Oh, and to assist Jones on all of his glamorous cases.
Plus he wanted business cards that said Jonathon Payne, Private Eye.
But other than that, he just wanted his friend to be happy.
Payne waved at Jones’s receptionist, who was talking on the phone, and entered the back office. Jones was sitting behind his antique desk, a scowl etched on his angular face. He had short hair, which was tight on the sides, and cheeks that were free from stubble.
“What’s up?” Payne asked. “Trouble in Detectiveland?”
“It’s about time you got here,” Jones barked. His light mocha skin possessed a reddish hue that normally wasn’t there. “I’ve been waiting for you all morning.”
Payne plopped into the chair across from Jones. “I came down as soon as I got your message. What’s the problem?”
Jones exhaled as he eased back into his leather chair. “Before I say anything, I need to stress something to you. What I’m about to tell you is confidential. It’s for your ears only. No one, and I mean no one, is allowed to know anything about this but you. All right?”
Payne smiled at the possibilities. This sounded like something big. He couldn’t wait to hear what it was. Maybe a robbery, or even a murder. Jones’s agency had never handled a crime like that. “Of course! You can count on me. I promise.”
Relief flooded Jones’s face. “Thank God.”
“So, what is it? A big case?”
Jones shook his head, then slowly explained the situation. “You know how you have all those boxes of gadgets near my filing cabinets in the storage area?”
“Yeah,” Payne replied. He’d been collecting magic tricks and gizmos ever since he was a little boy. His grandfather had started the collection for him, buying him a deck of magic playing cards when Payne was only five, and the gift turned out to be habit-forming. Ever since then, Payne was hooked on the art of prestidigitation. “What about ’em?”
“Well,” Jones muttered, “I know I’m not supposed to mess with your stuff. I know that. But I went in there to get some paperwork this morning, and . . .”
“And what? What did you do?”
“I saw a pair of handcuffs in there, and they looked pretty damn real.”
“Go on,” Payne grumbled, not liking where this was going.
“I brought them back here and tried to analyze them. You know, figure them out? And after a while, I did. I figured out the trick.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, so I slipped them on to test my theory, and . . .”
Payne stared at D.J. and smiled. For the first time, he realized his friend’s hands had been hidden from view during their entire conversation. “You’re handcuffed to the desk, aren’t you?”
Jones took a deep breath and nodded sheepishly. “I’ve been like this for three freakin’ hours, and I have to take a leak. You know how my morning coffee goes right through me!”
Laughing, Payne jumped to his feet and peered behind the desk to take a look. “Whoa! That doesn’t look comfortable at all. You’re all twisted and—”
“It’s not comfortable,” Jones interrupted. “That’s why I need you to give me a hand.”
“Why don’t you just break off the handle? Or aren’t you strong enough?”
“It’s an antique desk! I’m not breaking an antique desk!”
Payne smiled. “Wait a second. I thought you could pick any lock in the world.”
“With the proper tools, I can. But as you can plainly see, I can’t reach any tools.”
“I see that,” Payne said, laughing. “Fine. I’ll give you some help, but . . .”
“But what?” Jones snapped as his face got more flushed. “Just tell me the secret to your stupid trick so I can get free. I’m not in the mood to joke here.”
“I know. That’s why I don’t know how to tell you this. I’ve got some bad news for you.”
“Bad news? What kind of bad news?”
Payne patted his friend on his arm, then whispered, “I don’t own any fake handcuffs.”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Jones tried pulling free from the desk, but the cuffs wouldn’t budge. “You mean I locked myself to my desk with a real set of cuffs? Son of a bitch!”
“Not exactly something you’ll put on your private eye résumé, huh?”
Jones was tempted to curse out Payne but quickly realized that he was the only one who could help. “Jon. Buddy. Could you please get me some bolt cutters?”
“I could, but I’m actually kind of enjoying—”
“Now!” Jones screamed. “This isn’t a time for jokes! If my bladder gets any fuller, I’ll be