Innocence

By Matthew Moseman

Malcolm "Mac" Connally is new to the world of private investigations, fresh from a less than graceful exit from the Omaha Police Department and a failed marriage. Finding work in the nation's heartland is slow and sparse. He cannot afford to be picky about the work that comes his way, even when every instinct he has tells him to stay away.

Alexandra Pine is a beautiful young actress who reaches out to him on behalf of a friend, a friend whose lover is a fugitive on the run. Charged with the task of finding the fugitive and bringing him in safely, whether it to be to the local authorities or not, Connally finds he is not the only independent party looking for the fugitive. Soon he finds himself in danger and comes face to face with a dark side of city he didn't know existed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Moseman
• Release date: Jul 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310917622

Matthew Moseman

Matthew Moseman began his writing career at the ripe old age of ten when he began writing his first police procedural story. It wasn't good and he quickly left it, but his love of writing continued and improved. He studied theater and creative writing at Central Community College and graduated with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Theater Degree from Hastings College in 2000.Moseman is the author of four full length novels available in paperback and digital form through Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com, and Smashwords.com. His third novel, "Wanderers", was a quarter finalist for the 2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award.He currently lives in Columbus with his wife, Amanda, and their five (yes, five) children.

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Innocence

Matthew Moseman

Copyright 2013 FiveisalrightPublishing

Smashwords Edition

CHAPTER ONE

It was the most pleasant December I could recall in a long time. There had been only the slightest hint of snow since November had first arrived and it had fled almost as soon as it had touched the ground. Afterwards, the temperatures went far above the regional average. Now it was almost two weeks until Christmas and I was sitting on my apartment balcony sipping on beers while locally raised beef sizzled on my grill.

While it was my grill I was doing little else than sipping on said beer. My friend, Trey Daniels, had liberated the meat from the restaurant he worked at and was overseeing its proper preparation. Mike Lincoln was sitting beside me in a collapsible canvas chair. He had generously bought the beer we were all drinking. My only contribution was the balcony and the grill.

You’re awfully quiet, said Daniels to me as he flipped the steaks over on the grill and added a liberal amount of seasoning to them. He had also brought the seasoning to the grill out but it was his own special blend that had never been inside of the restaurant.

I shrugged. I guess I just don’t have much to say.

Lincoln snorted beside me. I have a hard time believing that, he said as he adjusted himself to better see the meat on the grill. A bit of flame licked the bottom of a steak and I swear I heard his breath quicken a little.

No kidding, said Trey as he closed the lid and turned to face me, folding his thick arms crossing in front of his barrel chest. Trey Daniels was gentle as a lamb but built like an offensive lineman. Talk.

What about? I said.

Whatever is on your mind, buddy, said Lincoln.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

Okay, I said before finishing off my beer in a long swallow. Should we talk about this whole, ‘We Feel Sorry for Mac’ party?

What the hell are you talking about? said Trey.

Oh, come on guys, I said. When was the last time you guys decided to just come over on the fly with food and beer ‘just because’? Tell me this isn’t a bit of charity.

My, my, my, said Trey. Aren’t we quite the sad sack, sourpuss today? And on such a lovely spring-like afternoon, too. He made a disapproving ‘tsk-tsk’ sound and shook his head.

Charity is a rather strong word, said Mike as he contemplated the contents of his beer bottle. Charity implies a want to help. Trey made me come.

Oh, thank you, I snickered.

Calm down, Mac, scolded Trey as he cracked open the lid to peak at the meat, we’re your friends and we just wanted to check and make sure you’re ok.

Because of the day, I said, or just because?

Well, said Mike, it is the first anniversary of your divorce.

I’m aware, I said as I lit a cigarette.

I thought you quit smoking, said Trey.

I did, I said as I took in a satisfying lungful of tobacco smoke and carcinogens, and it was the greatest decision I’ve ever made.

They both let my joke pass without comment.

So you’re serious about this whole PI thing, said Mike after a while.

There it is.

Yep.

Neither of my friends said a word. They just stared at the red stained wood that made up the balcony.

