have an ally in my sister on this subject. I was shocked when she studied the file and agreed to the case without even a moment of doubt.
“Rae, don’t you have a problem with this?” I asked.
“No,” Rae flatly replied.
“Why not?”
“Because surveillance is part of the job,” Rae replied.
“She’s only eighteen,” I said.
“And instead of moving into a dormitory like your average freshman, she chooses to rent an apartment in San Francisco. That’s a lot of responsibility for a girl that age,” Mom said.
“It’s still not a valid reason to take the case.”
“This isn’t a time to turn down work,” Dad said.
“It’s not all about money,” I said.
At this point Rae turned to Demetrius and said, “Ignore her. It’s almost always about money.”
Demetrius then made a show of looking at his watch. “Time for my lunch break,” he said, escaping the final scraps of the meeting.
I turned to my sister, trying to find a way to reach her. “What would you do if Mom and Dad hired someone to follow you?”
“I’d shake him and get on with my day,” she replied.
“You really don’t have a problem with this?” I asked again.
“Nope.”
It was then that I finally accepted that Vivien Blake wasn’t going anywhere, or more specifically, wherever Vivien Blake was going, we were going to know about it.
In a weak retaliation against my sister’s alignment with the unit, I tried to burrow down to the core of the David/Rae mystery dispute.
“Rae, why don’t you tell Mom and Dad about the prostitution ring you were running out of David’s house?” I said.
“They know why I was kicked out,” Rae replied.
“Oh yeah? Why?” I asked.
No answer. I cleared my throat.
“Anyone planning on answering my question?” I asked.
“I thought everyone knew,” Dad replied.
“No, not everyone,” I said.
“She was dipping into his liquor supply,” Dad replied, trying to look appropriately concerned, but since dipping into the liquor supply is the equivalent of littering in the alternate universe of Spellman crimes, his expression belied the intended sentiment. Rae was getting a tap on the wrist and it was for a crime she did not commit.
“Is that what David told you?” I asked.
“I thought the punishment was a bit harsh,” Dad said. “But his home, his rules.”
“Huh,” I said, watching my sister aimlessly shuffle papers on her desk to avoid my gaze.
I sent my sister a quick text message.
I’m onto you.
Get a life.
In the last five minutes of the summit we split the office work and delegated the surveillance cases. Mom and Dad took the case of the Man in the Library; I took the Lady in the Navy-Blue Suit; Rae, as predetermined, studied the file of the Girl with the Rap Sheet; and per my agreement with Mom, Walter Perkins was all mine. As for Demetrius, he steered clear of all surveillance assignments. “Call me crazy,” he once said, “but following white people around doesn’t sound like the wisest pastime for an ex-con.” I told him he didn’t know what he was missing. He argued that he did, since he used to case joints when he was a TV thief. To each his own. I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of excitement over the broad scope of our new casework; aside from the break in monotony, it provided me with some excellent quality time away from the office, and hence, my family.
However, other people’s families were a different story. As I drove home from work, I found that I was almost looking forward to another evening with Gertrude Stone.
She was out cold (or napping as some people call it) on the living room couch but woke as soon as I arrived home (through the front door, no less). The moment she saw me, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, got to her feet, and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
“What have you got in mind?” I asked.
“A friend of yours called and invited us to the grand reopening of the Philosopher’s Club.”
“What
“Rae, don’t you have a problem with this?” I asked.
“No,” Rae flatly replied.
“Why not?”
“Because surveillance is part of the job,” Rae replied.
“She’s only eighteen,” I said.
“And instead of moving into a dormitory like your average freshman, she chooses to rent an apartment in San Francisco. That’s a lot of responsibility for a girl that age,” Mom said.
“It’s still not a valid reason to take the case.”
“This isn’t a time to turn down work,” Dad said.
“It’s not all about money,” I said.
At this point Rae turned to Demetrius and said, “Ignore her. It’s almost always about money.”
Demetrius then made a show of looking at his watch. “Time for my lunch break,” he said, escaping the final scraps of the meeting.
I turned to my sister, trying to find a way to reach her. “What would you do if Mom and Dad hired someone to follow you?”
“I’d shake him and get on with my day,” she replied.
“You really don’t have a problem with this?” I asked again.
“Nope.”
It was then that I finally accepted that Vivien Blake wasn’t going anywhere, or more specifically, wherever Vivien Blake was going, we were going to know about it.
In a weak retaliation against my sister’s alignment with the unit, I tried to burrow down to the core of the David/Rae mystery dispute.
“Rae, why don’t you tell Mom and Dad about the prostitution ring you were running out of David’s house?” I said.
“They know why I was kicked out,” Rae replied.
“Oh yeah? Why?” I asked.
No answer. I cleared my throat.
“Anyone planning on answering my question?” I asked.
“I thought everyone knew,” Dad replied.
“No, not everyone,” I said.
“She was dipping into his liquor supply,” Dad replied, trying to look appropriately concerned, but since dipping into the liquor supply is the equivalent of littering in the alternate universe of Spellman crimes, his expression belied the intended sentiment. Rae was getting a tap on the wrist and it was for a crime she did not commit.
“Is that what David told you?” I asked.
“I thought the punishment was a bit harsh,” Dad said. “But his home, his rules.”
“Huh,” I said, watching my sister aimlessly shuffle papers on her desk to avoid my gaze.
I sent my sister a quick text message.
I’m onto you.
Get a life.
In the last five minutes of the summit we split the office work and delegated the surveillance cases. Mom and Dad took the case of the Man in the Library; I took the Lady in the Navy-Blue Suit; Rae, as predetermined, studied the file of the Girl with the Rap Sheet; and per my agreement with Mom, Walter Perkins was all mine. As for Demetrius, he steered clear of all surveillance assignments. “Call me crazy,” he once said, “but following white people around doesn’t sound like the wisest pastime for an ex-con.” I told him he didn’t know what he was missing. He argued that he did, since he used to case joints when he was a TV thief. To each his own. I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of excitement over the broad scope of our new casework; aside from the break in monotony, it provided me with some excellent quality time away from the office, and hence, my family.
However, other people’s families were a different story. As I drove home from work, I found that I was almost looking forward to another evening with Gertrude Stone.
She was out cold (or napping as some people call it) on the living room couch but woke as soon as I arrived home (through the front door, no less). The moment she saw me, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, got to her feet, and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
“What have you got in mind?” I asked.
“A friend of yours called and invited us to the grand reopening of the Philosopher’s Club.”
“What
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