Oh, and to assist Jones on all of his glamorous cases.
Plus he wanted business cards that said Jonathon Payne, Private Eye.
But other than that, he just wanted his friend to be happy.
Payne waved at Jones’s receptionist, who was talking on the phone, and entered the back office. Jones was sitting behind his antique desk, a scowl etched on his angular face. He had short hair, which was tight on the sides, and cheeks that were free from stubble.
“What’s up?” Payne asked. “Trouble in Detectiveland?”
“It’s about time you got here,” Jones barked. His light mocha skin possessed a reddish hue that normally wasn’t there. “I’ve been waiting for you all morning.”
Payne plopped into the chair across from Jones. “I came down as soon as I got your message. What’s the problem?”
Jones exhaled as he eased back into his leather chair. “Before I say anything, I need to stress something to you. What I’m about to tell you is confidential. It’s for your ears only. No one, and I mean no one, is allowed to know anything about this but you. All right?”
Payne smiled at the possibilities. This sounded like something big. He couldn’t wait to hear what it was. Maybe a robbery, or even a murder. Jones’s agency had never handled a crime like that. “Of course! You can count on me. I promise.”
Relief flooded Jones’s face. “Thank God.”
“So, what is it? A big case?”
Jones shook his head, then slowly explained the situation. “You know how you have all those boxes of gadgets near my filing cabinets in the storage area?”
“Yeah,” Payne replied. He’d been collecting magic tricks and gizmos ever since he was a little boy. His grandfather had started the collection for him, buying him a deck of magic playing cards when Payne was only five, and the gift turned out to be habit-forming. Ever since then, Payne was hooked on the art of prestidigitation. “What about ’em?”
“Well,” Jones muttered, “I know I’m not supposed to mess with your stuff. I know that. But I went in there to get some paperwork this morning, and . . .”
“And what? What did you do?”
“I saw a pair of handcuffs in there, and they looked pretty damn real.”
“Go on,” Payne grumbled, not liking where this was going.
“I brought them back here and tried to analyze them. You know, figure them out? And after a while, I did. I figured out the trick.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, so I slipped them on to test my theory, and . . .”
Payne stared at D.J. and smiled. For the first time, he realized his friend’s hands had been hidden from view during their entire conversation. “You’re handcuffed to the desk, aren’t you?”
Jones took a deep breath and nodded sheepishly. “I’ve been like this for three freakin’ hours, and I have to take a leak. You know how my morning coffee goes right through me!”
Laughing, Payne jumped to his feet and peered behind the desk to take a look. “Whoa! That doesn’t look comfortable at all. You’re all twisted and-”
“It’s not comfortable,” Jones interrupted. “That’s why I need you to give me a hand.”
“Why don’t you just break off the handle? Or aren’t you strong enough?”
“It’s an antique desk! I’m not breaking an antique desk!”
Payne smiled. “Wait a second. I thought you could pick any lock in the world.”
“With the proper tools, I can. But as you can plainly see, I can’t reach any tools.”
“I see that,” Payne said, laughing. “Fine. I’ll give you some help, but . . .”
“But what?” Jones snapped as his face got more flushed. “Just tell me the secret to your stupid trick so I can get free. I’m not in the mood to joke here.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t know how to tell you this. I’ve got some bad news for you.”
“Bad news? What kind of bad news?”
Payne patted his friend on his arm, then whispered, “I don’t own any fake handcuffs.”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Jones tried pulling free from the desk, but the cuffs wouldn’t budge. “You mean I locked myself to my desk with a real set of cuffs? Son of a bitch!”
“Not exactly something you’ll put on your private eye résumé, huh?”
Jones was tempted to curse out Payne but quickly realized that he was the only one who could help. “Jon. Buddy. Could you please get me some bolt cutters?”
“I could, but I’m actually kind of enjoying-”
“Now!” Jones screamed. “This isn’t a time for jokes! If my bladder gets any fuller, I’ll be forced to piss all over your office building! I swear to God, I will!”
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Payne bit his lip to keep from laughing. “But before I leave . . .” He placed his hand on the cuffs, and with a flick of his wrist, he popped off the stainless steel device-a trick he’d learned from a professional escape artist. “I better grab my handcuffs so I know what type of bolt cutters to get.”
Jones stared in amazement as his best friend walked across the room. “You bastard! I thought you said they were real?”
Payne shrugged. “And I thought you promised not to mess with my stuff.”
CHAPTER 3
PAYNE’S schedule was free until an afternoon meeting, so he decided to return his girlfriend’s message in person.
Ariane Walker had recently been named the youngest vice president in the history of the First National Bank of Pittsburgh, an amazing accomplishment for a twenty-eight-year-old female in the boys’ club of banking. She was born and raised in nearby Moon Township, a fact that she and Payne were often kidded about since he grew up in Mars, Pennsylvania. Both of them took it in stride. Normally, they just replied that their relationship was out of this world, and they meant it. They’d been dating for over a year and had never had a fight-at least none without pillows.
As Payne strolled to Ariane’s office, a journey he tried to make a few times a week, he peered down at Pittsburgh’s gleaming skyline and smiled. Even though he grew up disliking the place, a city that used to be littered with steel mills, industrial parks, and the worst air this side of Cher nobyl, his opinion had slowly changed. In recent years Pittsburgh had undergone an amazing metamorphosis, one that had transformed it from an urban nightmare to one of the most scenic cities in America.
First, the steel industry shifted elsewhere, leaving plenty of land for new businesses, luscious green parks, and state-of-the-art sports stadiums. Then Pittsburgh’s three rivers-the Allegheny, the Monongahela, and the Ohio-were dredged, making them suitable for recreational use and riverfront enterprises. Buildings received face-lifts. Bridges received paint jobs. The air received oxygen. This mutt of a city was given a thorough bath, and a pure pedigree had somehow emerged, one that had been voted “America’s Most Livable City.”
“Hey,” Ariane said the moment Payne knocked on her open office door. “I called you earlier. You get my message?”
“Yep, and since I had nothing else to do, I figured I’d pay my favorite girl a visit.”
“I don’t know where she is right now, so I guess I’ll have to do until she gets back.”