February At Feldman's On Fifth: A Xara Smith Mystery

By Bill McGrath

Xara Smith, a female private investigator operating in north Texas helps a migrant worker find her family in this tale that exposes human smuggling across the border. This is the second book in the Xara Smith series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill McGrath
• Release date: May 4, 2009
• ISBN: 9781458070746

Bill McGrath

Bill McGrath has lived in the north Texas since 1989. He is married and has raised three daughters and a son. He has had several careers including; Computer Programmer, Cab Driver, Factory Worker, Volunteer Coordinator, and Customer Service Representative. Now that you have bought this book he will also claim that he is an Author.

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February At Feldman’s On Fifth

A Xara Smith Mystery By Bill McGrath

Copyright 2007 Bill McGrath

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All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Xara Smith Mysteries By Bill McGrath:

January Juggling The Jentons

February At Feldman’s On Fifth

March Of The Mustangs

April At The Antique Alley

May Might Mean Murder

June Jumping the Jaguar

July Jill's Justice

August Avenging Arlene

September Surgeon Shamed

October Octagon Occult

November Naughty Nurse

December Deadly Dolls

Also by Bill McGrath:

Virika - Maiden

Bill McGrath Web Site:

WWW.WIX.COM/WGJM53/BILLMCGRATH

To contact author please send email to [e-mail]

CHAPTER-01.

Find anything you like? the short but cute waitress asked. The name tag over her left breast told me she was Jill. She did not seem to really care what my answer was going to be. I was going to order it. She was going to write it on the order pad. The cooks in the kitchen would prepare the feast. Jill would carry it to my table. I would chow down. Jill would give me a ticket. I would pay for the meal. The restaurant was called Feldman’s on Fifth, and I am sure little Jill would become a lot more excited when her shift was over.

The eatery had been recommended to me once by someone but I couldn’t remember whom. I am usually pretty good at remembering details so it sort of bothered me that I could not conger up the name of the person who had suggested the joint. I do remember though that he had told me it was the best place in the Dallas / Fort Worth area to get Filet Mignon.

Jill and I entered into a forced dialog that neither of us really wanted to have. I told her I wanted the filet; she asked me how I wanted it cooked. I told her I wanted it medium-well; she asked which vegetables I wanted. I asked her which veggies were available; she gave me a list of three. I picked the one I wanted; she asked if I also wanted a baked potato. I said that I did want a spud; she asked how I wanted it topped. I asked what my choices were; she gave me a list this time with a dozen choices. I gave her the mix that sounded good to me; she asked what I wanted to drink with dinner. I picked out a nice white wine from the wine list; she asked if I wanted it by the glass or a full carafe. By this time in the conversation I wanted to tell her to bring me a gallon jug but this was a nice place so I just ordered a carafe. She asked what kind of salad dressing I wanted and finally I had something unique to say when I told her I didn’t want a salad at all. This sort of threw her off her game and she offered a couple of alternatives but I turned each down. I guess our conversation was completed because without another word Jill spun around and I watched her cute little auburn ponytail bob its way across the dining room through the maze of empty tables to the kitchen door.

My name is Xara Smith and I am a tough, six-foot three-inch tall, natural blonde, very athletic, almost thirty-one, female, private investigator who runs her own agency from her office/house in Irving, Texas, which is a nice little suburb right in the middle of the Dallas / Fort Worth megalopolis. Tonight I was celebrating. A week ago I had completed a case that made me look like a real hero. The case I was working had sent me stumbling along until I accidentally found a white slavery ring and with a little help from the police I had rescued nine women from a fate worse than death. But I really wasn’t celebrating the case. The case itself left me quite bitter. For one thing, on that case, I had for the first and only time, with my own hands and with a switchblade knife, killed a bad guy. He was bad, he was mean, he was criminal, and he was, at the time, trying to kill me, so it was definitely self defense, but still he no longer existed because I had been luckier or more skillful in the fight than he had been. I didn’t yet have it right in my head. It’s not like I needed a therapist or anything, but it would take a little getting use to.

Another thing also a result of the case was that I lost my girl friend. O.K. that is not really fair. She and I were doomed even before the case started, but it had all come to fruition on the last day of the case so it was hard for me to separate the two. It had not been a long-term relationship, but I had grown quite comfortable having her around and now she was gone.

My celebration rather was financial. I had just come from a meeting with my last client and her lawyer. She had been married to one of the wealthiest men in Irving, and in our contract she had agreed to pay me eight percent of anything she got because of my efforts. This was in addition to the normal fee and expenses thing one typically finds in a contract with a detective. Her husband had turned out to be one of the bad guys and he was in jail and would be for life if the trial went well. She would be divorcing him and stood to become an instant multi-millionaire. Now she just wanted to get the hell out of town and start her life over somewhere, anywhere but Texas. I am sure I got hosed but when her lawyer had presented me with a check for $250,000.00 that was mine as long as I signed a further quit claim, I signed the form and grabbed the huge check. I felt like a victorious game-show contestant. It was not only the biggest check I had ever received, it represented more money than I had earned in total over the last three years that I had owned my own business. So with nothing else to do I had deposited the check and headed to the best restaurant I could think of.

