Ever notice that air conditioners never take a crap in the winter? It was summer in Chicago, and so damn hot you could light a cigarette by just sticking it out the window. The small air conditioner I had in my office gave up the ghost two days prior, with a death rattle and a groan. I could literally feel the sweat dripping from my armpits.

I would have preferred to be sitting on a stool in Plato’s Place sipping down a cool one, but unfortunately, or fortunately, whichever way you wanted to look at it, I couldn’t leave. I was waiting for my one o’clock appointment, and there was no way I was going to miss getting a gander at the dame who was coming to see me. The last time I’d heard a voice as sultry as the one on the phone, Lauren Bacall was telling Bogie to pucker up and whistle. I didn’t even get her name. She hung up before giving it to me. All I knew so far was that her husband was missing.

I could hear her high heels echoing in the hall and saw her shadow as she stopped to read the black lettering printed across the frosted glass of my door, ‘Blake McDaniels, Private Investigations.’

I quickly buttoned the top button of my shirt and straightened my tie as the door opened. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful broads in my day, but this one was straight out “Vogue,” or “Vanity Fair.”

I stand six-two, and she looked to be only four or five inches shorter. Her long blond hair was professionally styled to frame a gorgeous face with high cheekbones and flashing blue eyes that could devour a man’s soul like a Doberman with a piece of raw meat. The expensive women’s suit she wore did little to disguise the body it covered, and the longest legs I’d ever seen disappeared into a shortened skirt to hide treasures a man would kill for.

I stood and stretched out my hand as she crossed the ten feet between the door and my desk on the other side of the room. “Blake McDaniels,” I announced, “Mrs...”

“Richardson,” she replied while sitting in the chair opposite my desk and crossing those long legs, “Mrs. Arthur Richardson.” I could see her amusement with the shock on my face. “Yes, that’s right, Mr. McDaniels, the same Arthur Richardson who made a fool of you a couple of years ago.”

She wasn’t kidding. Her asshole husband was embezzling funds from his company. His business partner knew it but couldn’t prove anything, so he hired me. I ran a con on Richardson that forced his hand and caught him with it in the cookie jar. He was indicted and went to court for what everyone thought was a slam-dunk. Unfortunately, he’d hired a slick out-of-town shyster who discredited me, the star witness, and got Richardson off. Not only was it bad for my ego, it was bad for business. It took me over a year to live it down.

“I have to say, Mr. McDaniels, you’re exactly what I imagined a PI would look like.”

“Oh, and what is that?”

“Tall, nice physique, kind of intimidating—that nose looks like it’s been broken more than once, and the scar above your left eye and the other one on your cheek tells me you take no guff from anyone.”

I had to chuckle. She had me pegged pretty good. “So, Mrs. Richardson, how can I help you?”

“I’m offering you an opportunity to balance the scales, Mr. McDaniels. Somehow, Art got wind that I was going to divorce him and took off for parts unknown. He doesn’t care about me, but a divorce will financially cost him dearly and he knows it.”

My ears stood up when she mentioned costing that jackass money. “How long’s he been gone?”

“A little over a month.”

“Did you go to the cops?”

“Yes, they had me make out a missing person’s report but they didn’t seem too interested. Like me, they assume he’s playing house with his girlfriend, somewhere. They did show me how to download something to my phone. They said it would show me the location of his cell as soon as he used it, but nothing has ever shown up.”

“I know you don’t accept infidelity cases but you do take missing persons, so here’s my proposition, I’ll pay you twenty thousand dollars plus expenses to find my husband, and a bonus of fifty thousand dollars if you just happen to find evidence of him cheating on me at the same time.”

“Do you suspect him of cheating?”

“Oh, I know he’s cheating. He has at least two mistresses, and I’m sure he’s shacked up with one of them as we speak. Which one? I don’t know and I don’t care; I just want him found so I can have him served.”

I reached over and pulled a contract out of the bottom drawer of my desk and filled it in to reflect her offer, twenty grand to find her hubby, another fifty if I get evidence of infidelity, and a five thousand dollar retainer to get started. She signed without even reading it. “I don’t have the full five thousand with me,” she said while digging the cash from her purse, “but I’ll have someone drop it off to you tomorrow afternoon, if that’s okay?”

