Brenda by Rick Ready

Hello, Raleigh.”

She eased herself into the red leather chair in front of my desk. I noted the shorter hair, older face, and a little more weight around the hips. No matter how fast we run, life catches us.

Normally, I don’t stare at a woman when she crosses her legs, but this time I did. Brenda has great legs. I know. After fourteen months together, we had no secrets. But those fourteen months were seven years ago.

A flash of black caused a smile to touch my lips as she placed one knee over the other. She remembered I liked black. I remembered I’d been replaced.

Sometimes, moments of extreme clarity hit us. I knew it was a goodbye kiss. The press of her lips against mine seemed less passionate and a little too hard. Her eyes glistened when she let go. I felt the sadness in her fingers as she touched my cheek. Her mouth trembled when the soft words tumbled out. I’m sorry.

I remember watching her walk away. Her slender hips swayed as her long, brown hair rippled against her back. The click of the door closing behind her sounded like a gunshot in a sanctuary. My own lips trembled and my skin became clammy. I remember wanting to puke.

Memories cascaded through my mind like a waterfall crashing against old rocks, forming small rainbows that dissipated as quickly as they formed. The chance meeting at the Coffee Cup when the only seat available was a stool next to me. Our fingers touching when I passed the sugar for her coffee. The easy conversation sprinkled with real smiles and occasional laughter. The exchange of phone numbers with a promise to call. The first date. The first kiss. The first night of passionate love-making. The day she moved in. The day she moved out.

Brenda had been there for the ribbon-cutting when my partner, Cooper Crockett, and I opened our private investigation business. The newness of our relationship excited us. My work days centered around rushing home to be with her. I’d had other relationships, but this was the one I gave my soul to. Those fourteen months were a blur, filled with shared emotions and dreams. The business grew, and life happened. I’m a private investigator and I never saw it coming. I’m better at my job now. She made me that way.

 “How’s David?”

“That’s why I’m here.” Brenda reached into her purse, withdrew a card, and placed it in front of me. I picked the card up, my fingers feeling where she’d touched it. Seeing the words printed in bold red stirred the memories again. Boone & Crockett Investigations. Raleigh Boone and Cooper Crockett, licensed investigators. It was my very first business card. I remembered her laugh when I handed it to her. Why would I ever need a P.I., she asked. I laughed back. You never know, I replied. All I wanted to do was to give her my first business card. The moment was special to me, and so was she.

“You gave me this,” she said as she leaned forward. “And you said I might need a private investigator someday. Well, I need one now.”

That’s not exactly what I’d said, but close enough. Certain events occur in our lives that provide us with the opportunity to act with class and dignity. This was one of them for me. Seeing the card brought back the moment of mind-numbing disbelief, the overwhelming anger, the soul-wrenching hurt. I wanted my moment of payback. There is a God, and the circle of life had come back around. My mind screamed “YES!” as I pumped an imaginary fist. Finally, I get closure. I could reach into my soul and pull out the dagger that had festered with something green and angry before scarring over. I wanted to tell her to shove that card up her ass. I felt the adrenaline rush through me as I looked at her and smiled.

“How can I help you?” God, what a wuss! The instant I looked into her brown eyes, I saw a dullness that hadn’t existed when we were together. Perhaps her life hadn’t been the carousel ride she’d left me for. Perhaps I’d been the lucky one. Sometimes we don’t recognize God’s gifts when He gives them to us. Sometimes, healing begins with letting go and moving on.

Her face showed surprise. For a second I saw a hardness, a hatred, in her eyes. I was the last person she wanted to bring this to. Another moment of clarity and I knew she’d swallowed whatever pride she had to come to me. That still didn’t stop the anger, though. She hadn’t expected my reaction. Well, that was hers to deal with. I’d let go and moved on.

“David’s missing. He’s been gone for three months. I’ve been to the police and they sent out all the usual bulletins. I’ve called and called. Nothing new to report, they said. Now they say they’ll call me when they hear something. One detective finally said that maybe I need to hire a private investigator. That’s when I thought of you."

I’m glad I’d let go and moved on. Otherwise, my ego might surface, along with an unpleasant demonstration of certain emotions that best remain under control. After seven years she thought of me. I wanted to check a mirror to see if I was bleeding. I’d invested enough emotional energy in Brenda. Now it was business.

“Do he give you any indication he was leaving?”

“No, none. He didn’t pack any of his clothes or take any money out of our account.”

This wasn’t good, but I didn’t want to scare her any more than she already was. Only two reasons came to mind for someone disappearing: running away or abduction. I couldn’t see David running away from Brenda.

“Did he have any enemies? Someone who wanted to hurt him?”

“What!? What are you talking about? You think someone…took him?”

“I don’t think anything at this point. I’m trying to gather information.” Her reaction told me she was hiding something. I catalogued the body language, knowing I’d be working without all the facts. “Was he having problems at work?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“What about at home?”

“You mean with me, Raleigh?”

“Yeah, with you.”

She laughed. “No. Everything was good and our sex life was great.”

I hadn’t asked about her sex life. Something about the way she said it made me think it wasn’t as great as she expressed. Still, maybe she was jabbing me. I let it go.

“Any strange behavior over the past weeks or months.”

“None.” Brenda leaned forward a little more. “You think he just left me?”

Why not? She’d done it to me. “No, I don’t think that, Brenda. In any investigation, we start with what we know before moving to the unknown. There could--.

I looked over her shoulder and saw Coop leaning against the doorframe. He was staring at the back of Brenda’s head. Coop is the only one who knows how much she’d hurt me. And he’s my friend.