What? I said. I’ve got to do something, right? What else am I supposed to do?

You could join the sheriff’s department, offered Mike.

Somehow I doubt they’d be that willing to take me.

Even with a good word from your dad?

I snorted.

Fat chance, I said before sucking down the remainder of my cigarette and flicking the butt over the edge of the balcony. I had an old coffee can on the floor near my feet that the building manager had given me specifically for my cigarette butts. The building manager, however, didn’t understand the dramatic impact of a well timed cigarette flick.

You haven’t been gone from the department that long, Mike said. Maybe if you waited a few months and then tried to get on with the county sheriff... You could even try the state patrol.

And do what in the meantime? No thanks.

So that’s that then?

I can’t very well go and be a mall cop, I said.

You could, said Trey. Think of all the window shopping you could do.

I actually smiled at that.

I’m assuming you have a business card and everything, said Mike.

I said that I did and pulled out several from my wallet and gave them to him and Trey. They looked at them, looked at each other, and then burst out laughing.

What?

Where did you get these? said Trey as he wiped a tear form his face with the back of his hand.

I ordered them off of the internet, I said. I got five hundred for five bucks. Why?

And how many of these have you handed out so far?

Only a few. Why?

Your slogan sounds like it’s for an escort service! Mike guffawed as he nearly doubled over in his chair.

No, it doesn’t.

Yeah it does!

No, it doesn’t, I insisted. Trey?

Daniels grinned. It kinda does, Mac.

No, it doesn’t! I said. Check it out: ‘Connally Investigations: Willing to Serve.’ What’s so bad about that? I’m playing off of ‘Serve and Protect’.

What about the bit below it? said Mike as he gasped for air and struggled to get his breathing back under control.

What about it? I said.

‘Prices Negotiable’? quoted Trey with a snigger.

Oh, fuck you guys, I said.

The cordless phone rang. Mike practically leapt from his chair as he raced to beat me to the balcony railing where the phone sat. He answered the phone with one hand and stiff armed me with the other. He was smiling like a kid expecting a call from Santa Claus.

Connally Investigations, he said, the words coming out heavy and breathily, we’re willing to serve. His whole face became pinched as he fought his own laughter. His face turned so red I thought his head might burst. He was quiet while he nodded and listened to the person on the other end. Tears were running down his cheeks.

Just one moment, he said, his voice strained as he struggled. He handed me the phone. It’s for you.

No shit, I snapped as I snatched the phone form him and rushed inside of my apartment. My two closest friends burst out in raucous laughter the moment the sliding glass door closed behind me. Hello? I barked into it.

I’m sorry, gasped a woman’s voice on the other end, did I call at a bad time?

No, not at all, I backpedaled as I glared at my friends through the plate glass partition. This is Malcolm Connally, how can I help you?

I’m not really sure, she said with a nervous chuckle. I’ve never done this before.

It’s ok, neither have I, I said and then cringed. That probably wasn’t a good way to instill confidence in a prospective client.

She laughed and a butterfly burst out of a cocoon in my stomach. Suddenly I felt like a kid talking to his junior high crush on the phone for the first time.

What’s your name?

Alex, Alex Pine.

What can I do for you, Alex Pine?

Well, it’s not for me exactly, she said. It’s for a friend of mine. A friend of a friend, to be honest.

Can you tell me about it?

She took in a sharp breath of air.

I don’t know, she said. I feel kind of silly talking about it on the phone. I probably shouldn’t have called in the first place. I’m sorry for bothering you.

No, wait! I shouted into the phone.

What?

I swallowed hard. Would you feel better if we met somewhere? I offered. Tomorrow, perhaps?

The girl was quiet while she mulled it over in her head.

I suppose we could do that, she said.

She told me she worked near the Old Market and we agreed to meet at a café in the heart of it. She asked how she would know me and I told her.

Alright, I said, it’s a date then. I grimaced and groaned at my choice of words. She didn’t seem to mind, though. She laughed again and the sound made me warm all over.

Sounds good, she said. I could hear her smile through the phone.

Eleven o’clock then, Miss Pine?

