Tracy Hayes, Apprentice PI

Chapter Four

"First mission accomplished, boss," I said, taking a seat in front of his desk.

"In all fairness, it was an easy one."

"I don't know, those staple guns are tricky."

He grinned. "It's best not to arm you with a real one then."

"There are guns involved? Waitressing never involved guns."

If it did, there'd be a massacre practically every day when the harried staff dealt with that one customer who changed their mind five times and then complained when they didn't get what they'd ordered the first time and requested to see the manager.

"Not for you," he said sternly.

"I know how to shoot." Dad had made all of us learn.

Then again, I'd never been very good at it.

"I don't doubt it. Your father's name rang a bell so I checked your background. I used to know your family well."

"You did? Were you friend of Travis's?"

I had no recollection of him, but my brothers were eight and four years older than me, and though their friends used to fill the house when I was little, I didn't pay any attention to them - other than finding them a nuisance. By the time I was old enough to take interest in boys, my brothers had already moved away, emptying the house of their friends too.

"Yes. Travis and I went to school together and he always welcomed me to your home. I think I even remember you as a scrawny little girl with pigtails," he added with a smile. I had been scrawny, but if he remembered the pigtails, I must've been really small.

"And Trevor and I worked briefly in the same precinct when I was still a cop."

"I knew you'd been a cop," I said, pleased with myself.

"How so?"

"You've cop's eyes."

He looked mildly impressed with the answer. "That's the kind of attention to detail I'm hoping for from you. That a waitress would be good at reading people - even if you don't have any obvious qualifications for the job."

"If I were, I'd never have married my bastard of an ex."

"We learn from our mistakes," he said with a smile.

We certainly did, which meant a century-long dry spell for me when it came to dating of any kind.

"There are some formal things you have to learn pretty fast though. Your rights and what you can and can't do, those sort of things." He picked a stack of printed papers from his desk and handed them to me. "Read these for a start."

"Will there be a test?" I eyed the papers in dismay.

"Absolutely."

I'd only asked as a joke, but now a lump settled into my guts, like every time a test was mentioned.

"You'll also need an ID. Look here."

I did and he took my photo with a huge camera before I could so much as blink. He checked the result from the display and grinned.

"That'll do."

"Hey!"

Ignoring my protest, he printed the photo while I combed my hair with my fingers, as if it would help at this point.

"Sign here."

Jackson gave me a two-by-three cardboard card with the official information of his firm printed on it. He had already filled it in with my name and other required information, and I signed on the appointed line. He took the card and went to a side desk where he had printers and other machines, took the photo from the photo printer and attached it to the card. Then he laminated the thing before giving me the finished product.