Caliber Detective Agency Box Set 3 Page 7

  The old man’s grandson, Jake Caliber the fifth, held open the lobby door so that his fiancée, Kelli, could enter. When he followed her inside, Jake saw the smiling faces of his family and friends, and knew something was up.

  “What’s with all the grinning?” he asked, but then he saw it, as his trained gaze took in the lobby and noticed a change, a very special change.

  On the wall to the right of the sign that bore the company’s name was a grainy photo of Caliber’s founder, Jake Caliber. He was dressed in a leather coat that fell to his ankles, and atop his head was a cowboy hat. Spurs adorned Jake’s boots and hanging off his right hip was a large revolver, a revolver legend has it, that he used to kill the Apaches that had murdered his family.

  Jake Caliber’s skill with a gun was unmatched and Texas legend remembers him as, “The Man Who Never Missed.”

  Farther to the right was a photo of Jake Jr., Jake Caliber Jr. returned home from the First World War and followed in his father’s footsteps by becoming a private detective.

  Jake Jr. had two claims to fame. One, was the fact that he was responsible for moving the floundering business east, to New York City. Secondly, he had fathered the old man, Jake Caliber the third, a man who became an icon for private detectives, and who is still a living legend.

  While Jake Jr. had inherited his father’s good looks, his legendary aim was not one of the gifts he possessed. However, his son was a born marksman. A skill he first put to use at the age of sixteen, while serving his country in World War II.

  To the right of Jake Jr. was a photo of his son. It was taken while Jake Caliber the third was wading onto Omaha Beach on D-Day, and was one of only two Marines to do so.

  To the right of that picture was a parade of photos taken over the years. Jake Caliber the third possessed three things in every photo, a trench coat, a fedora, and a cigar. A fourth constant was the accompaniment of a beautiful woman, although it was rarely the same woman in more than one photo.

  The last photo of Jake was surrounded by front page headlines from newspapers around the world. It was a photo of Jake Caliber the third being shot, as he bravely leapt in front of the President of the United States and foiled an assassination plot. It was that act of heroism that made the name Caliber synonymous with bravery and insured that it became known the world over.

  Moving on, another photo graced the wall. It was a picture of Jake Caliber the fourth, Jake and Christopher’s father. He was a man who had died far too young.

  In the past, that would have been the final photo on display, but no more. Jake saw that his own picture had been added to the wall. It was a still taken from video that a Texas news crew had filmed.

  It showed Jake Caliber the fifth emerging wounded from a battle in a desert crucible. It was a battle in which he had singlehandedly defeated over a dozen armed men.

  In the photo, Jake looked like what he was, a conqueror, a born warrior, and a man worthy to bear the name Jake Caliber.

  After staring at his photo for several seconds, Jake turned to Kelli. When he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion.

  “You knew about this?”

  Kelli gave him a quick peck on the lips before answering.

  “It was your grandfather’s idea, and I know how proud it must make you.”

  The old man walked over and took Jake by the shoulders.

  “You made the family proud by saving the lives of those people in Texas. I love you, Jakey, and you honor the name Jake Caliber.”

  Jake hugged his grandfather. “I love you too.”

  As the embrace ended, both men had moist eyes.

  “The medication I’m taking for my injuries makes my eyes water sometime,” Jake said as he wiped away his tears.

  The old man held up his cigar.

  “I must’ve gotten a little smoke in my eyes.”

  Gail walked over to them while laughing.

  “Jake, Kelli told me you stopped taking your painkillers because they made you drowsy, and as for you, you old goat, that cigar’s not even lit.”

  “In that case,” the old man said. “They were tears of joy, and why not? Jake and Kelli are soon to be wed, and you know what that means?”

  “What?” Gail said.

  “Someday soon there will be a Jake Caliber the sixth roaming this building, that’s what, woman. Now, who wants to go out to dinner, it’s on me.”

