I’m Matt Strong and I’m a Private Investigator/Bounty Hunter. My office is the spare bedroom in my house and my answering machine, who I call Sara, is my secretary. When I’m not home, which is most of the time; Sara answers the phone and takes any new jobs that come in. I also do jobs for Ben Thurston; a Bail Bondsman I got to know over the years when we were on the force together. When someone jumps bail, Ben calls me to find them because I never miss getting my man or woman plus twenty percent of the bail money. I don’t take your small jumpers. I go for the big bucks because that’s where the money is. When I don’t have a case and Ben has nothing going, I check the wanted posters at Ben’s place, my old precinct and my computer to see if there’s something worth my while. If the money is right I’ll go after their ass. I tackle the tough boys and I’ll go anywhere, anytime if the money is there. I just came off a job that took me to Central American. There was a message on my service from a Mrs. Pauline B. Windstorm asking if I could come to her house this coming Saturday evening around seven. She left her address and it was in the upper section of Greenville. That was one of the richest sections in the city and the bucks would be good so I took the job. It was a gated community and I had to wait twenty minutes before getting in. The guard had to check me out and then call Windstorm before letting me in. That was one strike against her because I don’t like to be kept waiting. When I drove up to her house or I should say a small mansion, which was set back about a hundred feet from the street with a wrap around driveway. I stopped in front of the house, got out and headed for the front door when this guy comes around the side of the house and starts yelling at me. He’s telling me I can’t park my car there, strike two for the bitch. I turned around, threw him the keys and said, “Here, you park it and don’t scratch it or it’s your ass.” He looked at me as I picked up the door knocker and gave it three loud bangs. Within a minute the door opened and there stood a little man dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and a bow tie. He was sort of comical because he was not only short but heavy around the middle and he reminded me of a penguin. He said, “Can I help you sir? I said and trying not to smile, “My name is Matt Strong. I have an appointment with Mrs. Windstorm at seven o’clock.” The penguin said, “Yes, she is expecting you. Will you please follow me?” As I walked in, he shut the door behind me and then we headed down the hall. He led me into the living room; hell it was bigger than three of my rooms. He stopped, turned and said, “You may wait in here for the mistress of the house” and he walked out. I thought to myself, mistress of the house, well excuse me. Ten minutes later she finally walked in and I wasn’t too pleased. If I didn’t need the money I would have walked. She was dressed as if she was going out for the evening, which I knew damn well she wasn’t. She said, “Mr. Strong, I’m Mrs. Windstorm. I’m glad you could make it.” “It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Windstorm. I had no problem except getting in here.” “Well you know we have to have good security here.” “Yes I know. I just assumed they knew I was coming, but then again you have to have good security.” I wasn’t going to take any of her shit and was that close to telling her that and walking out. She continued as if it was beneath her to answer. “My husband went on a hunting trip to the rainforest in Costa Rico and I haven’t heard from him in two weeks. I have called the authorities down there and they can not or will not help me. I talked to the police here and they also can not help me. The detective I was talking to gave me your name and said you might be able to help me.” We sat down and after hearing all the facts I told her I would give it a shot. To make a long story short I found him shacked up with this young good looking blonde in Casa De Rio. He wasn’t lost; he just wanted to get away from his wife, so he said. His wife was paying me three hundred dollars plus expenses a day to find him. I was on the case for ten days. He offered me five grand not to find him. Hell, five grand is five grand and I don’t know where the hell he took off to. That’s what I told his wife and collected my ten days fee from her. Hell it was a dry year for me and I needed some cash. A person can’t be choosy when he needs the bucks to go on a little vacation. That’s how I ended up in New York City.
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