Different Degrees a Caleb Joyner Mystery

1 Hot Day, Hot Woman

Caleb Joyner is a Silicon Valley Private Investigator. This is the first book. I published this book last June. I am currently working on a sequel. (www.calebjoyner.com) Your votes and comments are appreciated.

1 hot day, hotter woman

I was looking out of my Taylor Street office enjoying the women walking by in their summer apparel when I saw Ruth Park’s Lexus sedan pull up to the curb. My heart began to beat faster, part from joy and part from anxiety. It had been almost three years since she had walked out on me.

She sat in her car for a few long moments as if debating whether I’d be in or out detecting in one of the Valley’s rare 100-degree days. Apparently she chose the former as she opened her car door and stood up giving me a delightful view of her lithe dancer’s body along with the pretty face that I had fallen in love with. I watched her reach into her backseat pulling out her Louis Vuitton briefcase and then proceed to pay me a visit.

I went over to the hallway bathroom, quickly washed my perspiring face and checked myself in the sink mirror. “Dashing!” I thought, combing my fingers through my hair before rushing back to my overheated office. I left the hallway door open in hopes of gleaning some of my neighbor’s air conditioning when Ruth appeared. She was wearing a tight white cotton skirt and a button up pink sleeveless blouse complementing her trim body. Long black silky hair framed her porcelain doll face, my eyes drawn to her cherry red lips, and dark almond shaped eyes.

“Are you Caleb Joyner, the famous Private Investigator?” she asked smiling as she walked over and handed me one of my own business cards, the Louis Vuitton held close to her tight skirt.

I looked at the card then laid it on my teak desktop, careful not to let the fan blow it away, then took a breath and gave her my best smile taking part in her role-playing. “Joyner, Caleb Joyner.” I couldn’t tell if she noticed my tribute to James Bond, her face not breaking her practiced lawyer smile. I felt like I should add, “at your service”, or “service with a smile” or “gun for hire” but I settled for a, “Would you care for a cold drink?”

“Why yes thank you,” she answered, with white washed teeth glaring out at me, making me to want to kiss the red right off of her lips. Instead I said, “Have a seat,” pointing towards one of my two client chairs.

Reaching back I opened my mini fridge displaying bottles of Dasani water, Coca-Cola and Sierra Nevada Beer. “What will it be?”

“Do you have a diet coke in there?” Her face grew an apologetic frown as if afraid her question would bring tears to my eyes.

“Sorry, only diet water,” I replied, too tough for tears, but sad that I couldn’t satisfy her, something that I have had a history of being unable to do.

“I’ll take the water then,” she laughed with her wispy voice, her face easing out of her lawyer mask. I grabbed two mugs from a rack on top of the fridge and put them before us.

We sat there pouring water into our mugs, taking sips. She smiled at me and I smiled back. If we were at a party I would have asked her where she was from, what she did for a living or what was her favorite Beatles Song. But here in my office with the tropic heat, ice-cold water and a hot client, I was all business.

“So where did you get my card?”

Looking down at my desktop, she took a moment to run her hands down her painted on skirt before saying, “A handsome man gave it to me and said that if I were to have any trouble that I should come see you. For trouble is your specialty.”

She looked up from her skirt, staring at me with a shy smile. Managing to tear myself from her dancer legs I stared back into the eyes that plagued my dreams and said, “So, how have you been?”