Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

Harrison "Harry" Harold McGlade (fatalautonomy) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-10-26 22:03:00

Who: Harry and Remy.
What: Hiring a PI.
When: Saturday afternoon (10/26).
Where: Harry's office.
Rating: PG-13.
Trigger warnings: Just a brief mention of child abuse, nothing graphic.
Status: Complete!



Remy had seen the man posting on the network, and while he seemed kind of sloppy in his personal life, he gave off a pretty competent professional vibe. He’d gotten to the office a few minutes late, but he was guessing McGlade wouldn’t mind. And while he could have gotten a less lechy motherfucker for this, he wanted a dreamer. It was safer that way.

He knocked on the door before walking in, not surprised when the office was cluttered but clean. “Allo?”

Harry’s head emerged from behind a stack of papers. “Hey, you’re right on time! C’mon in. You want a burrito?” The older man wore a nice suit, albeit incredibly rumpled. He looked like what most people imagined a PI to look like, albeit less fit, and with more of a paunch.

“Nah, already ate.” Remy’d seen sleazier looking bastards at the porn company, but not by much. If this guy wasn’t a dreamer he might think twice about hiring him. “You been in business long here?”

“Yeah, since I left IPD.” He shrugged. “Almost fifteen years?” Harry forked over his credentials, showing his clearance rate for different types of cases. It was an old habit left over from when he was a cop. Noticeably remiss was the fact that he’d caught the Irvine Ripper.

“Long time, that.” Remy did appreciate that. “What’d’ you do, mostly? I need some info dug up, an’ you’d have better ways to do it than me or my wife.”

“Usually that’s what I do - background checks, cheating so and sos, and missing people.” Harry smiled. “Just got married, huh.”

“Kinda recent, yeah, but it ain’t about her. It’s about her daddy.” Remy smiled grimly. “Fucker just broke into our house and pulled a damn gun on her.”

That made Harry stop joking. “Holy shit, are you okay? Is she?”

“We fine now - broke my hand, and she got smacked around good - but now he in jail. But he ain’t gonna stay there.” Remy shook his head. “I wanna know everything I can. Who he hang with down here, if he in debt, tous les temps them cops got called up to their house in Minnesota. Hell, I wanna know if he cheat on his wife, cheat on his taxes, anything I can use when trial comes, to keep that sumbitch behind bars.”

Harry nodded, taking notes the whole time he and Remy were talking. “This wouldn’t be one William Carl Quackenbush, would it?”

Remy nodded. “You on the network, you probably seen my wife post.” He appreciated that this guy got down to business when it counted.

“He’s not a subtle guy, and he beat on his daughter. Tell you what, you buy me lunch this Thursday, I’ll tell you everything you never wanted to know about this guy. Four dollar burritos down the street, they’re amazing.” Harry leaned back in his chair, already thinking of the databases he was going to sneak onto with his borrowed creds.

“Works for me.” Remy nodded. “I mean, I dun’ know if you married” - probably not - “but surely you got une femme you’d do anything for.”

Harry tried very hard not to give any tells, but his eyes looked sad. “Wednesday,” he murmured. “I’ll have everything for you by Wednesday.”

Remy couldn’t help but cock his head. “You lose her?” His tone was sympathetic. “M’sorry.” He always felt for guys like this. He was basically one of them anyway. He’d just gotten lucky.

Looking up, Harry blinked. “Never had her, never will have her.” He chuckled to himself, trying not to think about Irene. It wasn’t helpful.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t’a brought it up.” Remy shook his head. “I never thought my wife would have me, but I got lucky.”

“You’re handsome, though. In that kinda movie-star way.” Harry chuckled, then shook his head. “Look at me, being all sad sack when I had a fourgy last night. I’m an idiot, huh. Well, like I said, we’ll get burritos on Wednesday and pow wow here over the information.”

Remy laughed. “C’est vrai? I ain’t had one of those since ... oh, New Orleans? Some years back.” The fourgy, not the burrito. “Wednesday’s okay by me. Merci, in advance.” He looked grave. “It’s important to me.”

“You should have burritos more often. They’re amazing.” Harry smiled to himself. “And don’t worry. I’ll make sure that you have what you need.” Harry could understand wanting to protect a loved one.

“You know anything about this kinda thing? Like, what kinda sentence can we see?” Remy asked, trying to get back to business.

“I’m guessing three to five, but he’ll probably get three with parole and they’ll want to make sure he gets the fuck out of Cali. She’ll also get a restraining order they’ll listen to since he has priors. You guys did the right thing,” Harry smiled. He could be reassuring when the time called for it, and hell, he liked this kid.

“Oh? Well, that’s good.” He nodded. “Long as they might fuckin’ listen.”

“They will, he tried to kill her this time, so they’re not going to want to risk it happening again,” Harry sighed. “I hope he gets some sense screwed into him in prison, though.”

“Ain’t gonna say no.” Remy shook his head. “Bastards like that ain’t gonna learn ‘less they get a hard lesson. I done some shit in my time, but never hurt nobody.”

“Well. I’ll get to work on this now. Normally I take down payment, but you can’t really go get me ten percent of a burrito, so just come back same time on Wednesday?” Harry took off his tie and cracked his neck.

“Sure.” Remy nodded. “Thanks, homme. Means a lot to me and Candy.”

“Of course.” Harry stood up and reached out to offer Remy his hand to shake, smiling to himself.

“You get the goods, I’ll buy you five burritos.” Remy chuckled. ‘Til then, oui?”

“I can’t eat five burritos at once, don’t bother. Two, tops.” Harry clapped Remy on the back, appreciating a case where he actually wanted to help someone.

“Then I buy you two three times.” Remy chuckled. Still, he had to admit he’d been wrong and misjudged the guy. He’d looked like a shlub, but he’d gotten down to business easy enough. “I see you Wednesday then.” He sketched a salute before heading for the door.