Lethal Attachments

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Doyle

The door opened and a tall, gawky young man stood in the doorway. Streaks of green highlighted his otherwise blond hair. A discreet gold earring in each ear, large horn-rimmed glasses sat on his nose, and the hint of a tattoo edging up his neck, mostly hidden by the scarf he wore, completed the picture.

“C’mon in,” Doyle said. “You’re Porter Hillenbrand?”

“Y-yes, sir.” The young man—more of a kid actually—tentatively walked into the room, glancing from side to side as if he expected a trap.

“Hey,” Kord said and Doyle couldn’t help but notice the quizzical expression on his face. He might have been an experienced undercover cop but kids like Porter were probably far from the criminal types he was used to dealing with.

“Take off your coat. Have a seat,” Doyle said as he pulled Hillenbrand’s resume from the folder. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Porter shook his head a bit too vigorously. “I’m fine. Th-thanks.”

“Okay, then.” Doyle rustled the resume. “You’ve had some experience with office work according to your resume.”

“Yes. At the spa…it was a spa, a day spa. I was a receptionist and I handled paperwork, mail, scheduling. Things like that.” His manner suggested he was beginning to relax.

“Why’d you leave the spa?” Kord asked but it sounded more like he was grilling the guy.

“I didn’t. The spa shut down.”

“Oh? Business not good?”

“Business was great. The owner, not so much. He embezzled funds and there was no way they could pay their bills. So, I’m out along with a lot of other people.” Porter’s confidence emerged along with an undercurrent of anger.

“You have any experience with computers?” Kord asked.

“N-not really. I mean, other than scheduling and programs like Word and Excel.”

“So no experience searching records, backgrounds. Things like that?”

The kid’s discomfort returned as Kord questioned him about background searches and police procedure, though he visibly relaxed when Doyle took over the questioning.

After an hour of questions, light work on the computer to see how quickly he would catch on to things, and discussions about hours and salary, they had a good idea of how well Hillenbrand might work out.

“Y-you’ve got my number?”

“Sure. We have a few other applicants to talk to but we’ll be in touch as soon as we make a decision,” Doyle said. He’d be happy with Hillenbrand if none of the other guys worked out.

Before they had a chance to discuss Hillenbrand, there was another knock at the door.

“C’mon in,” Kord said.

They watched as the door opened and the next candidate stood waiting. If Hillenbrand was the long of it, this guy was the short. He couldn’t have been more than five feet five inches tall which wasn’t super short but after dealing with Porter and his six-three frame, this guy seemed like an elf.

“Have a seat,” Doyle said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water’d be nice,” he said in a voice deeper than Doyle imagined he’d have.

“You are…?” Kord raised his eyebrows.

“Riley Baker.” He stuck out his hand to shake. His thick dark brown hair presented a contrast with his pale skin. Large brown eyes and a prominent nose gave him the appearance of a small, wild creature Doyle had seen on some National Geographic TV show like Wild Trail Adventures.

Once the preliminaries were out of the way, Doyle sat back and looked at Baker’s resume.

“Says here you worked for The Northwest Standard.” Doyle knew the paper. It was a small neighborhood rag but had circulation throughout the city because it carried news and features that went beyond its neighborhood boundaries.

“That’s right. Three years.”

“Doing what?” Kord asked.

“Whatever they needed done. Filing, letter writing, researching background for stories. Summa these reporters think they’re too big to do their own grunt work. I did everything but write the articles.”

Doyle glanced over at Kord and they shared a look.

“You have any experience with doing background research on people?”

“Plenty.”

“And what about police procedures, criminal cases, the courts?”

“I’ve done my share of research in those areas. Sometimes I even got to go along when one of the reporters was covering a criminal case. He and I were friends so, he’d insist that he needed me to help out.”

“But you’ve never worked for an agency like this one. A private investigation firm?” Doyle asked.

“No but sometimes the newspaper was kind of like a private investigation office with all the background research I had to do on people and things.”

Before either of them could say anything, Doyle’s cell phone began to ring. Answering it he recognized the voice immediately. He listened for a moment then tapped the screen to end the call.

“It’s Brandon. We’ve gotta go. Now. He’s in some kind of trouble.”