I had never been to Feldman’s on Fifth before, but as I said, it had come highly recommended. Jill came back and put an empty wine glass on my table and a full chilly carafe filled to the brim with golden liquid. She poured the first glass for me and told me the food would be up in a couple of minutes. She stared at me for a moment too long making me feel quite self-conscious. I was quite sure I didn’t have any salad hanging from my teeth because I hadn’t eaten in several hours. I briefly wondered if my hair was a mess.

Where do I know you from? Jill asked.

I had known this moment would come but I hadn’t yet prepared a lie to tell to get me out of it. Because of my recently solved case I had been on the local TV news three times in two days. There had been the news crew footage of me being hurried to my car under police protection at the end of the shootout, then Detective Eric Samuels had taken me along with him to his press conference about the case so that I could help him answer questions, and finally some news hack had dug up security camera footage of me going into and out of the local hospital later that day. I had only been going to the hospital to talk with a friend who happens to work there but I guess the media guys were trying to extend the story and sell a few more news papers.

I figured the easiest thing to do was simply hand Jill one of my cards, so I did, but I also introduced myself verbally. I do not know if she did not recognize my name, or was overly polite, or simply saw that I wished to be left alone, but she slid my card into her apron pocket and pretty much left me to await my meal in silence.

While I was waiting for the food I took a look around the place. It was a nice restaurant as things go. The main dining room held sixteen tables and not a single booth. Each table had a nice white table cloth on it. There was a long bar running the entire length of one wall with a dozen stools lined up for patrons. There was a new big plasma screen over the bar where one almost expected a cheese-cake pose of Mae West. There were double swinging doors at one end of the room that obviously led to the kitchen area. There was a sign in the corner that promised there were restrooms and pay-phones in that area. The carpet was short-cropped so that it could be easily vacuumed and it was a very dark green. The place was quiet, at least right now.

I was there at what was a perfect time for me. Two hours earlier and the place would have been jammed with business people grabbing a quick lunch. Two hours in the future every table would be filled with hungry families expecting wonderful food and good service at prices just a bit above average. Right now fifth street would be flowing slowly with SUVs hauling kids home from school and I had Feldman’s to myself. I had seen and talked to my cute little waitress, Jill, and there was a bartender behind the bar but he was quietly going about his business of polishing glasses while he watched some soccer game on the big screen. He did have the volume completely muted so as not to disturb my supper.

The wine was quite good and I poured myself a second glass nearly emptying the carafe. I would definitely need another when the food was delivered to my table. I did not have to worry about drunk driving. My trusty six year old Taurus had sustained minor damage (two bullet holes) a week ago, and it was in the repair shop. The Taurus would get a new passenger-side door, a new rear quarter panel, and then the whole car would get a fresh coat of paint. I had taken a cab to the restaurant because there was no easy way to take the bus system from where I had been, but to get home I planned on catching bus number 302 right outside the restaurant and riding it to the South Irving Transit Station where I would use my transfer to get on the 305 that would deliver me to within two blocks of my front door. The ride home would cost me a dollar and a dime, or for two dollars I could purchase an all-day pass. I started wondering if I would need the bus system later in the evening but decided to postpone that crucial decision until later.

My mind kept flashing thoughts I didn’t want so I forced myself to think of something pleasant. I had just picked up a huge check and was very tempted to trade the Taurus in on a shiny new silver Jag. I had test driven the glamorous toy a year ago when I couldn’t even dream of affording it. It was really fun but at six feet three inches my large frame had felt a bit cramped in it. Still it was good fantasy fodder.

Jill snuck up on me sliding the full plates across the table. Everything looked and smelled delicious. I asked for a second carafe of the wine and dug into the meal.

Twenty minutes later Jill picked up my empty plates and slid a big hunk of cheesecake in front of me adding On the house, as she did. I was stuffed from the meal and couldn’t even think of biting into the pile of calorie rich heaven. It appeared to be topped with caramel and pecans so after a small sip of my last glass of wine I slid the fork just into the corner of the dessert to make sure. It was scrumptious. Three minutes later there was yet another empty plate in front of me and I asked Jill for the check. I also asked Jill to do something I knew all along I would do and that was to call me a cab. The bus system would some how survive without my business yet another day. I paid the bill and left her a pretty generous tip. It is not that I thought her service exemplary, rather it was that I was feeling quite wealthy with my cool quarter-million recently deposited.

It was the first week of February so the air outside the restaurant was quite cool. North Texas really does not have much of a winter but a jacket was definitely necessary. The cab ride took about ten minutes and the cabbie delivered me to my house without saying much of anything. That was fine with me as I was not really in a conversational mood.

It was late afternoon but still light outside. The house was quiet. I recognized that I was bored. It is just not my style to waste time so I looked for something to do. I felt a good run would do me some good but it was a little cold outside. It was also too cold for fresh air therapy which I treat myself to often by walking the dogs over at the local SPCA. I had been quite happy to go to the meeting with the former client and then out to early dinner this afternoon because my former girlfriend/roommate, Laura, was moving out today and I didn’t want to be there for a lot of emotions that I was sure would surface and so far I was fighting to suppress, but by the time I got home she was gone. She had left the house in good shape so there were no immediate chores to fill my time.

I turned on the television. I paid almost a hundred dollars a month for cable which offered me more than three-hundred channels, and I ended up watching about five or six