GUMSHOES

Chapter 2 - Meeting Mr. Undergrove

Audrey Hall watched through the window as the Honda sedan turned into the drive and her two roomies got out, held a mildly heated discussion, and then came to the door.

"Did you pick up the groceries like you were supposed to?" She greeted them.

Wendell turned to his partner. "Jerome?"

"What're lookin' at me for? That was your job."

"You know I was busy."

Audrey shouted down the ensuing argument and directed them both to the couch in the living room.

"Time to get something straight about this arrangement." Her expression kept them silent. "I gave up my apartment and moved in here with you, Wendell, to help us both save money. Adding Jerome to the deal was to help save even more. We discussed responsibilities, if you remember; I was assured things would be fine. Your very first duty to this arrangement was to shop, and you didn't."

Wendell marched through to the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator door. His indignation sat in his mouth like a lump of fatty stewing beef. The fridge was quite sparse.

"Don't forget my dad just died," he blustered, slamming the door and returning to the living room.

"That won't wash, Wendell. You were quite able to go to your office and play detective."

"We aren't playing, Audrey."

"No? You both quit your jobs and enrol in this- this stupid online course for who knows how much, leaving us with less than we started with. You violate agreed upon rules, and you expect me to join your madness with all my free time!"

"I said you would be paid." Wendell protested.

"With what, Wendell. With what?"

"Why, with money, dear Audrey. With money." His reply was so automatic it even surprised him.

Jerome spit out a laugh, and rolled sideways onto the couch, while Wendell struggled to keep a straight face. Audrey turned red in the face and just shot daggers at them.

"Let's see if you both are still laughing when the utility bills and the mortgage payment comes in." She stormed out of the room, ignoring the pleas for a sense of humour.

"She's right, you know." Jerome said, wiping tears from his eyes, and continuing to snort little bursts of laughter.

"She just hasn't seen the big picture yet. When we crack this case, the rewards will do more than pay the damn bills."

"And when is that, dear Wendell?" Jerome spit out another laugh.

"When you grow up and we get cracking on that phone lead."

******

Piper's Bar, they discovered, had all the ambience of a sty. The address was its only saving grace, and that would soon surrender to the razing of surrounding old factory sites, for the creation of an auto wrecker's compound.

Wendell pushed through the wooden board door and stepped down, dangerously, into the dim interior. Jerome followed at even greater risk, until he removed his persona dissembling sunglasses.

"You sure this is the right place?" He asked, miffed over losing his badass look.

"Read the sign, partner." Wendell adopted a casual swagger to the bar and leaned on one arm while he surveyed the room.

The barman dropped two glasses in front of them and asked what they were having.

"You have a public phone in here?"