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Marty Gecko and the Bankers Daughter

A Marty Gecko Mystery

"I need you to find my daughter. Shes been missing for eight months."

If youre a cop, you dont want to hear those words because eight months means theres no hope at all. If youre a private detective, you might like those words because parents will keep you in billable hours for a long time. On any given Thursday, though, you dont want to hear those words if youre a private detective like Marty Gecko. Thursdays arent work days. Thursdays are drinking days.

Besides, Marty doesnt like real cases. He takes cases like cheating spouses, tracking out debtors who skip town and catching employees stealing from the register. Those are easy cases. They dont take any time at all and that means he has plenty of time left over for the important things in life, important things like good single malt scotch and well, thats all thats really important in Martys life at the moment. After all, what good is co-owning a bar if you dont get to drink the good stuff?

Co-owning. Thats the real problem. Its hard to blow off a case when Bobbi stares at him the way she does and wiggles her rear end the way she does and makes comments the way she does and keeps being Bobbi the way she does. He doesnt want the case but hell take it and no matter how much hed rather find his way through a fifth or two of the best the Highlands have to offer; he wont be able to set it aside until Sandra Knockee gets home or gets justice.

Maybe just one glass first. Make it a tall glass. Damned cases shouldnt start on Thursdays.

Have a look inside:

Clearly, the Father above appreciates my sense of humor and attention to detail because Heaven waited for me on my desk. Heaven in this case was the still one-quarter full bottle of eighteen-year single malt scotch, and I showed remarkable restraint (out of respect for the aforementioned Father) and used the glass still on the desk instead of drinking right out of the bottle. It went down smooth, and I grabbed the laptop and fired it up.

There was still nothing on Google. Nothing on Yahoo or MSN either. No doubt about it. This was going to be a case I actually had to work. I didnt want to. In fact, I considered calling Knockee and dropping the damned thing, but theres something about making a commitment that sticks with me when Ive also exchanged the watermarked slip of paper the client gave me for a stack of hundreds. I sighed and pulled a piece of paper out of my desk drawer and wrote down a few ideas.

Id probably want to start with some of Sandras friends, ask them about why shed want to leave. Id also want to check at the bus stations and such places to see if anyone saw her, though the chance of anyone recognizing her after eight months was pretty slim. That reminded me that I didnt have a picture of her yet, so Id have to track one down from the family as well.

I poured myself another drink. See, the problem with a case like this was that I could show a hell of a lot of activity, but that wasnt the same as actually getting anywhere.

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Marty Gecko and the Bankers Daughter

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