Chapter Fourteen: The Shamus

James Calder, a self-acclaimed private detective, sat on his armchair by the big desk inside his office, working endlessly on paperwork based on the case of some celebrities' stolen jewels. This case had given him a tough time, and he still hadn't got a lead on it. The cops had given up on it, and the Feds agent who was earlier assigned to the case was brutally murdered along with his family, and they were burned to ash and beyond recognition.

 Calder had gone to the house of the late Feds agent to see if there was still anything he could scavenge, even if it was just a piece of any relevant paper that could lead to exposing the fact behind the culprit, but to his disappointment, he had found nothing.

 The house was badly burned down. The villains did a good job of leaving no trace behind. As for the cops, they had not been quite helpful; they had only helped provide him with little information on the details of the case.

 However, he had made a decision on his own: to keep a low profile and be as cautious as possible. He was quite certain that the outcome of this case might be more deadly than he had anticipated. Furthermore, he needed to be tactical lest he stepped on the wrong foot.

 Calder was a young man of thirty-two; he possessed a well-built athletic body shape. His military experience also gave him an added advantage to his well-developed body structure. He was recently married to a young beautiful maiden named Irvine Jones, a free and simple-headed girl whom he had come to know before he was sent to the war in the Middle East. There, he had served as a secret undercover military agent before he was hit by several bullets, one of which hit him close to the heart.

 He was rushed back to the state for a series of operations, and he was lucky to still be alive now. Five of his colleagues died on the spot. However, after his recovery, he was discharged and confirmed okay, but unfit for military service.

 He had gone to get a license for a private investigation agency, which he had easily obtained based on his satisfactory service, which was undeniably excellent in the army back in the Middle East before he was hit.

 He had his office on the second roadside of Wall Street in a fifteen-story huge corporate building facing the U.S. Standard Bank. His office was on the third floor of the building, but ever since his arrival here, he had encountered several rivals, most especially from the cops, as the metro city police station headquarters was only a few blocks away, opposite his office building. Nevertheless, this had not helped him much, as most of the cops saw him as a threat and wouldn't give him any form of assistance, which hadn't helped him much with information from them.

 Although he had resolved some minor cases, especially on cheating wives and unfaithful lovers, also some petty theft cases and a few murder-related cases. Moreover, most of them were just small cases that had only rewarded him with a few bucks. Though, he'd dreamed of cracking a big one someday, perhaps a nationally related issue that would fetch him some big dough. With that, he could get a better apartment and live a quiet life with his wife, who was heavy with his forthcoming children.

 As for his wife Irvine, she had never complained about their two-bedroom flat. She was a woman who understood her man and knew how to keep her home despite her condition, though she also worked as a teacher. He was thankful to have her as his life partner because she was beautiful and kind-hearted. He believed that if he had missed her, he wouldn't have found any other girl as nice and worthy as her.

 Meanwhile, in his office, he went through the files again, thinking perhaps there was a detail he might have missed or overlooked, although he had done that more than twenty times today. However, that had been his usual routine every morning when he came into his office. Cracking this case meant a lot to him.

 One thing he'd observed with the files was that in all the cases of the missing jewels, the jewels were either stolen during a night party at the celebrities' houses or after the parties. Another thing he noticed was that Ed had been the link to all the cases. The fact was that Ed was the public relations officer (P.R.O.) of the bank, and his close relationship with most of the celebrities had made the cops mark him as a prime suspect.

 They'd accused Ed of knowing when the jewel was released from the bank and taking advantage to inform the hood, who in turn broke into the victims' houses or connived with an accomplice, who might also be a prominent friend of the celebrities, thereby using the avenue as an advantage to rob the celebrities under the disguise of a friend.

 Thinking within the box, Calder could see some sense in this perception. However, one can be irrational by thinking only inside the box, because someone else in the bank might also have that information as well as Ed, and could be using that medium to get back at Ed by trying to destroy his reputation, especially as Ed was said to be the bank president's right hand.

 Ed had many enemies, and it was easy for someone to envy him and want to frame him up. But whoever it was, Calder believed he or she must be a person who had intimate knowledge of the celebrities and possibly be their friend as well.

 Though the police had cleared Ed's name from the record, as there was no concrete evidence to prove his involvement, but one thing Calder was certain of was that whoever was behind this racket must also have a good knowledge of the bank. He could even be an informant from inside. Tactically, Calder believed it was a framework, and he needed to be diplomatic in his investigation, lest he ended up like the murdered Feds agent.

 He checked his wristwatch, and it showed half past 9 a.m. There was still much time before he went out on fieldwork at noon, he presumed as he stood from his seat and walked to his window side. From there, he could see scenes across the street and all activities downstairs outside his office. He looked down the road, but the street seemed less busy today as everyone seemed to be at work at the moment.

 He stood there for a while, gazing toward the huge building of the U.S. Standard Bank opposite his office and across the other side of the road. He had made this his habit for quite a while now, and he believed he might spot something worthwhile soon if only he could pay much attention to its activities and monitor the bank staff from afar.

 He drew out a packet of tobacco, from which he took out one cigar and lit it. He drew a cloud of smoke and blew it out while still staring at the bank premises quietly. He made to go and continue with his work when he saw something that caught his attention.

A big, brand new Lincoln Navigator jeep, the latest model, sauntered into the street from the other side of the road, and it glittered under the sun rays as it approached. Calder gazed lustfully at the car from where he stood, coveting it in his heart. It was just the type he would love to have, and from the looks of it, he perceived it was still brand new. He guessed it must have cost a fortune, perhaps belonging to some politician or some celebrity, he assumed.

 He looked to see the direction it was heading, and he wasn't surprised to see it heading toward the bank premises, where it parked inside the bank parking space.

 Calder found this interesting. 'Perhaps it's high time I start paying attention to the bank customers as well,' he thought to himself.

 He waited to see who the guest was. The car driver's door opened, and he was surprised to see a girl hop out of it. However, from where he was, he could only make out her brunette hair and face. She had sunglasses on as well.

 He decided to stay a little longer and see her walk into the bank; perhaps she could be his lead to crack this case. But as she shut the car door, he heard a quick hard knock on his entrance door, and the door opened even before he could give the intruder permission to come in. His secretary Jessica appeared at the doorpost, and he was about to yell at her for barging in on him in such a manner. Nevertheless, the anxiety and expression on her face calmed him.

"Sir, the district inspector general (D.I.G) is here, and he asks to see you," she said with an anxious gesture.

Now it was his turn to be nervous. He stood still and stared curiously at her in doubt for a moment. "The D.I.G?" he finally asked in a surprised gesture.

"Yes, sir," she replied, nodding her head at him as if startled by the intruding visit of the guest at their office.

"Show him in!" he said to her, wondering what the D.I.G could be wanting with him now. "Well, as long as I haven't made any trouble, I have nothing to worry about," he mumbled to himself. Suddenly, his mind raced back to the scene at the bank premises. He turned quickly in that direction but was disappointed because he was too late to see the clear picture of the lady; she had disappeared into the bank already. He felt a little angry with himself for not being able to make anything out of her except for her hair. Perhaps he would be able to see her leave if the meeting with the district inspector general was a brief one, he thought to himself as his office door opened again.

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