Jenny Ch. 06

"Come on, Jen ... time to get up," he said, stretching. "We've both got work to do, and Nikki has school."

Tom rolled toward her and kissed her.

"You sure know how get my day started in a good mood," he said smiling.

"It doesn't hurt my attitude either," she grinned in reply .

-0-

Tom's first phone call was to Steve Inhalt to let him know the outcome of his meeting with Vinnie. Steve listened carefully and complemented Tom on his ability to keep the offer simple, and put the onus on his brother to accept or counter the offer.

Tom also discussed his idea of spreading the payments out over five years with a bonus provision for Vinnie. Steve agreed that it was a good idea and wouldn't cost him any more considering inflation and the earning power of the unused money over time. At worst, he would break even either way.

He sympathized with the anger that came out during the encounter and they talked about what Tom might do about Vinnie. Tom said he would talk to Frank McCauley next, and see if he had any ideas.

Tom then called Frank and gave him the same report. Frank also complimented Tom on his prompt and direct handling of the difficult problem. They discussed the mysterious change in attitude by Vinnie over the past year, and Frank then made a suggestion.

"Tom, one way to clear up what Vinnie's up to would be to hire a private detective and see what he can turn up."

"A private detective!"

"Well, it's not like on TV. They don't carry guns and break into places on their own," Frank laughed. "Most agencies have specialists for divorce, industrial espionage, internal theft, and the like.

"What you need is someone who can fit in with the places that Vinnie frequents, and get a handle on what he does, who he sees, and where he goes. The idea is that nobody notices him. He then reports directly to you."

"Do you know someone who can do that?" Tom asked.

"Yes, a company called Orca Investigations. I've worked with them on several occasions. They are professional and discreet."

"How much do you think it will cost?" Tom asked cautiously.

"Well, depending on the number of hours, a couple of thousand dollars to begin with. It will really depend and what he can find out, and how quickly he can get it."

"OK, I'll give them a call," Tom said.

"Let me do that, Tom. I know them and I can make sure we get the right guy for the job. I'll have them call you," Frank offered.

"Thanks, Frank. I appreciate your help."

After Tom had hung up, he began to realize the wheels that had been put in motion. He had offered to spend at least a half million dollars to buy Vinnie's share, and then set about hiring a private detective to follow his brother. It was bizarre to say the least.

-0-

Peter Dennison was a handsome, dark haired, fit young man, with a face that belied his almost thirty years. He had been a police officer in his early and mid twenties, and had only become a private detective by accident. He had left the force for a couple of reasons, not the least of which were the politics and internal corruption.

No, not the high-level bribe kind of corruption, but the cheesy, cheap kind. Freebies for pro sports games, look the other way for certain people of stature, hassle the homeless, punch out a few gay boys, etc.

He went home from work too many days with a greasy feeling that a shower couldn't remove. His "baby face" appearance didn't help him much with his peers, and he was constantly reminded of it with his unsolicited nickname: "High School." His superiors didn't take him seriously despite his good performance reviews. In short, it was a dead-end job.

When he resigned, he really didn't have another job. He had a degree from a local college in criminology, and had a smattering of accounting training, but little else. He had never married and in fact, had few steady girl friends despite his handsome features.

He didn't want to subject someone close to him to the seedy side of police work or, in fact, the danger. It was at the suggestion of his father that he dropped in to see Harold Sinden. His father was the general manager of a large manufacturing plant, and had used the services of Orca Investigations a number of times.

Harold Sinden was an ex-police officer as well, spending time with Interpol in Brussels. He was British born and educated, and had a moderate midlands accent. He spoke at least three languages, including French and Spanish, and had spent a long time looking for a country and city to set up his business.

Vancouver was ideal. A major international seaport, a heavily traveled airport serving most of the world, easy access to the U.S., and most importantly, a delightful climate.

His ambition was to create the most sophisticated private agency possible. He was well versed in electronic surveillance and intervention technology, and could handle almost any type of case.

While inevitably he would get more than his fill of cheating spouse clients, more industrial corporations were seeking him out to protect their assets; both physical and intellectual. He had served Arnold Dennison several times, and they had developed a strong business relationship.

"You don't look anything like a private detective," Harold said after shaking Peter's hand on introduction. "Trust me, that's a very good thing."

