If it wasn't for the second time the phone rang I would have slept through noon. There's woman beside me, her body covered by a corner of the sheets. I sit there watching her, and listening to the phone ring for a third time. It almost rattles itself off the hook. Must be important. Let's just see how important on a damn beautiful Sunday.
"Ya?" I say into the reciever.
"Frank, glad we caught you. Listen," The squeaky mouse voice was Harriet, the operator down at the precinct. "There's a case that you need to check out."
"Why me, can't you get the kid Johnson to do it. It's about time he step up and do something around here." The woman on my bed was getting up. I stepped out onto the balcony and watched over a metropolis screened by a slow falling of snow. Down on the white strips of streets the cars, dark little rectangles, moved along like little box slugs leaving behind tracks.
"We need you this time. It's a big one." Harriet's voice went quiet and almost a chill whisper.
"Fine. Just give me an hour I'll comed down and check in. . .alright?"
"No!" She blurted out. "I mean listen, just head down to Mr. Portero's estate, that's where they said - the chief - where the case begins, and he'll meet you there with team."
"What's the situation again?"
"Nevermind that, just get down there as soon as you can. Bye."
She was quick to hang up. I didn't care. Had to get this woman out of here. Help her find her clothes and give her privacy. I ask her for her name and she just laughs and says, "You're too funny!" Right, women don't like when you forget their names. The Coffee is old, I drink it anyways. Put it into a mug with a pug face on it, then put it into the microwave. She walks into the front door and waits for me to say something. Then she runs up behind me and hangs over my shoulders kissing my neck.
Whoever this girl is I like her. Just another barfly like me. Gone out the door into the snow. Should have asked her to stay. Well she's gone now.
Mr. Porter's estate: The Grande Casa. A vacation home to the Porter's. Mr. Porter, his wife, Susana Porter, and their only daughter, Hannah Porter. It is located just ten miles North out of the city. Security detail in and around the entire property. The guy is big time. Only going to the local authorities for a news outlet, when he wanted it to be public; now to go to us local hunters, this must be something he wants kept quiet. And He will have it that way. It's my job, the sweeper. Make sure every single piece of shit that he wants clean I will make it happen.
My car trudged through the icy road. Talk radio was on but I wasn't listening, complete focus on my driving and not drifting off the road. One could lose sight of anything when you turn your back. Sweep the snow away and for just a second it's clear. Mr. Porter's home was an old. White fence, gate, and lawn. The home itself too is completely white.
I make it to the front and park my car in the valet zone. I get up to the door carefully trying to not slip on the stone steps. The heavy door's height is two times the size of me. I lift the brass melon size globe knocker, and give it two clunks against the thick door. The Chief answers it. He shows me in.
The inside is modern. Slick white enamel everywhere. The chairs, the tables, the floor a clean gloss glue white. Except for the high and low hues of the neon LED's everywhere would have been too white. It was modern alright. My boots made a sticky sound when we entered the scene.
I first see a burly detective from this side of town, 'Tommy Sun', he sneers at me under his wide brim hat. Then next to Tommy stood an out of state guy with dark glasses and a company black suit. There was other local soldier men taking clips of the scene and bagging small worthless junk. The room is a mess with stuff knocked over and papers scattering the floor. A sofa is overturned and on the floor is a small safe is that has been opened. Everything looking like a normal crime scene under investigation, everybody doing their jobs; what I didn't see was any of the Porter's.
"Where's Mr. Porter?" I ask the chief off in a corner.
"He somewhere in the house, watching through them," He points a gloved finger at a camera head the size of a dime along side decoy designed beads making up a frame around a family portrait. The house must be riddled with them. Small eyes everywhere.
"And who's the suit with Sun?"
"Some hired gun, John. Mr. Porter asks we don't interfere with Mr. John's work," The chief started to pour a cup of scotch for himself.
"Hey you must be Simon," John walks up to us with a outstretched hand to shake intending to shake my hand.
"Sorry, I don't do that." I gave a small nod to recognize him. The truth was I knew the second he shook my hand he'd have a sample of my finger prints. Should have worn my gloves. You got to keep calm under every situation, take a chill pill, watch these wolves you're with closely. I was in a den of these pricks. This is the way things are - get your back stabbed if you're not looking.
"Looks like we got ourselves a burglary here gentleman." The company man grins at me. He knows. The chief doesn't know. Sun surely as hell doesn't know. The only question is if Mr. Porter knows by now. Too early to tell. The camera head is too small to scan any neural signs. (Good thing I updated my mind firewall last week.) But it's seems strange he'd keep us here in the same room for this long.
Mr. Porter watches the group through a monitor in a room hidden to deep in the mansion. Mr. and Mrs. Porter watch and study them all for any signs to who might have done it. They had a their suspicions and theories. Mrs. Porter kept saying it's the company man, John. Mr. Porter thinks it's Sun. They know it's not the chief.
"It's that one there," Mr. Porter suddenly shouts out.
Mrs. Porter puts her face up to the screen and squints to look at Simon, "What makes you say that?"
"Look at his eyes. They're bloodshot!"
"So, it could be anything."
"No it's him alright." Then Mr. Porter went out of the watching room. Down the long stairs, across the large foyer and living area into another wing of the home. He entered to room with the four men all surprised to finally see him.
"It's you!" He shouts and points at Simon, who coily shrugs to say, "Who me?"
"What? I didn't burgle you."
"This is not about the burglary, this is about my daughter!" Mr. Porter started across the room for Simon but was held back by the other men. It's safe to say that Mr. Porter is a man with super strength. The kind you have to pay big to get, a power up in life with the money he had. There is no telling what he would have done had he got a hold of Simon. But Simon just stood there looking confused and trying to piece it together in his heavy mind still filled with chemicals of God knows what.
That Woman in my bed! She must be his daughter. The only explaination. I figure she just met me when I was at my tipping point with drink, and she took me home. But why didn't she look familiar? Have I even seen her before then? It was a matter of finding her now and get this heat off me.
After leaving the Grande Casa, I made my way through the ice and snow back to my apartment. Opening my door I sense something off. A smell of someone, or the presence of someone. I check the corners and make out nothing. The kitchen light is on. I see a note on the counter and open it, it's from her:
"*Hey sorry for this Simon but I needed a scape goat, someone kind enough to take the blame and the focus off me. YOU are so sweet and I never wanted to hurt you. I promise just as soon as I get changed I'll fix this. Always remember me! "
Signed, "Miss Porter."
So that's it. But changed? She must be getting a new face then, a permanent hide away yet right with the crowd.
I check my own surveillance feed to see her and get a good look at her face now. What plays back to me is not the woman that was in my bed this morning, but a shadow head, a worker. He's wearing all black. There's two of them, I can make out a pair of feet by my door. They leave behind this forged note and now expect me to go out and find her. This little rich brat. This bitch wanted me involved and for what?
Then I heard her voice in a flashback from last night saying something like, "You're the best man hunter around these parts, aren't ya?" Then her whisper, "Come find me."