Making the Rent the Hard Way - 5

 

"Luca Montana?" the receptionist at Lake Westerden Realty said. "He's not one of our sales representatives."

"I know. He's a graphic designer who, from what I understand, was hired to do some work for your agency."

"Ah. Then you should talk to Ms Holden. She's the owner. Let me see if she's available."

Ms Holden was. She came out to meet me in the waiting room, then took me back to her office. When we were seated, she asked the obvious question. "Why are you interested in Mr. Montana?"

"He's missing and I've been hired to find him."

"By whom?"

"I'm sorry. Client confidentiality and all that. The same, I'm sure, as why you wouldn't reveal who was interested in buying a specific piece of property without their say-so."

She smiled. "Understood. What information do you need from me about Mr. Montana?"

"Why did you hire him?"

"I didn't, actually. I was interviewing him about redesigning our advertising brochures and coming up with a new logo for my business." She handed me one of the present brochures and I could see why. It was very mundane. "With so many Realtors in the city, now…" She shook her head. "I swear they're popping up like fleas on a dog. Sorry. Probably not the best analogy, but you get the picture. Anyway, I decided it was time to upgrade to something much more professional."

"And he came up with a design that you liked?"

"Yes and no." Her mouth tightened. "He had several ideas that he sketched out for me on our first meeting. I chose three and asked him to develop them. That's the last I heard from him."

"This was when?"

She checked her calendar. "Three weeks ago yesterday. I've called several times since then but only got his voicemail. Or I did until I got messages that his mailbox was full."

"Did you get any sort of feeling while you were talking with him that something else might be on his mind?"

"You mean, did he lose his concentration occasionally?"

I nodded.

"Not at all," she told me. "He was very professional during the entire interview—asking the right questions, taking notes on my answers, and, as I said, coming up with ideas. I got no sense that he might have been worried about anything other than would I like his suggestions or not."

"All right. Thank you for talking with me."

"I hope you find him and that whatever's going on with him is personal. You know, like a sick parent he suddenly had to go take care of. Not that I'd wish that on him, because I don't. He seemed like a very nice young man, but it would be better than the alternative, like he was attacked, or…" She shrugged.

"That's what I intend to find out," I replied. I thanked her again, asked her to let me know if she heard from him, then left.

I returned to my office just long enough to pick up the file I'd started on Luca, which included the folder Farnham had given me on him and the notes I'd taken during our discussion. From there, I went home since it was almost six, meaning dinner time, as far as I was concerned.

I tossed together a quick tuna thing with mayo and tomatoes on a couple of English muffins, topped them with cheese then broiled them. While I ate, I read Luca's file one more time. Nothing in it popped out at me. Not terribly surprising since all the info came from Farnham, who didn't seem to know all that much about his 'friend', if that's what Luca really was to him. There was no list of who Luca hung out with, nothing about his family—all things a real friend would know.

With that in mind, I knew the first thing I had to do in the morning was run background and credit checks on Luca. But that was then. Right now, I needed some down time so I'd have a working brain tomorrow. I turned on the TV, found a couple of shows I could tolerate, then, when they were over, went to bed.

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 4

 

My first order of business was to get the money Farnham had paid me into the bank—which I did. From there, I went to the mom-and-pop store to set up the security cameras and show my client how the system worked. He was happy enough that he paid me on the spot, meaning a few more pennies in my pocket

Back at my office, I wrote out a check to the landlord, sent it off, then settled down to figure out how to find Luca Montana.

My first two steps were obvious—visit Luca's last known address, then the company that he'd, presumably, been doing some sort of design work for.  

The high-rise where Luca had lived was a sprawling complex taking up half a city block. His apartment, from the address Farnham had given me, was in the center building. Luca's name was still on the list of tenants in the entryway. Unsurprising, I figured, since he'd only been missing for three weeks, according to Farnham. I pushed the buzzer, not expecting to get an answer—which I didn't. So I used the time-honored ploy of pushing other buttons until some idiot buzzed to let me in without asking who I was.

The first thing I did when I was in the lobby was check the mailboxes. Luca's was crammed full—with a note from the postal worker on the front saying he could pick up the rest of his mail at the local post office.