“I do take checks,” I informed her.

“I want you to start right away. I don’t want you having to wait for a check to clear,” she explained.

I took the three grand in cash and gave her a receipt, then spent the next hour asking questions. Did he have any friends or relatives he might stay with? How much cash did he take? Did she know where he might have more money stashed? Did he own property out of state? Did he drive his car?

She gave me his driver’s license number, all the credit card numbers, social security, and bank accounts she knew of, but suspected he had others she didn’t know about. She knew nothing about any of his business dealings or associates. I knew he had been forced out of the company he was embezzling from, but didn’t keep track of him after the trial.

I watched her ass sway from side to side as Mrs. Richardson left my office and noticed no panty lines under that tight skirt. Damn, she had been sitting there commando the whole time. I wondered if it was because of the heat, or was she trying to use her feminine charms as an incentive to take her case? If that was it, she needn’t have bothered. I was going to serve those papers on him myself when I found him, just to see the look on the SOB’s face.

Off and on, I had been working on another case for myself. Our state’s Lieutenant Governor was as crooked as they come. A couple of months prior, I’d gotten an anonymous tip on a real estate scheme he was involved in. Just a little preliminary investigating convinced me the tip was legit. I hate dirty cops and politicians, but I had to be extremely careful; I was playing in the big boy’s sandbox. If I showed my hand before getting proof, I could lose my license and possibly wind up behind bars myself. No thanks!

The missing person’s case would give me a little distraction as well as let my scent fade in case somebody from the LG’s office was sniffing around; besides, I owed Richardson. He made a monkey out of me once; it was time to return the favor.

I got on the computer and started a rundown using what info I got from the wife, but came up empty. I didn’t think it would be easy. The asshole was smart. I made the mistake of underestimating him once; I wasn’t going to do it again.

I needed a starting point, a lead of some kind; I’d take whatever I could get. Where better to start than at the end. It had been two years since I’d been in the offices of Richardson and Walker Industrial Lighting, although now it was just Walker’s Industrial Lighting. From her expression, I knew his secretary recognized me as I walked in. I went for a business card.

“I know who you are, Mr. McDaniels, but I don’t see your name on Mr. Walker’s appointment calendar and I honestly don’t expect to see it there any time in the future, either.”

I couldn’t say I was surprised at the reception. “Look, doll, just tell him I know a way to get some revenge on our mutual nemesis.”

She just stared at me for a few seconds. “Go sit over there,” she commanded, “I’ll see if he’ll talk to you.”

Not knowing how long he’d keep me waiting, or even if he’d see me at all, I took a seat and reached for a magazine. I barely had time to open it when I heard his door open on the other side of the room. I looked up as he stood there with a scowl. “What’s this about, McDaniels, did you get our money back?”

“No,” I replied, “that’s probably gone forever, but with your help, we may be able to get some revenge.”

He turned and retreated back into his office, but left the door open. I took that as an invitation. I walked in and took a seat as he sat behind his desk with that same scowl on his face. “I don’t even know why I’m listening to you. The last time I did that you assured me the company would recover the money that asshole embezzled. Not only did we NOT recover any of the money, but I had to pay your fee on top of it, so say what you have to say, and it better be good; otherwise, I might just have security throw your ass out the window.”

I knew he was pissed, but come on, as far as I knew they didn’t even have security. I wasn’t about to antagonize him, though; I was hoping he could give me a lead.

I told him about Richardson’s wife hiring me to find him and told him why. “I’m hoping to serve him with those divorce papers myself,” I told him. “When I do, I can always say they’re with your compliments, as well.” I wasn’t really expecting it, but that brought a small smile to his face.

“What do you need from me?”

“Anything you might know about his habits when he worked here: people he knew, places he went to get away from it all, anything you can think of that might help me locate him, maybe a little hide-a-way where he took his women. His wife thinks he’s shacked up with a girlfriend but doesn’t know who it could be,” I said.