“Hey, Coop.”

“Raleigh.”

Brenda turned and looked at him. Coop can wear a mask when he wants. I recognized the one he was wearing now.

“Cooper Crockett! How are you?”

“I’m fine, Brenda.” Coop wasn’t very good making small talk with people he didn’t like. “Something I can help you with, Raleigh?”

“Brenda’s husband has disappeared. She’s asked me to look into it.”

“I see.” Coop paused. “Since she’s an old friend, give her the discount.” That was Coop-speak for I don’t like her and Charge her the maximum rate. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.” Coop turned and walked away.

“He doesn’t like me, does he?”

“Nope.”

“What about you, Raleigh? Do you like me?”

“I like all my paying clients. The rate is five hundred a day plus expenses. I’ll need a check for five days advance. Anything not used will be returned. Just pay Gail on your way out.”

She cocked her head and lost the smile. She seemed puzzled.

“Is that what I am to you, Raleigh? A client?”

“It’s business, Brenda.” I wonder what she saw when she stared into my eyes. In the past few minutes, I’d let go and moved on. Maybe seeing her again was the only closure I needed. “I’ll call you when I have something."

Brenda looked like she wanted to say something but I picked up the phone and buzzed the reception desk. Gail picked up on the second buzz.

“Gail, Mrs. Ballard will be giving you a check on her way out.”

“I don’t like her.” Perhaps Coop had said something to Gail.

“Make sure you get all her info.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere near that woman.”

“Of course, Gail. She’ll be out in a moment.”

I placed the phone back on the hook. “Gail’s waiting for you."

Brenda stood, and for a moment seemed confused. Then she walked out of my office. I stared at the door. Then the phone rang. Back to business.

I knew that Brenda lied to me and started checking out the places David frequented in his off-hours. Coop talked to David’s co-workers. Five days later, the trail got warm. This was going to be ugly. Coop and I flew to Mexico City and drove to the north part of the city where we checked in with the Federales. After three days of building goodwill with cold cervezas and shots of tequila, we were allowed to see David. The bruises on his face had yellowed. Part of his left ear belonged to someone else. When he talked, we saw the holes where three of his top front teeth and one bottom tooth had been. Three fingers on his left hand were missing. We had met before, but he didn’t know me. We tried to do what we could, but David wasn’t going anywhere. We flew back to Pensacola on the fifth day.

Brenda entered my office wearing a red-and-white striped cotton pullover and a short red skirt. She eased herself into the same chair as before, this time ensuring I’d notice. Her short, brown hair shined and her makeup and lipstick hid the signs of growing older. She placed her leather purse beside the chair and leaned forward.

“You have some news for me?”

She already knew. Body language tells a lot. So do the eyes. Her eyes told me she’d been contacted and knew all she needed to know. Still, she’d hired me to find out. She needed to get what she was paying for.

“David’s in a Mexican prison.”

She forgot to act surprised. Her eyes remained locked onto mine.

“Did you know he was involved in a major cocaine ring operating out of Pensacola?’

Her mouth opened slightly as she feigned shock. She knew.

“Certainly not! I had no idea he was into drugs!” Another lie. What happened to the Brenda I knew? “Did you see him? Did you talk to him?”

“Yes, to both.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s in a Mexican prison, Brenda. He’s just trying to stay alive.”

Her eyes studied the ceiling as she formed her next question. The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried not to smile.

“Did he tell you how he got there?”

“He owed some powerful people a lot of money. They came and got him. When he refused to tell them where the money was, they turned him over to the Federales.”

“You mean they snatched him here and took him to Mexico?”

“Yes.”

“Have they hurt him?”

“They cut off three fingers.”

“But he didn’t tell them anything?”

With practice, she’d get better at controlling her emotions. Again, her eyes gave her away.

“He said he didn’t.” This time she couldn’t stop the smile. She intertwined her fingers and rested them on her lap.

“Will he ever get out?”

“With a good lawyer, maybe five to seven years.”

“Seven years. That’s a long time.” Seven years was the amount of time we’d been apart. She stood, picked up her purse, and smiled. “Thanks, Raleigh.”

Brenda turned and walked to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob. I watched as she twisted the lock. Slowly, she turned and looked at me. She moved toward me and dropped her purse in the chair. I wasn’t surprised when she pulled her top over her head.  She unhooked her bra and placed over the back of the chair.

“What do you think, Raleigh? Once more for old time’s sake?”

I remained seated and stared at her false smile. I scanned the breasts I’d once been so familiar with. This wasn’t the Brenda I’d known. I didn’t know this woman. When I looked back into her eyes, I saw only hardness and manipulation.

“There’s a reason they’re called old times, Brenda. Our time has passed.”

Anger makes a person look ugly. She didn’t say a word as she stuffed her bra into her purse. She made a point of facing me as she pulled her top back on. When she unlocked the door I spoke to her.

“Brenda?” She turned and faced me. “You owe me for ten days plus thirty-two hundred in expenses. The total’s eighty-two hundred. Subtract the twenty-five hundred and that leaves fifty-seven hundred.”

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

Liar. She knew where David had hidden the money.

“Of course you do. Use the drug money.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Raleigh.” Brenda opened the door and walked out.

David shared a sweltering room with a hundred and nine other inmates. The only toilet was an eight-inch hole in the cement floor.  The shower was a lone pipe that dispensed rusty water. David was killed two years later during an argument over a sleeping mat on the floor near a wall. Brenda vanished within a week after leaving my office. I suspect she’s living on the French Riviera.

I never did receive payment.