The Cold Voice. Part 1

I
It was all messy. The only thing that wasn�t was the office. But apart from me and a couple of suspicious wives not many people ever saw it.
I had to keep it clean, because it seemed like everything else around me was waist deep in some incessant corruption, racketeering, or money laundering; all scams.
And it smelt like it came from the top. The people that when they pulled a string, somebody else�s hand moved.
They had shut this one over our eyes. And they did a good job of it.

II
But before all that I was just a freshly trained P.I with a journalist degree.
Unfortunately that was when I had a green tinge of ignorance which comes from getting kicks out of your work. That was back in the day when I took everybody on their surface value. And I believed everything I was told.
I remember the day I got the office. Downtown. You are guaranteed business Downtown, that�s what they told me. It was right in the middle. Two storey, Rockefeller type set-up. First storey was the office. Second the apartment. So I never came late to work, and I could never get away from it.
The joint was generic as ever. There was a waiting couch. There was a desk. There was twistable blinds. There was a new typewriter which I was buzzing to use, which later I would loathe. There was a small library filled with books on law, precedent, and procedure. And in the corner in-between the two shelves of library there was a tall foot-locker, filled with a small arsenal of weapons.
The apartment was much the muchness; basic necessities, well, apart from the guns. There was a shower. There was a bed. And there was a fridge.
It all seemed too surreal, a dream, and when I woke up it would all vanish like a mirage.
I guess what finally sealed the deal was the sticker on the front door, �Lawrence Turnway, Private Detective�.
I was ready. Well, at least I thought I was.

III
The truth was�I wasn�t. I was way too excited, is what I was. And my happiness of my new job clouded my wisdom. It made me stupid enough to fall into traps, and dumb enough not to know how to get out. What I had to do was sink into this slow and calm and with a heat of whiskey and the burn of a cigarette. But that took about two years of people using me in the most basic and obvious ways. And I grew up, and so did my wisdom. And in eight years I had learnt a few things about this job and about this city. But it all started with her on that day.
I got a call the night before of a prospective client. Said it was serious. They all did. And that she wanted to meet in the morning to explain in detail. Her voice sounded familiar, it had a sweet type of sophistication. I asked her what the business was about. She said couldn�t say who yet, but all she said was �My Husband�, great, the generic set-up. Most of the time I think the public has this conception that a private detective�s job is to snoop about like a P.I and take pictures of neighbouring thieves and cheating husbands and slap them on the neck and see them red handed, show off my six-loader and scare them brittle.
I hated those clients. And I wasn�t Phillip Marlowe. I was Lawrence Turnway, who was sick of eating tuna and apricot because it was the only damn thing on special. I needed any business I could get. I needed this.

IV
The morning was especially sunny. On the walk to 45th streets coffee and newsstand everybody seemed happy. I heard that it was the UV in the sun that released some type of chemical reaction in the body that somehow produced happiness. It sounded like something from George Orwell, so I got the hell out of it and back into the office.
Front page a private dick like myself was slapped in a mug-shot, holding his new name up �89905467�. The things in blue had framed him with extortion of controlled substances. This one didn�t taste right, it was way to sour. The coffee was much the muchness, I finished it off just as I heard a polite yet stern knock at the door.
�Come in�.
And in she came. She wore a white professional shirt with light pink and blue stripes down it. The shirt was tucked into a black linen dress which came up to where I guessed her belly button must be. She had dark soft brown hair, which flowed gently to her shoulders. Her fringe was a perfect semi-circle to her eye-brows and levelled straight in precision. She had blue eyes that almost seemed brown. Her skirt came up an inch above her knee, and her shirt was opened an inch above her cleavage, which showed off her red opal necklace. She had a sexy look of late twenties, but she held the education and wisdom of early forties; she was mid thirties. And I knew her name. Natalie Hallingway. 34. Two sons; Richard Hallingway 14, and James Hallingway 16. Married to Jim Hallingway, mayor of New York City.

V
She stood there waiting for me and my manners to say �Take a seat�, which I held off for a bag-full of seconds to test her patience. She knew what I was doing.
�Take a seat� I said.
I grabbed the typewriter from behind me and placed it down and waited like an eager law factotum. And she carefully sat down.
�Tell me about your inquiry�. She talked and I typed.
�It�s about Jim. I don�t know if you know but he has a tyre business called� I interrupted
�Toryo Tyres. The largest outlet of specialised tyres in the world�
�Yes. Well I suspect that he is in the middle of bad business�
�Why would you say that?�
Her voice had a warm hypnotic feel, but I had to stay focused. She was incredibly beautiful, and sexy. Her body was, damn it stay focused. I told myself.
�Originally he started getting business with race-car professionals and car manufacturers, but it isn�t that which has me worried�It�s the law that got my attention. He was in contact with NYPD then SWAT and now FBI. I know he is the Mayor, but it seems he has had to much business with them�
�How regular?�
�Once a year had me concerned, twice a year worried, but it is regular distribution once a month�
I let the air go still for a moment.
�Maybe I am just going crazy, after all there tyres�
�Does your husband have anyone else associated with running the business?�
�Yes. Tanaka Miep�
�Japanese�
�He was the one doing all the work, the books, the contacts. He was running the whole business and Jim was mostly just the front picture man�
�Using his status to gain business�
�And then he became increasingly more interested in Toryo Tyres�

Maybe not the best decision but I thought I would put on the psychiatrists method and manner, to get a deep insight and emotional look at her situation. The right tone and face of concern also had to be adorned. The investigator was off and the psychiatrist was in.
�How is your relationship with Mr. Hallingway?�
She looked at me starkly and looked liked she was going to say �how is this any of your business?�. But she realised that I was genuine, and I pegged that she had no-one else to confide this in, and so she did. Her face contorted a little, and she went heavily emotional and her voice went higher.
�I knew when I married Jim that it wouldn�t be the usual white picket fence and honey I�m home�.
Her face then turned a little red and shook.
�But he spends every breathing second at that damn tyre factory!�
She returned to her emotional state.
�I just want him back. And I want things the way they were�.
She was a smart lady, but she lost all that when she got emotional.
�Do you suspect that he is seeing someone else?�
She returned back to her wisdom and normalness.
�I have thought about it. But he wouldn�t be stupid enough too. Not only would he be exiled by his family for good. But he would never risk losing the revenue which being the Mayor provides�Do you think there is a case here?�
�I�m not going to say yes, and I am not going to say no�.
�How about accepting the case?�
I wanted to say no, but I needed money. This sounded big. I could see that she trusted me now. That felt good, and I didn�t want to let her down.
�Fifty dollars a day. And a bottle of whiskey at the end of the week, and you�ve got yourself a Sleuth�.
Without hesitancy she reached out her hand
�Agreed�.
I could have easily had her to eighty dollars and two bottles of whiskey if I wanted, but I hated money, especially the rich money she had in her purse. It was a poisonous medicine that had to be taken.
She left the office and you could see in her eyes that she trusted me on this and that meant that when she put her head down tonight, she might be able to sleep. I knew I would have to take this one slow, but had a gut feeling I wasn�t going too.
My brother Dick called later and asked hows business, �Business is good Dick� I said, and for once I told the truth.
The rest of the day I forced slow action. I had bacon and eggs and Harry�s Caf�, I finished the paper and learnt that in Switzerland they have to wear special UV glasses to keep them from being depressed, because of the lack of sun. And I read the catalogue for Toryo Tyres. The largest outlet of specialised tyres in the world.