Eleven sounds fine, she said, and please call me Alex.

Okay, I said.

If there isn’t anything else I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.

Sure, she said. I guess there is one thing.

What’s that?

Did you know that your slogan sounds like an ad for an escort service?

It’s been brought to my attention, I said.

We broke the call and I returned to the patio with a smile on my face and a bounce in my step.

I enjoyed my steak and my beer and ignored my friends for the rest of the day.

CHAPTER TWO

With the mild temperatures running rampant through the Heartland, the Old Market seemed more alive than normal despite the holiday shopping season. Shops had their doors open with display racks on the sidewalk, cafes had their outdoor seating set up, and a few street performers were on corners playing music with various instruments.

Mostly, though, it was because of the young people. All of the area colleges and high schools were on Christmas break and the youths had descended upon the Old Market en masse. I couldn’t help but chuckle as the girls walked past me. It was presently sixty degrees in the Omaha Metro; if it were summer and sixty degrees people would be dressed in sweatshirts and long pants. But in the heart of December, the girls broke out their belly shirts and short skirts. Not that I was complaining; I was a big fan of short skirts and bare midriffs.

I got to the café first and opted for an indoor table in a corner away from most of the early lunch crowd. I was on my third cup of coffee and contemplating walking when Alex Pine finally arrived.

My breath escaped for a moment when she walked in. She had wavy blond hair that fell just below her shoulders. Her mouth was a touch wider than most with full, lovely lips decorated with a lipstick the color of dull, worn velvet. Her eyes were big and innocent like a child’s as she scanned the room before fixing her gray-blue eyes on me and came over. I was probably imagining it, but she seemed to glide rather than walk over to my table.

I looked up at her dumbfounded with my mouth slightly agape as she looked down at me. Her mouth moved and sound came out of it but my ears had somehow become packed with cotton.

I shook my head clear and said, I’m sorry, what?

Are you Malcolm Connally? she said as she took a step back. My buffoonery had put her off.

Yes, I’m sorry, I said. I was thinking about…something. Please sit. Alex Pine, I presume?

Yes, she said as she sat across from me. She was wearing a pair of tight, hip hugger jeans and a lime green top that wrapped around her with big bell sleeves. She crossed her long legs and folded her hands on top of the table and proceeded to look everywhere in the café but me. I became concerned that I had spooked her by gawking at her when she’d entered.

Our waitress came over and freshened my cup yet again. I hoped I wouldn’t start shaking from too much caffeine. Alex Pine ordered a Diet Coke. The girl hurried away and we were alone. My prospective client didn’t seem too talkative.

So, I said, you work in the Old Market?

The question caught her off guard.

Huh? she said with a small start. Yes, I do. I’m at the Rialto.

The theater? I said.

She nodded. I stiffened in my chair.

That’s actually how I came to hear about you.

Really? I said. No, please don’t…

You did some work for my director, she said, Paul Eisenhagen.

Yes, I remember, I said as I died a little inside. Did he mention what I did for him?

No, just that you were very efficient, said Alex. I was grateful; Mr. Eisenhagen had lost his wallet and keys and I had tracked them down in an afternoon. It was the biggest case I had cracked so far. Paul gave me your card.

Does Paul know why you wanted to speak to me?

No, why?

Because you haven’t told me yet, either.

Alex Pine’s very beautiful face became pinched and she closed her eyes tightly. Her cheeks turned red and she was almost smiling before she covered her face with her hands to conceal her embarrassment. She also made a sound almost like a squeak.

I’m sorry, she said through her hands as she peeked over her French manicured fingertips. I’m really very nervous. Like I told you on the phone yesterday, I haven’t done this before.

Most people haven’t, I said, as if I knew a lot on the matter.

Our waitress returned with Alex’s soda and asked if we were ready to order. Alex had yet to even look at the menu. I’d already had my order ready in my head for half an hour. Alex Pine ordered a salad and a cup of soup. I ordered a hot beef sandwich. I didn’t care if it was warm out; I was going to eat like it was December anyway. The girl scribbled down our orders and scurried away. Alex Pine folded her hands in her lap and stared at the table while I stared at her with a patient look on my face. I didn’t mind staring at her.

