continued, “The other day, I found a diamond brooch just sitting on the dining room table! Out in the open! Any of the maids could have taken it! She…” He paused, as if he were trying to find the right words. “She’s never had the strongest grip on reality.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But what do you want me to do besides find the necklace?” I asked.
Mr. Buckner stared me in the eyes, as if he were making a heartfelt pitch to a donor. “Losing the necklace would be terrible for us financially. But I really don’t want to lose my job and my wife. I need to rebuild my image to keep both. While you are looking for the necklace, I will pay you extra to keep an eye on her.”
“And report what I see back to you?”
He waved his hands. “If you find the necklace, I guarantee she will lose it again. If you know where she goes and what she does, then maybe I can help her get better.”
I took a long gulp from my beer. “I have to get to the point on some things. Husbands don’t always get to the point. Do you want me to find a necklace, or do you want me to find out if she’s having an affair? I have to know what you really want, and this is a strange request. So excuse me if I’m skeptical.”
Mr. Buckner shook his head violently. “I trust Sabrina. She’s my wife. We’ve been together for a long time. I’m just afraid for her now. I want her to be safe.” Then he had a second thought. “I wouldn’t mind terribly if you could check out her psychiatrist. He might be making things worse.”
“Who is the psychiatrist?” I asked, like I didn’t know.
“Dr. Craig Redburn. He’s been on the talk shows, has a book out. A big name, but I don’t know what he does. Seems like mumbo-jumbo to me.”
“Do you know the name of the book?”
He snorted with contempt. “ You Are Your Worthiest Cause . Silly stuff, but Sabrina just loves him. She was happier when she first started seeing him, but it didn’t last long … she’s a vulnerable person. Someone could take advantage of her easily.”
Judging from what I’d seen of Sabrina, I had to agree with that statement. “Okay. I can do that. I make sure she doesn’t get herself—or you—in trouble and check out this Redburn guy. That seems easy enough.” In fact, it seemed too easy. “Are you sure you don’t have anything else to tell me?”
“Yes.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Positive?”
“Yes.”
Still suspicious, I considered saying no and focusing on the necklace only. I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of Mr. Buckner trying to drive around South Park if he needed to see me again. Besides, his wife had already wreaked enough havoc.
Then again, a little extra money never hurt, and I would be shadowing Sabrina to find the necklace anyway.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I read Mr. Buckner my standard speech about finding me under the bed, how he’d think he was being watched (he started sweating even more at that), how I handled expenses and how much I cost. He took it all in without any questions, which surprised me. Usually there were questions and a little haggling by the end. But he started looking like he wanted to go, especially when Muriel, the sitar player and a few other bar patrons launched into a rowdy chorus of “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Mr. Buckner said. Then he stood, bowed stiffly, and left his empty gin and tonic and soggy hankie behind. As he left, he gave Muriel and her new friend a wide berth.
I was already suspicious enough to start following him, but Muriel slid into the seat formerly occupied by Mr. Buckner. “BO-ring! Guess what? I know him!”
“What?” I looked at the sitar player, who was juggling bags of Fritos and trying to get Muriel’s attention. “From where?”
“Not him! He’s cute, though, but a little pervy about that sitar. You would think he sleeps with it at night. Who knows? He might. Anyway, your client. He was my economics teacher at
“I’m sorry to hear that. But what do you want me to do besides find the necklace?” I asked.
Mr. Buckner stared me in the eyes, as if he were making a heartfelt pitch to a donor. “Losing the necklace would be terrible for us financially. But I really don’t want to lose my job and my wife. I need to rebuild my image to keep both. While you are looking for the necklace, I will pay you extra to keep an eye on her.”
“And report what I see back to you?”
He waved his hands. “If you find the necklace, I guarantee she will lose it again. If you know where she goes and what she does, then maybe I can help her get better.”
I took a long gulp from my beer. “I have to get to the point on some things. Husbands don’t always get to the point. Do you want me to find a necklace, or do you want me to find out if she’s having an affair? I have to know what you really want, and this is a strange request. So excuse me if I’m skeptical.”
Mr. Buckner shook his head violently. “I trust Sabrina. She’s my wife. We’ve been together for a long time. I’m just afraid for her now. I want her to be safe.” Then he had a second thought. “I wouldn’t mind terribly if you could check out her psychiatrist. He might be making things worse.”
“Who is the psychiatrist?” I asked, like I didn’t know.
“Dr. Craig Redburn. He’s been on the talk shows, has a book out. A big name, but I don’t know what he does. Seems like mumbo-jumbo to me.”
“Do you know the name of the book?”
He snorted with contempt. “ You Are Your Worthiest Cause . Silly stuff, but Sabrina just loves him. She was happier when she first started seeing him, but it didn’t last long … she’s a vulnerable person. Someone could take advantage of her easily.”
Judging from what I’d seen of Sabrina, I had to agree with that statement. “Okay. I can do that. I make sure she doesn’t get herself—or you—in trouble and check out this Redburn guy. That seems easy enough.” In fact, it seemed too easy. “Are you sure you don’t have anything else to tell me?”
“Yes.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Positive?”
“Yes.”
Still suspicious, I considered saying no and focusing on the necklace only. I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of Mr. Buckner trying to drive around South Park if he needed to see me again. Besides, his wife had already wreaked enough havoc.
Then again, a little extra money never hurt, and I would be shadowing Sabrina to find the necklace anyway.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I read Mr. Buckner my standard speech about finding me under the bed, how he’d think he was being watched (he started sweating even more at that), how I handled expenses and how much I cost. He took it all in without any questions, which surprised me. Usually there were questions and a little haggling by the end. But he started looking like he wanted to go, especially when Muriel, the sitar player and a few other bar patrons launched into a rowdy chorus of “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Mr. Buckner said. Then he stood, bowed stiffly, and left his empty gin and tonic and soggy hankie behind. As he left, he gave Muriel and her new friend a wide berth.
I was already suspicious enough to start following him, but Muriel slid into the seat formerly occupied by Mr. Buckner. “BO-ring! Guess what? I know him!”
“What?” I looked at the sitar player, who was juggling bags of Fritos and trying to get Muriel’s attention. “From where?”
“Not him! He’s cute, though, but a little pervy about that sitar. You would think he sleeps with it at night. Who knows? He might. Anyway, your client. He was my economics teacher at
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