Peter called Della into his office and closed the door, indicating the chairs in front of his desk. The seating suggested it was not company business and she crossed her legs, folded her arms and waited.

"I wanted to thank you for not- well for being professional at the party the other night. I know I don't deserve any marks for being a faithful husband but I do love Shirley."

Della chewed her upper lip and leaned forward, taking his hands. "There is something I need to show you." She got up and left the office, returning a moment later and handing him the photo of them kissing.

He took at it and sat back, exhaling and peering at the image, stunned. "Where did this come from?"

"I found it on my desk last week . . . before the party."

"You found it! Don't you know who-?"

"No. It was in a sealed envelope on my desk with just my name on it."

He looked at again, his breath coming in short puffs.

"Peter, are you alright?" She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Has anyone asked for anything - money?"

"No. Nothing. I thought at first you may have received one as well. I didn't know what to do."

He handed it back. "Someone is setting us up for a fall, Della . . . actually more me than you. My marriage, my position here at Kirkland could all be flushed away if this gets out. We've just landed the biggest contract this company has ever had!"

It irked her to think that he was ignoring the fact that her reputation in the company would hardly get a gold star. Having an affair with the boss wasn't exactly advancing on merit - academic merit anyway.

"What do you suggest?"

"Well our- we have to stop right away. No more ammunition for whoever did this."

"I think you should reconsider, Peter. An abrupt stop is going to signal that we both know and it may cause this person to act more aggressively. I think a drink after work now and then or a lunch would not broadcast our concern."

"You may be right. Yes, keep things looking the same only no more- none of the former activity. Meanwhile, I think we need to try and find out who this person is."

"That's terribly risky."

"We need to know! I might have an idea. Let's just carry on as you suggested and I'll see what I can do." Peter had recovered somewhat and was nodding his assurance as she left.

********

Harold was more subdued making his rounds. His concern about Staines a constant bell in his head and he paid scant attention to the odd jibe from those that saw him at the party. When he reached Della's desk he was surprised to see her turn and stare at him while he handed over the mail.

"If you are still angry with me over asking you out for a drink-"

"Who said I was angry?"

"Well the impression I got was almost literal. I thought you were going to punch me."

"I was preoccupied. I'm sorry, Harold." She rifled through the mail and seemed to relax, putting it down on her desk.

"No need to be sorry. I honestly didn't think you'd say yes."

"Did you see anyone else around my desk that day before you left?"

He pursed his lips. "No, don't think so. Why, is something missing?"

"No, I- it's nothing. Thanks, Harold." She turned away and sat down.

He was dismissed.

Syd steered the skid of cartons to the corner and pulled the dolly free, parking it against the wall as Harold came in.

"Got a bone to pick with you, son."

"What about?"

"About stealin' mail for your own use."

"Huh- oh . . . you mean the invitation." How the hell did he find out?

"My friend in accounting told me he saw you there."

"It was an impulse. Why shouldn't we get to go too, we work here - and a hell of lot harder than some."

"You miss the point, boy. This is my department. Bin mine for over thirty years and I don't cotton to thievery of somethin' I'm responsible for."

Harold sat at his desk and began filing signature slips. "It was no big deal, Syd. I didn't do anything there to mar your reputation."

The strong hand clamped on his shoulder and the calm words were whispered in his ear.

"You stole an invitation. That puts a bad mark on your reputation, boy. Consider the fact I have the authority down here to hire and fire. Now I like you, Harold but that was a dumb move and I'm surely disappointed."

"Are you saying you're firing me?"

"Nope. I believe in second chances . . . but no more. I understand your thinkin' but I can't condone your action. Shape up, son. No more bad decisions."

"I'm sorry, Syd, and thanks. It was a one off, I promise."

"There's another postcard came for you. It's in your top drawer . . . and I didn't read it." The last was said with a bit of a chuckle.

Harold watched the old man shuffle away and shook his head. Thirty years, Christ. He opened the drawer and took out the card. The message code was brief - chat site tonight.

********

Peter Braxton entered the lounge at the Parkhurst and tried to appear casual as he selected a stool at the end of the bar against the wall. It was still early and he hoped to have a word with Jim, the bartender before the quitting time crowd arrived. Jim smiled and ambled down to the end of the bar.

"Hello, Mr. Braxton, you hiding from someone?"

"I wanted a quiet word, Jim."

"I'm all ears, sir."

"Exactly and that's why I'm here. Do you know- have you any connections- are any of your customers . . ." Peter looked dismal. He felt like a fool now that he was asking and Jim was patiently grinning.

"Are you looking to purchase something recreational, or perhaps some special activity you might wish to explore? Something like that?"

"No! Lord no, I want a detective . . . a private one."

"Aah, some domestic questions need answering?"

"In a manner of speaking . . . so, do you?"

"I can give you a number, Mr. Braxton but Marty, my other bartender usually handles requests like this.

"Can't you do it? Like a favour to Marty?"

Jim handed him a card. "No guarantees. No involvement at all, whatever you decide or agree to is on you."

"Well is he reputable at least?"

"He is licensed and has a business office, as far as his ability goes I only know what he says, and you know how that is" Jim smiled and lifted his eyebrows.

Peter frowned. The inference was he himself embellished personal traits or skills. He wondered now if confiding his need in Jim was wise. What if he became a bar topic of idle conversation?

"This is a very personal matter, Jim, and discretion is required."

Now it was Jim's turn to wonder if Braxton thought he was a blabber-mouth. "I gave you his card and this conversation never took place"

"Good, I appreciate that, Jim . . . and your help."

Peter slid off the stool, watching Jim watch him all the way to the exit.

********

Harold sat in his shorts eating a Jamaican patty while dialling the coded phone number he got from the coded chat site. It was answered before the first ring finished.

"Pope?"

"Mmphsh."

"What?"

"Sorry, I was eating. What's up?"

"My dander. You personally involved yourself in a contract that we had to cancel"

"I explained, the girl-"

"Let me explain something to you. You are given a job, you do the job. Period. End of story. That's all she wrote. The fat lady sang-"

"Right. I think I got it."

"Yes well we now have information that you are being tailed by a DA's investigator from their violent crime unit."

Staines! "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You are on hold until we say otherwise."

The call ended and a section of hot patty dropped onto Harold's thigh.

11,054 Word Total (Microsoft Word count)