“Shit, guys like that go through mistresses like an alligator through a swamp,” he said. “I know of two women he was banging back then, but that was two years ago; who knows how many girlfriends he’s had since then?”

“Anything you can come up with,” I reiterated. “An old girlfriend might know his new girlfriend. You know what they say about a woman scorned.”

He reached for the intercom button. “Dorie, could you come in here for a minute, please?” Just a few seconds later, Walker’s good-looking secretary was standing at his desk, smiling at him while glaring at me. Damn, she was good at that. I’d bet she was one hell of a Girl-Friday, not to mention a tiger in the sack. I wondered if Walker had intimate knowledge of both.

“Dorie, you had more contact with the two women Richardson was seeing than I did. Do you remember their names?

“I have their names, addresses, and phone numbers, Mr. Walker.”

We both looked at her in shock. “He used to have me send them flowers. I have their info in the computer. He also used to have me dial their number for him before he’d pick up the phone.”

I’d just hit the motherlode. I got excited and pushed for more. “What about a secret little love nest, someplace he’d take his honey overnight, someplace where his wife could never find them?”

“Sorry,” she said, snidely, “I don’t know of any place like that.”

“Dorie, can you print out everything you have on the two women and anything else you think might be instrumental in finding Richardson. He’s disappeared and we’re going to help McDaniels find him.”

She looked at her boss with an expression that said, ‘I’ll do it, but I don’t like it.’ She turned and walked back out to her desk.

Walker turned his attention back to me. “Okay, hot-shot, Dorie will have a printout for you. Leave her your card in case she comes up with anything else. You know I’m only doing this because I’d like to see Richardson hurting, right? Don’t get the impression that I think you’re anything more than an asshole.”

I stood up without offering him my hand and joined Dorie at her desk. She already had the printout.

“This is everything I have,” she said, handing me a piece of paper.

I reached into the pocket of my sport jacket and took out the same business card she had refused when I first walked in. “Your boss said I should give you this in case you come up with anything more,” I said as I laid it down on her desk.

I was feeling pretty good. I at least had a lead, maybe two. The outside heat hit me like a blast furnace as I left the air-conditioned building. I was thinking about a quick stopover at Plato’s when I got an eerie feeling that I was being watched. If my twenty years as a PI has taught me anything, it’s never to ignore a gut feeling.

I subtlety looked around as I lit a cigarette. I didn’t see any suspicious looking characters, at least no more than you usually find in downtown Chicago, but I couldn’t shake the sensation. If I was being followed, the last thing I wanted to do was lead them straight to my only two leads. I decided to go back to my office.

As I walked in, the first thing I did was take off my coat and shoulder holster. I took my Beretta and stuck it in the top drawer of my desk then went to the top drawer of my filing cabinet and grabbed my bottle of Dewar’s White Label and a glass. I had to think. I only had two cases, Richardson’s and the Lieutenant Governor’s. Then it hit me. Of course, if I was hiding from someone, I’d want to know what they were doing to find me. Richardson was having his wife followed. That way he’d always be one step ahead of her. Damn, the S.O.B. was smart. I looked around my office. Could he have had it bugged while I was out? At that point, I decided paranoia was my friend.

I put everything back on and left my glass of Dewar’s on my desk as I left my office. I walked around the corner to a little diner for a bite to eat. When I was done I walked into the back, past the men’s room sign, and out the back door. I doubled back to my car and drove to a little-known electronics shop. Angelo, Angie, for short, was always my ace in the hole. He heard the little bell over the door as I walked in and came out from the back room to greet me.

“Hi, Blake, what’s shaking?”

“Hi, Angie, ever had the feeling you were being watched?”

He laughed. “Not in my business.”

I took out my phone and laid it on the counter in front of him. “Could you scan that for me? I think I’m being followed. They may also have bugged my office, I’m not sure.”

Angie plugged my phone into his computer and ran a check. “The phone is fine, Blake.”

Good news, I told myself. “Okay, thanks. Is there any way you can come over to my office and scan it?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, looking at the clock on his wall. “I can leave here in an hour.”