I took one of the elevators up to the tenth, and top, floor where his apartment was located. He lived at the end of the right-hand hallway in 1012. I knocked, waited, then knocked again. No one came to the door, and no one popped their head out of the adjoining apartments to see who I was or to tell me Luca wasn't home. Not too surprising since it was early afternoon and most of the tenants were undoubtedly at work.

It took a couple of minutes—and my trusty lock picks—for me to get into the apartment with no one being the wiser. It was nice, a hell of a lot better than my two-room place. The living room windows were large, with a view of the lake and downtown Westerden. The furniture was contemporary—steel, leather, and glass—and dusty. There were two bedrooms, one obviously Luca's with a king-size bed, dresser, and nightstands in basic black. The second one held a smaller bed and dresser and was obviously meant for overnight guests.

I checked his bedroom closet. If he'd taken off willingly, it looked as if he hadn't packed much in the way of clothes, since there were no empty spaces—the same with what was in the dresser. Sure, he might have packed light, but who doesn't take their personal items, like a razor, toothbrush, and combs, which were still sitting in the bathroom?

Going into the kitchen, I opened the fridge. While nothing there was a science experiment…yet…it was obvious he hadn't been eating meals here recently. One sniff of the milk in an opened carton told me it was well past its sell-by date.

Having established that Luca hadn't been in the apartment for a while, I began searching to see if I could find anything to tell me why he was missing. I figured there was a good chance Farnham had already been through the place. He was a shifter, after all, and if he'd been here even once, it would have been no problem for him to get in again any time he wished—without coming through the door since shifters can teleport into a room if they'd seen it previously or had an image of it.

I started with Luca's desk. It was large, with a state-of-the-art computer and peripherals. I quickly discovered there was no way I could get past the password protections he had on it. A hacker, I'm not. Going through the desk drawers netted me nothing—mainly because, other than the usual pens, pencils, and other normal office supplies, there was nothing else except some empty file folders in one drawer. It appeared that someone had beaten me to it as far as searching the desk. Even the folder marked "Bills Paid" was empty.

"Farnham?" I muttered, "or someone else? Did Luca take whatever was in them when he vanished?" Not questions I could answer at the moment.

A search of the rest of the place netted me zilch. There wasn't even a safe—and I looked in every conceivable place where he could have hidden one. I might not be a rich and famous private investigator, but I do know my business when it comes to doing a search. 

With nothing gained, and since it was getting late, I left the apartment complex, heading to the business where Luca had been hired to do…whatever.

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 3

"Not at all," Farnham looked incensed. "As I said, he and I are friends. I'm worried about why he's gone missing and would like him found."

I half expected him to say "dead or alive", but he didn't. "How long has it been since you last saw or spoke to him?"

Farnham frowned momentarily before replying, "Almost three weeks. I called him to let him know I had a project for him. He promised to come by my restaurant the next morning. He never did."

"That would be where—and what?"

"My restaurant? The Waterfront After Dark. I presume you've heard of it."

I had. It's a bar slash restaurant catering to the shifters of the city, although anyone is welcome who can afford its prices. It sits, unsurprisingly, on the edge of Lake Westerden, the city's namesake, and from the outside it looks like it's been there since the city was founded over a hundred years ago. I've never been inside, but from what I've heard, the interior is dark and cozy in a sleazy way befitting its name. The food, however, is supposed to be top notch.

I scanned the information Farnham had put together on Luca Montana. He was thirty-one, a free-lance graphic designer, single, and lived in a high-rise complex in the fancy part of town. There was more, but I'd look at it later, if I took the case.

"What did you want him to do for you?" I asked.

Farnham started to reply, stopped, then said, "I needed a new design for my advertising campaign."

Uh-huh. That was not what he was going to say at first. No way I'll get the truth out of him, though.

"Is he who you usually use for that?"

"No," he replied. "I was unhappy with the company who had been handling it and figured I'd give Luca a shot to see what he'd come up with."

Why didn't I believe a word he was saying? Maybe because he'd hesitated once too often while telling me something. I'd bet my bottom dollar he and Luca were no more friends than Farnham and I were. And whatever he'd wanted from Luca, it had nothing to do with advertising. Not that I wouldn't take the case anyway. My interest was piqued, and, on a very practical level, I needed the money.

