The investigator, Danny Jackson, grinned at Derrick and guided him toward a chair in his private office after telling his secretary to hold all calls.
I bet, Derrick thought cynically, figuring the money he’d taken from Eva had helped to upgrade his offices.
A stack of boxes stood precariously in front of one wall between two file cabinets. The room smelled of fresh paint, and all the furniture looked shiny and new.
“Where’d you move from?” he asked in a conversational tone.
“We were up in the city of Lawrenceville, near the highway. Real convenient, but this is better.”
“Much better,” Derrick agreed, flashing a smile he knew would put the man at ease. “You can’t beat a Buckhead address. It means better clientele, although the rent must be killer in a place like this.”
Danny chuckled as he settled into the chair across from Derrick. His coffee-colored skin crinkled around the eyes. “Well, business has been good the past couple of months, and I expect it to get even better now that I have access to a certain ‘clientele,’ as you put it.” He folded his hands together on the large desk. “How can I help you?”
“You can start by explaining what’s going on with the investigation into finding my wife’s father. Eva Hoffman.”
“Ms. Hoffman! Yes.” He frowned. “Does she know you’re here?”
“Yes,” Derrick lied.
The other man’s smile faltered a bit. “I’ve always only dealt with her.”
“I’m taking over.” He crossed his legs. “I married an angel, but me—well, let’s just say people have used some colorful terms to describe me.” He pulled out a cigar and dragged it under his nose, inhaling the hint of vanilla and the aroma of the tobacco leaves. “Care for one?”
“I don’t smoke.”
Derrick cut off the tip. “Yeah, it’s a bad habit. I picked it up from my father, but it’s my one vice.”
He lit the cigar. Completely rude, but it established he was in charge and didn’t care what the other man thought. It was a calculated act to shift the power in his direction.
No more Mr. Nice Guy.
Danny recognized what was happening. The smile died on his face completely, and the radiance in his eyes dulled.
“As I was saying—my wife—she’s a good woman. She sees the good in everyone, even me.” He smiled, took a puff of the cigar, and blew the smoke out the side of his mouth. “I’m the complete opposite. I suspect everyone and everything. Trust no one, that’s my motto. So I’m here because I don’t trust you. Eva has paid you a lot of money, and you have yet to deliver any valuable information for her. Why is that?”
Danny laughed uneasily. “Well, I’m sure you can understand, Mr. Hoffman, that these things take time. I explained all this to your wife.”
“Explain it to me so I can understand. Because here’s the thing . . . For the amount of money my wife’s paid you, I’m sure you could have found the remains of Amelia Earhart by now.”
He swallowed. “I didn’t have much to go on to begin with, but I’m very close to finding her father. As a matter of fact, I’ve learned he was in the military.”
“Uh-huh. What else?” This time he blew the smoke across the desk.
Danny coughed and rolled back his chair. He snapped his fingers. “You know, you reminded me of something. I do have information for her. It recently came in. I completely forgot. I did happen to find . . .” His voice trailed off, and he bounced up from the chair. He unlocked one of the cabinets and withdrew a file.
With an anxious smile on his face, he walked over and handed it to Derrick.
“This is all of it?”
Derrick thumbed through the file. It held a few pictures, one of them of an older, dark-skinned man dressed in an army uniform who bore a striking resemblance to Eva. A couple of newspaper clippings, a photocopied birth certificate, and typed pages rounded out the package.