“That’d be great, Angie, thanks. I’ll be there.”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d scanned my place for bugs. We had a regular routine. He would say he was in the neighborhood and stopped in to say hello. We’d carry on a regular conversation while he scanned the room. That way, if he found a bug, we wouldn’t tip off whoever left it.

Sure enough, he found it in fifteen minutes. It was very professionally planted in the headrail of my Venetian blinds. Whoever Richardson hired was no amateur. We left the bug in place.

“Come on, Angie, I’ll walk you downstairs,” I said for the benefit of our spy. Once I got in the hallway and out of the range of my eavesdropper, I called my client. She answered on the third ring.

“That was fast. I only left your office a few hours ago.”

“Well, I have good news and bad news, Mrs. Richardson.” I heard her sigh.

“Okay, tell me the good news first.”

“I have two promising leads,” I told her.

“That IS good news. What’s the bad news?”

“Your husband is having you followed.”

“What?” How do you know?”

“In this business, you develop kind of a sixth sense, sometimes. Mine told me I was being watched earlier today. On a hunch, I had my office swept for listening devices and found one.”

“How do you know it’s Art? Maybe it’s from one of your other cases.”

“Think about it, Mrs. Richardson, what better way to keep you from finding him than by knowing your every move.”

“That sneaky son of a bitch,” she growled.

“Your husband’s no dummy, that’s for sure. Anyway, we can actually use this to our advantage.”

“How?”

I explained my plan but it was getting late so we decided to wait until the following day. At ten o’clock the next morning, she came storming into my office.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the same PI who caused all the trouble a couple years ago?” She yelled. I quietly handed her a burner phone with a note telling her to use it from now on if she needed to call me. She nodded her head acknowledging she understood and put the rest of my retainer on my desk before continuing. “If I had known who you were I would never have hired you. Well, I’m going to fix that right now ... YOU’RE FIRED!”

“Wait a minute,” I begged, but she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her, damn near breaking the glass. “Shit,” I said aloud while leaning back in my chair with a big smile.

I didn’t like Derick Knutson; he was a private dick. I use that term for him, specifically because he gave private investigators a bad name. Mrs. Richardson was on her way to his office where she’d give him a fake name and a line of bullshit. After wasting a bit of his time, she’d flash her baby blues at him and go, leaving him to wonder what it was all about. Of course, whoever was following her would assume she fired me and hired him. Like a tick on a dog, they’d concentrate all their efforts on Knutson and leave me alone. I still had to give it some time to make sure my plan worked, so I ran out to do some chores before stopping off at Plato’s Place for a few cold ones.

Stan, my favorite bartender, saw me walk in and had a frosty Mic waiting by the time I sat down. We’d known each other for a long time. He even dated my ex-wife for a little while. We shot the bull for a couple of minutes before he got busy and actually had to go to work. That left me to ponder my new case. The usual war cry in my profession is, “Follow the money.” Unfortunately, I tried that two years ago and got nothing. Richardson was the best I’d ever seen at burying dead presidents.

The thing is, everybody’s got a weakness, a vice of some sort that makes them vulnerable. From what I knew of Richardson, his appeared to be women. Instead of trying to follow the money again, I decided following the trail of broken hearts would be a better use of my time. As I mentioned to Walker, you know what they say about a woman scorned ... speaking of which...

I wondered what Stacy was doing? Forty minutes later, I found myself ringing her doorbell. The door opened and an absolute vision of feminine pulchritude stood on the other side. With her natural red hair and sparkling green eyes, Stacy stood out in any crowd. The black, slinky dress and high heels showed off a figure that would rival any supermodel.

“Damn,” if you weren’t my ex-wife, I’d drop to one knee and propose right now.”

She chuckled, “Excuses, excuses.”

“I’m sorry, Stace, I should have called. I didn’t know you had a date.”

“Yeah,” she said, opening the door a little wider. “Come on in; I just have to get my purse.”

I stepped inside and looked around for her date but didn’t see anyone. “I don’t want to intrude, Stace, I’ll take off.”

“Not without me, you won’t.” She stood there, looking at me with purse in hand. “Have you decided where we’re going yet?”

I was at a complete loss. “Ah, I don’t get it. You’re all dolled up. Don’t you have a date?”