"Before we go any farther, you should look at this," I told him, handing him a copy of the contract I had clients sign, and a list of the various costs for my services.

He read it through, nodded, and signed the contract, then said he'd rather pay my retainer in cash instead of using his credit card. Another "what the hell" moment, as far as I was concerned, not that I was about to turn down the cash. When he counted out five hundred dollars, I felt it implicit on my part to point out that it was twice what I required for the retainer.

"I suspect it will be difficult to find Luca," Farnham replied. "The extra is an incentive not to give up. According to the contract, you'll be sending me weekly bills and reports. I'll have Mr. Bracco"—he nodded toward the bruiser—"drop by with the payments."

"All right." I put the money in the desk drawer for the time being, relieved that I'd be able to pay the rent for at least one more month. Then I had him fill out another form with all his pertinent information.

With that completed, Farnham thanked me for taking his case, then he and the bruiser left.

'I Hunt by Night' is out.

 I Hunt By Night

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/i-hunt-by-night-p-3534.html 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08LC2HMD8

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/i-hunt-by-night

 

GENRE: Gay Paranormal Erotic Romance
LENGTH: 34,556 words
RATING:

My name is Lucas Barrett. I was human, once, and lived the normal life of a bartender in New Orleans. Then I met Justin and everything changed.

Now I'm a vampire and I detest humans. Am I jealous of them? Perhaps, but it's more than that. To me they're vermin infesting the world and I intend to do what I can to eliminate them.

Of course I need to be careful. If I'm caught, I'll be declared a rogue and every vampire will have me in their sights. I am careful, or so I thought, until Axel appeared. He's also a vampire, and sexy as hell. It seems he's been watching me when I go out to hunt. Luckily for me, he feels the same about the humans or I'd be dead now. Truly dead.

The attraction is there, and our shared desire to do something about the humans. Can we succeed without being caught and destroyed? Only time will tell.

EXCERPT:

The fourth day, no, night ... I have to stop thinking of them as days. There are no more days for me now, only nights.

Be that as it may, that evening I awoke with the usual hunger that drove me down to the kitchen. This time, however, I put on my jeans, first. I wasn't up for another confrontation with Justin. If it happened I might let my anger out, physically, which I knew wouldn't be my smartest move. He was much older than me and undoubtedly a hell of a lot stronger. Not that I wasn't tempted.

I took the stairs two at a time, flung open the refrigerator to grab a blood bag, and tore into it as if I hadn't drunk in a week. Dropping it onto the counter when it was empty, I got another one and drained it before putting both of them in the trash.

"Feeling better," Justin asked laconically from the doorway.

I whirled to glare at him. "You had no right!" I snarled.

"What does right have to do with anything?" he replied calmly. "We're vampires. We do what we want as long as we don't reveal our existence to the humans."

"So if I wanted to kill you for what you did to me, I'd be within my rights to do so?"

"First, you couldn't. I'm ten times as powerful as you. Second, even if you succeeded you'd immediately be designated a rogue and every vampire in the area, no, in the country, would be after you." He smiled maliciously. "When they caught you, and they would because you're too young to know how to hide from them, they would make certain your death was extremely painful."

I wanted to punch the smug look off his face. Instead, I turned to walk swiftly away, calling over my shoulder, "You never intended to fuck me, did you?"

"Of course not," he replied. "I don't do men."

I'd said that in anger, figuring he'd admit he would have because he at least found me interesting as more than a companion for the next year. Whirling around to look at him, I asked, "Then why the hell didn't you pick up some woman?"

"They may be fine in bed, but as housemates they're a royal pain in the ass. They either expect to be catered to hand and foot or they try to take over, bustling around cleaning and rearranging things and ..." He shook his head.

I almost laughed. Not because I found that funny, but because at least in that he and I were in agreement. I'd grown up with a mother who ran roughshod over me and my father. The most important thing in her life was a clean house and God help us if we left a sock under the bed, a water-ring on the coffee table, or crumbs anywhere in the living room while we were watching TV.

"I see you agree with me," he commented.

"Reading my mind?" I snarled.

"It could have been your body language or you're very expressive face."

"But it wasn't."

