Chapter 1

The building was a large two story brick that had been an extensive country home for a rich family in its past. It was located on the near north side of downtown St. Louis in an area that had long since declined to a shadow of its former splendor. The area was being revitalized into an upper class business section of the city. The stately old house now held four offices on the first floor and two large apartments on the second.

As you entered the ten feet tall double doors into the foyer of the building a wide hall way extended to the rear of the building. There was a large door at the rear with a red lit exit sign over it. Along that gateway into the building were four offices, two on either side of the hallway.

The first office on the left had a heavy wooden door with a frosted glass panel in the center which had a month old sign painted in gold letters with a black border.

Matthew Steele

Investigations

Security Specialist

That's me, Matt Steele, famous or maybe it's infamous, private investigator. I fight for truth, justice, and the American way; actually, I'm just trying to make a living. Well, I didn't really have to work thanks to a settlement from the city of St. Louis but I get bored just sitting around. I was a Detective First "Class with the St. Louis Police when I found my wife, Johanna, and my boss, Captain Joe Harper, in bed together.

I kicked Harper's ass and threw my wife out of the house; I wouldn't have beat on the slime ball except he went for his service revolver because he thought I was going to beat on him. I ended up divorced and was fired for insubordination and assault on Harper.

The St. Louis Police Department didn't want the negative publicity when I threatened a suit for wrongful termination and settled for a large sum out of court. I was no longer a cop but I needed to do something so I became a private detective.

"Nice digs," I said as I leaned back in my new desk chair and put my feet up on my brand new desk. This was the first day in my new office although I'd been living in one of the upstairs apartments for almost five months. I still owned a house, having gotten it from my divorce but I rented it out. Looking out the big bay window facing the walkway up to the building and the street, I watched as business men and women passed by on the sidewalk. Had to admit they were a more successful class of people than I'd watched from my old office.

It was a warm spring day so the women were made up and dressed better than near my previous office building; each trying to outdo the others. The ladies mostly wore sexy business suits with skirts above the knee and high heels as they strutted by my window.

I hadn't wanted to move from my old office but that part of downtown had turned into a area that even I would hesitate going into after dark; my how the mighty had fallen. At the urging of my girlfriend and others, I decided to change my business venue. Of course the fact that the building that housed my old office had been condemned made the decision much easier. Two weeks after I and the rest of the tenants moved out, the city demolished the building as a safety precaution. They said they were afraid that if someone sneezed the building would fall down around them.

"I like the scenery better," Matt continued. "And at least I can leave for home late at night and not worry about getting mugged." He smiled and added, "Abby likes the place better too."

My friend and former commander at the St. Louis Police Department, Major Taylor, told me I needed a better office to attract a better class of clients. "If you work out of the slums then that's the type of business you'll get," Taylor suggested. "Get yourself a better work place."

I had been Detective First Class Matt Steele with the St. Louis Police until I beat the hell out of my boss who had me fired. After receiving the large lawsuit settlement from the city for wrongful termination, I decided to open my own detective agency. Now I owned, operated and was the sole employee of a private investigations business. Due to the settlement, I could afford to take only the cases or jobs that I wanted.

"Got to admit Abby and the Major were right," I continued talking to the new office. "This is a better deal and I can go upstairs and be home in no time after closing my office. Yep, smooth move Mr. Steele."

A silhouette appeared through the frosted glass of the door. Then I heard two sharp knocks and my door opened before I could say 'come in'. A large, well dressed and groomed man stepped into the office.

"Mr. Steele?" The man asked and when I nodded he said, "I'm Jonathan Caldwell Robinson."

"I know who you are Mr. Robinson; I recognize you from your pictures in the paper and on TV."

Jonathan Robinson was a well known, almost famous, business owner. He was a patron of the arts and on several philanthropic committees for the benefit of St. Louis. I had heard gossip that his actions were more for his benefit than the cities; it was a good excuse for rubbing elbows with the movers and shakers in St. Louis and the state. Looks like the stereotype of the successful, social climbing and politically connected inner circle of the city, I thought.

Robinson was about 6 foot 3, the same as Matt, but the resemblance stops there. Where Matt had black hair and gray eyes, Robinson had blond hair so light it was almost white but with a smattering of gray at the temples and his eyes were a piercing blue. Matt had a large frame and weighed around 225.

I knew from his media profile that the man was 46, ten years older than me. Robinson was slender, about 180 pounds, and dressed in a very expensive manner. His bearing was of entitlement as if everyone should jump when he spoke. Damn suit cost more than my whole wardrobe, I thought as I returned the stare from Robinson. Don't think I like him and I haven't even talked to him.

"What can I do for you John?"

"That's Mr. Robinson, if you please," Robinson replied with a condescending manner. "I'd like to hire your services." He waited for me to take my feet down from the desk and show eagerness to do his bidding.

Now I know I don't like the man. Maybe I should jump up and snap to attention; instead I didn't move other than to wave a hand for Robinson to continue.

"I have suspicions that my wife, Cynthia, is having an affair. I'd like you to follow her and get evidence that I can use in a divorce."

"You're a rich man Mr. Robinson," I said the name with sarcasm. "With the divorce laws being what they are, it might be cheaper to keep her."

"You would normally be correct. However, I can't have my wife being a common slut. In my position it doesn't look good." Robinson sat down in the chair in front of Matt's desk. He shot the cuffs of his white silk shirt, straightened his tie and smoothed the crease of his pant leg. He continued in his oh so very cultured voice. "In addition, we do have a prenuptial agreement and if I can prove infidelity she'll have to leave with just the clothes on her back. I would be very appreciative if you can get the evidence I need. Then I intend to file for a divorce citing adultery as the reason."

