Dark Secrets E-Book

J. S. Volpe

• Herausgeber: J. S. Volpe
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Gilbert Solomon, a finder of rare objects, is hired to locate the sole surviving copy of the unaired final episode of an obscure 70s TV show called Dark Secrets. Barely has Gil begun to nose around than the show’s producers start turning up dead. Someone, it seems, is afraid he’ll uncover some decades-old misdeed connected with the show. What dark secret lies at the heart of Dark Secrets? Frankly, Gil doesn’t give a damn. He just wants to find the tape and get his money. Alas, it looks like he’ll have to play detective if he wants to stay alive long enough to reach that lovely payday.

Leseprobe

Dark Secrets

A Rare Finds Tale

by J. S. Volpe

Copyright © 2012 J. S. Volpe

All rights reserved.

Ms. Gwyneth Weeble smiled with almost orgasmic delight as I slid the baggie containing the Pope’s underwear across my desk and into her chubby pink fingers.

“That’s it,” she said, her voice a reverent whisper. “That’s it.” Raising the bag in one trembling hand, she hungrily eyed the holy undies. They were yellow. They were silk. They had thin brown skid-marks on the seat.

I smiled a little to myself. I always enjoy the looks on my clients’ faces when I deliver the goods—the surprise, the glee, the satisfaction with me and with the job I’ve done.

Then I showed her the bill. I always enjoy the looks those get, too.

Her smile vanished. She blinked at me, her lips opening and closing as if she were mouthing “buh” over and over. Then she looked at the bill again, a little more closely this time, to make sure I hadn’t put the decimal in the wrong place.

I hadn’t. I never do. I don’t make mistakes where money is concerned.

“This can’t be right?” she said. It started as a statement, low and stern, then ended as a question, rising to almost a whine on the last word, no doubt because it finally dawned on her that I had told her the plain truth when she hired me: Getting a pair of the Pope’s underwear wasn’t going to be cheap.

“It’s right, all right,” I said. I extended my arm as if to take back the baggie. “Of course, if it’s too steep for you—”

“No! It’s not—it’s just—it’s fine.” By the time she finished saying this, she had whipped out her checkbook and started writing my check.

She paused. “How do I make it out? ‘Rare Finds Agency’ or—”

“Just my name’s fine: Gilbert Solomon.” I spelled it out for her.

She handed me my check, tucked her pricey prize into her purse, and then headed out of my office with the purse clasped to her chest and a blissful smile on her face.

After I slipped the check into my wall-safe, I checked my appointment book to see if I had any other clients this afternoon.

I saw the name “Pat Haines” penciled in at four p.m. and frowned. It took me a moment to remember the phone call I’d received a few days earlier from a man who wanted my services, but refused to reveal over the phone exactly why. I get people like that all the time. It’s as if they’re worried the phone lines are tapped by insidious assholes who’ll rush out and grab the item in question just to spite poor schlubs like Pat Haines. Whoever he was.

* * *

He turned out to be a short stocky man in his late fifties or early sixties with a head of graying brown hair and an almost entirely gray beard. He wore blue jeans and a Hawaiian shirt, which I found interesting. Most clients dress up for their meetings with me, probably because it makes the whole transaction seem like important business instead of the satiation of basic greed.

Haines gave me a chummy smile and a warm, firm handshake, then sat down, looking comfortable and wholly at ease. Which again was interesting. First-time visitors to my office tend to be a bit stiff and uncertain, having had no experience in dealing with a man in my profession. It was good that he was comfortable and at ease, though. I want all my clients feeling comfortable and at ease. It makes them more willing to give me their money.

“So,” he said, glancing around the office, “you’re, what, a kind of private investigator, then?”

Points to him for making it a question. Most people just ignorantly call me a P.I. without a second thought. Frankly, it pisses me off.

“Not really,” I said. “Private investigators generally deal with criminal matters. My business is to find incredibly rare and hard-to-get items, the kinds of things you won’t find on eBay or through any other normal channel. If it exists and you want it, I can try to track it down and procure it for you, as long as such procurement is physically and (in most cases) legally feasible.”

“So you’re a finder? Is that what people call you?”

I shrugged. “They don’t usually call me anything except Mr. Solomon.” I sat back in my black leather desk chair. “Now what is it you’d like me to find for you? You seemed reluctant to discuss it over the phone.”

He drew in a deep breath and said, “‘The Magical World of Pooky-Pooh.’”

I just blinked at him a moment, wondering if I’d heard him correctly.

“Pooky-Pooh?” I said.

He nodded. Seeing my puzzlement, he added, “The legendary lost episode of Dark Secrets.”

More blinking on my part.

“You’ve never heard of it.” He sounded disappointed.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not exactly in the same league as Charlie’s Angels or Love Boat. See, in 1977 a TV show called Dark Secrets aired in prime time on ABC. It was a kind of strange, surreal mystery/soap opera. Given the title, most people automatically assume it was a Dark Shadows rip-off. But in truth, it was far more than that. It was light-years ahead of its time, more along the lines of something like Twin Peaks. In any case, because it was ahead of its time, it didn’t last long. It was cancelled after only seven episodes.”

Ah. A rabid TV-show fan. I’d dealt with those before. There were fans of every damn TV show ever made, no matter how inane or short-lived the show had been. Hell, I remember running into a guy who was a fan of Poltergeist Girls. Never heard of it? That’s not surprising, considering the show never even made it onto the tube. It was a rejected pilot, but this guy and a few other geeks had set up an Internet shrine to this show—a show which none of them had ever seen but had only heard about.

Anyway, now that I understood I was dealing with a fan, I knew how to proceed.

“The network didn’t know what it had, eh?” I said with feigned sympathy.

He snorted. “You can say that again. I sometimes think that one of the main qualifications for becoming a network executive is a complete lack of intelligence.”

“And I take it the show has never been released on video or DVD.”

Another snort, even more derisive than before. “Of course not. Even so, that’s not a big deal in and of itself. The seven episodes that aired are all available online. Fans have made digital copies from old recordings taped off the TV. But there was an eighth episode, which never aired on television. It’s said to be the best of the lot and explains all the mysteries presented in the previous episodes. Supposedly only one single copy of that episode survives today.”

“Who has it?”

“I don’t know for sure. Rumor has it the tape’s in the hands of someone connected with the show. But that includes a lot of people.”

“I see.” I could already feel my body and mind tightening up in anticipation of the hunt. This sounded exactly like the kind of case I loved, the kind that involved a challenging investigation and a hefty paycheck.