Advent Calendar - Day 12 Fiction by Meg Perry

 

Well, I wasn't kidding when I said our reader-writer friends are being extraordinarily generous with us this year. I appreciate it so much--and I encourage anyone reading along this season to also let these talented and kind people know that you're enjoying their work. 

Anyway, this morning we have fiction from Meg Perry! Meg is giving us a peek at what Tim and Jack from Cards on the Table have cooking this holiday season. 

Ha. Yes, I did. 

And we also get to touch base with Jamie and Kevin Brodie. So even better. 

Birds of Prey

 

The scent wafted to Tim’s nose assoon as he opened the front door. Jack was making his famous chicken wingsagain. He dropped his computer bag on the sofa and went to the kitchen, wherehe found Jack fiddling with their new air fryer. Jack glanced up and smileddistractedly. “Hey. Who thought this thing was a good idea?”

“As I remember, it was you.” Timkissed him hello. “Why don’t you make ‘em the old-fashioned way and figure itout later?”

“I refuse to allow this hunk ofmetal to defeat me.”

“It hasn’t defeated you, it’s justtemporarily stymied you. Where did you put the instruction manual?”

“In the drawer with the others.”Jack sighed. “I’ll read it later. How’d it go with the woman in Santa Monica?”

“Gwen Foresman.” Gwen was thefeatures editor of the Santa Monica Banner, the primary newspaper thatpublished solely for the residents of Santa Monica. “It went well. She liked mywork samples, but she wants me to write an entire feature on something of mychoice, then she’ll share it with the editorial staff and they’ll decidewhether to hire me.”

“This is not a full-time job, isit?”

“Of course not. They’ll give meassignments and pay me by the story, assuming they like what I submit to them. ButI have to think of something to write about. Quick. I’d like to get thisfinalized before the end of the year, and the end of the year is almost uponus.”

“Well, I might have an idea foryou.” Jack spread the wings on a baking sheet and basted them with sauce. “Ihad an interesting conversation with the chief today.”

Jack was a homicide detective withthe Glendale Police Department. An “interesting” conversation with Chief Rothwasn’t necessarily a good thing. “Uh-oh. And how does that have anything to dowith me?”

Jack slid the baking sheet into theoven and straightened up. “The chief’s daughter is working for a PI agency inBrentwood. A queer PI agency.”

Tim’s brain was still trying toprocess the first part of Jack’s statement. “Wait. Fred Roth has a daughter?”Glendale’s police chief was a stern, forbidding sort. Tim couldn’t imagine anyoneagreeing to procreate with him.

Jack chuckled. “Yeah. Her name isAvery. She’s about our age. She used to be a librarian, but she’s gone to work asa researcher for these PIs who market themselves to the LGBTQ community. Andtheir office is in the Flats, almost in Santa Monica. Might make a good storyto use as your feature.”

“Is Fred’s daughter…what? Lesbian?”

“I have no idea. Anyway, he wastelling me about this agency because they’re looking for a new PI. As you canimagine, there aren’t many queer cops around who’d be instantly eligible to getlicensed as a PI.”

Tim frowned. “Does Fred want you toleave the department?”

Jack laughed. “No! But he’s alsotrying to help his daughter out. He didn’t want to not tell me about theopportunity, in case I was interested. I’m not, but now I’m glad he told me foryour sake. I know two of the three founding owners, because they were victimadvocates with the DA’s office before they jumped ship to become PIs, and theyused to help me out with our victims’ families.”

“Are they good people?”

“Absolutely. Kevin Brodie andJamilah Daly. Kevin was LAPD homicide and Jamilah was with the Irvine PD beforethey became social workers.”

The thread of his potential story wasalready starting to sort itself out in Tim’s head. “And they’re both gay.”

“Jamilah is. Kevin’s the onlystraight one in the agency. There’s a third owner, a guy I know only byreputation, whose name is Rob Jones. He was LAPD too, with Homicide Special forten years.”

