Sam was curled up on the sofa, a White Russian sat on the side table. Her cat Bonkers was curled up at her feet. She was reading a book, enjoying the quiet. The only noise was the rain on the roof and the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. This is nice she thought, I wish I could do this more often.
She was a Private Detective, and business had been good. The past few months had been very busy for her and she relished this quiet time. The book was good and the drink was working it’s magic and making her drowsy. She finally dozed off to sleep.
Samantha Cole was 31 years old. She was an orphan by the time she was 10 months old. Her parents had been killed in an auto accident. Child service’s tried to find family, but never did. There were no parents of the deceased listed on either death certificate. The story ran in the newspaper, no one came forward, she was a child that fell through the cracks. Over the years she was placed in a few foster homes, she was a loner and was never adopted. Her feeling of never fitting in haunted her. When Sam turned 18 she applied for the police force. Attended the academy in Jamaica, New York and graduated with honors. Sam attended college on her days off and after 6 years graduated with a degree in Criminal Justice. She made detective. Worked with the Detective Squad for another 2 years and quit the force. She had accomplished her goal, to get vested so she would get a pension when she was ready to retire. Saving her money and wise investing let her own a comfortable home, in Howard Beach, New York.
Opening her Private Investigation office was a dream come true. Sam could search records she otherwise would not be able to get access to, but always hit a brick wall when it came to her own information.
Her office was located in Long Island City. It was an industrial area, but Sam felt comfortable about it, she was not afraid. The rent was reasonable and it was close to Manhattan. She hired an assistant, Connie Tune. Connie was in her early twenties, bright, efficient, attractive and very reliable. Sam had come to rely on her and she made a delicious cup of coffee.
Her client’s varied from the very wealthy to the very poor. Sam knew what it was like to have little or no money, she also had a soft spot for people who were alone. She had helped many find their biological families, most were happy reunions, some were not. Sam knew that feeling well. Working with the police departments, Coles Investigation Service thrived. Having friends from the department didn’t hurt. She was called often to help with murder cases, missing persons, and thefts.
The ringing of the telephone woke Sam up. “Hello”. Samantha said as she looked at the clock. It was 11:00pm. The voice at the other end of the line was shaky. “Is this Sam Coles residence”?
“Who would like to know”? Sam answered.
“My name is Janet Hewitt, I would like to speak to Sam Cole, it is important, please ask him to come to the phone”. The name Janet Hewitt rang a bell in Sams head, but she was a bit groggy from being awaken from a sound sleep. “I am Samantha Cole, how can I help you”?
“I am sorry Ms. Cole, but when I heard the name Sam I assumed it was a man”.
“It’s alright Ms. Hewitt. How did you get this number”?
“From one of the officers at the 115th. prescient. I think something terrible happened to my husband Ben. He left for an appointment yesterday morning and I haven’t heard from him since. I tried calling his cell phone but I keep getting his voice mail”.
“Did you fill out a missing persons report”? Sam asked.
“No, could you please come here now, I know it’s late but I need help”.
“Can it wait until morning”?
“Please I will make it worth your while, my address is 45 Sutton Place South, have Charles at the desk call me when you arrive. I am in the penthouse. Please, please come”. With that Ms. Hewitt hung up. Samantha dialed Ms. Hewitt back. There was no answer. She thought maybe she would wait to see if the woman called her back. A half hour later Sam was in her car headed to the city.