The Mistake

Chapter 1 Part 2

Butch Wiggens leaned dangerously backward on his rickety swivel chair, sighting between his size twelve shoes and tossing crumpled paper balls at a green garbage bag taped to his office wall. Filing was not his forte and this was eminently more fun. He was still flushing the erotic fantasies from his mind after meeting with the stunning Bondra Croft and accepting gladly his assignment to make a bag switch with some broad in a local mall. Simple stuff that any boob could handle but any work for Jaeger, Croft, Ditchburn and Silverberg was worth whatever it took; Butch was eager to situate himself as the go-to-guy for all their investigations. This was their second bit of business and Butch dreamt of Wiggens & DeFoe Private Investigations being little more than a pair of unemployable losers with an unusually large number of connections and sources in a city filled with more than enough people to fill their needs. It was only due to his sister, who for reasons unfathomable to their family, had attended Celtic dance classes with Bondra Croft, and through that association afforded Butch the opportunity to pick up the odd job at JCD&S, a circumstance he embraced whole heartedly after meeting the stunning Bondra. If such designations could logically be applied, Butch represented the brains of the business and Daryl DeFoe, his partner, was the gopher and occasional muscle. In this capacity, he continued refining his fantasies and shooting paper balls while waiting for Daryl to return with news that the switch had been made.  

      "Lois says she's still waitin' for that drink after work you promised her." Daryl pushed his way into the cramped office carrying the bag hooked over one arm and balancing a pair of Styrofoam containers on top of two large paper cups of coffee.

Butch grunted and sat up, helping himself to one of the containers. "Lois misunderstood."

"What part of, wanna have a drink after work some night, don't you think she got?"

Butch gave him an evil look. "Never mind Lois. Bondra Croft's assignment is our main concern at the moment."

"Hooo, the stunning Bondra O'Croft. Did you make a move on her?"

"Daryl," Butch sighed, "you don't just 'make a move' on a woman like Bondra. You have to finesse a bit; ease into the situation. "

"Or else, you mean, she might misunderstand?"

"We're done talking about this, Daryl, got it? Not another word. Did you make the switch?"

Daryl stood the bag on the desk and took his lunch to a chair in the corner. "Dopey bitch had me chasin' all through the store. I waited in the restaurant and she didn't show then I see her scooting through the store with the bag and I hadda run her down."

      Butch was staring into the shopping bag while Daryl recounted his tale. His face was pale and damp with perspiration. "This some kinda gag, Daryl," he asked, pulling out several pairs of socks and some DVDs.

*****

Christopher retrieved his socks and shoes, grabbed his wallet, change, comb and keys and breezed out the door and down the sluggish elevator to the lobby, finally stepping once again into the heavy morning air. 'Shit, I forgot to brush my teeth', he complained, nudging some mushy bagel from behind a molar with his tongue. "Probably packed it in with the doughnut now." He shrugged and jogged through the traffic to the parking lot and the battalion of gulls chowing down on his neighbour's largess. His plan was to go back to the mall and see if the woman was still around and if not, he would check with the people in the coffee shop to see if they knew her or even remembered her. He knew it was pretty hopeless but what else could he do? The package contained two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and Christopher wasn't about to make any rash decisions.

*****

"First thing we have to do, Daryl, is find out where this broad lives," he waved a pair of the socks for emphasis.