What do you do at the theater? I said. Maybe easing her in through small talk would get her in the mood to talk.

Hmm? she said with a start. I’m sorry, I’m just awfully nervous.

Sure.

I’m an actress, she said. Her body shook with a chill only she could feel. She shook it off and rubbed her arms. I’m sorry; it just seemed a lot easier to talk to you on the phone yesterday.

It seems a lot more real now, I said.

I guess, she said with a chuckle. She looked at me and smiled. My heart skipped a beat.

Our eyes met and she shivered again before turning her attention back to the tabletop. I grimaced and cursed my leering eyes while she focused on her water glass and turning it in tight, concentric circles on the table.

Why don’t you just start from the beginning? I said.

She nodded and laid her hands flat on the table. Her hands were trembling. I considered patting her hands but decided against it.

She looked up and smiled with only half of her mouth. It seemed to suit her uniquely well.

It’s kind of hard to explain, she said. I guess it all started a few months ago… Do you remember the State Bank robbery a while back? It was on the news.

I nodded. I didn’t remember it, but that didn’t mean much.

Alex Pine nodded back. I guess the guy who pulled off the robbery got away with a hundred grand or something, she said. There weren’t credible witness reports or good security footage and he was never caught. She fell silent and continued her project of turning her water glass on the table. I didn’t press it any further because our food arrived.

We were both quiet while I seasoned my sandwich with salt and pepper and Alex absently pushed a cherry tomato around her salad bowl with her fork. I had a few bites of my meal while she stared at the cheesy shell atop her cup of French onion soup.

And? I said.

She shook with a start again and looked up at me with reddened cheeks. Sorry, she said. My family never spoke at meal times.

Good thing we set this up for lunch time then, I said with a grin.

Alex clamped her eyes shut as she smiled and chuckled softly to herself. Yeah, sorry, she said.

So, we have the crime of the year, I said. What does that have to do with me today?

I have this friend, Valerie Morgan, said Alex. She’s actually the branch manager of that bank.

Is that so?

She nodded and turned her attention back to maneuvering her cherry tomato around the bowl. I was almost half done with my meal while Alex Pine had done little that toy with hers.

Did your friend do it? I asked.

What? said Alex with a start. No! God, no!

I shrugged. It had to be asked, I said.

She nodded. I understand, I guess.

Did you do it?

She laughed loudly and her eyes sparkled like the Fourth of July. When she smiled her whole body smiled.

Of course not, she said. But…I know who did it.

I froze with my fork inches from my mouth. I set it down carefully on my plate and wiped my mouth with my napkin.

Okay, I said. Have you contacted the police?

She shook her head.

Why not?

Alex frowned and a deep vertical crease appeared between her eyebrows. I stared at it, transfixed, while she gathered her thoughts.

It gets complicated here.

So I inferred, I said. Tell me about it.

She took in a deep breath through her nose and let it out her mouth. Okay, she said, staring down at her soup and salad and waiting for them to give her a few words of confidence. Like I said, my friend Valerie is the branch manager at that branch. She hired this college kid to work as a teller over the summer. He’s a business major and the only guy working there. He and Val hit it off and she eventually let him basically intern for her, too.

Were they sleeping together?

Alex gave me an impressed look.

Yeah, how did you know?

Lucky guess, I said. Please go on.

Sure, she said. Yeah, they were sleeping together but they kept it quiet and I don’t think anyone else caught on to what they were doing outside of work. She wanted to keep it strictly professional at work and leave the bedroom stuff out of it, you know?

But?

How do you know there’s a ‘but’?

There almost always is, I said.

Alex chuckled and nodded. Yeah. Well, one day Valerie gives up and starts bitching about her job; how she hates the pressure and stress, all the bookwork, having so many bosses and what not. She doesn’t think anything of it because everyone complains about their job, right?

Even actresses?

She shot me a toothy grin with a throaty laugh as though to say, You have no idea.

