My Dad, the Private Eye: Keep on Truckin'

CHAPTER 5

As we drove back to the motel, Dad had an odd mix of emotions – pride from carrying himself pretty well at the roadhouse, and disappointment from not getting any helpful info from anybody. Also, Dad was proud of me for coming to his rescue at just the right time – and angry at me for not listening to him and putting my life in danger.

But I knew that I'd done the right thing. I mean, I saved Dad, didn't I? And that's what partners are for!

But after Dad scolded me for disobeying him, we soon got to talking about the case, and Dad knew we still had a ways to go. "All I learned was that Harley owes money to pretty much everybody in the place. Which means we've got fifty suspects when we only need one. Which means we're back where we started."

But I had an idea. "Is he dead?" I asked.

"He could be," Dad said. "All we know is he's missing."

"Yeah, but he could be dead."

"Krista, we know he's missing, that's all. And it's our job to find out why."

"Who cares why? If he's dead, they've got to find his body somewhere. Maybe we should just look for an unidentified dead body."

"And how're we going to do that?" Dad asked, annoyed.

I pulled out my phone. "We could check local news reports... maybe call police stations."

"Wait a minute, how'd you learn about calling police stations?" Dad asked.

"I don't know... it just seems like the smart thing to do," I said, wondering if I was really smart or just stating the obvious. I decided I was really smart.

"Okay, you check for news reports," Dad said, smiling at me, "and thanks, honey." I smiled back, knowing I was making a difference. "But let me handle the police angle," he added. "Detective Perotta owes me one."

"I owe you one what?" Detective Perotta asked Dad as they walked down the police station hallway the next morning.

"You know, a solid," Dad said, rushing to keep up with the impatient detective.

"A solid?"

"A favor."

"For what?"

"For finding Patty Delaroy's killer."

"Drew, that's not how it works," Perotta said, shaking his head.

"But why can't you just tell me?" Dad pleaded.

"About unidentified bodies we might have found lately?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if we had found any unidentified bodies lately," Perotta explained, "they'd be part of an ongoing investigation. And we can't go around telling just anybody about ongoing investigations."

"I'm not just anybody," Dad said, a little offended. "I'm a professional private detective! See, here's my license," he said, pulling out his crumpled Private Investigator license that he'd received in the mail just yesterday.

But the detective didn't even look at it. He stopped and turned to Dad. "Look, we haven't found any unidentified bodies around Toronto lately, okay? So there's nothing for me to tell. Now, will you leave me alone?"

"I'm just trying to make your job easier," Dad said.

"How come it doesn't feel that way?" Perotta said as he headed into his office, leaving Dad alone in the hallway.

When Dad got back to the car, I was hard at work, searching up stuff on my phone. "I can't believe he wouldn't do me a solid," Dad said, feeling sorry for himself.

"Dad, I found a body!" I said, pointing to my phone.

"You did??" he said, turning to me, surprised.

"But it's not in Toronto. It's in Windsor. There's a news story about an unidentified dead body found in Lake St. Clair."

"I don't see how that could be Harley," Dad said, wondering. "And the Windsor cops probably won't tell me about the body anyway."

"Maybe if you suggest it might be Mr. Beaudry, maybe they'll be grateful for the help and check it out!"

Dad thought about this. "So I'd be doing them a solid."

During lunch at Tim Horton's, Dad tried to find out what he could from the Windsor Police. Windsor is a small city right across the border from Detroit, so there are a lot of trucks that go through there, back and forth to the U.S. It was only about a four hour drive from Toronto, so we were beginning to realize Harley might be there after all.

"Yes, Harlan Beaudry. Big guy, over six feet. Brown eyes," Dad explained over the phone to the Windsor Police Service. "Yeah, I know, that's a little general. Well, what about fingerprints? I can pretty much guarantee Mr. Beaudry's prints are in a police file somewhere." Dad frowned as he listened. "The body's prints are unusable? How long was he in the lake, anyway?"

I tried to get Dad's attention, whispering, "What about dental records?" I asked, pointing to my phone. "It says here that's the best way to identify a dead body."

"No, don't go!" Dad said into the phone. "What about dental records? I can check if Mr. Beaudry had a dental plan." He smiled at the response from the other end. "Okay, I'll get back to you!"

We finished eating and drove back to Mrs. Beaudry's house as fast as we could. She said her husband had a dental plan, but she had to rummage through a messy kitchen drawer looking for the name of the dentist. "It was Doctor... somebody. Out on Gormley Road, I think," she said while digging through a pile of old coupons. Then she looked up at Dad with a gleam in her eyes. "So, is it Harley? Is it really him?"

"Well, we don't know," Dad said, trying to be respectful.

Mrs. Beaudry went back to her searching. "'Cause he had a life insurance policy through his job, and I could really use the money."

We did eventually get the name of Harley's dentist, and we got them to send his dental records to the Windsor Police Service. And it wasn't too long before we got a call back from them. "Yes?" Dad said, speaking with the Windsor Police from our motel room. "It's a match? IT'S A MATCH!" He jumped up and down, and so did I. "Yes, I'll have his next of kin call you," Dad said into the phone, trying to sound professional. "Thank you!"

"I can't believe it!" I cheered.

"The unidentified body of Harlan Beaudry has been identified by the team at 'Your On the Fly Private Eye'!" Dad said, bubbling with pride.

But then, almost simultaneously, Dad and I realized the tragedy of the situation. "It's horrible, really," Dad said.

"Yes, horrible," I agreed.

"The man's dead, after all."

"Yeah, and that's, like, not good."

"Yeah," Dad nodded. But we both were still kind of thrilled. After all, Dad and I had just solved our first official paid case!