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Time Stand Still Continuation   TIME STAND STILL Story Continuation Find out what happens to Darren Camponi in the time between Time Stand Still and his new novel, One Light Burning Did Darren go back in time? How does he find out the truth? What happens next? Post 8 The ring shocked me, having been so deep in my thoughts, following the curving pathways of my mind. It always seemed that whenever got lost in my thoughts, something always pulled me out. Either that, or I just had bad concentration. This time I could blame it on the phone. I walked over to the coffee table and got my cordless phone and answered it by the third ring. "Hello," I said. "Is this the detective agency?" a woman asked. I stifled a laugh. Though I was a licensed private investigator, and I was in business for myself, my business could hardly be called an agency. That conjured up images of something much more productive. "Um, yes," I said, clearing my throat and mustering the most professional voice I could manage. Usually, i just talked a little deeper, as if a deep voice was any indication of my professionalism. "How can we help you?" We? I was the sole employee in Darren Camponi Investigative Services. "It's kind of hard to explain," the woman said. I tried to place her age, but couldn't. She could have been forty, or she could have been twenty. She had a high-pitched voice that was near a squeak, but not so annoying. "Try your best," I said. My mind really couldn't focus much on work, and lucky for me I hadn't been too busy. The truth was, I hadn't been busy at all. I needed this call. "Well, I've never called a private investigator before." She paused for a moment. "I don't even know if I should be doing this." Many people have this reaction when they first call a P.I. It is as if they are doing something wrong, something they shouldn't do. They felt as if they were breaking someone's trust. "I just need some questions answered." "I might be able to help you with that," I said, moving back over to the couch and sitting down. I should have went to my desk, where I'd have a pen handy. I just felt like sitting on the couch. "I don't know," the woman said, "I could be wrong about all of this." "You could be. Listen, the sales pitch would be to tell you that if you are wrong, you'll never really know until I find out for you. I don't operate that way. I want you to be comfortable with whatever decision you make. It might help if you give me a little background about what you are talking about." "It's my fiance." She didn't say anything else, as if this utterance itself signified betrayal. Maybe it did. "Okay, what about him?" "You're in New York, right?" "Yes," I said, "And you?" "Ohio." The coincidence was far too much to handle. I had to know. "How did you get my number, if you don't mind me asking." "American. The lady who answered the phone said that you handle all of their New York business." So, Mike Holmes' wife was making a go at it, or perhaps she was just funneling business to the appropriate places. I really needed to give her a call. And, yes, I did notice the remarkable coincidence between my thinking about Holmes' wife and this call. "Yes, I've dealt with them many times," I said. "They told me you were good." "I can be." She chuckled. "I hope so." "What is it about your fiance?" By the way, I never liked the word 'fiance'. There is really no need for such a word. I mean, the whole gestation period between engagement and marriage is senseless. If you want to get married, you should just get married. Skip the whole production. Otherwise, to me, an engagement is how long it will take for you to be ready to marry the person you are engaged to. Think about it. "I want him followed." "Okay." I waited to see if she would say something else, perhaps tell me why she wanted him followed. She didn't. "Does he come to New York often?" "All the time. He works there. Eventually, we will live there. Right now, I have to finish out my time with my company here, before my transfer. Justin was already transferred." "You work for the same company?" "Yes." "I see. How long do you want him followed?" "You can do this?" she asked. "Yes. It's my job." "I don't know how long. How long does something like this take?" "It depends on what you want me to find out." "I can't tell you that," she said. "Well, that will make things a bit difficult. How am I supposed to look for something if I don't know what to look for?" "I'm sorry, but it has to be this way. I want you to watch him. If he is doing what I suspect, you won't be able to miss it." "A standard surveillance package is usually ten hours, at a rate of 50 dollars an hour. Does that sound about right?" "I think you'll need more time than that." "Okay, how much more." "Well, Mr. Camponi, I was hoping that maybe you could watch him for an entire week, the whole five days he is in New York. That means from the airport when he arrives, and at work. Could you do something like that?" "I'd have to see if I can pull one of our invesitgators for that long." One of our investigators, I thought. I always did this, for no apparent reason. I was the only investigator and I had all the time in the world right then. I really didn't enjoy surveillance work all that much. It paid the best, though. "You want 24 hour a day surveillance?" "No, I was thinking more like 8 hours a day, maybe ten." "That's going to be a lot of money." "It will be worth a couple of thousand dollars if you end this suspicion for me once and for all." "Well, I'll charge you a flat $1800 for the whole week If I incur any expenses, which I doubt will be much, those would be added." "I'll send you a check for $2000. I'd like you to start on Monday." It took me a second to realize it was Saturday. "That shouldn't be a problem." "But don't use one of your investigators. I want you to do it." "I don't know--" "Please. I heard you were good. I don't want some trainee or anyone like that doing this. My future depends on the outcome," she said, in a tone that could not be resisted. "You win. I'll do it." I took her information down. Her name was Roslyn Rynkowski. Polish. She lived just outside Columbus, in a suburb called Barton. She and her fiance worked for an accounting firm. His flight arrived at JFK at 7:45AM on Monday. She wanted me to tail him to work. I hated Mondays, and I hated them even more when I had to get up early. Still, a little extra cash would hurt, and I would get my mind off all I was thinking about. I hoped.     Read Post 9

A NEW BREED OF MYSTERY FICTION