My Dad, the Private Eye: Keep on Truckin'

CHAPTER 6

Later that afternoon, Dad met with Mr. Borneman at Cortland Trucking to deliver the good/bad news. Mr. Borneman seemed very grateful and impressed.

"Mr. Winnette, I want to personally thank you for solving this case so quickly," Mr. Borneman said. "It's a horrible tragedy. But Cortland Trucking has generously compensated Mr. Beaudry's next of kin, and now we'd like to put all this behind us. And speaking of compensation, I believe this should be fair payment for your services." He handed Dad a check... and Dad's mouth dropped open when he looked at it.

"Whoa! This is more than fair," Dad gushed. "Thank you, Mr. Borneman!"

Mr. Borneman rose and reached over his desk to shake Dad's hand. "And now, we need detain you no longer."

But Dad didn't stand up. Confused, he asked, "But, Mr. Borneman... don't you want me to find out what exactly happened to Mr. Beaudry?"

"From the police report, it appears he got drunk, fell into the lake and drowned," Mr. Borneman said, a little impatiently. "His body had a very high blood alcohol level."

"But what was he doing in Windsor?"

"Well, you told me he had many debts piling up. Perhaps he was 'skipping town,' as they say."

"But they haven't been able to find his pickup there," Dad said, remembering what he was told by the Windsor Police.

Mr. Borneman walked around his desk, beckoning Dad to stand up, which he finally did. "I'm sure the police will find it in time," he said, putting his hand on Dad's back to walk him to the door. "Now, rest assured that Cortland Trucking will keep you in mind for any further investigative work we may require."

Dad shrugged. "Okay. Thanks again," he said, and he finally shook Mr. Borneman's hand and left the office with an incredulous smile on his face. In spite of a few setbacks, this whole assignment had been rather easy, especially given the money he was paid!

Back at the motel, I tried to get Dad to accept the fact that everything was fine. He had done a great job, and he'd been well paid for it. Finally, Dad relaxed. "You're right. It's time to celebrate!" he said. So he took me out to a fancy restaurant!

When we got there, I was shocked. It was a little too fancy. All these expensive cars were in the parking lot, and inside, the tables all had slick white tablecloths. And Dad even let me order an appetizer!

"Dad, we can't afford this place," I said as I shoveled down a shrimp cocktail.

"We can now!" Dad said, flashing his Cortland Trucking check in my face. "Not only that, I think we're going to be able to get our own apartment!"

"Move out of the motel?!" I said, nearly choking on a couple shrimp.

"That's right!... if your mom and I can work out the custody thing." Dad raised his glass of wine, and I raised my Orange Crush. "To 'Your On the Fly Private Eye'!" We clinked glasses and drank. "I hope they're all this easy."

"Yes to that!" I said.

"I mean, it was almost too easy," Dad said, chuckling.

"There's no such thing as too easy," I said, also laughing.

But after a moment, Dad's laughter faded, and he started to look concerned again. "Except I think this was too easy."

"Dad..." I said, hoping his nervousness wouldn't kill the mood.

"Something's missing from this picture, Krista."

"Dad, we talked about this. We're getting our own place. I want my own room!"

"You'll get your own room. But..."

"But what? Dad, what's wrong?" I asked, not really wanting him to answer.

Dad chewed on his lip. "What's wrong is that... nothing went wrong! We went looking for a body. We found it. It was the right one. Case closed."

"So we got lucky."

"But there are just too many open questions," he continued. "Like where is his pickup truck?"

"It could be anywhere in Windsor," I said.

"Did he really just get drunk and fall into the lake?" Dad asked.

"It happens every day. Well... not every day in Windsor, but every day somewhere in the world, I'm sure."

"And how high was his blood alcohol level anyway? Why did he apparently shut off his cell phone three days ago? Did the Windsor police do an autopsy?"

"Wow, Dad, those are all good questions," I told him, now starting to see his side of things.

"Yeah, they are," he agreed, smiling to himself. "I think I'm really starting to think like a professional private eye." Dad took a drink of wine and stared thoughtfully into the glass.

"Okay, fine," I said. "So, what're we gonna do?"

Dad pondered my question for a moment. "I know Mr. Borneman doesn't want to see me again. As far as he's concerned, this case is closed, and he wants it to stay that way. But... maybe Riverside Winery will want me to look into it, that place he was shipping wine for."

"Why?"

"To clear themselves of any potential liability, for one thing. And for another thing... I need a new gig," Dad said with a sly smile.

I was kind of shocked. "Dad, is that really you?" I said, smiling myself. "I guess you really are starting to think like a professional private eye!"