I stared at my own reflection, finding as usual, that I wasn’t starting back.
"Are you even listening?"
I was. I always did. I stared at the reflection that wasn’t me. The woman who looked back was young, twenty-something. I never did find out before she died. Susan, or Susie as she insisted she be called, glared at me prettily. I could fall in love with that face, if she didn’t annoy me every time I looked at her. She wore period 1920’s flapper attire. An actress, she was in costume when she died.
"Yes, Susie, I am listening. I’m just thinking." Mulling over our strange predicament always made me a little quiet.
"Sometimes you think too much." My reflection flounced. I still don’t understand how it all works. It had been years since I’d seen my own reflection. I had to rely on Susie to help me shave, and to tie my own tie. Before I started wearing the clip-on, anyway.
"I’m sure you think so, but this is my job."
"Your job, dear Roger, is to figure out how to separate us."
It was my turn to glare. It didn’t faze her. It never did. She’d always been better with the withering look. Still, her look softened.
"Sorry, Roger..."
I sighed. Dames. "I know, Susie. I’m sorry, too. I’ve been running down every lead, but everything seems to be a dead end, and…" I had to stop talking because someone knocked on my bathroom door.
"Hey, Sir, you’ve got a client waiting." It was Marcia, my assistant. I thought I locked my office door.
"I’ll be out in a second." I frowned, I wasn’t expecting any clients.
"Go," Susie pointed at the door. "Help someone, Mister Private Detective."
I couldn’t help but smile. That’s one part that she seemed to take to immediately. She loved to help people. I tipped my crisp fedora to my reflection and walked into my office. After I sat down, I buzzed Marcia to show the client in, whoever they were. My office door opened and she showed in a nervous looking man who was clenching his own fedora in his fists. He was going to break the fit if he kept that up.
I stood and stuck out my hand. He took it, he had a limp grip and I had to discreetly wipe my hand dry. The man would dehydrate himself if he wasn’t careful. I motioned for him to sit. He damn near fell into the creaky chair, his close set eyes darting back and forth rapidly.
"So, what can I do you for?"
"Pardon?"
Oh boy. One of those. "How may I help you? Mister...?"
"Oh, right." His voice was high and reedy. A real nebbish. "Steve. Steve Robbins. I’m missing some rather important documents. I think I know who did it, but I need confirmation."
"Why don’t you go to the cops?" I knew the answer, but I still have friends on the force. I like to steer people to them first.
"Because, I think she may be working with them."
I raised my eyebrows. They almost disappeared under my hat. "Are you trying to get me to do something illegal?"
He actually looked horrified at the suggestion. "Oh! No, sir. I just meant that I think her boyfriend is a cop, is all."
I nodded. "Okay. What can you tell me about your suspect?"
"She was my secretary for five years! She had my full trust,” he handed me a picture of him and a woman wearing party hats. The woman had long dark hair and the face of an angel. “Then, last week, I came to my office and she wasn’t there, and my safe was wide open!" He waved his arms as he talked.
I frowned at him. "She had the combination?"
"Yes."
"She was usually there before you?"
"Yes. I always have meetings in the morning before I make it in to my office."
"I see."
"Can you help?"
I nodded. "I’ll want to see your office, take a look at your former secretary’s desk, the usual. I start first thing in the morning. Talk to Marcia outside, she’ll tell you fees and get a time for us to meet there, okay?"
He nodded so hard I thought his head was going to fall off. "Thank you! I will!"
I got up and guided him to my office door, "We’ll talk more tomorrow, then."
He ducked his head and nodded before I closed the door on him. I went back and dropped into my chair. Well, at least it was going to be easy, I thought. Yeah, easy money.