  Everyone said yes, except for Lauren, who had a class to attend.

  “I wish you could come too,” Chris told her.

  Lauren smiled at Christopher.

  “Have a good time with your family, Chris, and Velma.”

  “Right,” Chris said, “and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  Chris and Lauren left the building last, and as his mother was locking the door, Chris watched Lauren walk off toward the subway entrance.

  “Doesn’t she have a car?” Velma asked, and Chris nearly jumped, as he had been lost in thoughts of Lauren.

  “Lauren told me she rents a car when she needs one.”

  “Oh, well come on, it’s time to celebrate Jake’s honor.”

  “Yeah, and my big brother deserves it,” Chris said, but as he walked off in the other direction, he glanced over his shoulder to give Lauren one last look.

  CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY - BOOK 8

  CALIBER DETECTIVE AGENCY – WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY - Book 8 of the Caliber Detective Agency

  Chapter Thirteen

  At a family dinner to discuss the wedding of Jake and Kelli, Christopher Caliber waited for the right moment to make his announcement.

  They were gathered at his mother’s home in Forest Hills, and they were eight. There was Christopher, his brother, his grandfather, and his mother. They were all gathered around the dining room table with Velma, Kelli, and Maggie, his grandfather’s girlfriend.

  Jim Tate, an ex-cop/ex-con, who Christopher’s mother had fallen in love with was there as well. Christopher had grown to like Tate, because the man treated his mother well.

  They were family members or friends, and so Christopher couldn’t understand why he was so nervous.

  After he’d let another pause in the conversation slip away, Christopher stood abruptly and looked around the table. Jake, who’d been talking, stopped and stared at him.

  “What’s up, Chris?”

  Chris looked over at Velma. She was the only one present whom he had told about his decision. She’d said she would support his choice, but that she would miss working with him. After retaking his seat, Chris spoke while looking at his grandfather.

  “I’m leaving the agency soon. I want to be a lawyer.”

  Everyone just stared at him, even his mother, whom he had expected to jump for joy.

  “Well,” Chris said. “Tell me what you think?”

  “I’ll miss seeing you every day, Chris,” his grandfather said. “But you have to walk your own path through life. If being a lawyer is what you want, I’m behind you all the way.”

  Jake nodded. “Like Granddad said, we’ll miss you, but at least you’ll still be in the city, right?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m back home to stay.”

  His mother grinned at him.

  “You know how happy this decision makes me, honey, but looking back, I’m glad that you worked with your grandfather. It’s seasoned you as a man in a way that being a lawyer never could have. It was the same with your father. Your dad was a very kind man, but he was never going to be taken advantage of because of that kindness. I often harp on your grandfather for being too macho, but in this world a man needs to know that he can handle himself in any situation.”

  “I have changed, Mother, and yes, learning the family business has toughened me, but in a good way.”

  “When are you leaving the agency, Chris?” the old man asked.

  “After Jake comes back from his honeymoon. That will give me time to find a job with a firm and not leave you short-handed.”

  The old man poured champagne into Maggie’
s glass, and then his own.

  “My grandsons are both making big changes in their lives, good changes, and I congratulate you both.”

  The others joined in the toast, and Christopher felt much better about his decision.

  Later that evening, in Midtown Manhattan, a former employee of Caliber Investigations was working in her own business, while in an upscale bar.

  Her name was Leslie. She was a twenty-one-year-old blonde who once worked for Caliber as a B-Girl.

  The B in B-Girls stood for bait. One of the courtesies formerly provided by Caliber was a service called Fidelity Check, wherein a suspicious wife or girlfriend could send out a B-Girl to tempt their husband or significant other.

  The B-Girl feigned interest in the suspected cheater and offered to exchange phone numbers, or even to meet at a later time. If the man took the bait and said yes to the offer, the wife had her suspicions verified. If the man declined, the wife could be assured that her mate was faithful. It was a rare man who wasn’t tempted by a B-Girl.