"I suppose it is," Peter offered. "I was reading about your background. Very impressive."

"No substitute for good training," Harold smiled. "However, the reason you're here is to see about a position I gather."

"I'm not sure. I guess I need to know more about the job, and what the future in a business like this would be."

For the next hour, Harold filled Peter in on the various types of investigations that his firm was involved with. He emphasized that it was critical they operate within the law at all times, and that they support and involve the law enforcement agencies when appropriate.

This was not a "cowboy operation." It required brains and patience rather than brawn and impetuousness. It needed people who could offer special skills and blend into the scenery without attracting attention to themselves.

Harold mapped out the growth of Orca over the past seven years and indicated he was very anxious to develop management staff as he had grown four-fold in that past five years. There was no shortage of former police officers, but few of them had the skills or the mindset for this type of work. More importantly, few were young enough to be involved in special services related to young people, drugs being a primary component.

At the end of the hour, Peter was suitably impressed. This truly was no pulp fiction detective agency, and he was now intrigued by the idea of working in this environment.

Harold had indicated that if he were hired, his first three months would almost exclusively be devoted to training and education. While Peter had a good grasp of the law, he needed to work on electronic surveillance, photography, a light course in forensic accounting, and a good old-fashioned lesson in "tailing," both on foot, and by automobile.

Harold was impressed with Peter. He was bright, young, and well educated. His reasons for leaving the police force were the right ones, and if he could demonstrate the necessary patience, he would make not only a good employee, but potentially a good member of his growing management team.

In any event, he would know in three months. He would offer Peter the job on the usual terms: Three months training on probation at minimum salary, followed by three more months at the starting salary culminating in a performance review. If he passed that, he would receive a substantial pay increase and another review at the end of the first year.

Harold was reasonably certain Peter would pass his reviews, but there would be no exceptions to the process. Everyone had to demonstrate they were suitable for Orca Investigations.

Having agreed to the terms, Peter began his training the following week, the first week of June. When he was asked to meet with Tom Blanton to discuss a contract, Peter had just completed his fifth month on the job, and was enjoying every minute of it.

He had been handling relatively simple contracts to this point, the intention being to get his "feet wet" in the business, and stay within the cautious approach of Harold Sinden. He had been briefed by Harold that Tom came to Orca via a recommendation of one of their most valued "referral agents," Frank McCauley.

Tom described the change in behavior of his brother to Peter Dennison, and laid out the concerns surrounding the family business. Peter listened attentively and without interruption. Tom concluded his outline and sat waiting for Peter's response.

"OK, Mr. Blanton," Peter began. "I think the obvious way to begin is to follow your brother around and see where he goes and what he does. It usually doesn't take very long to find out if there's anything out of the ordinary going on. I'll need his home address and his phone number, cell included if he has one. I'll need a description of his car, and if you have it, his license plate number. That should do it for now."

"I've got all of that for you here," Tom replied, handing Peter a single sheet of paper. "He has vanity plates with 'Vinnie' on them."

"Good. I'll get started right away," Peter smiled.

"My guess is it won't take too long to get you an initial report. Just stop at the front desk to get the paperwork out of the way, and that will do it!"

"Thanks Peter ...the sooner this is over with, the better," Tom said ruefully.

-0-

I took Peter only one week to get a handle on Vincent Blanton's after work habits. First, he had a girl friend that met him at his apartment almost every evening, and was with him as he visited one of three casinos he frequented.

A quick check on Vinnie's finances indicated he had maxed out his credit cards, and had a limited amount of cash available to him. Peter checked back with Harold and asked him to see if any of his "snouts" could tell if Vinnie was borrowing money, possibly from loan sharks.

He also ran a check on the girlfriend, one Marcia Raymond. After he had gathered all the information, sorted and analyzed it, he phoned Tom and requested a meeting.

"Well Tom, I think I know what's going on with your brother," Peter began

"That was quick," Tom said, surprised.

"He isn't trying to hide or disguise anything from anyone but you, and I suppose, your parents.

"He's into gambling, pure and simple. He frequents one of three casinos two or three times a week. He is always accompanied by his girlfriend, Marcia. He doesn't drink very much, usually just a couple of beers. He doesn't play the slots, usually just poker and black jack, and occasionally roulette. He wins a bit, and then usually loses it and more.

