Malachi, Ruse Master Read online

  Malachi, Ruse Master

  A Detours in Time Character Spinoff

  (Detours in Time, Book 3)

  Pamela Schloesser Canepa

  Copyright © 2020, by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

  All rights reserved

  This book or any parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise-without prior written permission from the author. Thank you for respecting the author’s rights.

  Independently published

  Cover design by Jonas M. Steger of Steger Productions

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 My Kind of Job

  Chapter 2 LLJF & Associates

  Chapter 3 Girlfriend Blues

  Chapter 4 Purpose

  Chapter 5 Getting a Cover

  Chapter 6 Kitty Smithsfield

  Chapter 7 No Time for a Personal Life

  Chapter 8 Be My Partner in Crime

  Chapter 9 A Plan

  Chapter 10 The Suspicious Scientist

  Chapter 11 9/11/01

  Chapter 12 Balancing Work with My Own Designs

  Chapter 13 Smokescreen Ruse

  Chapter 14 Getting at the Truth

  Chapter 15 Exposing Truths

  Chapter 16 Fallout

  Chapter 17 A Weak Moment

  Chapter 18 An Affront

  Chapter 19 Making My Future

  Acknowledgments

  Discussion Questions

  Chapter 1

  My Kind of Job

  The late afternoon sun reflected off of the snowy ground as I ran to my next job. The D.C. Metro was still confusing to me, so here I was: running late. Not again. I sighed loudly. It was cool enough out that I could see my breath in the air. The run was warming me up, though. I shook my head; I was going to have to step up my game.

  Money was short lately. I’d decided the acting field was definitely my calling, but in the meantime, I had to eat. No one could blame me for improvising. I had to save up to find my way to California. The East Coast was not the place for me to stay, not in the long run anyhow. I accepted that I had to do this all on my own. Mom and Dad were in bad health in Nebraska, and my brother, Timothy was being a turd about it as usual. There was no asking my family for help. I’d blown my scholarship, and I was expected to carve out a life for myself. I’d tried college in Georgetown, and I just couldn’t take it; college is not for everyone. I had to forge onward and make my own living. Not that I didn’t believe I could; I’d just come to the conclusion that I would have to stoop very low to find myself on the way back up. That’s exactly what I was doing on that sunny, cool day in mid-December, fully embracing what it meant to be Malachi.

  I had come to this job through an ad in the newspaper. It read: Acting job. Get your foot in the door. The tryout was basically an interview, and I didn’t get a call back until a week later. Probably enough time for a background check. I should have known right away that salty old guy in jeans was no director. He was a private investigator. Not that it mattered. This experience would feed me and help me hone my acting skills. I was actually enjoying it so far. This current job I was on was going to be more interesting than my first, and I sort of liked that.

  On entering the swanky restaurant from the front, I found the ‘target’ waiting by the hostess station for a table. The man it was assumed she would be with was standing by the door, pretending not to know her. What a shoddy actor he was. As if he didn’t plan to be seated with her, canoodling or playing footsies under the table at the back of the restaurant in fifteen to twenty minutes. I was tasked with obtaining evidence. No problem. I just couldn’t get caught.

  A pretty young lady asked how many were in my party.

  “Oh, it’s just me. May I see the menu first?”

  She looked me up and down, most likely deciding I didn’t look like I could afford a dinner in their restaurant, but she humored my by handing me a menu with a smile. “You just missed the early bird special, but the seafood here is great.”

  After pretending to look at the menu she’d handed me, I shook my head as she must have expected, and quietly made my way back out of the restaurant, slipping around to the back, head down, probably proving her assumptions right. Except, I wasn’t speeding off in my car to go get some shrimp at a fast-food restaurant. There was a much taller order to fill.

  I waited for ten minutes at the back door of the restaurant, when I finally caught a young fellow approaching with his uniform in his hands. No doubt, it would be a little baggy on me, but that was alright. I deduced by the hairnet in his hand that he was not a fancy waiter, but I’d improvise.

  “Hey, dude. I need a huge favor, and I’m willing to pay.” I flashed several twenties.

  “Aw, man, I’m due in to work like, right now. I can’t be late.”

  “Just make up an excuse. Come on, there’s a hundred dollars cash right here.”

  He looked at me. Undecided. I flashed the five twenties again. This was already 1/3 of what I’d earn from this gig. He didn’t know just how generous this was.

  He reached out and took the cash. “Alright. What do ya’ want?”

  “I need your uniform. I only need it for ten minutes. I won’t even get it dirty, I swear.”

  “It’s gonna look baggy on you.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll tie the apron really tight. It doesn’t matter. Look, it’s my friend’s mom’s birthday, and he wants me to slip her a surprise. She doesn’t even know me. It’s some tickets for a show later, for her and her date to go on. Total surprise.” I hoped the guy was buying my story.

  “Okay. Here.” He handed me the uniform. “Your pants’ll be okay. You don’t need mine. I’m wearing them already.”

  Instead of stating how obvious that was, I nodded, relieved.

  “I’m Josh, by the way.” The waiter extended his hand, then took out a cigarette and lit it when I failed to shake. He showed no dismay that I didn’t give him my name. I was already changing into Josh’s shirt, running the details of the plan through my head.

