“You want me to find out what, exactly, you did on Halloween night?” I was slightly hungover- my longtime boyfriend, Miami Homicide Detective Oliver Gutierrez, and I had partied a bit too much the night before and the two Cokes and four Advils I’d had for breakfast had not kicked in yet. “This past Halloween, on Monday, two nights ago?”
The man sitting across from me kept shifting around in the worn brown leather chair where my clients sat. I normally only took referrals, but, business was slow, real slow, so I agreed to meet with him. Over the phone he had said he had found me on Google, when searching for a private investigator in Miami. Although he was casually dressed in jeans, short-sleeved cotton shirt and sneakers, his short haircut and erect bearing told me he either was or had been in the military.
“Well, you’re a private investigator, right? On your website, Marisol Martinez Investigations, you list all the services you provide, and one of them is that you conduct discrete investigations. I need discretion- lots of it.” He looked at me straight in the eyes as he spoke, almost as if he was challenging me, sending a slight shiver down my back.