Catch Me if You Can

Chapter 1

"Stu, you should have been there. It was a lovely service." Jeff Spencer had been released from the hospital the day before and was already back at the offices of Bailey and Spencer, Private Investigators. He sat down in his chair wearily, having just returned with Kookie, Suzanne and Roscoe from Stuart Bailey's memorial service.

A little over a week ago, Stu had been 'killed' by a mysterious hitman at Warner Brother Studios. The subterfuge was necessary to save a young girl's life, the daughter of Sheikh Zayed Bin Nadir al-Nahyan of Saudi Arabia. Stu had been providing personal security for the Sheikh while he attended the World Trade Fair in Los Angeles. Zayed's daughter was abducted to force the Sheikh to cooperate in a plot to kill the private investigator by party or parties unknown. Zayed couldn't go through with it, however, and exposed the plot to Bailey. He and Lieutenant Gilmore staged a 'murder' worthy of any movie studio. Even the papers reported Stu dead, and today was a private service for just the office and the Lieutenant, continuing the charade. An investigation into who was behind the original plot so far had turned up nothing. Bailey continued hiding out in the partnership's offices, even after the girl was released unharmed.

"Did you cry?" Stu asked his partner facetiously.

"Well, it had to be believable," Jeff shot back. Stu had often seen and teased Jeff about his partner's tender nature.

"I cried," Suzanne volunteered.

"Honey, you cry at bake sales. But I appreciate the sentiment. Kookie, what about you?" Stu asked.

"Nah, dad, I just looked miserable." Kookie's smile was cheerless. Even he was affected by the afternoon's pretense.

"Where's Roscoe?"

"I dropped him off at Hollywood Park. He said he could only be unhappy for so long." Jeff reached up like he was going to rub his shoulder and thought better of it. He'd been warned by the doctor to stay home, rest and take it easy; so far he'd none of that.

"See anybody at the service that you didn't know?" The whole point of the continuing charade was to flush out the shooter or the man behind the scheme.

"Nope, not a soul. We had to turn several of your friends away, and they weren't too happy about it. I explained that was the way you wanted it, a small, private service, and eventually most of them were accepting of it." Jeff hadn't been happy about it himself, but Suzanne reminded him of the reason they were doing it.

Stu nodded; there was no good way to keep up the farce, but it was necessary to buy the time he needed to investigate. "Thank your cousin for us, Kookie. We appreciate his help."

"I'm starved, and I could stand a drink. How about we phone an order in to Dino's and Kookie can bring it over when it's ready?" Jeff turned to Suzanne. "Care to join us?"

"Merci, but no, Jeff. I need to go home. I have many things to do that I have been neglecting. I will see you both tomorrow," and before either of them could protest, Suzanne was gone.

"Well, partner, I guess that leaves the two of us."

Stu chuckled slightly. "You're eating with a ghost, Jefferson."

"I don't think this will be the last time, Stuart."

After dinner was over, Kookie appeared and took the dishes back to Dino's. He returned with a bottle of their best scotch. "Harry thought that Stu's sister might like more than one drink tonight."

Bailey shook his head. "Never could fool Harry." He poured a shot for him and Jeff. "Tell Harry Stu's sister said thanks."

"You can't keep living in your office, Stu."

"I know, Jeff. I'll go find a hotel room tomorrow."

"In disguise?"

"Certainly. That little place down the street from the Hilton will do nicely. No one will expect me there."

"Do they have room service? Or are we back to bringing in food twice a day?" Jeff didn't mind being a delivery service if it was what Stu needed to keep investigating. But it had already been a week and no progress had been made. When he expressed that sentiment, Stu protested.

"That's not true. We've eliminated three or four suspects."

"Who?"

"McKnight, Gambino, and Louie the Weasel. And Gil expects to have some news on Schulman in the next day or two."

"So, all you're doing is eliminating people. This could go on for weeks, Stu. Can't you think of any of the more difficult cases that might be involved? I'd like to have my partner back." Jeff was worried that the longer this went on, the bigger a risk Stuart was taking.

The possibility of being found out before the threat was contained was a fact not lost on Stu. As much as Jeff wanted him back, the desire to return to some form of normality was even greater for the man in hiding. He poured himself another scotch and chewed on his lower lip, trying desperately to think of anyone else that posed a real threat. He took a sip of the drink and slowly a picture formed in his mind; the picture of a man from long ago, from his first days back in California. But it couldn't be Binny Carroll. Binny had died in a gunfight that put Stuart in the hospital for weeks.

"Stu . . . Stu, are you with me?"

Stu shook his head. "Sorry, Jeff. I got a little too close to the past there for a minute."

"Anything you can think of back there?"

"Nobody that's still alive."

The shrill ring of the phone interrupted the conversation. It was the office line, and Jeff answered. "Hello?"

"Working late, Spencer?"

"Who is this?" Jeff asked.

"Someone that did you a favor."

"Did me a favor? What kind of favor?"

"Had Bailey bumped off. Now the whole private dick agency is yours."

"Who are you?" Jeff was about as mad as he ever got. Was this really the man responsible for Stu's 'death?'

"Do you really want to know? I think you should just say thank you and let it go. You're welcome, Spencer. Try not to spend it all in one place."

There was a loud 'click,' followed by a dial tone. Jeff dropped the phone down into its cradle and practically shouted, "Damn, damn, damn!"

"Must have been somebody important to make you that mad," Stu remarked.

"It was. It was the man that had you murdered."

"Are you sure?"

"He told me I should thank him for having you killed. Now the agency was all mine."

"What did the voice sound like?" Stu was almost excited. This was the first real lead they'd had in a week.

"Low. Rasping. Some kind of an accent. And cocky as hell."

"The accent. New York?"

"Maybe. East coast, at least."

East coast . . . it started Stu thinking. Somebody from his days in New York? But he hadn't encountered any of those people in years. The only one he'd had to deal with since he'd come back to California was Binny Carroll. And Binny was dead. "You sure it was east coast?"

"Positive," Jeff answered. "Anybody in mind?"

Stu shook his head. "Not a soul, Jeff. Not a soul."

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