“Hi, Sonny.”
"Hi, Sonny?!? That's all the greetings I get after not seeing you in ages."
“I had some business out of town.”
Sonny snorted and put a phone on the counter between them. It was the exact same model that Chesney used. It looked identical.
Gracie smiled, pleased that her plan was coming together. "It's completely dead, right? It can't charge at all?"
She picked it up, examining it more closely. There wasn’t a single scratch on it.
“Sure, sure. Just like you asked.”
“How much?”
“$50.”
“$50? Sonny, it’s a useless lump of metal, what are you going to do with it?”
Sonny shrugged, “You think you’re the only person who buys these? I’ve got other customers. Lotsa interest.”
“Yeah,” Gracie said slowly, not believing him for an instant.
Years ago, Gracie had helped Sonny out when he’d been accused of handling stolen goods. She’d been able to track down the paperwork and clear his name. Not that she believed he was entirely innocent. Not all of the phones in his store were totally legal. But that shipment hadn’t been stolen.
Where was the loyalty?
She leaned on the glass counter, spinning the lifeless iPhone around without saying a word.
“Times are tough, Gracie. It’s not like you’re paying anyway. You can write it off as an expense. The client always pays, right?”
“You don’t know my boss,” Gracie muttered. Klarov could be pretty unreasonable when it came to justifying expenses. She did not need to listen to another of his lectures about what exactly constituted a frivolous expense but Klarov wouldn’t complain about paying fifty bucks if it solved the case. She just had to make sure that this worked. “Fine. Send the bill to the Agency, would you?”
Back at the Attitude office, Gracie waited with mounting excitement for the next time that Chesney called for her. She tapped her foot impatiently under her desk. Usually, she was great at waiting for a suspect. She could track an errant spouse for hours, days even, and never lose her cool.
There were aspects of stake-outs that she disagreed with; the tawdry insights into how often relationships fell apart through lies and betrayals. But she was still brilliant at getting the job done.
Gracie had mastered the art of being inconspicuous, she could blend so totally into the background that even her most cautious targets were dumbfounded when they found out they’d been followed.
This case was different. It put her on edge. She couldn’t find her usual sense of inner calmness that allowed her to simply wait for the right moment. And she knew why. There was an obvious reason: investigating Chesney was making her doubt herself, distracting her from her usual cold pragmatism.
The dead phone was heavy in her pocket.
“Greta!” Chesney yelled. This was it. Time to find out the truth.
Chesney’s phone was on the desk, just where it had been before. Gracie glanced at it, confirming it was still there, and then looked away.
“Could you hand these out? I need to get signatures from all the Feature writers. And Henry’s too.”
Chesney held out a small stack of paper for her. Carefully, cautious but trying to look as natural as she could, Gracie leaned over, resting a hand on the desk as she took the papers, making sure that she tilted the papers so they briefly blocked Chesney’s view of his desktop. Her other hand knocked his phone, sending it skittering to the floor.
“Oh!” Gracie breathed out as she let go of the papers too, sending them flying up into the air.
She dove down, the dead phone already out of her pocket. Above her, the papers began to descend in a flurry.
This, Gracie thought was almost too easy. Once the two phones were swapped she’d have the whole case wrapped up in a few minutes.
Andrew Chesney