Spike Nails: Private EyeSpike Nails: Private EyeAs I watched him leave, Zack, musing over his notes asked me, "Do you think he�s telling the truth?"
"That load of hogwash? I think he�s looking for something more specific, and I plan on finding out what."
"What do you want me doing?"
"See what you can dig up on," I looked at his notes and pointed to the relevant names. He melted out of the room to get to work, and left me to mull over the situation. I knew something lurked beneath the surface of the problem.
Something always lurked. I decided to go visit my sister. She seemed like someone who thought she knew all the answers.
"Zack, check out our new employer while you�re at it. I want to know if there�s anything screwy in his background." He got the message, and with an earnest look he just nodded his head.
I took a cab to the my sister's place, considering I had nothing to go on, I figured it was worth the expense! She lived in a brick apartment, a third floor flat with no elevator. I wished for a drink long before I reached the top. I knocked on her door, twice, before she answered. She pulled open the door part way and stuck her head out.
"Oh, it's you," she said, sounding annoyed.
"I�m here on business."
Her face darkened, "You've got business?"
"Yes," I said and pushed the door in a little. "Mind if I come in?"
She looked indignant, but only said, "Sure, help yourself." I looked at her; we hadn't always gotten along. She was a tall, long legged blonde. Or as I remembered it she was, underneath those jeans that looked two sizes to big and a T-shirt that looked two sizes too small that proclaimed "Elvis Needs Tubas". On the other hand, I am short, hence my spiked heels and nickname. I told her about Frank.
"Daddy says never trust a man," she commented, pulling her bare feet up into her seat. She giggled as she added, "He says guys always know �You�re naked under your clothes.�"
"If I always listened to daddy I�d never go out at all." I replied.
"How are you expecting me to help you?" she asked.
"I know you are into all that deep poetry and stuff. I was hoping you'd have some idea of where I could start. Besides, we get to have this chat on Frank's bill!"
"Well," she practically ran to another room. I waited for her, pulling a smoke out of my deck of Marlboros while I waited.
She came back with a notebook and spread it open on her coffee table.
"Do you have something to write with and some paper?" She looked around her apartment, but there wasn�t any paper in sight. I shook my head, negative. She disappeared into her kitchen and came back with a bit of paper bag and the stub of a pencil. She shrugged, and set to work copying some addresses out of her address book. After she had handed it to me, and I had shoved it in my pocket, she turned to the notebook on the coffee table.
"This is a collection of 'stuff' written by people, quoted by people and filled in by anyone. You might find some interesting information here. It's at least a place to start. The names I gave you are of some people I know who at least think they have the answer. You might talk to them."
"Mind if I borrow this?" I picked up and hefted the notebook.
"Sure, go ahead."
I headed for the door. Once I was outside I looked down at the notebook she had given me...
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