“I’m dressed up for you, you big dummy; now let’s go, I’m getting hungry.”

I took her by the arm as we walked to my car. I kept asking myself, how the hell did she know I was coming? I’m a detective, it’s my job to solve mysteries and I wasn’t going to be able to sleep until I solved that one.

I waited until we were in the car before asking. “Stacy, how the hell did you know I was coming?”

“Telepathy,” she said.

“Telepathy?”

“Yeah, I felt like going out tonight so I transmitted the thought into the Cosmos. It only works for people within your spiritual orbit, so I knew you’d be the one to receive my thoughts.”

Okay, I knew she just adlibbed all that psychobabble which meant she had no intention of telling me, so I’d just have to figure it out by myself. “Yeah ... right,” I said, which solicited a laugh from my beautiful passenger. We had ordered by the time it struck me. “Oh, of course, I mentioned it to Stan as I was leaving Plato’s. He called you.” She didn’t say anything, just gave me a big grin.

Any time Stacy and I got together, we could pretty much count on sex as being part of the equation. We both got horny as hell by simply being in each other’s company. By the time we got back to her apartment, we were tearing our clothes off.

I’m not quite sure how it happened, but somehow we were in a sixty-nine position when we hit the bed. Stacy’s mouth had already engulfed my cock and I was looking up into her beautiful pussy. I reached up and pulled her butt cheeks apart to give my tongue better access. Briefly, her lips came to rest as she let out a sensuous moan when I started to reciprocate. Stacy came first, then second and third, but I was getting close. I told her but she just kept going until...

“Oh, oh God!” I felt her lips tighten around my shaft to keep anything from escaping as she milked me of every drop. I had my eyes closed and was still struggling for a normal breath when I felt Stacy get off the bed and go to the washroom. A couple minutes later she returned with a warm, moist washcloth and gently cleaned me up.

“Are you spending the night?”

“If that’s an invitation, I accept,” I replied.

“Good, I’ll give you twenty minutes to recoup, then I want you to make love to me,” she said while kissing my neck.

“You keep doing that and it won’t take twenty minutes.”

She smiled. “And since when do you need an invitation?”

I rolled her over onto her back and gently started sucking her nipples. It wasn’t long before she started to squirm. I could feel her fingers in my hair as I slowly started to work my way south. Her eyes were closed tight but she must have sensed it when I started to maneuver into place.

“Are ... are you hard already?”

I didn’t verbally answer, I just tenderly slipped inside of her. Her gorgeous tits reached up as she arched her back in response.

“Oh, oh, oh, God, Blake, yes, slowly, please, with love, please.”

It was around two in the morning by the time we both ran out of gas. Stacy curled up in my arms as we slipped off into dreamland. I was in that twilight zone just before sleep overtakes you when I heard her mumble, “I love you, Blake.”

As I expected, the bug in my office was gone by the following morning. Presumably, it was hidden away in some cozy little spot in Knutson’s office. I’d wished I had time to bask in my cleverness, but if Richardson was as smart as I thought he was, my little ploy wouldn’t fool him forever so I had to get a move on.

I had two names, Janet Stenson and Cathy Hyer. I did a complete rundown on both. From their driver’s licenses, I saw Stenson had moved to a little classier neighborhood than before. I found their Facebook pages and studied their faces so I’d know them on sight and took note of anything else I thought might be of use.

From their social media pages, it looked like Hyer had moved on. I saw a couple of guys she seemed friendly with, but Janet Stenson didn’t mention anyone with a “Y” chromosome. That and the fact that she moved to a swankier pad made me wonder if she was still seeing Richardson. It was certainly worth a short trip to see what I could come up with. A grabbed a small digital voice recorder and stuck it in my pocket. They can be handy in all kinds of situations.

I figured anyone who was mixed up with Richardson when I was trying to take him down would know who I was, so there was no reason to pose as a vacuum salesman as I rang Stenson’s bell. It took her a few seconds to recognize me after opening the door. “What do you want?”

“Ms. Stenson,” I greeted with a nod, “may I come in?”

