Ten

My eyes had never before opened that wide and my chest drew tighter than a fat woman’s butt in a theatre seat.

Why did that delivery van have to pick this particular time to double-park? Holy crap—what now?

The opposing traffic had the other lane fully clogged.

I clamored back into the truck bed and hunkered down. The front tires belched swirling billows of blue smoke as Bishop stomped the brake pedal. Too little too late. The impact was deafening—Bishop’s door ripped from the side of his truck and flew over my head. It bounced off the tailgate like a Frisbee on steroids.

I cringed when it skidded over the roof of a parked car and glided toward a group of pedestrians. One of them screamed a warning, and they fell to their knees, huddling like a litter of cold puppies. The door sailed over them and planted itself, upright, against the facade of Big Dick’s Porn Palace.

I swung around the cab with a quick, graceful move, and planted myself onto the passenger seat. My fingers ached from the vice-like grip I used with each maneuver. I held on tight as Bishop picked up his speed again and jockeyed his way through the traffic.

“You again!” The startled look on Bishop’s face was worth all my efforts. “I should have known. Get the hell out of my truck!” I wasn’t sure if his venomous expression reflected fear, anger or surprise.

“Mr. Bishop, we really need to talk. Seriously, we do.”

“Look, lady, I don’t know what in the hell you want, but I’m sick and tired of your bullshit. I already have enough problems without you adding to them. So, if you don’t mind …”

“Actually, I do mind,” I told him. “Just a few minutes of your time and then poof—I’m outta your life forever.”

“Yeah? Like really gone forever—and I mean as never again?”

“Yep, forever—never again. But only if you cooperate and give me honest answers.”

“You said you’re a private detective, right?”

“That’s right. I’ve been hired by Butler Farms.”

He swerved to miss a tricycle in the street. I grabbed the frame of the door opening in an effort to steady myself. It was a close call but I managed to keep from tumbling out. I gripped the dash like stink on shit with my other hand. My impatience with Bishop moved up a notch as one of my fingernails snapped and flew out the door opening. Dammit!

“Butler Farms, huh? Those freaking jerks.” He shook his head and conjured a nefarious grin. “I should have known. A bunch of pricks—every one of them.”

“There’s a parking lot up there on the right.” I pointed and wiped several beads of sweat from my forehead and nose. “I promise, after I’m finished with the questions, I’m history in your world. Okay?”

Bishop pulled into the convenience store parking lot and took one of the two empty spots near the street. “Probably a really bad decision on my part, but I’ll give you a few minutes if you promise to go away after that. Make it quick and no bullshit. I have things to do. And no fightin’, kickin’ or any other crap like that.”

“I’ll get right to the point. Butler Farms is being compromised internally and they think an employee might be …”

“And they think it’s me.”

“Everything points to you and it’s pretty damned convincing. You left Grafton Produce to do the same job at Butler Farms for less pay and gave up ten years seniority. None of the issues of concern surfaced until they hired you. Only a limited number of people have access to the computer information regarding the transgressions in question. And you were one of the few.”

“Transgressions? Like what?”

“Produce trucks sent to the wrong locations, wholesale prices inappropriately adjusted downward, orders being partially filled but the customer being charged for a full order, and sometimes customer requisitions simply disappearing. All those things have created a lot of trouble—angry customers, lost accounts, revenue decreases, and bad word of mouth among their customers. Why wouldn’t they suspect you? You gotta admit, it makes sense.”

“Well, it wasn’t me. You can take that to the bank.”

“If it wasn’t you, then who?”

“Don’t know. Isn’t that what they hired you to find out? I just did my job and kept my mouth shut most of the time. I once tried to tell that Lupe Santiago broad I thought something appeared screwy with a few of the accounts.”

“Lupe Santiago, your supervisor?”

“Yeah, her. Arrogant bitch.”

“So, what did she say when you told her about your suspicions?”

“She told me to keep doing my job and let her worry about the accounts. She half-assed thanked me and said she’d take care of it. I was just another shmuck working for a paycheck, so I let it go. I was the new guy—didn’t want to make waves. She told me to leave a note on her desk and she’d review the account.”