“Huh. All these former homicidecops are content with infidelity cases and missing dogs?”

“The chief said they’ve workedseveral murders. Remember that Dodgers player that died last summer? Theysolved that one.”

“No shit.” Tim was intrigued. Whenhe was intrigued by a story, it was easier to write. “I guess I’d better callfirst thing tomorrow to make an appointment with them.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jack pulledthe wings out of the oven. “Let’s eat.”

 

The following afternoon at three,Tim parked on the street a block from his destination and walked to theaddress. He stopped for a moment to take in the building, a one-story Craftsmanhouse with a wide front porch. There was a discreet plaque beside the frontdoor that read Angeles Investigations.

He pushed the door open and wentin. The reception area took up the entire front of the house. To the left was aseating area that featured a seven-foot Christmas tree decorated with a garlandof red ribbon. The ornaments were small birds, perching on the tips of thebranches.

On closer inspection, they were allbirds of prey. Tiny hawks, eagles, owls, and ospreys, glaring balefully at Timas if he was a field mouse. He turned in surprise to the other side of theroom, where a blond man wearing a headset was smiling at him.“That’s…different.”

The guy’s smile widened. “Isn’t itcool? You must be Mr. North.” 

“Yes. Call me Tim.”

The man held his hand out to Tim.“Ryan McKinney. Welcome to Angeles Investigations.”

“Thank you.”

Ryan sat down. “Let me tell Jamilahyou’re here.” He typed something, then squinted at his screen. “She’ll be rightout.”

Before Ryan even finished speaking,Tim saw a tall, slender Black woman with short locs exit one of the officesdown the hall and walk toward him. She held out her hand when she reached him.“Hi, I’m Jamilah Daly. Welcome.”

“Tim North. Thanks for seeing me onshort notice.”

“No problem. Our business slowsdown around the holidays. Come on back.”

She led him to the first door onthe right, which opened onto a spacious conference room. “Have a seat. Can Iget you anything to drink? We have water, soda, and coffee.”

“Water would be great, thank you.”

“You got it. Be right back.”

Tim looked around as he waited. Ahulking machine—copier? Printer? Probably both—rested in the far corner. Alarge watercolor of cliffs and a beach hung on the wall opposite the windows.The room was designed to be a neutral, calming space. Tim assumed that the PIsprobably met with clients here.

Jamilah returned with a bottle ofwater and a big, blond man who instantly made Tim think of Jack—not in looks,but in demeanor. If Dennis the Menace were a 6’4” homicide detective, he’d looklike this guy. His face was friendly and open, but his eyes screamed cop.He reminded Tim of the birds of prey on the Christmas tree.

The man offered his hand to Tim.“Kevin Brodie.”

“Tim North. Thanks for letting meinterview you.”

“We’re happy to.” Kevin sat acrossfrom Tim. “How did you hear about us?”

Tim explained the chain from Jackto Fred Roth to Avery. “Is Avery a PI?”

Jamilah said, “No, she’s one of ourtwo researchers. She’s still deciding whether she wants to get licensedeventually.”

“What do your researchers do?”

Kevin said, “A lot of PI work isdone from a computer. Background checks, skip tracing, property searches, allthat. Both of our researchers are former UCLA librarians, so they know how todig for information.”

“Is that standard practice for a PIfirm? To hire librarians?”

“Not that I know of. But it freesus up to spend more time in the field.”

“Jack said that you’re both socialworkers as well as ex-cops. How does that help you in this job?”

Jamilah said, “I think it gives usan edge in empathizing with our clients. It’s important that people tell useverything they know regarding their case, and Kevin and I are very goodat getting people to tell us everything they know.”

“How did it come about that youwanted to serve the LGBTQ community?”

Jamilah shrugged. “Rob Jones—ourco-owner in the agency—set that as his mission from the beginning. Ourcommunity has unique needs and nuances that other PI firms might notunderstand. We don’t limit ourselves to serving the queer community, but we’rehere for them when they need us.”

