to continue. “I didn’t marry rich, but he did. If I divorce him without legitimate grounds for divorce I’ll lose half my estate.”
“So what do you want me to do?” I asked.
“I need you to follow him and get proof. My whole estate’s on the line, so you can expect to be well rewarded,” she said.
“That’s all I needed to hear,” I drained my glass again.
“He’s out playing golf now, so I brought his day planner. This way you can have an idea of his schedule,” she pulled a leather bound agenda from her purse.
I flipped through the pages to today’s date. Her husband’s messy handwriting covered the page.
“I see you’re meeting him for lunch tomorrow,” I pointed at the entry.
“No, not that I know of,” she peered at the entry.
“Meeting with wife, it says,” I insisted.
“I’m not meeting him tomorrow,” she said looking genuinely confused.
“Well, then I guess I’ll go and find out what he’ll be doing at Sand Hotel,” I said leaning back in my chair.
“You’re the expert,” she said her voice riddled with doubt. “I’d better head back and put his planner where I found it before he gets back from his game. Here’s my card, let me know if you need anything.”
She gave me her card and put the agenda back in her purse before leaving. I watched her hips sway through the sheer fabric of her white dress. The fabric was snug around her tight rear and I was sure she wasn’t wearing any panties. Absently, I imagined how she would look under her designer dress. She was probably soft and smooth, covered in all kinds of creams to make her even softer and smoother. I’ve always wanted to sleep with a rich woman and make their snooty face contort into ugly expressions of uncontrolled desire. I shook my head, pushing the images of her naked body out of my mind.
She had left her glass of whiskey untouched, so I downed it. No use letting it go to waste, even if it was the cheap shit.
Snap a couple of pictures of the cheating bastard and then cash in. If only life was always this easy.
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