“So you found a couple of accounts screwy just that one time while you were employed by Butler Farms?”

“Nah, I saw several others, but I just let them go. Didn’t want to deal with Santiago’s BS again. Like I said, just working for a check.”

“Speaking of paychecks, why would any sensible person leave a company where he had ten years invested and excellent pay, and then to go to a competitor for less money and be at the bottom rung of the seniority ladder?”

“Long story,” he said. “I’ll give you the short version.”

Just as Bishop started his explanation, Ron pulled in alongside us. He switched down Patsy’s window. “You okay?”

“No problem.” I refocused my attention on Bishop. “Whaddaya say we go to my car? The air conditioner works real good.” I wiped sweat from my face as a drop fell from his nose.

“This ain’t some sort of set-up, is it?”

“No set-up. I give you my word. I think you’re being on the up-and-up with me. I’ll do the same with you.”

Bishop took a few seconds to consider the offer before he and I scooted into Patsy’s back seat. He surveyed Patsy’s interior. “Nice ride.”

“Thanks. Anyway, you were telling me about leaving Grafton Produce for Butler Farms at a lower salary.”

“Yeah, that. Well, ya see, it’s kinda like this. I had a thing goin’ with the CFO’s daughter over at Grafton.”

“CFO, as in Chief Financial Officer?”

“Yeah. What else would it stand for? Anyway, she and I were getting pretty close. Then, the company brings in some bigwig consulting firm and they determine my job is no longer necessary. Grafton offered me a different job—a lower position with lower pay.”

“I’m confused. Butler Farms tells me Grafton gave you a glowing recommendation. If you left on such bad terms, why such a great recommendation? Unconfuse me.”

“That’s where the chick comes in. Ya see, she clued me in on some things about how Grafton Produce was cheating the books for tax purposes. Remember, she was the CFO’s daughter. Well, according to her, her old man got his shorts in a wad with the ownership about some silly shit. She said her dad has loose lips after a few snorts. He dropped all that on her one night and over time and she passed it to me one weekend after she’d gotten into a pissing contest with her father.”

“You mean the stuff about cooking the books?”

“Yeah. When I informed the big shots at Grafton I knew of their financial shenanigans, they offered me a buyout at two year’s salary and promised me an excellent referral. I took the hundred and fifty grand and kept my mouth shut. Plus, I was also getting paid by Butler Farms.”

“But, why didn’t Grafton just offer to keep your old salary at the new position? That’s what most companies do. It would have been a lot cheaper than the buyout and all the bad conversation between you and them.”

“I guess you could say it was a balancing act. They had some dirt on me from a few years ago when I made a really dumb mistake. And I had the dirt on them about playing with their books. I didn’t want to go to jail and they didn’t want to be hit with a fine and restrictions that would have made my buyout look like chump change. We came to an understanding and parted ways, both of us happy.”

“Why would the chick bail on her father? Even if he was the world’s biggest jerk, that’s pretty harsh.”

“They didn’t get along, never did. He’s a hard-nosed, arrogant douchebag who rules with an iron fist and she’s a free spirit. Like I said, they were always at each other. Serious shit. There was no chance of fence-mending. With the info about the taxes, she had him by the family jewels—just where she wanted him. She relished finally having that power and control over him.”

“Tell me about the dirt they had on you.”

“I don’t see where that has anything to do with your work for Butler Farms.” He sighed. “You about done? I’m running out of answers and time.”

“Just a couple more.”

“Make ‘em quick. I ain’t got all day.”

“What about the girl?  You still seeing her?”

“Hell no. I dropped her ass when I saw her kissing up on her old boyfriend, some guy named Tony Laughlin. Then she turned up pregnant and her old man sent her to live with her grandmother somewhere in the LA area—Santa Fe Springs, I think.”

“So, what’s this gal’s name?”

