"Yeah, Ortiz here."
"Mr. Ortiz, this is Eric Lewis. Remember me?"
He paused, thinking, until suddenly he blurted, "The homo, right?"
Yeah, I was dying to do business with this guy again. I'd forgotten his smarmy voice, his slight speech impediment, and his disdain for "out of the closet" gays. I was tempted to just hang up, but I needed the idiot and there was no pretending otherwise.
"Can we just get to the point, Ortiz? With no name-calling? I need your services again because I think I've found someone who's stalking both me and my... roommate. Problem is, I need proof. I have most of his notes and phone records but I need you to finish the job for me. I have a strong idea of who it is but I want hard evidence to take this nut-case to court. I'll pay you a thousand dollars for however long it takes you. No negotiating, Ortiz. No bullshit. Take it or leave it."
"Well!" he snapped back. "Aren't we a little desperate? I'll take the damn job."
I had him. I knew I would. Who else would hire this scumbag for that kind of money?
Ortiz was sitting in my office. Janeanne had given me the weirdest look when he showed up because this guy made Columbo look like a fashion model. Problem is, I don't think he'd showered since the last time I saw him-- months ago. He was drinking a paper cup of soda, smelled of cigarettes and stale coffee.
"You say the other fags name is Fitzgerald?"
I bit my tongue, "Yes. Mark Fitzgerald. His address, his employment, all of it, it's all in there, in the folder. Just follow him, or question him -- God, Mr. Ortiz, I've done three quarters of the job for you."
He chuckled.
"Everyone says that to me... and still, I'm the son-of-a-bitch who's sittin' in a car, eating jelly donuts at three in the morning. You're the one who's home, in bed, getting your jollies with another guy."
I hated this man.
I really, hated this man.
But not as much as I hated Mark Fitzgerald.
