The metallic taste of anger mixed with cold anticipation. Brenda was getting desperate, making careless mistakes. And desperate people with secrets tend to reveal more than they ever intended.
Time to go on offense.
The next morning, I was enjoying my first cup of coffee, that perfect moment when the world's quiet except for birds chirping and the distant rumble of early commuters, when an unmarked sedan crept into my driveway like a hearse at a funeral.
Two people climbed out, a woman in a wrinkled business suit and a guy who screamed wannabe private investigator louder than a carnival barker. They didn't knock or introduce themselves. They just started prowling around my property with cameras and measuring tools like they were conducting a crime scene investigation.
I stepped onto my porch, coffee mug warming my hands against the morning chill.
"Morning, folks. Something I can help you with?"
The woman glanced up from her tablet with all the warmth of a tax auditor.
"Property assessment. Routine neighborhood evaluation for insurance compliance purposes."
"Interesting," I said, taking a deliberate sip of coffee. "Considering my insurance company didn't mention scheduling any assessment, mind showing me some official identification?"
That's when things got spicy.
Buzzcut stepped forward with the swagger of someone who'd watched too many cop shows.
"Sir, we have legitimate business conducting this evaluation. I strongly suggest you return inside your residence."
Twenty years of dealing with military wannabes had fine-tuned my ability to spot fake authority from 50 yards away. All bark, zero actual bite.
"I strongly suggest you remove yourselves from my private property before I contact actual law enforcement officials."
They retreated, but not before Buzzcut snapped about 50 photos of my fuel pump from every conceivable angle. The whole encounter reeked of amateur hour, people pretending to possess authority they'd never legitimately earned.
Two hours later, my phone rang with an unknown number. I usually ignore those, but instinct made me answer.
"Mr. Kellerman, this is Rick Santos from Apex Investigations. We need to discuss Brenda Ashworth immediately."
My coffee suddenly tasted like pennies.
"I'm listening."
"She hired my firm to investigate you. Specifically requested anything illegal, embarrassing, or compromising. Offered a $5,000 bonus for information that could result in your arrest or forced relocation."
The sheer audacity took my breath away.
"And you're sharing this information because?"
"Because when I conducted your standard background check, I discovered exactly who you are professionally." His voice carried genuine professional respect mixed with obvious embarrassment. "Mr. Kellerman, this woman hired me to dig up dirt on a police chief. Did she honestly think I wouldn't discover that crucial detail?"