"Not this time, Lucas. I try not to pry but occasionally it's necessary. I had to find out how much it bothered you that I'm not gay."

"I don’t give a damn one way or the other, although it's going to be a long, dry spell since you aren't. It's the idea that you used the fact that I am to get me to come home with you that pisses me off."

"Would you have, otherwise?"

"I, umm ... Probably not. You could have compelled me to," I pointed out.

"True, but I didn't."

"In a club full of willing men, why did you choose me?"

"I told you, the first night, you're young and healthy. The fact you're not some big bruiser also played into it. I learned a long time ago that men like that tend to think they're better than everyone else because of their size."

I could see his point. I'd run into a few of them in high school. They would bully smaller guys like me for the fun of it. I was a slender five-nine which made me the perfect target. I'd bulked out since then, in order to protect myself, but I'd never be synonymous with tall and athletic. Not that it seemed to bother the guy who'd hired me to tend bar at the club. As he'd said at the time, there were bouncers to handle troublemakers.

Thinking of that reminded me. "What about my job? They must miss me by now. At least I hope they would," I added dryly. "And my apartment? The rent's due in a week. If I don't pay it, chances are the landlord will toss my stuff in the street. He's not big on people who pay late."

"Tell me where it is and I'll get your clothes and anything else you think you want to keep. Not the furniture, though."

"Yeah, well the furniture's mostly from a secondhand shop so I can live without it. If I come with you ..." I looked hopefully at him.

He considered the idea and nodded. "If you've calmed down, we can do it tonight."

"Let's say I'm not about to try and strangle you at the moment and leave it at that," I replied.

He chuckled. "Tomorrow or next week is another thing?"

"You never know." I smiled, briefly.

 

Making the Rent the Hard Way - 2

"Mr. Warner?" the man asked. When I admitted I was, he said, "A pleasure to meet you."

That set off my radar. No one starts a conversation with a small time PI by saying that. At least, no one I've ever run into.

"And you are?" I asked him.

"Richard Farnham." He looked around then gestured to my office. "If you don't mind."

"That's fine. I'm not sure your bruiser will fit in there with the two of us. It's pretty small."

Farnham chuckled. "He'll stay where he is."

I nodded, taking Farnham into my office. When we were seated—me at my desk, him in the only other chair—he said, "I want to hire you to find someone, Mr. Warner."

"Please call me Cade." He nodded, so I asked, "Is he, or she, human or otherwise?"

He smiled. "I've heard you have the ability to know who's who or who's what."

"I do. I know you're a shifter. Gray wolf?" He nodded. I smiled wryly. "Not that my ability had done me much good except as a party trick, but that's neither here nor there. Who did you lose?"    

"A…friend of mine by the name of Luca Montana," Farnham said. I wasn't happy about the slight hesitation before he said "friend", but I kept my thoughts to myself for the time being.

"Like the state," I said.

"If you mean the spelling, yes," Farnham replied. "He's far from being a cowboy, however."

"With a first name like Luca, that doesn't surprise me. Why are you looking for him?"

"My reasons are personal. I'm willing to pay well for your services, if you'll take my case."

Given my current financial problems, that definitely sparked my interest. "I'll need to know details, like his address, where he works—"

"He's self-employed," Farnham said, interrupting me. "He'd just started working on a new commission for a client when he went missing."

"Okay. I'll need to know who it was for. Since you say he's a friend of yours, I'll need a list of his habits, as much as you know—where he hangs out, who his other friends are, anything else you can tell me. I'd also like a picture of him, if you have one."

"I do. I came prepared." Farnham snapped his fingers and the bruiser came into the office. I was right. With him there, the room felt half its size. "Give me the folder," Farnham said.

The man took it from the bag he had slung over his shoulder, handing it to Farnham, who handed it to me. Then the bruiser went back to—guarding, I guess—the hallway door.

The first thing I looked at was Luca's picture. He was a handsome man with very dark auburn hair, amber eyes, and a smile that probably melted a lot of female hearts. 

"Shifter or human?" I asked Farnham. 

"Red wolf shifter."

"Interesting, considering that true red wolves are an extremely endangered canid species." I shot Farnham a hard look. "Is that why you want me to search for him?"