C.J. Carmichael - Her Better Half

Maybe he got to me for the oldest reason in the book. Because I clearly didn’t get to him. His indifference bugged me.

“Addicted already?” he said as he passed by on his way to his waiting customers.

I noticed they tucked into their breakfasts as if they hadn’t seen food in a week.

“The breakfast special is the only other edible thing on the menu,” Erin said, not seeming to care that she was speaking loudly enough for others—including Murphy—to hear.

Remembering my greasy BLT from yesterday, I asked, “The other being the steak sandwich? You could have warned me.”

“Some lessons are better learned through experience,” Erin replied.

Murphy was back behind the counter now. Leaving room for cream, he filled a mug with coffee, then slid it along the counter toward me before slipping back to the kitchen.

Erin pushed the cream pitcher closer and I did the necessary mixing, then took my first sip. Suddenly the crazy world seemed to come into focus. “I think coffee does for me what yoga does for Gary.”

Beside me, Erin had both hands around her mug, holding it close as if she was afraid someone was going to try and grab it away. “You mean it takes you to another level of consciousness?”

“Yes. From asleep to awake.”

Erin laughed. “You’ll get used to the late nights.”

“Will I?”

“Actually, no. Not as long as you’ve got kids at home.”

“Only three more years for me,” I said, not feeling as happy about that fact as I sounded. Sleeping in seemed like a small benefit when I thought about the prospect of living alone after all these years of raising a family.

Murphy passed by with two more plates of hot food. I glanced over at Erin. “Want to split a breakfast special?”

For the first time that morning, Erin opened her eyes all the way. “Are you crazy? Murphy hates it when people order things to share. Besides, I don’t eat breakfast.” She held out her empty mug as Murphy walked by with the pot in his hand. He refilled her coffee practically without breaking stride.

“You?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “I’m good.”

Erin downed about half the coffee in her cup. “This is actually handy that we ran into each other. I have an appointment later this morning, so I can give you the keys for Adam’s condo now.”

She pulled them from her bag, along with a sheet of paper with an address.

I took both items and stowed them in my purse. “Um… What do I do with these?”

“Remember how I said that the company was called Creative Investigations?”

I so did not like that question. “Yes?”

“Well, I was talking to this woman the other week. Shelley was getting her teeth cleaned. This woman was the hygienist. Her name is Ava.”

So far, so good. I nodded for her to go on.

“Turns out Ava has a big crush on the dentist in her office. She’s been working there for a few months but he hasn’t shown any interest, yet.”

“Maybe he doesn’t date his employees.” Which seemed like a smart policy to me.

“Ava doesn’t want him to date her. She wants him to marry her.”

“But— She’s only known him a few months. How can she be so sure?”

“She just is. Anyway, we were talking, and she told me that he’d recently lost his cleaning lady. He was asking the staff for recommendations.”

None of this was computing so far. “I did have a cleaning lady, but she’s very in demand. I’m sure she’s filled my slot by—”

“That’s not it, Lauren. We aren’t looking for a cleaning service. We are the cleaning service.”

I still didn’t get it.

“Here’s the plan. We go into Adam’s condo every two weeks. We find out what he’s reading, what movies he’s rented, his favorite flavor of ice cream. Then Ava uses this information to convince him that they’re perfect soul mates.”

Erin leaned back on her stool and gave a satisfied smile.

“That’s a perfect plan?”

“What don’t you like about it?”

“Well, first off…who cleans Adam’s condo?”

“We do.”

“You mean, I do.”

“Well, yeah, but you get to keep the extra hundred bucks. See, that’s the beauty of this arrangement. Ava pays us to get the goods on Adam. And Adam pays us to clean.”

So I wasn’t really a private investigator. I was a glorified maid. On the positive side, at least I knew how to vacuum and clean toilets.

“But it all seems so…”

“Creative?”

“I was thinking illegal, actually.”

“You worry too much, Lauren. This is the perfect gig. And it’s all yours. Adam wants his place cleaned on Tuesday afternoon and I’ve already got a regular job scheduled for that time.”

Oh, lucky me.

“Keep on the lookout for signs of a regular girlfriend. According to Ava, he’s never mentioned one at the office, but you never know.”

“By signs you mean women’s clothing, that sort of thing?”

“Yeah. Check for an extra toothbrush, women’s toiletries, the regular girlie stuff.”

“And when I’m done?”

“Write up a report. Ava will want to pick it up in person. She has roommates and we obviously can’t send it to the office. Wouldn’t want this stuff in the wrong hands.”

Definitely not. Wouldn’t want the wrong girl becoming the dentist’s soul mate.

“Okay, you’re set.” Erin tossed a toonie on the counter for her coffee. Halfway to the door, she stopped and looked back at me. “You don’t have to do this. I could tell Ava I couldn’t fit her in.”

I was tempted to tell her to do just that. Then my eyes fell on the broken alarm clock on the counter. I thought about the gap in my budget between expenditures and income. “I’m okay with it.”

“Good. You’ll do fine.” Erin grinned. “Though I’ve got to admit I’m having a hard time picturing you cleaning someone else’s toilet.”

I grimaced while she laughed at me. That was actually the only part of the job I didn’t object to. I wondered how Ava was going to feel ten years from now when she was married to a man she had nothing in common with.

Once Erin had left, I dug out the change to cover my own cup of coffee. As I dumped it on the counter, Murphy walked up from behind me.

“Is it broken?” He picked the alarm clock off the counter and looked it over.

“My daughter says it is. I thought maybe at the hardware store Denny could give me the name of someone—”

“You’ll end up getting charged enough money to buy a new one.”

Yes. He was probably right. I’d have to use part of the extra hundred dollars I was going to earn this afternoon to buy a replacement. I held out my hand to take it back, but Murphy ignored me.

“Our garbage dumps are full enough. Leave this with me and I’ll take a look at it. It’s probably something simple.”

“But—” Why would he offer to do something like this? I really hadn’t thought he liked me at all. Was it possible he truly was offering out of concern for the environment? “Thank you. I’ll pay you for your time.”

“Yeah? I wouldn’t make that offer if I was you.” He waved a hand at me. “Now get out of here. I’ve got customers waiting for that stool.”

He didn’t, the place was half-empty, but I left as requested.

At twelve-thirty, I took the bus to the subway and rode to the St. George stop. When we’d first moved to Dovercourt Village, I hadn’t taken the subway in years and had forgotten that the concept of personal space was meaningless on public transport. Now I was becoming accustomed to the smell of strangers again, and the distinction between the sway of the bus versus the rocking motion of the subway.

The truly great thing about transit, however, was never needing to worry about finding a parking space or encountering a snarl in traffic. When I emerged from the subway station, cars were at a standstill on both sides of the street. I blithely walked past the jam and headed north to the dentist’s condo.