The Last Day

FOURTEEN

When Ward returned to the office an hour later, Leslie was in her office talking with a man Ward recognized from the picture she had on her desk. Todd Hartman had short red hair. He sat bolt upright, with an athletic build featuring wide shoulders, narrow hips, and eyes that were the same pale blue- gray as a Siberian husky's. He was a couple of inches taller than Ward, and looked to be in his early thirties. He was seated beside Leslie's desk with an aluminum briefcase at his feet.

“Mr. McCarty this is my friend, Todd Hartman.”

Todd stood and shook Ward's hand with a firm assuredness.

“Mr. Hartman, it's a pleasure to meet you. I didn't expect you to come right over.”

“Call me Todd. We had lunch earlier and Leslie said you needed some help recovering something, and I've got f orty- five minutes before I'm due back in the office, so I figured if you came back in time and had a few minutes we could see how I might help you.”

“Please come to my office and we can talk,” Ward said.

He led Todd into his office and they sat opposite each other at the conference table. Todd placed his aluminum briefcase on the floor beside him.

“Leslie says you want to recover a model car that was stolen.”

“That's pretty much it.”

“Have you called the police?”

“No. I don't think law enforcement would be interested.”

“What's the value?”

“I've never thought about it. I suppose to a serious collector, it's worth a thousand or more, but its sentimental value is immeasurable.”

“Tell me about the theft first,” Hartman said. “As much as you know about the circumstances surrounding the loss.”

Ward showed Todd a picture of the car in its showcase his father had taken years before. He told Todd about the strange girl, his trip to the plane's lavatory, which left her alone with his briefcase, and opening the briefcase that morning to discover that the car was missing.

“Is this something you want to spend your time on?” Ward asked.

“Of course I want to help, and I think I can. Are you sure you want to invest in the recovery?”

“I am. So I guess we should discuss your fee.”

“My base rate is seven a day plus expenses. I bill a buck a mile, and any additional per sonnel will be billed at forty dollars an hour. I usually ask for a two- day nonrefundable retainer to cover my start-up costs, payable upon signing.”

Ward nodded and thought about the expense for a few seconds.

“For friends, family and Leslie's boss, the rate is three seventyfive a day plus straight expenses, and I'll forgo the retainer. This appears to be a simple recovery job and I doubt it'll take more than a day or two at the most. If I don't have it back by then I'll be surprised.”

“I appreciate your generous offer, but I'll pay you your regular fee,” Ward said. “And I insist on paying the standard retainer. If you were doing me a favor, I'd feel like I was imposing if I made suggestions, or wanted to be critical. Let's forget that you and Leslie are friends.”

“That's fine,” Todd said. “I don't want my personal relationship with Leslie to be awkward on a business level. I want to assure you that I don't discuss clients or my cases with anyone. Leslie knows that.”

The fact was that Ward's father had often told him that if you hired someone to do a job at less than their normal rate, it was just human nature that you usually received a discounted effort. And Ward could certainly afford to pay the investigator his full fee.

“Then here's my standard contract.” When Hartman opened his briefcase to remove a duplicating form and ballpoint pen, Ward saw the handgun in a holster nesting in the briefcase. It was a semiautomatic Colt 1911. Ward's father had had a similar weapon, although that one had been a standard government issue. Ward didn't know much about handguns, but Todd's gun was blue with stag grips and stainless accents. Because Natasha had hated the idea of having a firearm in the house with their child, Ward had given Wardo's gun to his uncle Mark, and she'd agreed to the enhanced alarm system as adequate protection from outside threats to the family.

“Your identity will be privileged information. The contract states that you can't be held legally liable for anything I do while working on your behalf. It also addresses other conditions and concerns to our mutual benefit,” Todd told him.

“Like what might you do that I won't be held liable for?” Ward's mind flashed running gun-fights, broken bones, breaking and entering, high- speed car crashes. This guy looked like someone who could do a lot of damage if he were so inclined.

“I always suggest clients read this, and even have a lawyer go over it before they commit. I also offer a list of satisfied clients so they can check me out, and it's sometimes helpful to talk to other investigators so they can compare rates before making an informed decision.”

“Leslie is a good enough recommendation for me.”

“Hopefully she's biased.” Todd smiled dis-armingly “I can't guarantee a successful outcome, but I will do everything in my power to get the job done expeditiously and I won't waste my time or your money.”

“Then I won't waste your time reading it. We have to trust each other.” Ward signed the contract using Todd's pen. “I'd like to get this moving.”

“Then, if you could do me a favor, I'd like to give this my undivided attention. I'll turn over my caseload to my other investigators. They are as competent as any. I'm going to have Leslie on my back until this is resolved.”

Ward smiled back and nodded. “Thank you,” he said to Todd.

Without looking at Ward's signature, Hartman peeled off a copy for Ward to keep. Ward picked up his checkbook from his desk and wrote Hartman a check for fifteen hundred dollars.

“Tell me everything you can remember about the young woman.”

“I don't really know any more about her than I've told you. I don't know her name, but I think I saw her in a dark- green or maybe black Porsche Cabriolet with a woman driving.”

“That could be a helpful detail.” Hartman placed the check into his briefcase and closed it. “I need your contact numbers. Home, cell.”

“Where do you start?” Ward asked, handing Todd a card with his numbers on it.

“Talking to some people I know and tickling the keys on my computer,” Todd said, putting Ward's card in his pocket. “Often as not this all hinges on contacts and following tracks left on servers as they go through life. You'd be amazed what you can discover about anybody in a few minutes with very little information.” Hartman placed his own business card on the conference table and closed his briefcase, and Ward showed him to the door.