Now, there were a few different ways this could go. If she knew nothing or wasn’t seeing Richardson anymore, she’d probably say no and close the door. If she was still with him and knew the wife was on the prowl, one of two things were about to happen, if she wasn’t too smart she’d slam the door in my face; if she was more intelligent than that, she’d invite me in and try to pump me for information that she could relay to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, sure, come on in,” she replied while standing aside.

I didn’t see anything about a job when I looked her up. Whoever her sugar-daddy was, he had money. The apartment was a good size with some rather expensive looking furniture. “Nice place.”

“Thanks,” she said, abruptly. “Now, what did you want to see me about?”

I glanced over to the leather couch. “May I have a seat?”

She sighed with impatience. “I guess,” she conceded.

I walked over and sat down. I noticed her phone on the coffee table. What I wouldn’t give to have a look, but I couldn’t think of any way to get her out of the room for that long. “Ms. Stenson ... may I call you Janet?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Ah hah, she suddenly became friendlier. She was going to pump me for info, but she was a rank amateur next to me. “Janet, Arthur Richardson is missing. His wife is terribly worried and hired me to find him.”

“Can I get you a beer?” she interrupted.

That surprised me a little. I figured she needed a moment to plan her strategy, or maybe she thought a beer would loosen my tongue and she’d get more out of me that way; in any event, it would give me an opportunity. “That would be great, thanks.” As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, I took the recorder out of my pocket, turned it on, and shoved it under the couch.

It was voice-activated and would only record someone talking. I hoped that she’d call Richardson as soon as I left. I had one more trick up my sleeve as well.

She was back in no time with the beer. She laid a leather coaster down on the glass coffee table in front of me and set a bottle of Michelob on it. “Now, I don’t know what help I can be, Mr. McDaniels. Art was a friend but I haven’t seen him in years. His wife must be frantic. Do you have any leads?”

“Not yet, I was hoping you might be able to help me. Let’s be honest, Janet, you were a lot more than just a friend. With all his money, I doubt that a man like Richardson would take a chance using hotel rooms. My guess is that he has a nice little hide-a-way for extracurricular activities, someplace out of the way where no one would see him.”

“So you don’t suspect he was kidnapped or anything like that. You think he’s hiding from his wife on purpose?”

“I’m not ruling anything out at this point. I really would like to find his love-nest though. If he’s not there it could indicate foul play.”

“And what happens if you find him?”

“His wife’s no fool, Janet. If he’s shacked up with somebody, more power to him. She just wants to make sure he’s okay.”

“Ah huh,” she uttered, letting me know she knew I was lying. “Tell me, Mr. McDaniels, why did she hire you? I mean, there must be a hundred private eyes in Chicago.”

“Janet, despite your boyfriend’s expensive mouthpiece getting him off, I did get the goods on him. I’m good at my job. I think Mrs. Richardson recognizes that.”

“I see,” she acknowledged. “Well, I wish I could help you, but like I said, I haven’t seen Art in years and we never went to any love-nest together.”

I was surprised the mistress of a man like Richardson wasn’t a better liar, but I knew that was my cue. I took a swig from my beer, stood up, and laid a business card on the table. “Well, if you think of anything...”

“I’ll be sure to call you,” she said, finishing my sentence for me. She walked me to the door, said goodbye, and shut the door. I knew her next move would be to call Richardson. The phone I saw didn’t belong in a plush apartment. It was a cheap burner.

When I first arrived and parked my car down the street, I noticed the apartment building had a lower level parking garage with a large overhead door. I saw a tenant use an automatic garage door opener when he drove inside. I was betting that a classy joint like that had a marked parking space for every tenant. All I had to do was get inside. For that, I popped my trunk and reached in for my Captain America magic decoder ring. All right, it wasn’t a ring and it had nothing to do with Captain America, but that’s the way I thought of it.

It was actually about the same size as a pack of cigarettes. Most homes in the area had pretty good door locks, not that I couldn’t pick them, but it could be time-consuming. They also had attached garages with automatic overhead door openers that work on radio frequencies. Most people seldom locked the connecting door so once inside the garage you could simply walk inside the house.