  “I appreciate it, Josh. My friend’s mom will really appreciate it, too!” In my pocket, I felt for the small digital camera. I’d need that.

  Josh stood there smoking. “Hurry up, though. I don’t wanna get fired. If anyone sees me back here smoking, it’s over. Then I have to come up with a new story.”

  “It’s easier than you think,” I replied with a knowing nod, then began walking in through the service door to the restaurant and through the kitchen.

  “Hey! I don’t remember you!” one of the cooks called, turning to look at me from his station.

  “First day,” I commented, seeing a schedule on the back wall and pointing. “Yep, I’m due in at 6 p.m. Right on time.”

  “I’ll give you the rundown, then.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll be back in a minute!” Still tying the apron, I walked briskly toward the dining room, eyeing the patrons. There she was, the target, sitting with an older guy who was as bloated as his wallet if what I knew about him was right. His name was supposedly Bruce, and I’d seen him somewhere, probably on the news. They participated in small talk at a table by the kitchen. How long would I have to wait for them to get closer to each other?

  I went ahead and took one photo from the hip, just to prove they were here together. Obviously, as Jack, my boss had said, the ‘client’ wanted a photo proving they were more than friendly. Hopefully, that would happen soon.

  “Good evening,” I said, approaching the table. “I understand we are celebrating a special occasion. May I bring you a bottle of our finest?”

  “The other waiter already took our drink or
der, thank you. What do you mean, special occasion?” the woman asked. I had assumed she was naive and looked to be very open to flattery; she wasn’t unattractive, but she wasn’t any spring chicken, either.

  “Oh, I thought there was a special occasion. Perhaps I came to the wrong table; I am fairly new. I was told to look for a young woman with beautiful hair, accompanied by a dark-haired gentleman. Did I come to the wrong table?”

  “Oh, goodness, he says I’m a young woman with beautiful hair, Bruce!” The woman blushed.

  “Yes, you are, Madeline,” Bruce replied with a gleam in his eye, taking her hand, then touching her chin affectionately and gazing into her eyes.

  My ingratiating gift of gab had not failed me. I backed up, snapping another photo from the hip. Unfortunately, this time, they saw the camera. I was pretty sure their shock didn’t show until after the photograph was taken.

  “Young man, stop!” Bruce stood, toppling the glass of wine in front of him, causing it to run off of the table and spill onto his nice leather shoes. Anger can cause carelessness, so they say.

  By then, I was running back through the kitchen, not even stopping to see if he spilled any on his mistress.

  “I quit!” I hollered at the cook, stripping off my apron and unbuttoning my shirt as I ran out the back door.

  I threw the shirt and apron at Josh; he struggled not to get cigarette ash on it. He quickly stamped out his cigarette as I retrieved my shirt and flimsy jacket from the ground.

  “Thanks for watching these for me! You should put those on right now!” I had a feeling the cook would holler out the back door at me any minute.

  “Why are you in such a hurry?” Josh questioned incredulously as I jogged away while he tried to jam his arms back into the armholes of the shirt.

  “These tickets are for a show that starts in thirty minutes! She’ll be coming out and I don’t want her to see me!” I called over my shoulder as I ran off, knowing I should not have let the man and his mistress see me shoot that photo. Still, I was quick enough that they likely wouldn’t recognize me if they saw me again, or so I hoped. That was back before I could afford really high-tech gadgets, and Jack hadn’t bought any yet. At any rate, I’d gotten the evidence that was needed, and our client was more than happy. I’m sure Jack got a big bonus. Me, I got three hundred dollars, and I won’t cry for one minute over that extra one hundred I could’ve had. It was well worth it. Besides, two hundred dollars for fifteen minutes of work wasn’t such a bad deal, considering the minimum wage in 1999 was $5.15 an hour, and I considered this to be a job with a promising future for someone like me.

  Chapter 2

  LLJF & Associates

  The whole set up in finding this job was very unofficial. When I first met Jack a month ago, he seemed suspicious from the get-go. I don’t know how I missed that he was a private investigator. He wore jeans and a leather jacket with rugged boots to match. His ‘office’ was in the back of a two-bit lawyer’s office, with no name or title on the door or on his desk.

  It was hard finding Jack’s office at first. I had two job possibilities listed on a paper with addresses. I almost gave up on LLJF to go and apply at Jeffrey Jay’s Temp Agency. Instead, I saw an older African-American man sitting on a bench. He was dressed raggedly and looked to be missing a tooth on one side. I showed him the address and asked where I could find LLJF.

  “It’s run by a guy name Jack?” he asked, squinting in the morning sunlight.

  “Um, yes,” I answered, feeling hopeful and wanting to avoid a temp agency job.

  He stood and clapped his hands together. “Aha. I see. Yes. It’s that building over there, young man. Good luck!” He winked.

  “Thank you,” I replied and rushed to the building.

