A KIss to Build a Dream On: 1.4

Edward leaned back and lit the second cigarette of the conversation. The pungent yet not unpleasing smell of butane filled the private investigator's nostrils. It put him in mind of the times he had worked the middle watch, the men sleeping rough on the ground, the pregnant quiet, the waiting.

"I don't do cases like this. Not divorces. Not cheating dames. Not anything of the kind. It ain't personal. I just don't mess with matters of the heart. Period. Ain't worth the grief," He blew out a cloud of smoke, "It's the one kind of job that even if you give the client exactly what he wants, he still nurses a grudge."

David Thayer did not move. He stared at Edward Leer beneath heavily lidded eyes. The rattle of a nearby El and the groaning of the old water heater filled the detective's ears. Leer felt himself being weighed on the scales and found wanting. It was not a sensation he was accustomed to or particularly enjoyed.

"James Paulson. He's good. Discrete. We go way back. I'll give him a call first thing."

Thayer's lip twitched. "I'm not interested in Paulson. A great deal of care has been taken in your selection. A great deal. Whatever...inconveniences might be created by taking a case outside of your normal specialty, you would be more than adequately compensated."

Leer cleared his throat and was about to tell Thayer where he could shove his "compensation," gun or no gun, when Thayer wordlessly passed the detective another folder.

Leer looked at the folder in his hands and did not open it. He'd give the shrimp some credit. He was persistent. "It ain't a matter of money. Last case I took like this,  I got someone's ex wife shooting at me with one of them cute little lady's pistols. She couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Still, I don't like getting shot at by cheating dames or getting screamed at about how I just ruined some sad bastard's life. You wanted me to track down employee fraud? I'm there. This? No. I don't care what you're offering. Comprende?"

"And does Mrs. Leer feel the same way?" Thayer said softly, "It seems to me she might have different thoughts on the matter." He looked meaningfully at the cot stashed in the corner of the room and then back at Leer.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll leave my family out of this." Leer's voice was monotone, his affect controlled. In his mind's eye, Thayer was bleeding on the floor.

Thayer laughed soundlessly. "Just read it. I think you will find my offer most...agreeable."

Leer flipped open the folders. Thayer hadn't been kidding. The compensation was good. Too good even for a public scandal. What was the catch? There had to sbe something the hotel magnate was hiding. Eddie Leer reflected on the gnawing pain in his gut and on his wife and decided he didn't care.

"Fine. I start when I see the advance wired to my account. Not a second sooner."

Thayer smiled once again, "Naturally."

A Kiss to Build a Dream On: 1.3

Kemp frowned; His long, pale fingers twitched on the top of the expensive leather briefcase, and he shifted in the office chair.

"As I said earlier, Mr. Leer, I am here on a matter requiring discretion. A week ago, Mr. Thayer discovered several photographs of an intimate and compromising nature had been stolen by this individual." Kemp removed a manila file folder from his briefcase and passed it to Leer, who surveyed the contents rapidly.

"Why does Mr. Thayer think this Jossi fellow is responsible for stealing the photos?"

"Aside from my client,  Stanford Jossi is the only other person who knew of the location of the photographs. They were kept carefully hidden."

"I see," Leer said, lighting his second cigarette of the conversation.

"It is paramount to my client that these photographs be recovered and destroyed. He fears," Kemp paused, his face blanching, "You may, perhaps, be aware that Mr. Thayer is to be married next month to the socialite Gwendolin Preston, heiress to the Preston canning fortune?"

Leer hadn't been, but he nodded anyway. The buzz from his earlier drink was evaporating, replaced by a dull ache behind his temples. "It's the so what that I don't get here, Mr. Thayer. Don't deny it. It's no use."

The man who had introduced himself as Kemp started and gasped. "How? It's impossible. How did you know?"

Leer rolled his eyes. "First off, everything of mine you've touched in this office, you handled through that fancy snot rag of yours. You're pale. Too pale. Your skin hasn't seen natural sunlight in ages. David Thayer doesn't have much of a rep in this town except as a germaphobe and a shut in. You're wearing an old suit. Five, six years old. It's seen wear. That's good, convincing, but it's a custom job. Very good make, too. Saville Row tailor. Made out of fine wool. Not good. It would have set you back a pretty penny. I don't see lawyers in this town spending that much money and wearing the suit that often. Major cases. If a lawyer owned that suit, it'd look new. Wearing a suit that expensive enough to make it look worn equals money. So does the manicure. And the Italian loafers. But the real kicker was the poker face. You don't have one. So you need to start playing it strait with me. What is at stake, Mr. Thayer."

"Her family would put a stop to the union at even the breath of scandal," he whispered, "Hospitality is about reputation. The Prestons have connections with all the right people. They have the power to make the Idlewilde a national name. They could also destroy it with a word. I need this marriage, Mr. Leer."

A Kiss to Build a Dream On: Chapter 1.2

Edward Leer looked down at the six inch pistol, which was indeed pointed at his liver, and then looked up into the pale, baby face of the man holding the gun. The stranger's gaze was steady and unblinking. His smile did not waver. In his other hand he held a leather briefcase. Leer made a mental note not to open his door while drunk again; he did not enjoy the idea of being found dead dressed only in an undershirt and a dirty pair of pants.

"That ain't the first heater I've had pointed at me," he said, "And I don't take too kindly to threats. Why don't you put away the piece, and we'll see if we can settle this. Whatever this is."

 The stranger's left eye twitched, "Very well." He slid the pistol back in the pocket of his trench coat and looked over Leer's shoulder into the cramped and filthy office. He drew a soft breath in through his teeth. "You first. Keep your hands where I can see them, and I'll do the same."

"Suits me." Leer walked back in and perched on the edge of his desk The blond stranger followed and then sat down in the worn out armchair facing the desk, placing the briefcase on his lap, and his palms flat on the top of the case.

"I'm all ears," Leer said.

"My name is Ernest Kemp. I am here on behalf of my client, David Thayer."

Leer nodded. "The hotel magnate. Owns the Idlewilde. I'm familiar. So what does one of the richest men in the city need with a two-bit private dick." 

"Please, Mr. Leer. I've read your dossier. A silver star. A reputation for integrity and competence while you were with the Chicago PD.  It's impressive. Even here you've developed a reputation amongst the right sort of people for professional excellence and, most important, discretion."

Leer watched Kemp as he looked around the office with thinly veiled revulsion and suppressed the impulse to toss him out on his ear. He lit a cigarette and mulled over the situation for the moment. Leer could think of no one who'd recommend his work to a society type like Thayer or any of Thayer's well payed minions. "OK, I'll bite," he said, "What's the case?"

 "It is a sensitive matter, Mr. Leer. I need to be assured of your complete confidentiality before disclosing any of the particulars. In short, I need assurance that you are in our employ now."

"Mr. Kemp, you are testing my patience. I'll hear you out. If we can come to an agreement. Great. If not, I'll refer you to someone who can help. You don't stay working in this business with loose lips."