"He's a regular Lothario. He's got this whole side of town in an uproar."
Tannehill slouched back in his chair listening to the wide man across his desk imploring him to take his case. It didn't surprise Tannehill that his wife was cheating on him. He was as wide as he was tall - though he fell several inches short of Tannehill - and he had a special talent of somehow employing a personality that was equal parts grating, mean-spirited, and forgettable. Five minutes into his pitch and Tannehill had already misplaced his name.
"If you already know that your wife is being unfaithful, what exactly do you need me for?"
"It's not to catch him in the act. It's to punish them," the bullfrog of a man croaked out the last word with an irritable contempt.
"Because they should be at home preparing a Beef Stroganoff instead of cavorting around the city?"
"'xactly," Bullfrog mumbled out, missing the inherent sarcasm behind Tannehill's statement. "It's not just me. I've talked to three, four other guys who know he's messing around with their wives. It's injurious to the moral fiber of the city."
"And these guys," Tannehill let the word roll around on his tongue, "all upstanding citizens like yourself?"
"'xactly." Tannehill was beginning to believe that Bullfrog didn't know the word started with an 'e' and had a congenital inability to appreciate an ironic turn of phrase.
"So, I'd be acting on behalf of a class action?"
"Yes!" Bullfrog's eyes lit up as though he'd help plan a grand strategic maneuver.
Tannehill's posture didn't change, but mentally, he sighed. Since becoming a PI, this type of case was 'xactly what he expected. He was happy to exchange the stress of walking the tightrope politics of a corrupt department and flirting with tragedy on a daily basis for the common grievances of the everyman, but he wished that every client who'd walked through his door hadn't so obviously and overwhelmingly contributed to his own tedious fate. Finally, he croaked back at Bullfrog, "I'm still not entirely certain what you're expecting."
"Pictures, like usual." As though Bullfrog knew what was usual in this case - or maybe he did. Maybe unfaithful paramours were a common occurrence. "We need them for proof in court to ensure our fortunes remain intact."
"Ok." This time the sigh was audible, "how many of you are lining up for the class action?"
"So far? Four of us. This guy's a real work of art." Tannehill envisioned four large, shapeless, inconsequential men sitting in a smoke-filled room airing their grievances while ignoring their wives' silent, consistent and reasonable pleas for attention.
"Tell you what I'll do," impossibly Tannehill slouched even further back in his chair, "as long as there are at least three of you, I'll charge each of you my standard rate, plus incidentals, minus a 10 percent discount for each of you."
The Bullfrog considered the terms momentarily and croaked his assent.
"And all you need are photographs of your wives with the," Tannehill paused looking for a word that would add dramatic flair that the Bullfrog so obviously craved, "assailant?"
"That's correct."
Tannehill nearly blurted out 'should be easy enough,' but caught himself, eager not to let the Bullfrog and his compatriots know how simple the task was likely to be. Instead, he refrained "I believe it's a task I can manage assuredly for you." The Bullfrog nodded in enthusiastic agreement.
Tannehill stood from his chair, joints aching from being frozen in such a lackadaisical pose for so long, and extended his hand - "well, sir, I'll be in touch once I have the evidence you need. If you don't mind cutting me a check for my customary down payment prior to leaving." The Bullfrog pumped his hand excitedly and did as he was told before waddling toward the door, eager to let the others know that justice would soon be served.
10 minutes after the Bullfrog left, Tannehill heard another knock at the door - one somehow telegraphing bravado hinging on arrogance. He opened the door to see a man, nattily dressed in a brown suit, thin mustache, and hair slicked back with pomade standing expectantly in front of him. The man maneuvered his way around Tannehill and sat down comfortably in the seat opposite Tannehill's chair. He extended his legs and leaned back, taking in the room.
"Can I help you?"
"While I'm certain you can, I'm here because I can help you, friend." The man spoke in profile to Tannehill - who was still standing at the door - not bothering to fully face the object of his conversation. Tannehill closed the door and walked over to his desk. He sat and placed his arms on his desk, leaning toward the man.
"I suppose I'm generally eager to accept help, but you'll have to color me skeptical in this case, because I'm not sure what I need help with."
"Well, I can assist you with providing evidence for the gentleman - and his associates - who just graced your presence."
"I appreciate the offer, but this isn't a case that I expect will cause me too much difficulty."
"What if I told you that you could cash this paycheck without needing to lift a finger?"
"Oh? How's that?"
"I can take the pictures for you. You give me a reasonable percentage of your earnings, and you'll never have to leave your desk."
"Again, I appreciate your offer, but I don't need anything professional. As long as the exposures aren't too blurry, they'll suffice."
"Oh, these won't be professional," the man grinned widely, a mixture of malevolence and mischief written into his lupine expression.
"Then I'm at a loss at what service you're providing me."
"Don't you get it, pal? I'm the cad you're looking for. The roustabout, the rake, the libertine."
Tannehill was silent for a moment, processing the statement. "I see," though there was still confusion written across his face, "what? Why?"
"Well, I've just been having a bit of a lark with these women. No expectations. No strings attached. And now, I've evidently been discovered. If my adventures are ending, the least I can do is try to find myself a consolation prize." A wink accompanied the final statement.
"Aren't you worried about retribution?"
"You've met these men."
"Fair enough." Tannehill paused again. Removing the drudgery of a day's worth of work chasing unfaithful spouses was likely worth the offer, "I'll cut you in for 10%."
The man scoffed. "10%? I'm the one doing all the work here. This would be a steal for you at 50%. You don't have to do anything."
Tannehill snorted at the 'work' the man needed to perform, but his point was still valid. "25%. Take it or leave it. I have no problems performing the work myself if my terms aren't amenable."
The man grinned again. "Deal." He reached a lengthy arm across Tannehill's desk to shake his hand."
"But don't get used to any type of this arrangement, Mr.?"
"Snell. It's Richard, but you can call me Dick." The man winked again, irritating Tannehill, who was thankful he wouldn't need to encounter this particular deplorable individual again once the case was concluded.
[Author's Note: ONE MORE CHAPTER. Today's edition is 1200 words for a total of 55518 words.]
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