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 as soon as he opened the front door. Jack was making his famous chicken wings again. He dropped his computer bag on the sofa and went to the kitchen, where he found Jack fiddling with their new air fryer. Jack glanced up and smiled distractedly. “Hey. Who thought this thing was a good idea?”

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

“I refuse to allow this hunk of metal to defeat me.”

“It hasn’t defeated you, it’s just temporarily 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 the features editor of the Santa Monica Banner, the primary newspaper that published solely for the residents of Santa Monica. “It went well. She liked my work samples, but she wants me to write an entire feature on something of my choice, then she’ll share it with the editorial staff and they’ll decide whether to hire me.”

“This is not a full-time job, is it?”

“Of course not. They’ll give me assignments and pay me by the story, assuming they like what I submit to them. But I have to think of something to write about. Quick. I’d like to get this finalized before the end of the year, and the end of the year is almost upon us.”

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

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

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

Tim’s brain was still trying to process 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 anyone agreeing to procreate with him.

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

“Is Fred’s daughter…what? Lesbian?”

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

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

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

“Are they good people?”

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

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

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

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

“The chief said they’ve worked several murders. Remember that Dodgers player that died last summer? They solved that one.”

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

“Sounds like a plan.” Jack pulled the 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 the address. He stopped for a moment to take in the building, a one-story Craftsman house with a wide front porch. There was a discreet plaque beside the front door that read Angeles Investigations.

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

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

The guy’s smile widened. “Isn’t it cool? 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 Jamilah you’re here.” He typed something, then squinted at his screen. “She’ll be right out.”

Before Ryan even finished speaking, Tim saw a tall, slender Black woman with short locs exit one of the offices down 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 on short notice.”

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

She led him to the first door on the right, which opened onto a spacious conference room. “Have a seat. Can I get 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. A hulking machine—copier? Printer? Probably both—rested in the far corner. A large 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 PIs probably met with clients here.

Jamilah returned with a bottle of water 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 look like 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 me interview you.”

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

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

Jamilah said, “No, she’s one of our two researchers. She’s still deciding whether she wants to get licensed eventually.”

“What do your researchers do?”

Kevin said, “A lot of PI work is done from a computer. Background checks, skip tracing, property searches, all that. Both of our researchers are former UCLA librarians, so they know how to dig for information.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tim nodded. “What percentage of your 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 cases do they bring you?”

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

They talked for nearly half an hour about the PI’s backgrounds, about how the agency came to be, about what occurred during a typical day. Tim was opening his mouth to ask another question 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 doing this story.”

“Thanks for allowing me the opportunity. I don’t have a guarantee that it’ll be published, but I think the paper will be receptive. Do you have any direct links to Santa Monica that 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 of the building, across the parking lot, and into a two-car garage with an apartment above. Half of the garage had been converted into office space, using mobile cubicle dividers. There were two desks. One of them belonged to a woman whom Tim assumed was Avery Roth. The other was occupied by a guy who looked a lot like Kevin—nearly as big, hair slightly darker and longer. Kevin said, “Tim North, these are our researchers, Avery Roth and Jamie Brodie. Jamie lives in Santa Monica.”

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

“You, too. Do you know Jack?”

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

“I will.” Tim turned to Jamie Brodie, 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 17^th Street.”

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

Avery said, “It’s way more interesting!”

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

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

“No.” Jamie gestured to Kevin. “But I 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 of stumbling over bodies. Even when he was a librarian, he helped the police with investigations.”

“No kidding? That sounds like another story idea.”

Jamie grimaced. “Nah.”

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

Avery said, “That was all Jamie’s doing.”

Jamie shrugged. “It fits us. From a distance, 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 think of. Will we get to read it before you submit it?”

“Yes. I’ll write it this evening then 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 we help you get this job.”

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

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

“Likewise.”

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

Birds of prey. Like the tree, Angeles was more than advertised.

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