CHAPTER ONE - Mike Batz, Private Eye

June 12, 2005, Sunday night, I'm lucky to be alive. I just got back to my office from the hospital where I was treated for a minor injury to my upper left chest right under the shoulder. It was a 45 caliber injury, if you get my meaning. Now, this is rather appropo as this area is pretty close to my heart, which was shattered. See, the day started off like any other. A woman walks into my office about 9:00. She'd been out all night the night before. Never one to mince words, I said, "lady, you look like hell" "Oh, thank you. Is this your idea of client relations?" "It's out of concern. You had a rough night. Obviously, or else you wouldn't have come to see me." At this point, I was standing with my hands on my hips and my legs a little spread apart, and with a stern look on my face. I ain't a guy you mess around with. It's a gesture on my part to show who's really in charge. I nodded to an empty chair and said "park it there and spill it. Somethin's up." I leaned forward as she sat, clutching a purse, sitting with her legs very tight together, sitting at a slightly sideways angle. "I'm in trouble. I fear for my life, I hear that someone has put a contract out on me." "From who?" "Whom." "Whatever - who's gonna kill ya?" She looked up at me with what you might call puppy-dog eyes. I stood up straight, spread my legs a bit further apart and folded my arms. It was a hot day, my sleeves were rolled up. When a guy's arms are folded, you can see a bit of muscle. I know she was lookin' at that. I can't say I blame her. This dame rubbed my forearms up and down with her eyes. She then moved down a little bit to my waistline and stared at my belt buckle. She cotinued.

"I was in a relationship, an abusive one. Oh, it didn't start off like that, it was a very good one at the time. He was so handsome. He said he'd reach into heaven and pull a star down for me as a present...." I then began to drift off a bit, "Leapin' Lifetime TV" I scoffed inside. She went on to tell me she found out this guy was involved in organized crime. He didn't want to tell her because he felt it would only lead to trouble for her. Damn right it would. The trouble was, he'd have to kill her unless she'd join the gang. She refused, and fled, staying with a girlfriend. She'd heard about this contract from an anonymous source. As she continued on, I then changed my pose a little, now slightly rockin' back and forth on my heels, lookin' downward at her with a hint of suspicion in my narrowing eyes, my mouth cracked slightly open, mumbling "uh-huh" through gritted teeth, my eyebrows raising up. "Please, you've got to find out who wants to kill me. " Another pose change. This time, I walked with a slight swagger, around the desk and leaned up against the front of the desk, putting my left thigh on the desk with my right foot firmly planted on the floor. I crossed my arms again, this time jamming my right hand under my left armpit, while my left arm was folded across and my left hand was holding my right upper arm. "Why do you want to know this?" "So I can reason with this person, whoever it may be." "Well, leavin' town's always an option." "No, I will not flee. I will not give up my life." I uncrossed my right arm, furrowed my brow, gritted my teeth and pointed at her. "Listen, lady, your life's already up for grabs. You're worth more dead than alive in this town. A killer ain't got a jurisdiction nowhere else. It's like the cops." "You'll be paid very handsomely. However, not as handsomely as you look." She gave me a slight smile. She stood up, placed her hands on my shoulders and gave me a kiss. I pulled back, but not for the reason I gave which was, "hold on. I'm workin' this case, I can't get personal. Don't get any funny ideas, there." She regained her composure and nodded, "of course, how foolish of me. Here's my number." She took a piece of paper out of her purse and scratched her phone number on it and handed it to me. I then gave her my business card, which she placed in her purse and walked out the door. I walked back to my chair and nearly sunk in. I was sweatin' bullets. I took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat off my forehead, and exhaled, "aw, holy crap."

A few minutes later, my boy Friday walks in. He's a kid I hired to work for me here, answerin' my calls, and all that. He's also pretty good with his dukes. Bein' that he's 6'3, built like a brick shithouse, not a hair out of place. Works out a lot, looks good and he knows it, too. I'm all but blown away by this "aw shucks" attitude of his. Today, he was wearing one of his typical outfits, what you wanna call a polo shirt with the quarter sleeves wrapped around his bi-ceps. He'd also been shot and bounced back from it pretty quick. A bullet had grazed his shoulder and it left a bit of a bullet fragment which was removed and he just had to get some stitches. He came in walked up to my desk, spread his legs a little and was swinging his arms back and forth, snapping the fingers on his right hand, formimg a fist and gently slapping his open left palm. "Hey, what's shakin', boss-man?"

"I think I am", I replied. My boy Friday is also my best friend, comrade, confidant. You know you can't trust too many people in my line of work, even fellow detectives, we're all tryin' to beat each other out with who has the most cases, like there's some kind of prize with it. But I can trust this kid. He brings out the best in me. I never had any kids, but I love this kid like he's my own. He's always so cheerful, so enthusiastic, laughs in the face of danger, thinks it's cool when we're in fisticuffs with our far-from-worthy opponents. After we escape an attempt on our lives, he's the first to exclaim, "wow! we made it! cool". I thank God for this kid every day. He's the best goddamn thing to happen to me. He's a life saver in more ways than one.