“Marlissa Stanton. A real looker but flakier than a batch of Betty Crocker biscuits. I could deal with the flakey to some degree, but not the old boyfriend. So, adios, baby.”

“I can see all that. But what was the deal with you staying at work after regular hours at Butler Farms?”

“Nothing to it. I don’t have a computer at home. I used Butler Farms’ computer to keep track of my bank account, credit cards and some surfing. I did a little Facebook stuff, too. That’s it. Nothing nefarious. They can check my browsing history. And I didn’t do it on company time. Hell, I didn’t even look at any porn.”

“Why no computer at home after that nice buyout from Grafton?”

“My old one fried a month or so after I went to work for Butler Farms. Just never got around to getting another one. I tend to put things off sometimes. Besides, I’m a bit of a tightwad. Why fork out a grand on a computer when I could just use theirs. Makes sense, right?”

“Ya know what?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“I believe you.” I had good intuition about people and I was confident I was right this time.

“Does that mean you and I are history? No more chasing me through casinos, pounding on me and all that stuff? I’m not a violent person, but I ain’t taking any more of that crap. But honestly, if we don’t meet again, I won’t lose any sleep over it. Nothing personal, ya know. Just …”

“Of course. Nothing personal. I’ll get back to Butler Farms on Monday and tell them you’re not their bad guy. Maybe they’ll hire you back.”

“Don’t waste your time. Not interested.”

I looked over the seatback. “Ron, would you hand me my purse, please?”

He snagged it from the floorboard and handed it over the seat.

I tore out a check and filled it in for two thousand dollars and then handed it to Bishop. “For your door and other damages it might have caused. And get a computer with what’s left over. It might keep you out of trouble in the future.”

He looked at the check and then folded it, slipping it into his shirt pocket. “Cool!”

“One more question and I’m outta your life.”

“Make it quick.”

“Why did you run away back at the hotel restaurant?”

“Well, it’s kinda like this. There’s a warrant out on me and I thought you were there because of that. Jail cells aren’t all that comfortable.”

“A warrant? For what?”

“Ain’t got nothin’ to do with Butler Farms or Grafton produce. So it ain’t none of your business. You done now?”

“Good luck, Mr. Bishop.” He probably needed more than good luck. A better attitude might help.

He  drove off into the Vegas heat. I jotted down his plate number—just in case.

I crawled over the seat and plopped onto the front cushion. I shifted my gaze to Ron. “Let’s go. He’s not Butler Farms’ nemesis. I hate dead ends.” I frowned at my broken fingernail.

“Where to?”

“Any place that serves food. You’re driving—your choice.”

After fighting the late afternoon traffic for twenty minutes, Ron pulled Patsy into the parking lot of The Capital Grill.  We selected a table rather than a booth. Booths, like other closed-in areas, always made me uneasy.

“So, if Bishop isn’t your bad guy, what’s next?” Ron asked as we pushed our empty plates aside.

“I’ll have to think about that. I don’t like to jump into things unprepared. I have a couple of ideas, but I need a little more information before deciding exactly which direction I want to go.”

“Little Miss Organization.”

“Yeah, that’s me.” I took a few seconds to gather my thoughts. “But there’s one thing I do know for sure.”

“And that is?”

“I want to get to hell out of this freaking town as soon as possible.”

Ron started to say something as my ringtone chimed. I pulled my phone from my purse and checked the readout. “Hi Linda. Everything okay?”

“I think you should come home as soon as possible. Like, maybe, right now.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Olivia Michelle Grace ------- Rookie PI and millionaire

Alice Milner: -------------- Olivia’s best friend and murder victim

Patsy -------------------- Olivia's fire engine red 1959 Cadillac convertible

Robert Milner: ------------ Alice’s ex and primary suspect in her death

Andy Bishop: -------------- Sabotage suspect at Butler Farms

Ron Matthews: ------------ Olivia’s friend and possible love interest

Linda Sears: -------------- Olivia’s friend and housekeeper

Max Grace: --------------- Olivia’s brother and Kern County Deputy Sheriff

© Copyright 2025 Sideman. All rights reserved.