Split Second (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 1)

“I’ll say. I guess you won’t be needing us today.”

“No, but when I have another house, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“Was it a fire in the kitchen?”

“No, a bomb in the basement.”

The older man just stared at King, then nervously motioned for his helper to jump back in the van. They kicked up gravel in their flight.

King nodded at Michelle. “Okay, your proposition?”

“All right, here it is.” She paused and then announced in a dramatic tone, “We start a private investigation firm.”

King stared dumbly at her. “You want to hit me with that one more time?”

“We start our own P.I. firm, Sean.”

“We’re not detectives.”

“Sure we are. We just solved a huge, complicated mystery.”

“We don’t have any clients.”

“We will. My phone’s already been ringing off the hook with offers. Even Joan’s old firm called; they wanted me to take her position. But I say, screw that, let’s go into business for ourselves.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Serious enough that I already put a deposit down on a little cottage about a mile from here. It has lakefront. I can do sculling, and I’m also thinking about getting a boat and a wave runner. Maybe I’ll invite you over. We can race.”

He looked at her and shook his head in amazement. “Do you always move at the speed of light?”

“I figure if you think too much about things, life sometimes just passes you by. And my best decisions always have been made on the fly. So what do you say?” She put out her hand. “Is it a deal?”

“You want an answer right now?”

“Now’s as good a time as any.”

“Well, if you want an answer right now, it’s going to have to be…” He looked at her smiling face, and that little spark she always carried in her eyes, and then he actually thought about spending the next thirty years of his life crafting brain-numbing legalese while earning his living in quarter-hour increments. He shrugged and said, “Then I guess it’s going to have to be yes.” They shook hands.

“Okay,” she said excitedly, “sit tight, we have to do this right.”

She ran to her truck, opened the door, and a pair of ski poles and a snowboard promptly fell out.

“I hope your office will be neater than your truck,” said King.

“Oh, it will be, Sean. I’m really very organized in my professional life.”

“Uh-huh,” he said doubtfully.

She jammed the stuff back in and returned with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

“I’ll let you do the honors,” she said, handing him the bottle.

He looked at the label, then popped the cork. “Nice choice.”

“It should be for what I paid for it.”

“So what do we call this fledgling agency?” he asked as he poured out the champagne.