  When I got inside, I asked for LLJF and Associates as advised. The man up front pointed to the door in the back. I noticed he was a lawyer. Henry Jaycon, P.A. was on a placard on his desk. There were no other people there, so what kind of audition could that be? How did I not know? Not to mention, he was the only guy in his office, and the same was true for the owner of LLJF. Now that is awfully odd for an audition, I thought.

  His office looked very temporary and spare, save for the elaborate computer in the corner. There were two types of printers attached and two computer screens. One of them appeared to be some sort of security camera feed. There were no pictures of family, no awards hanging on the wall. Also very strange for a director, no matter how small-time he was.

  After a brief introduction, I went through the spiel of how I discovered acting was my forte, the stories of cutting up in class and how the professors loved my acting but always failed me anyway. I was not cut out for academics; those term papers always got me. I could talk a really good game in seminar, and they appreciated that, but I could not pass a test and could not sit down and focus long enough to write a research paper, so a degree in Communications or anything else for that matter was no hope for me. Any other degree held no interest at all. I had the gift of gab, could hold a conversation with anyone, could put myself in their shoes and make myself fit into any circle of friends. Not to mention the standing ovation I got in the production of Othello. Yes, I, a clueless, failing college student, excelled as the lead character in Shakespeare’s Othello. Jack was shocked when I told him that.

  “I’m sure you can verify it by calling the Drama Professor at Georgetown University,” I claimed. “You can also contact my speech professor, Dr. Mason. He was sort of dismayed that I dropped out. I actually had a B in his class that would’ve been an A if I could have supplied my research cards. He told me I was the best verbal B.S.er around, if that helps my cause here. I can always come up with words on the fly, if needed.” I smiled.

  He made some notes. “Yes. I will contact them,” he stated in a gravelly voice that sounded like he really needed to cough but didn’t.

  I believed him, too.

  “So, tell me about your family.”

  “Well, they don’t live here. They’re in the Midwest. Mom can no longer talk. She’s kind of losing her mental faculties. It’s been really hard for Dad. He just drinks it away. He still thinks I’m in college. I don’t know if I can tell him the truth. My older brother, Steven, handles all the finances anyhow. He knows the truth. Gave me hell about it when I called. All he wants to do is judge me. I’ll go back to see them someday, I’m just not real anxious to do that yet. My older brother is kind of a jerk. Besides, I don’t want to go back begging or empty-handed.”

  “Right.” He leaned forward. “I’ll be forthright with you, Mike. We have to give you a new name, sort of like an actor’s stage name. You will no longer be Mike Winters. I’ve already dug into your past at the college. You must never lie to me. I need to know that I can trust you. I’m not putting on plays or a Broadway production; I am a private investigator. I need to contract with someone who can fit into all kinds of situations without being conspicuous or getting caught. You need to be able to act like you belong anywhere, and you’ve got to convince our targets that the sky is green on any given day.”

  “Targets?”

  Jack gave a wry smile. “I just call them that.” He laughed in a half gleeful, half-coughing sound. “We’re not killing anyone, but there are specific goals in every case. Catching a husband with their pants down, for example, finding evidence when needed, really, it all depends on who has hired us. You won’t know all the given details for each job. You’ll only know what your end goal is and a few necessary details. Just remember, we are hired by good, decent people who have a problem that a police officer cannot solve for them or does not have the time to handle.” He sat back and looked at me meaningfully. I decided he wasn’t sick, but he’d certainly been around the block a few times. Briefly, I wondered about his qualifications for this job.

  “I’m your guy,” I said, taking a sip of water from the glass he had supplied me. Challenge accepted.

  “Yes, well, you’ll hear from me in a week, when I complete the backgroun
d check. May I?” He grabbed a plastic bag, carefully took the glass of water from me, dumped the water into a potted plant by his desk, and enveloped the glass inside the bag without laying a finger on it.

  “You’re good at that,” I observed.

  “It’s the only way one stays in business in this business: being good at what you do.”

  “You want a urine sample too?” I leaned forward, half-joking.

  “No, that will come later.”

  I shrank back, surprised, but not surprised. I was starting to realize what I was getting into. He had to know he could trust me. I could be fake to everyone around me but him. It had its appeal.

  “Okay, well thanks for considering me. I look forward to hearing from you. By the way, am I the only applicant?”

  “No. There have been others. You would not be the only employee either. However, you won’t necessarily meet your fellow employees, and that should not worry you. Your application looks good, but you must pass the background check. After which, you must pass the drug test. If all that works out, you won’t be so hungry anymore.”

  The meaning of those words caused me just a slight bit of unease. This man already knew a lot about me.

  “Well, thanks again.”

  “By the way, it would help you to find some employment in the meantime, some sort of job to establish a work history, that you could easily leave when work picks up here. That is, if you get the job and are still interested after the background check. Check out one of those phone sales jobs, where you pretty much work for yourself. Just a suggestion.”

  I didn’t understand the reasoning, but he was right; I could easily walk away from such a job. I’d already left the pizza delivery business. My car was on its last leg.

  “Alright. Thanks again.”

  “If you are going to hear from me, it will be before next Friday. And do not share the details of this job with anyone. My business is not successful if everyone knows what we do.”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” With that, I walked out the door with him at my heels, closing the door behind me.