Southern Bound - A Paranormal-Mystery (Max Porter Mysteries Book 1) by Stuart Jaffe Page B
Authors: Stuart Jaffe
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want me to find. Something to protect us from my employer."
"But all of this started with Drummond. Why help him?"
"I think his case is connected to everything else. At least, I'm pretty sure it is."
"Okay, okay. But, honey, I'm scared."
"Me, too," Max said.
Sandra took a shaking breath and placed her hand on the table. Max reached out, and they held hands in the kitchen without another word.
Chapter 9
The next morning, after overcoming the difficulty of taking a shower and driving to work with half his body throbbing in pain, Max opened his office door to discover a tall, blonde man moving papers on his desk. He was young, perhaps still in college, and had a boyish smooth face. He looked up, adjusted his glasses, stood, and offered his hand.
"Are you Mr. Porter?" the young man asked with a slight drawl. He pushed his thin hair back, but in moments it had swooped down to cover his right eye once again.
Max shook the hand. "I am. And this is my office, though that doesn't seem to matter to anybody around here."
"I'm sorry. I was told to let myself in. My name's Taylor. Mr. Modesto hired me to be your assistant."
Drummond slipped out of the bookcase and started shouting. "Can you believe this? A damn spy. I tried to get this idiot to leave. I've been knocking books to the floor and throwing papers around, but the prick won't go."
Taylor moved around the desk, his hands jittering as he pointed at Drummond. "I think that bookshelf is not flush with the floor. Things keep slipping out of it."
Drummond stomped around the room. "I'm sick of him. He's been here less than an hour and I can't stand him. If only I could deck him. I know, I know, but that's it for me — books are the biggest thing I've been able to move. Kind of stings, too, but for this clown, I'll suffer it."
Max tried to ignore Drummond for the moment. "You said that Mr. Modesto hired you?"
"Yes, sir," Taylor said. "I'm to help you however you need. He said you were doing research."
"Um, there's been a misunderstanding. I don't require an assistant."
Drummond slapped another book to the floor. As Taylor placed it back, he said, "Mr. Modesto said you'd say that. He told me that I had to stay even if you tried to fire me. He said only he could fire me. I'm sorry, sir, but I need this job. It pays really well and college is expensive. And, frankly, there isn't much else out there. So, if you don't put me to work, I'm supposed to just sit here." With that, Taylor took the left guest chair, looking more uncomfortable than before.
"I see," Max said. "I guess I'll work elsewhere today."
"Excuse me, sir?"
"What?" Drummond asked.
Max stepped to the side so that he could face both Taylor and Drummond while speaking to Taylor. "I don't mean to offend you. Mr. Modesto can hire you to do whatever he wants. He cannot, however, force me to accept it. I'll do my work elsewhere. Please leave by five and be sure to lock the door."
Drummond walked right through Taylor in his desperate approach to Max. "Don't do this. It's bad enough being stuck in this room all day, but don't leave him here with me."
Taylor appeared to be working a complex problem in his head when Max opened the office door. "Goodbye," he said and walked out.
The lady living down the hall stepped out for her newspaper. She eyed Max as he said, "Good morning."
As Max reached the end of the hall, Taylor exclaimed, "This is a test, ain't it? Don't worry, sir, I'll be right here to five o'clock. You can count on me."
The lady cocked an eyebrow. Embarrassed, Max said, "New assistant. He's a bit overenthusiastic." With a grunt, the lady closed her door.
Max had two distinct impressions of Taylor. One — he was like any other college kid and would goof around all day unless Max stayed in the office. And two — Drummond was right. Whether the kid knew it or not, he had been hired to spy. That last idea sent nervous tingling through Max's skin, but not because he feared its veracity — rather,
"But all of this started with Drummond. Why help him?"
"I think his case is connected to everything else. At least, I'm pretty sure it is."
"Okay, okay. But, honey, I'm scared."
"Me, too," Max said.
Sandra took a shaking breath and placed her hand on the table. Max reached out, and they held hands in the kitchen without another word.
Chapter 9
The next morning, after overcoming the difficulty of taking a shower and driving to work with half his body throbbing in pain, Max opened his office door to discover a tall, blonde man moving papers on his desk. He was young, perhaps still in college, and had a boyish smooth face. He looked up, adjusted his glasses, stood, and offered his hand.
"Are you Mr. Porter?" the young man asked with a slight drawl. He pushed his thin hair back, but in moments it had swooped down to cover his right eye once again.
Max shook the hand. "I am. And this is my office, though that doesn't seem to matter to anybody around here."
"I'm sorry. I was told to let myself in. My name's Taylor. Mr. Modesto hired me to be your assistant."
Drummond slipped out of the bookcase and started shouting. "Can you believe this? A damn spy. I tried to get this idiot to leave. I've been knocking books to the floor and throwing papers around, but the prick won't go."
Taylor moved around the desk, his hands jittering as he pointed at Drummond. "I think that bookshelf is not flush with the floor. Things keep slipping out of it."
Drummond stomped around the room. "I'm sick of him. He's been here less than an hour and I can't stand him. If only I could deck him. I know, I know, but that's it for me — books are the biggest thing I've been able to move. Kind of stings, too, but for this clown, I'll suffer it."
Max tried to ignore Drummond for the moment. "You said that Mr. Modesto hired you?"
"Yes, sir," Taylor said. "I'm to help you however you need. He said you were doing research."
"Um, there's been a misunderstanding. I don't require an assistant."
Drummond slapped another book to the floor. As Taylor placed it back, he said, "Mr. Modesto said you'd say that. He told me that I had to stay even if you tried to fire me. He said only he could fire me. I'm sorry, sir, but I need this job. It pays really well and college is expensive. And, frankly, there isn't much else out there. So, if you don't put me to work, I'm supposed to just sit here." With that, Taylor took the left guest chair, looking more uncomfortable than before.
"I see," Max said. "I guess I'll work elsewhere today."
"Excuse me, sir?"
"What?" Drummond asked.
Max stepped to the side so that he could face both Taylor and Drummond while speaking to Taylor. "I don't mean to offend you. Mr. Modesto can hire you to do whatever he wants. He cannot, however, force me to accept it. I'll do my work elsewhere. Please leave by five and be sure to lock the door."
Drummond walked right through Taylor in his desperate approach to Max. "Don't do this. It's bad enough being stuck in this room all day, but don't leave him here with me."
Taylor appeared to be working a complex problem in his head when Max opened the office door. "Goodbye," he said and walked out.
The lady living down the hall stepped out for her newspaper. She eyed Max as he said, "Good morning."
As Max reached the end of the hall, Taylor exclaimed, "This is a test, ain't it? Don't worry, sir, I'll be right here to five o'clock. You can count on me."
The lady cocked an eyebrow. Embarrassed, Max said, "New assistant. He's a bit overenthusiastic." With a grunt, the lady closed her door.
Max had two distinct impressions of Taylor. One — he was like any other college kid and would goof around all day unless Max stayed in the office. And two — Drummond was right. Whether the kid knew it or not, he had been hired to spy. That last idea sent nervous tingling through Max's skin, but not because he feared its veracity — rather,
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