I hadn't like Robinson's political leanings as reported in the media and I didn't like the man anymore in person. There's no need to run around in jeans and a golf shirt, like me, I thought. But that suit looks like it cost 3 or 4 thousand dollars and that's just plain showin off. Don't like the phony way he talks either.

"I'm sorry Mr. Robinson, I don't do domestic cases."

It was obvious that Robinson wasn't used to people refusing his requests. "You will be well compensated."

"Can't help you Mr. Robinson," Matt replied again saying the name with sarcasm.

"Don't you need the money?" Robinson said looking around the office with hardly disguised contempt.

"Not yours Robinson. I suggest you leave now; our talk is over."

The look of surprise on the man's face made me chuckle. But I stopped laughing at Robinson's next statement. "I'll give you ten thousand dollars to follow and obtain evidence that my wife is having an affair."

I looked at Robinson for several seconds. "Why so much? There are other PIs that will work for a lot less."

"Jason Worth and Hunter Blaine both sing your praises." I raised an eyebrow; it had the effect I wanted as he continued. "I've done my due diligence and have been told that you and a man named Chambers are the best in town, and I usually get the best." Robinson added.

"Yeah, but Rollie isn't near as good looking as me." I looked out my window as the business crowd walked past my window and thought about the two previous clients that Robinson mentioned. Domestic cases were ones I usually avoided and the settlement I'd gotten from the Police department made sure I didn't have to take them; But then again, ten thousand dollars was a hell of a fee for a few days work.

"Okay, I'll help you ... but I'll only give it two weeks. If I can't get the goods on Mrs. Robinson or she isn't cheating I still get half the fee; payable in advance."

Robinson reached into his jacket pocket, took out his check book, wrote a check for $5000 and slid it across the desk to me. "I'm sure you'll be able to help me."

"I'll need information on your wife, her schedule, where she hangs out and her friends. I also need a recent picture," I told him.

Robinson slid a large manila envelope across the desk. "There is Cynthia's picture, her license plate number and type of car she drives, a list of the charities and committees she's involved with and a list of her friends." When can you start?"

"I just did; I'll keep you posted."

"I'll expect daily progress reports Mr. Steele."

"You'll get what I find when I find it." At the look on Robinson's face Matt held out the check and added, "That's the way I work. You can always find yourself another boy."

"Why are you being so er ... confrontational Mr. Steele?"

Matt stared at Robinson and then answered. "I don't like doing what we call domestic work; it seldom turns out well. I've taken the job and your money and I'll do my best but it has to be on my terms."

"Very well." Robinson pointed to the envelope. "My card with my private number is there also. Please let me know when you find something." He stood, shot his cuffs again, and turned and walked out of the office.

Pompous ass, I thought as I watched him leave. "But a rich pompous ass," I muttered and I put the check in my pocket.

"How was your first day in your new office?" Abby asked as she breezed in from work at 4 o'clock.

Abigail Stewart is my ... well, live in girlfriend I'd guess you'd call her. 'Abby' is about 5 feet 8, with an athletic body but there was no doubt that she is all women. Her hair is strawberry blonde and cut in a pixie style that makes her green eyes and full lips stand out. She has a smattering of freckles across her nose.

As I looked up at her and dropped my feet from my desk to the floor. I was once again surprised and grateful for our relationship considering my distrust of women after the failure of my marriage. Standing up I took her in my arms and kissed her hello.

"My goodness," Abby said after returning my kiss. "It must have been a good day."

"Got my first case on the first day in the office. And it's a rich guy. You and the Major were right; better office, better class of client." I wasn't smiling.

Abby noticed my facial expression. "You don't seem too happy about it." I shrugged my shoulders. "Why not?" She asked.

"It's a domestic; you know following a wife to prove she's having an affair."

"You don't like divorce cases do you?"

I shook my head. "Makes me feel like a peeping tom. I've seen a number of marriages end due to the information I gathered. Mostly my investigations lead to a sad, sometimes violent result."

"All you're doing is gathering evidence and presenting it."

"Yep that's what I do, gather evidence and present it, but I've seen a surprisingly equal number of self absorbed men and selfish scheming women screw over their spouses and partners with no thought of the consequences; especially for the children. Makes me wonder if "Happily ever after" really exists."

Noticing the hard look I added, "I'm not talking about you and me Abby."

"You better not be, I was just getting ready to bop you in the head to bring you to your senses," Abby said. "Why did you take that kind of job if you hate them so much?"

I had to smile and shake my head. "Truth be told, Robinson money whipped me into it." Now she raised an eyebrow. "I'm gonna follow his wife for a maximum of two weeks; I get five thousand no matter what and ten thousand if I get the evidence he wants." I picked up the check from Robinson and showed it to her. "He gave me the five grand up front."

Taking Abby by the hand, I pulled her toward the door. "C'mon, let's go to dinner to celebrate and then we'll come home and explore this 'Happily ever after' thing."

It was just after 10:30 AM and the morning Spring weather was perfect. I was sitting in my truck watching the entrance to a chic, upscale ladies boutique. Mrs. Cynthia Robinson, my target and wife of my client, was shopping. She had gone into the shop at 9:30 and I was still waiting for her. "And she's taking her own sweet time doing it," I said to the squirrel staring at me from the tree next to my truck. It was a warm spring day and I had both of the windows down.

People don't know or realize that this is mostly what you do as a PI, you wait and watch, then wait and watch some more. After two days and nights of following Mrs. Robinson, I'm no closer to finding any information about an extra marital affair. Good old Cynthia is downright boring.