  Their success rate at unearthing cheaters was over eighty percent. What that percentage didn’t reveal, was that nearly half of those men had never cheated on their partners before, and many, after having weakened and succumbed to the B-Girls’ charms, were not very happy.

  It’s one thing to be tempted and satisfied, quite another to be tempted and left not only frustrated, but also facing the wrath of your spouse, and sometimes, your spouse’s money hungry lawyer.

  When Gail Caliber decided to end that service, Leslie, and another B-Girl named Karen, picked up the idea and decided to make it their own.

  Business had been increasing at a good rate but advertising costs and hired security ate at the profits.

  Knowing that advertising brought in the clients, Leslie and Karen were loath to reduce their use of it. But there had been no trouble in the weeks they ran the service. They felt they were wasting money by paying hired muscle to sit around in a bar all night.

  Leslie had stopped using a security service two nights earlier and was pleased to at last see the business climb out of the red, if just barely.

  However, there are some things in life, such as insurance and seatbelts, which, although seldom used, can be vitally important when a need for them arose.

  The B in B-Girl stood for bait, and Leslie feared she had landed a shark.

  His name was Stan Harper. Stan had approached Leslie a week earlier and offered to buy her a drink. After a short conversation in which Stan told Leslie how beautiful she was and how much money he made, Leslie asked Stan if he would like her number. She had hinted that they could hook-up on the weekend.

  Stan said he would call and make plans the next night.

  However, the following evening, Stan was watching his wife shred his suits with a razor blade on their wide front lawn. This was after she’d spray-painted the word CHEATER in hot pink across the hood of Stan’s black BMW.

  After spending the night getting loaded at the hotel bar where he was staying, staying after being kicked out of his home, Stan went looking for Leslie. He did so while checking the bars around Midtown.

  He repeated that activity for several nights, while growing angrier over what Leslie had done to him. Stan thought of it as entrapment and placed the blame for his troubles on Leslie.

  When he at last got lucky and spotted her, Stan settled beside her on a stool while her back was turned. Stan then grabbed her purse off the bar, opened it, and read her driver’s license.

  When he spoke, his words were slurred by intoxication.

  “Leslie is really your name, huh? And this address, I know that building. I think one of my cousins lives around there.”

  Leslie snatched at her purse, but Stan held it out of reach.

  “You ruined my marriage, bitch. Do you know how much a divorce will cost me?”

  Leslie was terrified by the look she saw in Stan’s eyes, but she sounded calm as she spoke to him.

  “Give me back my purse and you’ll never see me again.”

  Stan’s smile was menacing.

  “But you’ll be seeing me again, because now I know where you live.”

  A loud sound came from Leslie’s left. It was the bartender. He was a bald man and muscular; he had just slammed a wooden baseball bat atop the bar.

  “Give the lady back her purse and get the hell out of here,” the bartender said to Harper.

  Stan tossed Leslie’s purse and wallet at the man. They hit the bartender’s chest and fell behind the bar.

  “See you around, Leslie,” Stan said, before staggering out of the bar with every eye watching him.

  The bartender gathered up Leslie’s things, then handed them to her.

  “Do you need someone to walk you out?”

  Leslie wiped at tears. “Yes, please?”

  The bartender told one of the servers to watch the bar while he escorted Leslie outside. After the man hailed a cab for her, Leslie thanked him. She felt guilty over her earlier assessment of the bartender, who she had thought was scary-looking.

  The bald bartender was six-foot-three and appeared menacing, but it was the handsome and slickly-packaged Stan Harper who had been the scary one.

  When she was safely inside the taxi, Leslie took out her phone to call her partner, Karen. Stan Harper knew where she lived, so there was no way she was going home.

  Karen answered her call with a cheery tone in her voice.

  “Hi Leslie, how’s it going where you are? My guy didn’t bite. Maybe I’m ugly and don’t know it.”