Tim nodded. “What percentage ofyour cases come from our community?”

Jamilah and Kevin shared a look.Kevin said, “That’s a good question. We’ve never looked at that specifically,but just as a rough guess I’d say sixty percent.”

“That’s great. What kinds of casesdo they bring you?”

“Everything. Infidelity,surveillance, missing persons, death investigations—anything you can think of.”

They talked for nearly half an hourabout the PI’s backgrounds, about how the agency came to be, about whatoccurred during a typical day. Tim was opening his mouth to ask anotherquestion when another man entered the room. Mid-fifties, salt-and-pepper hair,cop eyes. He held out his hand to Tim. “Hi, I’m Rob Jones. Thanks for doingthis story.”

“Thanks for allowing me theopportunity. I don’t have a guarantee that it’ll be published, but Ithink the paper will be receptive. Do you have any direct links to Santa Monicathat I could mention?”

Kevin pushed back from his chair.“We do. It’s time for you to meet our researchers.”

 

Kevin led Tim out the back door ofthe building, across the parking lot, and into a two-car garage with anapartment above. Half of the garage had been converted into office space, usingmobile cubicle dividers. There were two desks. One of them belonged to a womanwhom Tim assumed was Avery Roth. The other was occupied by a guy who looked alot like Kevin—nearly as big, hair slightly darker and longer. Kevin said, “TimNorth, these are our researchers, Avery Roth and Jamie Brodie. Jamie lives inSanta Monica.”

Avery said, “Oh, you’re JackBrady’s boyfriend! It’s great to meet you.”

“You, too. Do you know Jack?”

“Sure. I’ve spent a lot of time atmy dad’s office over the years. I remember when Jack joined the force. Tell himI said hello.”

“I will.” Tim turned to JamieBrodie, then winced as light from a window hit his eyes. He turned slightly,away from the light. “Where do you live in Santa Monica?”

“Mid-City, on 17thStreet.”

“You’re both librarians, right? Howis this job different from the work you did at UCLA?”

Avery said, “It’s way moreinteresting!”

Jamie added, “And meaningful.Tracking down criminals is more useful to society than helping students earnadvanced degrees in the social sciences. Although, I suppose, the studentswouldn’t agree.”

Tim took a closer look at Jamie.“Were you a cop, too?”

“No.” Jamie gestured to Kevin. “ButI lived with this guy when we were both single, and my husband is an ex-cop.I’ve kinda absorbed it by osmosis.”

Avery said, “Jamie has a history ofstumbling over bodies. Even when he was a librarian, he helped the police withinvestigations.”

“No kidding? That sounds likeanother story idea.”

Jamie grimaced. “Nah.”

For some reason, that made Kevinlaugh. Tim realized that he had one more question. “Who had the idea of decoratingthe tree with avian predators?”

Avery said, “That was all Jamie’sdoing.”

Jamie shrugged. “It fits us. From adistance, we’re a tree with pretty birds. Up close, we’re something else.”

Something else, indeed. Tim said, “You’re right, it fits.Is there anything else you all would like me to include in the article?”

Kevin said, “Not that I can thinkof. Will we get to read it before you submit it?”

“Yes. I’ll write it this eveningthen send it to you for corrections. If you think of something else to include,I can add it then.”

“Perfect.”

Avery said, “Good luck. I hope wehelp you get this job.”

Tim smiled. “Thanks. It’s great tomeet you all.”

Kevin said, “You, too. If we canever help you out with anything, let us know.”

“Likewise.”

Tim said goodbye to Avery and Jamieand followed Kevin back to the main building. As he left the office, he tookone more look at the Christmas tree.

Birds of prey. Like the tree, Angeles was morethan advertised.

If he got this gig with thenewspaper, Tim thought he might be visiting Angeles again.