So a month goes by, she went on, Valerie is taking a vacation day at home when she gets a call from this guy. He tells her to pack a bag and to meet him at the place at such a time and they’ll run away together. She says, ‘What are you talking about?’ He says, ‘I’m gonna save you from your life. I’m gonna save us both.’ He hangs up and she doesn’t know what to think. Twenty minutes later she gets a call about the bank getting robbed.

Why didn’t she go with him? I said.

Alex shook her head. You figured that out, too?

If she had you probably wouldn’t be here, I said. Where do I fit in?

She shifted in her seat and made a sour look. Our waitress came to refill my coffee and asked us how our food was. I assured her the food was fine. She didn’t seem to believe me after she saw that Alex hadn’t even cracked the cheese barrier on her soup but she went away without comment.

A few days ago, she said. Valerie got a phone call from him. He didn’t say anything earth shattering. All he said was that he missed her and that was it.

Okay, I said. What was so significant about the call?

Valerie’s Caller ID said it was a local call, she said. It was a local area code and an Omaha prefix.

Interesting, I said. So despite getting away pretty much scot-free with a bunch of cash he didn’t skip town. Why in the hell isn’t he in Puerto Vallarta or something?

Alex shrugged. Valerie doesn’t know, she said. She tried to ask him where he was but he wouldn’t say. She’s worried about him. Can you help him?

Help him, I said deadpan. Help him do what? Get away? I don’t know what you’ve read about me, Ms. Pine, but I’m not exactly in the business of helping fugitives go free.

No, no, no! she blurted. That’s not what I meant at all!

I mean, I’m not a god damn travel agent or anything.

Please, that’s not what I was asking at all, she said. Her face was flushed and her eyes were looking sad. Now I felt like an ass hole. That happened quite often.

Sorry, I said. Should we get some air?

Yes, please.

I paid for lunch, which I couldn’t necessarily afford but did anyway, and we stepped outside. A cigarette found its way to my mouth almost immediately. It happened so quickly that I didn’t even remember lighting it, yet it was. We started walking through the Old Market with both of us waiting for the other to speak.

I stopped at a corner opposite another café and looked at the people having lunch. Some were dressed casually while sipping on wine in the middle of the day and laughing. Others were dressed in formal business attire; discussing purchases and tort reform and legal motions over martinis. I was almost certain none of them had robbed a bank.

I’ve put you in an uncomfortable situation, haven’t I? she said apprehensively.

I shrugged with a chuckle.

Lady, I’ve been in an uncomfortable situation for the better part of a decade, I said. I don’t see any reason to stop now. How do you and Ms. Morgan expect me to help him?

Well, that’s the thing, said Alex. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure Valerie knows but she won’t say what it is.

What am I supposed to do then?

I was wondering if you’d talk to her, she said, to Valerie.

If I need to talk to Valerie then why are you here? I said. Not that I haven’t enjoyed your company. I tried to smile warmly at her but her attention was elsewhere.

Alex Pine ran her hands through her blonde hair and stared out at the vista of shops and people around us. Here’s the thing, she said before a long pause full of deep, nervous, breaths, she doesn’t know that I’m here. When she got the call the other day I told her to call the cops and she totally flipped out. I mean, she even went berserk when I suggested she call you.

What is she afraid of?

I don’t know if she is, really. I think she’s worried about him. Does that make sense?

Sure, I said. She cares enough about him that she doesn’t want any harm to become him.

Yeah.

But not enough to go on the lam with him.

I guess not, she said.

So where does that leave us? I said.

Alex shrugged as she bit her bottom lip and looked down at the pavement with her head cocked to one side and her hands clasped behind her back. Damn. I was always a sucker for lower lip biting.

Will you talk to her? she said. If I can get her to calm down and agree to sit down will you talk to her? If only just to hear what the full story is?

She turned her head and looked up at me with a pair of big doe eyes that immediately started to melt something in my body. I wasn’t sure if the doe eyes were a put on or not. It didn’t matter. I’d also always been a sucker for big doe eyes, too.

My mouth was dry, my palms were sweaty, I wanted a drink, and the big doe eyes were killing me.