"He's used up his legitimate lines of credit, and has been borrowing from a local loan shark. In short, he's in trouble deep," Peter concluded.

"How much does he owe?" Tom asked.

"Hard to tell yet, but it's probably getting close to fifty thousand," Peter said matter-of-factly.

"Holy shit!" Tom muttered. "No wonder he's not himself. How the hell is he keeping those guys off his ass?"

"He keeps promising them there'll be a big payday soon, according to our informants. But I would say they are running out of patience. His only collateral is you!" Peter said ominously.

"Me?"

"Yes. If they can't get it out of Vinnie, they'll probably try and get it out of you if they can find a way. Otherwise, they'll do the usual ... beat on him."

"I've got to get him out of this mess, Peter. He may be a stupid bastard, but he's my brother, and I can't let these clowns harm him. I've got to get him some help, like Gamblers Anonymous."

"For what it's worth, Tom, I'm not sure Vincent has a gambling problem. I think he's got a girlfriend problem," Peter offered.

"What does that mean? He's in debt up to his ass and the sharks are moving in."

"I did some checking on Marcia. I think she's in the employ or maybe the partner of Martin Tremblay, the guy who's been lending your brother the money. I think she's been egging him on, encouraging him to bet," Peter suggested.

"What the hell? That's crazy. Where the hell is his head? Up his ass?" Tom exploded. "What makes you think that?" he asked as he started to cool down.

"Vincent never once picked her up at her apartment. She always either came to his place, or met him at one of the casinos. Our informant tells us that the address she uses is the same address for Tremblay, at least it's the same apartment building. We're checking phone records now to see if we can confirm it."

"Shit! They're playing him for a chump, and he's falling right into it," Tom said, shaking his head. "The little head is doing all the thinking again."

"What do you plan to do with the information?" Peter asked.

"Talk to him, of course. Someone has to make him see what's going on. I'll have to try and bail him out, but there are going to be consequences for this. He's got to start growing up. There aren't going to be rescues for him every time he pulls this kind of shit," Tom said, more to himself than Peter.

"I think that's the right thing to do. Those boys won't sit still for long if he's in as far as I think he is. On top of that, the interest is growing every day. He'll owe them a ton if he doesn't get in squared away soon," Peter said.

"Isn't Loan Sharking illegal?"

"Well, it's pretty tough to prosecute, Tom. There's no law against lending money, just in how you collect. These guys are pretty clever and steer clear of any real illegal activity until it comes to collecting past due. Then, all bets are off."

"OK, Peter. Thanks for your help. The sooner I get to Vinnie with this, the sooner we can get him out of this mess."

The next afternoon, Tom called Vinnie on his cell and asked for a meeting that evening. Vinnie declined, he had an appointment he said. Tom insisted, finally getting him to agree to a meeting after work at Vinnie's job site.

When Tom arrived just after four the next afternoon, Vinnie was waiting for him. They walked into the unfinished house and Tom turned to his brother.

"Vinnie, you are in big trouble!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Vinnie challenged.

"You owe big money to a loan shark and it's getting bigger every day. You've used all your lines of credit up and you're more or less living from payday to payday," Tom said in a level voice.

"What god damned business is that of yours?"

"Vinnie, do you know what those guys do to people who can't pay?"

"Aw, that's just bullshit stories. Nobody does that kind of stuff any more." Vinnie's voice lacked confidence. "Besides, how do you know about my business anyway?"

"I made it my business to find out," Tom said directly. "There's also some other information that you should know."

"Like what?" Vinnie continued with his belligerent tone.

"Like your so-called girlfriend Marcia. Did you know she lives with that Tremblay guy who lends you the money?"

"You're full of shit, Tom. I know her. She wouldn't do anything to hurt me," he spat.

"Have you ever been to her place, Vinnie? Do you know where she goes when she's not with you?"

"I don't believe you," Vinnie said with diminishing force.

"Can you tell me you're not addicted to gambling, Vinnie?" his brother asked in a serious voice.

"I can quit any time. It's just something to do with Marcia. She likes to gamble," Vinnie said quickly. "I don't even like it that much."

"Then how did you get in so deep? Can't you see she's playing with your money, Vin?" Tom asked softly.

Vinnie stopped talking and looked at Tom with a long, searching stare.

"Why don't we talk about how we get you out of this mess?" Tom offered.