Aidan
“It’s great to finally meet you. My brothers have nothing but great things to say about you,” I say. “They tell me you've helped them out of some pretty tight spots.”
Almost half a year after my conversation with Brayden, Adam McMurtry is sitting in a chair on the other side of the desk in my office. He's tall, maybe six-foot-two or three, lean, and has brown hair and eyes. I honestly don't know what I was expecting Adam to look like after the brief conversation we had over the phone, but this is definitely not it. Rather than looking shady or greasy – like the fixers you see in the movies – Adam is bookish. He looks more like an accountant than a fixer.
“I first met you at Brayden and Holly’s wedding, you know,” he says. “Shared a drink and talked to you for about fifteen minutes or so, I’d guess.”
I open my mouth to reply, but close it again as I feel a heat flaring in my cheeks. I'm usually great with names and faces, but as I think back to the wedding, I realize I don’t recall seeing this man at all, let alone talking to him. I feel bad, but he's without a doubt, one of the most ordinary and nondescript people I've ever seen in my life.
There is absolutely nothing remarkable about Adam at all. If I met him on the street, I'd probably completely forget him five minutes later. Obviously, given that I don't recall him from the wedding. I thought someone would have to go to tremendous effort to make themselves so – ordinary. And yet, Adam makes it seem so natural.
I have to assume that's one of the things that makes him such a good PI.
He chuckles, as he sees me struggling. “Don't worry about it,” he says. “I wouldn't remember me either. That’s kind of my thing, actually.”
“Yeah, I'm sorry about that. There was a lot going on that day,” I say. “A lot of people there. Big crowd.”
He nods, though I can see in his eyes that he doesn't believe me for a second. “You’re right,” he says. “It was quite the event.”
I give him a tight smile. “Yeah, it was,” I say, before trying to move the conversation along. “So, listen, I know you told me you don't normally get involved in matters of a – personal nature.”
He lets out a small chuckle. “Ordinarily, no,” he says. “I prefer to stay out of the domestic arena. I mostly work on insurance fraud or corporate espionage cases.”
“I don't blame you for wanting to stay out of domestic shit,” I say and laugh. “Gets messy.”
“That it does.”
“My brothers also tell me you are a man with fine taste in alcohol,” I say and laugh.
There's a good bottle of scotch sitting on my desk, so I pour a few fingers for the both of us and push one of the glasses across to him. Adam takes the glass and raises it to me in thanks. He takes a drink, and closes his eyes, savoring the liquid as it slides down his throat. A moment later, he opens his eyes again and looks at the glass like he's in love.
“This is some of the finest scotch in the world,” he says. “You Anderson boys all have excellent taste.”
“This is one of the many things passed down to us from our father,” I say. “He believed a good scotch can help lubricate the wheels of progress – and the better the scotch, the better the outcome.”
“Wise man,” Adam replies.
“That he was,” I reply. “Anyway, I'm sorry to drag you into something like this. I know it's not your usual cup of tea.”
“I have a longstanding relationship with Liam,” he says. “He's a good man. I respect him a lot, so I don't mind doing the odd job for you Andersons. After all, none of my clients drink finer scotch than you lot.”
I laugh and raise my glass to him. “If you expect the best, you must always give the best.”
We toast each other and take a swallow of our drinks. He smiles and lets out a long breath, a look of euphoria on his face, like it's the best thing he's ever tasted. He looks at me and shrugs.
“I do enjoy a good scotch,” he says. “Probably more than I should, and certainly more than my wife would like me to.”
We drain our glasses, and I pour us both a refill. He takes a sip and leans back in the chair, folding one of his legs over the other, cradling the glass on his knee. Adam gives me a long, level look, and I can see that because he's so nondescript, he’s also easy to underestimate. There’s a quick, sharp intelligence in his eyes. I can also tell that he's a man who observes and processes things faster than most people.
“So, you want to tell me more about it, Aidan?” he asks. “The details you gave over the phone were pretty sparse.”
I let out a long breath. I lay out everything I know – which truthfully, isn't much. It takes about twenty minutes or so to catch Adam up to speed. Or, at least, give him the pieces of the story I know. Through it all, he sits there, not saying a word, just absorbing everything silently. I'm surprised he isn’t taking notes, but maybe the guy has a computer for a brain and can retain it all. When I'm done, he takes another sip and nods.
“So, basically what you're looking for is a threat assessment?” he asks.
“Basically,” I say. “I need to know if this guy actually poses a risk to her or not. Especially if that was him at the Hail Mary last October.”
He nods again. “I can do that,” he says. “That's easy.”
“Good,” I say. “Excellent.”
“I need to know whatever you know about this Victor,” he says. “Any piece of information, no matter if you think it's relevant or not. I need to make sure I'm targeting the right guy when I go fishing.”
It's then that he slips a pad out of his coat pocket and produces a pen. He takes notes as I speak, telling him all the details I’ve heard from Katie over the last few months – which honestly, isn't much. When I finish a couple of minutes later, he snaps his notebook closed and nods.
“I'd get you more information, but I need to keep this quiet. I don't want her knowing we're looking into this piece of shit,” I say. “I know it's not a lot to work with.”
He shrugs. “I've worked with a lot less,” he says and grins. “Lucky for you, I'm very good at my job.”
“I appreciate you handling this for me,” I say. “And for your discretion.”
He waves me off. “You might not be saying that when you get my bill,” he says. “That's the other thing I love about you Anderson boys – not only is your scotch top shelf, you pay top dollar.”
I laugh. “My brothers say you're worth every penny, so I'm not going to sweat it,” I say. “Whatever your rate is, is fine. I'm covering your expenses too. If you want to stay at the Four Seasons, get the luxury suite.”
“Also lucky for you, I'm not a high-end hotel and food kinda guy,” he laughs. “I'm frugal as hell. Also my wife's doing.”
“Whatever it takes,” I say and laugh. “Spare no expense.”
“I'll try to keep that in mind.”
Adam gets up, and I show him out of my office, and through the house. When we pass through the front rooms, Oliver looks up at him from his usual spot on the couch, but drops his head and returns to snoozing. Adam is so nondescript, not even my dog is excited to see him.
I open the door and shake his hand. “I appreciate you taking this on for me.”
“Not a problem,” he says. “Give me a few days or so, and I'll get back to you with some updates.”
“Sounds good.”
“In the meantime,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eye, “take Katie out and do something special. Though, I saw the town down at the bottom of the mountain, and if I can make a suggestion – you might want to take her somewhere else.”
“I see Brayden briefed you.”
He shrugs. “Maybe a little,” he says and laughs.
Adam turns and walks out to his rental car. I watch him drive off until he disappears through the gates, leaving me alone to wonder if I'm doing the right thing by sticking my nose where Katie clearly doesn't want it.
I'm risking pissing her off to do the moral thing. Which brings to mind another nugget of wisdom my father instilled in us – when it comes to choosing between two courses of action, you should always do the right thing, regardless of the consequences.
If she ever finds out what I'm doing, Katie won’t like it, but at least I'll be able to sleep at night, knowing I'm doing the right thing. Knowing that I'm protecting her.
Could be cold comfort, but at least I know that Katie – and our baby – will be safe.