  “Karen… I need to stay at your place tonight.”

  “Hey, honey, you sound weird, What’s wrong?”

  “The bodyguards,” Leslie said. “We need bodyguards.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chris received a warm smile from Lauren Wright as he stepped off the elevator with Velma. It was the morning after he’d made his announcement about leaving the agency.

  “How did it go this weekend, Chris?” Lauren asked.

  “It went great. Everybody accepted my decision and wished me luck.”

  “You told Lauren you were leaving before you told your family?” Velma asked, and there was a note of surprise in her voice.

  “Yeah, well, you know, Lauren wants to be a lawyer too.”

  “I see,” Velma said, while staring at Lauren.

  Lauren broke eye contact first as she gestured at the office door.

  “You have a visitor, Chris. His name is Garth Drexel.”

  Chris grinned. “Garth is here? He never even told me he was coming to New York.”

  “That’s your friend from California, right?” Velma asked.

  “He was my best friend in high school when I lived there, but we’ve drifted apart over the years.”

  “What sort of work does he do?” Velma asked.

  “The last time I spoke with him, he was working from home as a day trader.”

  “I thought he might be a male model,” Lauren said. “Your friend is very handsome.”

  “You two talked?” Chris asked.

  “Just for a few minutes,” Lauren said. “But when your brother arrived, he escorted Mr. Drexel into the office to meet your grandfather.”

  “We’ll see you on our way out, Lauren,” Chris said.

  Velma let Chris move ahead into the office, as she stayed behind to speak with Lauren.

  “I’ve noticed that you and Christopher have become friendly lately,” Velma said.

  “Yes, ma’am. Chris and I are friends… only friends.”

  “Let’s keep it that way, and don’t call me ma’am, I’m Velma.”

  “Velma?”

  “Yes, Lauren?”

  “I’m nothing like Rayne Carver.”

  Velma smiled amid a sigh.

  “You’re not, and I apologize if I came on as sounding jealous.”

  “No need to apologize, but Chris and I really are just friends.”

  “And do you have a boyfriend?”

  “No
, but I have a dinner date later tonight with a new guy. Maybe it will turn into something.”

  “I wish you luck, but now I’d better go inside.”

  Velma entered the office to find Chris pretending to trade punches with a tall young man as his brother and grandfather looked on with smiling faces. Garth Drexel had dark hair, blue eyes, and the build of a swimmer.

  Velma thought that Lauren’s description of Garth was accurate. The man was sexy enough to be a male model. Judging by the quality of the suit he wore, along with the gold watch on his wrist, he wasn’t hurting for money either.

  When Chris introduced Velma to Garth, the man laughed.

  “Back in school, you told me that Velma was an old lady.”

  “That was her aunt, dope,” Chris said, and Garth laughed all the louder.

  “Whatever, Chris, but she’s too beautiful for you. I would say she’s more my type.”

  “In your dreams, Garth. Speaking of which, what brings you to New York City?”

  “I’ve been in the area for two days. I came here for a funeral. My uncle died, the one that invented the thingamajig.”

  Chris laughed. “You mean the thingamajig that’s kept your family rich from all the money the patent made?”

  “Yeah, that thing. Anyway, my great-uncle passed on and I’m the one who had to come here to see he had a proper send off.”

  “What area of New York did your uncle live in, Garth?” the old man asked.

  “He had a home in Westchester county, sir.”

  “Most of that area is nice, and there is still lots of land in some sections.”

  “Yes, sir. I remember visiting the home as a boy. It had land surrounding it, but the place reminded me of a mausoleum.”

  “Maybe you’ll inherit it,” Chris said.

  Garth grinned as he removed a set of keys from his pocket.

  “I just came from my uncle’s lawyer. The mausoleum is now mine.”

  Rayne Carver left her office building with Trace Pruitt and Sammy Sloan following her. She turned around and gave Pruitt a stern look.