Arrest, Search and Séance : Book 1 of the Fringe Society, R.D. Hunter [good english books to read txt] 📗

been expecting a perky assistant or intern to meet us, but this was the Big Cheese, standing there with a warm smile on his face, like he was waiting for old friends to drop by. Only, friends usually didn’t have a 6’4 three-hundred-pound gorilla masquerading as a bodyguard standing in the corner, waiting to pounce at the slightest indication of danger to his boss.

“Detective Graves. Detective Perkins,” he greeted both of us with a firm handshake, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please follow me.”

Now, I’d seen pictures of Harold Mason before. Living in Atlanta, his mug was plastered all over the newspapers and televisions at least once a week, garnering heaps of praise for a charitable donation or his savvy business sense. But none of them, and I mean none of them, prepared me for how freaking gorgeous the man was.

He stood a little over 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair that was trimmed and parted to one side. His teeth were so white they belonged in a toothpaste commercial and his features were chiseled enough that they looked like they’d recently escaped a museum devoted to statues of ancient gods. He was dressed casually, in an open-collar suit with no tie and seemed perfectly at ease in his surroundings, like he’d mastered them in some sort of secret rite and now they served him with devotion.

We followed him through a front lobby, where he paused long enough to ask for coffee for himself and his guests from a professional-looking secretary, and into an office that was big enough to house my apartment and the parking lot attached to it. Ok, that might be an exaggeration, but you get what I’m saying.

It must have taken up almost a third of the entire floor. The walls were all glass, providing a stunning visage of the city below. At the far end, stood a large desk, meticulously organized with a computer system that looked like it could handle all of NASA’s workload and run the stock market at the same time. In the corner were several pieces of exercise equipment, the latest models of course, and there were several glass tables all around, obviously arranged by a feng shui master to maximize energy flow, holding ceramic and stone sculptures. They looked old and I almost shuddered to think how easy it would be to knock one over and render it worthless with one clumsy move.

I Mason to lead us over to the desk, but instead he motioned over to the corner, where a comfortable sitting area had been set up, obviously to take advantage of the incredible view when business wasn’t pressing. We both sat down on a leather sofa that was so soft I had to fight the urge to stretch out for a nap, while Mason seated himself in an easy chair across from us. The gorilla sat down at a small desk across the room, never taking his eyes off us.

“Nice office,” I commented, then cringed inwardly. I’d meant it to be a polite ice breaker, but instead it came out sounding crude and boorish. Mason, to his credit, took it all in stride.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m afraid I left most of the decorating up to others. I have no eye for it. My only contribution was the small lounge area we’re in now and the desk where I conduct most of my business affairs.”

“Well, first of all, we want to thank you for meeting with us on such short notice,” Bill said, going over the spiel we’d cleared with Captain Barker before we left. “The Atlanta Police Department really appreciates…”

“What was the nature of your relationship with Darren Hawkins?” I interrupted. There wasn’t time for this. Meeting us at the elevator, the huge office, it was all just one big power move. Time to return the favor.

Mason blinked once.

“Professional and unsatisfying,” he said after a moment’s pause.

“Could you elaborate?”

“I hired Mr. Hawkins to perform a service…”

“To find people with magical abilities. Yes, we know. What makes you think magic is real, Mr. Mason?” Beside me, Bill shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat, a subtle sign for me to tone it down. I acted like I hadn’t picked up on it.

“I don’t.”

“Then why hire a private investigator to find it?” I asked in confusion. “In fact, why hire Hawkins at all? You could have had a team of the best detectives in the world on the case, but you chose a two-bit, badly reviewed gumshoe that’s just this side of a conman. Why?” The crossing and recrossing of Mason’s legs was the only indication I got that my line of questioning was making him uncomfortable.

“I hired Mr. Hawkins because I didn’t want it to become common knowledge that I was looking into otherworldly matters,” he said stiffly. “The team of investigators you spoke of would have been a team of investigators. And you and I both know that the more people who know something, the less likely it is to remain confidential.”

“Okay, so why not go with another investigator; one that works alone and will keep your secret but has a reputation that doesn’t look like it was fished out of the gutter?”

“Because there would still be evidence connecting me to those investigators. They would require signed contracts with clauses, payment via check or electronic transaction. There would always be something linking me to them, and that was something I chose to avoid in this case. Mr. Hawkins was keen on accepting his retainer and the subsequent extensions in cash, without the usual forms filed and signatures signed. Not the best business practice, to be sure, but nothing illegal about it.”

That was true. It was up to Hawkins to declare his income for tax purposes, something I was sure he avoided if at all possible, so this was cash under the table. Lacey