Aw, hell, I muttered under my breath.

Excuse me?

Here’s what I’ll do, Miss Pine—

Alex.

Alex, I said. I will sit and I will listen. I will not criticize or make decisions for anyone. Also, if I decide I want nothing to do with any of it I will just walk away and forget everything I’ve learned. Good enough?

Alex Pine’s face lit up like Christmas morning and she practically leapt into my arms as she wrapped her slender arms around my neck and squeezed me tightly. Thank you so much, Mac! she said. She didn’t squeal when she spoke, but I could tell that she wanted to. She quickly regained her composure and smoothed out her top and gave me a sheepish smile.

Thank you so much, she said."

I wouldn’t, I said with a self-effacing smile. I haven’t done anything yet.

It’s at least a start, she said. I will call Valerie this evening and get back to you as soon as I can, ok?

Sounds good, I said.

She reached out and squeezed my right hand with both of hers before walking away. I stood on the corner and just watched her walk while I admired her jeans. I tried to shake my head clear and walked back to my car while thoughts of Alex Pine danced through my head.

CHAPTER THREE

I knew that a crucial key to being a successful private investigator would be having a good communications network; a group of well placed contacts keeping an ear to the ground so that I could stay abreast of interesting happenings around town that could prove invaluable to me over time.

I didn’t have that.

But I did have the Internet. Sort of.

My home networking possibilities were limited and meager at best. My computer was beyond outdated and my connection to the Internet was antiquated at best.

Thank God for the Omaha Public Library.

The Millard branch was close to home, but I liked being downtown and hit the downtown branch instead.

I only spent half an hour Googling and Binging and Yahooing for information on the bank robbery. No matter what I did, I still only found the same handfuls and videos. None of the articles or videos revealed any info the others hadn’t and they had all been written and posted within a day or two of the robbery. None of the links gave a description of the suspect. There were no follow up articles or videos with any updates or stunning new details.

I leaned back in my chair and tapped my fingers on the tabletop loudly. An old woman shushed me several times and glared at me. Meanwhile, a small group of middle school aged ruffians were hooting and hollering while performing simulated sex acts on each other a mere thirty feet away.

I sighed loudly, which earned me another harsh look from the old woman, and realized my one remaining option.

* * * * *

Mike was working out of the North Omaha station then near Ames and North 30th. I hadn’t worked out of there at the end of my tenure with the Omaha PD, but it didn’t mean I was any more comfortable going inside of it; I was pretty certain people would still know who I was.

Cool, suspicious stares welcomed me when I entered the building. Most people at least tried to be polite and looked away while sharing furtive looks with their co-workers. I could hear a few scoffs and muttered comment followed by mutual laughter. My fight or flight instinct was screaming at me to flee but I reigned it in.

A big gruff sergeant with a giant mustache stood up from behind the front desk and glowered down at me. He put his palms flat on the desk and stared at me with steely eyes under the bushiest eyebrows I’d ever seen on a living person. I almost peed a little.

Something I can do for you, son? he said with a voice like sandpaper. One corner of his mouth turned upward. Need to confess to a crime, perhaps?

No, I said with my throat tight and sweat beading on my forehead.

What the hell do you want then?

After clearing my throat and mustering some more courage, I said, Is Officer Mike Lincoln available?

The walrus behind the desk stared at me for a bit before answering. Is this personal business?

No, sir.

Hmph, he answered. I’ll have to check the duty roster. Go sit down.

He’s on day rotation right now, I said.

I know damn well he’s on days! barked the sergeant. I need to check the roster to see where he is at the present moment. Is that quite alright with you, Junior?

Yes, sorry.

Good. Now go sit down and shut up.

I nodded submissively and cowered to a row of plastic chairs and sat staring at the floor. I could feel more eyes stare at me but I was too much of a chicken shit to engage them. I instead admired the plastic tips at the end of my shoelaces and the smudge forming on the side of my cordovan shoes.

The walrus finally spoke tom e again after what felt like a millennia.

Hey, Ice-T, he barked. "Lincoln