W Is for Wasted

ago. I ran into him at the funeral, where he was trolling for business.” In the midst of my protest, I felt a spark of recall and held up a hand. “Uh-oh. Wait.”
    Dietz said, “What.”
    “I just remembered. I got a call from Con Dolan, who said someone needed a Nevada PI. He asked for your phone number and I gave it to him. This was months ago. I told him I had no idea if you were still in business, but he was free to try. It didn’t occur to me to ask what it was about. I knew you liked Con and he liked you, so it all seemed okay.”
    “That’s probably it, then. My dumb luck.”
    “I’m sorry. Honestly, if I’d known it was Pete, I wouldn’t have said a word.”
    Henry got up and poured me another glass of wine. Dietz had already reached for the bottle of Black Jack that was sitting in the middle of the table. He topped off his glass and when Henry held out his tumbler, Dietz filled that as well. The silence was dense.
    I couldn’t quite meet his eye. “How much does he owe you?”
    “Three thousand dollars and change.”
    Another silence accumulated while I pondered the sum. Three thousand dollars would have seemed like a lot prior to my windfall of five hundred grand. All a matter of perspective, isn’t it? “For doing what?”
    “Surveillance.”
    “Who’s the client?”
    “Some young fellow here in town suspected his wife was having an affair with an old flame. This guy’s wife and her old boyfriend both now work at the same research firm. The two were flying to Reno for a conference and I guess hubby wanted to know if they were up to no good.”
    “Were they?”
    “Not that I saw. The two didn’t interact at all. She met with an old high school buddy and they put their heads together on two occasions, but there was nothing romantic going on. I sent Pete my report and an itemized expense account with all of the receipts attached. This was four full days’ work and I invoiced him accordingly.”
    “You want his office address?”
    “I have it already. That’s where I sent my bill. I’ll take a run over there on Monday and see what’s what. Maybe his partner can fill me in.”
    “I don’t think Pete had a partner.”
    “Of course he did. Able, as in Able and Wolinsky.”
    “That’s probably a ruse on his part to net a favorable position in the phone book.”
    “Shit,” Dietz said.
    “I still have his unlisted home phone in an old address book. I don’t remember the number offhand, but I know where he lives.”
    “Never mind. Not your problem,” he said.
    “Of course it is. I should have asked Con what was going on and then cleared it with you before I passed your number along.”
    Dietz said, “Wouldn’t have made any difference. If I’d known the request came from Con, I’d have agreed. Besides which, Pete sounded legit when I talked to him.”
    “‘Legit’ is a relative term,” I said.
    Henry slapped his knees and stood up. “Well, now that you’ve settled the matter, I’m off to bed. You kids can thumb-lock the door and pull it shut behind you when you leave. Take all the time you want.”
    Dietz set the cat on the floor and got to his feet. Across the front of his jeans there was a ghostly cat outlined in newly shed white hair. “I better be on my way. I’m at the Edgewater, scheduled for late arrival, but why risk them giving my room away?”
    He extended a hand to Henry and the two men shook hands. “Thanks for supper. I owe you one.”
    Henry said, “Good seeing you again. As long as you’ve come all this way, I hope you’re staying a while.”
    Dietz made no response.
    • • •
    Our good-nights were superficial, not even accompanied by a perfunctory handshake or a neutral buss on the cheek. I was sorry he’d driven nine hours to chew me out when I could have set him straight on the phone. I was about to suggest that he submit his bill to the probate court, assuming Pete Wolinsky’d died with a will, but I was certain the idea would occur to him without my piping up. At this point, it seemed best to leave well enough alone. I’d already done him a disservice without even meaning to.
    He waited until I’d unlocked my door and I was safely inside before he returned to the street. I heard him pass through the squeaky gate and moments later, I heard his Porsche grumble to life. The sound faded as he drove off. I looked at my watch. It wasn’t even 9:00. Despite the long, hard day I’d endured, one more question remained. I picked up my