I had showered as quickly as possible and chose a dark pair of jeans with an ivory top to contrast. I selected some pieces of jewelry to accent the ensemble so that I could look more put together for this meeting than I actually felt. I cringed as I slid my wedding band over my left ring finger and my stomach did somersaults thinking about who I had actually married. No time to think about that now, I coached myself. I had to get to this meeting on time.
I never spent much time in Starbucks. In fact, I had given up coffee altogether when I moved to Texas. Some freaking New Yorker I was right? It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, or that I had made a change to the infamous San Antonio “sweet tea” to start my morning (otherwise known as diabetes in a cup), it was just that everything took so damn long. Stopping to get a cup of coffee would easily add 20 minutes onto my morning commute, and when faced with the decision to sleep those extra minutes of have coffee, sleep won.
I could already smell the coffee brewing as I exited my car. I remembered that Dad, who was such a coffee connoisseur, had always hated Starbucks. He would say it tasted like they burnt the beans. I laughed under my breath at the irony as I took the large steps to the front entrance. As I opened the large glass door to what I hoped to be my justice, the smell of burnt coffee beans washed over me. I took a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and began scanning the tables for someone who looked like a PI. What the hell am I looking for anyways? It’s not like he is going to be wearing a sign. My brain had immediately created a large Italian man with a leather coat and slicked back hair to be the guy I was going to hire. Apparently I had watched too many old Mob movies. I truly didn’t know what I was looking for, and everyone in the place had their face buried in a book or a laptop. No one even gave a glance in my direction and so I figured that I had arrived before him. I walked up the counter and ordered a cup of Earl Grey tea. I loved the smell and I could use something to busy my idle hands while I waited. “What’s the name for that order ma’m?” The young barista asked me cheerfully. I wanted to give her a “coffee name” like Phoebe had in the TV show Friends, and I was just pondering a funny name to give her with a perfectly straight face (something like Princess Consuela, or perhaps Mildred) when it suddenly dawned on me. This is why he picked Starbucks! It wasn’t because it was close, or discrete, it was because it was the only place in the world where you could learn the names of every person in the room without having to say a word. “Dana,” I responded to the barista with a smile on my face, and watched as she scribbled it on my cup to fill my order. Instead of choosing a seat, I opted to stand near the drink pick up area. I did enjoy watching the intricate details that went into some people’s drinks, but I also wanted to get a better look at the names. I was hopeful that a cup ahead of mine might belong to Peter .
It felt like hours that I was standing there watching the various drinks pass, all claiming an owner; Julie, Scott, Ben…..each name being called loudly as they were presented on the counter. Finally, I heard a familiar name, “Dana, your drink is ready at the counter, Dana.” As I closed the distance between myself and my steaming cup of tea, I was startled by a man’s hand that cut right in front of mine and grabbed my tea. “Let me get that for you Dana.” He said with a calm and pleasant tone. I looked up to match my eyes to the person that the voice belonged to, and landed on a gentleman who looked nothing like an Italian mobster, bummer. “I’m Peter,” he continued, “won’t you come and join me at the table?” My eyes followed his gesture to as small table located in the back left corner. There was a lap top sitting open, and what appeared to be a half gone espresso alongside it. Well, at least he had good taste in coffee drinks, Dad would have liked that. As we walked I realized that the computer and the coffee were the things that made him blend in so well, I hadn’t noticed him at all when I entered, and he didn’t have to look up to try and pick me out. He knew all he had to do was wait for my name. So far so good, he seemed intelligent and was clearly able to blend in.
As I took a seat across from him, I started to look at his features more intently. He bent the laptop cover slightly, so that I could have a full visual of my current company. He seemed average, 5’9″ maybe, auburn hair and plain brown eyes. His skin tone was fair and he didn’t really have any distinguishing features that I could see right now. He was well groomed and professionally dressed in Khaki dockers and an equally plain hunter green polo shirt. If I hadn’t taken notice of this man upon entry, then I don’t think Steve was going to be any wiser. As long as Peter would agree to take my case, I think this is going to work out just fine.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” I started. “Jen spoke so highly of you and she thinks you are going to be able to help me with a problem I am having.” My voice was as collected as I could force given the fact that I was about to spill all my personal information to a complete stranger. You were more than willing when you thought he was a mob guy, I chastised myself.
“I will let you know up front that I have to hear all of the details of the case before I make a decision. I have a very open mind and genuinely want to help people with their problems. I take personal safety into account when deciding on a case, as well as the rate of success that is foreseeable. I like to be sure I can help, before I give any false hope.” Peter seemed to be a very genuine man, and committed to his work for all the right reasons.
“I can live with that,” I told him. “It seems more than fair.”
Peter nodded to my response, “Well then Dana, why don’t you tell me about your situation and how my services might be able to help.”
I took a long pause and a moment to steal a sip of my tea. I let out a very deep exhale and launched into my story from the very beginning. As I went through the various people involved and gave their names, I watched Peter write them down on his legal pad that had previously been tucked under the laptop hiding the elements of his profession. He didn’t show any signs of emotion while I regaled him with the tales of loss and pain, and the ideas I had about how McCrabben and Steve were working together and why. He continued to nod to affirm my statements, and wrote notes when he thought something was worth writing about. I just kept going through the events, making sure that I was giving as much detail as possible so Peter could get the whole picture. I blotted my eyes occasionally to stop the tears from becoming a full on crying fit. It occurred to me while I was talking that this was the first time I had even thought about the whole ordeal from the beginning up to now, let alone say it aloud. It was difficult to even hear myself speak the words, to say all the terrible things that had come into my life in the last few weeks. I willed myself to keep going, but the ideas in my head were a strong force to fight. You married a murderer Dana. How could I be so fucking stupid? How could I let Steve into my life and allow him to take my Dad’s? How the hell did I end up here…. with a PI, asking him to help me catch my husband in the crime of killing my father? These words and many others pushed their way into my thoughts and before I knew it, I had stopped talking. I was wiping my eyes now instead of blotting and I realized this was more painful than I had anticipated. I did a quick check of Peter’s face, he was still listening. I took another sip of my tea and forced myself to finish. “And so Peter, do you think you could help me to find out what role Steve played in this disaster that is my life? And assist me in gathering enough information that I can take a legitimate case to the police? In short, do you think you have the expertise to help me take down my murdering husband and the bitch McCrabben who helped him? My voice was matter of fact when I spoke these final words, and I knew that everything I had was riding on Peter’s next response. I was down to ten days and he was going to be my only chance to get what I needed. I took a deep breath and grabbed one shaky hand in the other as I stared into his eyes.
“Dana, I don’t think I can help you….. I know I can.” A smile formed across his face as he spoke. “Let’s get some information about Steve and his daily schedule, and then I will share with you the route I was thinking of going. We will make this happen.”
I exhaled the breath I had been holding onto for the last 45 seconds and wiped a fresh batch of tears from my face. We will make this happen.
mydadknewbobdylan 