Princess For A Day

I'm not a 20-something year old blonde babe up for 'fun times' but I play one on TV or, rather, the internet. Not always, mind you, just from time to time and not for my own personal amusement either.

It's a job, not a hobby.

One notable time was about a year ago when I was tasked with locating a particular individual who had failed to meet his parenting obligations. She met him online through a dating site and romance blossomed, then died, but she was left with a reminder of what they had... in the form of a baby.

I was given what contact details she had for him: his internet dating profile, his cellphone number, and an old address where she was sure he no longer lived. Supposedly when she tried calling his cellphone, a male voice (sounding suspiciously like his) told her that the gentleman in question had sold his phone and moved abroad. Sure.

What was I to do?

The Plucky Private Eye and the House of Doom

There is a house in our fair city, Gentle Reader,  that is known as The House of Doom because of the accursed fate that met the inhabitants one moonless night.

Well, in truth, just one inhabitant (and also a neighbour) who mysteriously ended up dead and under the floorboards. Okay, not so mysteriously either, the husband of the first victim was arrested and charged on both counts but that has nothing to do with this tale. No, this story is about how a Plucky Private Eye (that would be me) felt the cold hand of death pass him by.

Things I love... Part 1: Notebooks

Yes, it's true, I have a thing for stationery and, specifically, notebooks. When I say 'thing' I don't mean I like the way the paper feels as I rub the pages over my naked body. No, I mean I just like writing and probably like most of my kind, I'm particularly enamoured of the Moleskine range. Probably because I'm a twat.

The reporter-style ruled notebook is a personal favourite as it can easily slip into a pocket yet has 192 pages - plenty for notes and observations - and this is what I use for my day-to-day work. My current one is a bit battered and held together with cloth tape and I can't wait to finish with it so I can start on a new one.

Sad, isn't it?

The Prostitute and the Private Eye - The Final Curtain

It came as no great surprise, although still tinged with a sense of mild disappointment, that I never received a call from the will-she-won't-she time wasting client regarding her missing husband. (Here is part one and part two of this sorry tale, in case you missed it)

Despite her repeated insistence that this was a priority, she continued to put off meetings and, more importantly, payment until I finally had enough and told her I was no longer interested in working on her case.

Even then I relented the once, against my better judgment, and gave her one last opportunity to prove she wasn't just another crack-whore when she said she would call me on Friday. I gave her a deadline and, naturally, it has come and gone without a word from her.

Crack whores 1, Jaded private investigators 0.

Or is it the other way around since my instincts were right?

A cautionary tale

Repossessions - I hate them.

Maybe it is because I'm forever fending off creditors myself, being the cliched and eternally cash strapped dodgy investigator that I am, or maybe it is that I see myself as what it says on my licence... a PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR not repossession agent. Anyway, beggars/choosers and all that, I just take the work that I get and swallow my pride.

 But this job I just did the other day really serves as a reminder to people out there who take others at face value: don't. It always pays to check.

Zen and the art of Garbology

Have you ever found yourself wearing latex gloves, trying not to dry-heave as you pick through someone's accumulation of rotten food scraps, discarded sanitary products and slimy unidentifiable odds and ends as you look for something, anything, of interest?

Sadly, I can say yes to the above.

More than once, even.

The Prostitute and the Private Eye - the saga continues

So I get a message from the is-she-isn't-she client (see here for back-story) asking to meet at the end of the week as she still wishes to continue with the investigation into the disappearance of her husband.

Am I even contemplating continuing with this?

Apparently so, but I've firmly stated that she can come to my office - I'm not chasing her - and if she fails to make it or attempts to change the day or time again, then she can go elsewhere.

I have standards, you know.

Is my husband/wife/dog cheating on me?

Probably.

Let's face it, the success rates for marriages these days is about 50%


But don't you think that you would be better off having a no doubt difficult, but necessary, talk with your partner about your relationship rather than throwing money at a private investigator?

A lawyer complains about the cost - True Story!

Talk about ironic but I still can't get over this little gem.

I get a call from a lawyer I regularly work for. They have a Court Injunction that has to be served on a Company's registered office that very day, no later than 1pm, in order to stop the transfer of several hundred thousand dollars that should be going to their client. Can I help?

The Prostitute and the Private Eye - Not a Love Story

Is it just me or does it seem that if a job or client is dodgy, naturally it falls into my lap?

So there I was, minding my own business in my office - probably wondering where my next paycheck was coming from - when the phone rang.

"XYZ Investigations, how can we be of assistance?" I answered, trying not to sound too eager yet imagining that maybe I'll be eating steak tonight.

"I need help, my husband is missing and the police won't do anything" she said in a low husky voice that sent shivers down my spine. "I need you..." she breathed into the phone.