Chapter 7

As I headed for home, I had a thought: One advantage of havin' another investigator, even if she's a trainee, is that I don't have to juggle cases an' elder work. That wasn't chopped liver. I've always worked no more than I wanted to, ever since I got the money in my aunt and uncle's will to start up my own PI agency back in 1988, but when the church appointed me an elder in 2007 I found that the two jobs, both of which have irregular schedules, sometimes clash.

But with Cecelia to handle some of the work, I could – as I was doing now – head back to the my study to work on a sermon I had coming up. All my assignments to preach are conditional – I'll preach if I'm not tied up on a case – and there's always a backup preacher just in case. I anticipated being able to keep more of the appointments if Cecelia maintained her interest in detecting.

That was a big if. I've known her since the fall of 1994, and I've been her husband since April of 1995. And in all that time she had only shown, at most, a peripheral interest in my work. Then when Marla quit to become a cop Cecelia had surprised me by volunteering to take over as my part-time secretary, and was running the office quite well. When I'd needed a translator to talk to Hispanic gang members I'd thought first of Cecelia, since she speaks better Spanish than a lot of Hispanics – and during that case she'd surprised me even more by going online and finding out what New Mexico requires of someone who wants to become a private investigator. And now she was embarked on a course which, if she stuck with it, would result in her getting a PI license.

Yeah, I was surprised, all right. But maybe I shouldn't have been. After all, she's changed things in her life before. She grew up dirt poor in rural Alabama, dealing with the privations of a sharecropper's life, but she'd worked her way through college and gone to work as some sort of financial guru, and between that and her own astute investments made a pile of money. Then we'd gotten married, and she'd quit that job to stay home with Darlia when she was born in 1997, and started up her own financial consulting business – if that's the right description of it – there at home. After a while, and after another pile of money, she'd dissolved that business and devoted herself entirely to managing the household, and her various charitable activities.

So she'd gone from poor black southern girl, to rich black western working woman, to "mere" housewife and mother. That involved changes that, when I thought about it, were probably as dramatic as going from housewife and mother to PI trainee. And she was still being a wife and mother, and could continue in that role, since she's rich enough to be like me and work only when she wants to.

At that, we could both work for nothing and not suffer any. Between my money, her money, and our money we've got enough that in 2006 we decided to quit making more, and focus simply on maintaining what we've got. In fact, our growing wealth had scared her – escaping from poverty, and having enough to spend on her family and give where it's necessary, were fine, but just piling the money on top of itself wasn't at all what she wanted. Nor did I want it. I kind of backed into investing, when a friend of mine in Red Hawk needed a loan and offered me part of his business in exchange, a pattern that marked almost everything I did before I met Cecelia. I never really knew how much money I had, just that I had enough, and then plenty, and then so much that it was big numbers on the computer screen. I gladly gave the job of keeping track of it to Cecelia when we got married, and from there on knew even less about my money. All I want, really, is enough to keep myself in food, clothing, music, books, and leisure time – as long as I've got that, and a place to live with my stuff and my family, I'm happy.

Well, I'm definitely happy. I've got money coming out my ears, and now with Cecelia getting into the investigation business I had even more time to do with as I pleased. And so I pulled up in front of the house with a little smile on my face, and went up the walk and inside with it still there.

I hung my hat on the rack by the door, and headed for the study. I turned on the CD player, which began sending out the sounds of Hank Williams, and picked up the phone. The office is on speed dial, from the days when I might or might not be there on any given day and needed to leave messages for Marla – who likewise might or might not be there. I hit the button, and in a minute I heard my favorite voice.

"Carpenter Investigations, this is Cecelia." I knew she'd see the study's number on the caller ID, so there had to be a reason for the formal greeting.

"Is he there?" I asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I just wanted to tell you I'm here. Gimme a call when y'all are done."

"Very well, sir. Is there anything else?"

"Not a thing, except maybe some kisses through the phone, and a couple of hugs..."

"In that case, sir, I shall bid you an extremely cordial good day." And she hung up.

I laughed as I hung up on my end, and wondered how she would keep from giving away her own enjoyment. I know Cecelia, and I know that it must have pleased her to be so evasively effusive. I wouldn't have known I knew it if I hadn't had the conversation, for Cecelia's like me, she hates lying, and has never acted in her life as far as I know. But I also know her voice, and though I doubt that Sloan could have heard it, I heard the teasing in her precisely formal responses.

Well, it's always nice having a wonderful wife. Martin Luther, the former Catholic monk, appreciated his wife, and I sure appreciate mine. But it was time to dig into the books, and I did. I was planning to preach from Hebrews 4:9, and I was looking, as best as I could without ever having studied the language, into the Greek of the passage. That required concentration, and so I concentrated.

When the phone rang I glanced at my watch, and saw that I'd studied right through lunch time, and it was going on 2 in the afternoon. The caller ID showed the office, and I knew Cecelia had called the study line first because that's where I'd called from and she knows my habits.

"Y'all done up there?" I asked. When you hate talking on the phone as much as I do, you cut out all the extraneous stuff like Hello.

"Yes, Darvin. I spent as much time as seemed profitable on the interview, and I pressed every question at least twice. Mr. Sloan, however, does not seem an observant man, and even with repetition he wasn't able to provide as much information as I would have liked – or perhaps he wouldn't provide it in some cases. I have the signed contract, and a check for the retainer – you gave me no instructions on that point, so I used my judgement."

"That's cool, C – I don't have any set pattern for a retainer and use my judgment too. Whatever you did, I'll endorse it."