The Beginning of Icarus Investigations: Part 2

Part 2 of how the detectives of Icarus Investigations got their start. Here’s Part 1 to get you caught up. Taken from the first case file of the company, the case of the Flapjack.

Story told exclusively by Roger Murphy (the reluctant team member and founding partner)

Galveston Starts His Sales Pitch

We sat in the restaurant for an hour or so as Galveston told me his awkward business plan and why we needed to quit our jobs. I tried to remember the many joyous times I had at “la Technologies” and failed to find any. I was beginning to believe our lunchtime meeting could become my own personal kick in the pants.

Sometimes a person needs a defining moment to take them out of their comfort zone and plunge them into a sea of uncertainty. This could be my opportunity to take a risk. What did I have to lose, and what could be the risk? Unfortunately, at this particular moment, it felt like everything.

Galveston began by regaling me of his exploits from the previous year, his need to do something different with his life, his fine automobiles, of which he had none, and his extensive overseas activities, which he curiously didn’t elaborate on. What brought him to this place, this moment of action? Everyone’s life has a story, poised as a drama, a comedy, sometimes slapstick as mine usually felt, but as he talked he opened up about more than I bargained for and more than I really wanted to hear.

“I think I have to explain some things to you, why I want to pursue my ideas. I’m just tired of giving up,” Galveston said.

“What do you mean?” I inquired, tearing my napkin into tinier and tinier pieces.

“Well, I haven’t been that honest with you. I’m not some ‘fly by night salesman’ or some ‘big idea man,’” he said using air quotes with his fingers. “Things happened that kind of forced me out of the life I knew.”

“Like what? You ran with the wrong crowd or something?”

“Yeah, maybe. This business is supposed to be my new start.”

“Oh my God,” I thought as he said these words. Was he some sort of white-collar criminal, someone in the witness protection program, or worse yet, a mobster? Had this guy started out as a woman? My mind raced as I pictured Galveston dressed in high heels and a bad dress with his chest hair popping out, saying, “Well, I think I’ll be a dude.”

“I don’t even want to know. Please tell me you’re not some long-lost criminal,” or a gal named Shirley, I thought.

“No, no. Let me tell you.” He leaned back in his chair, half smiling.

He moved his plate aside, pulled out a picture from his wallet dated May 1999, and placed it in front of me.

“You probably thought I’d say I had a sex change,” he laughed, smacking his hand on the table, not knowing he had read my mind.

“Yeah, no, nothing like that,” I replied, shifting uneasily in my chair.

“This ought to help with evidence of who I was,” he said, tapping the picture with his finger.

In the photo was Galveston in a dark blue suit and tie, shaking hands and smiling in front of a sign for the Central Intelligence Agency with the President of the United States.

“You were a spy?” I exclaimed loudly, holding the picture up.

“No, no, no,” he said as he slapped it back onto the table, looking around as he did. “The politically correct term is an intelligence officer, and no, I wasn’t one. Come on, calm down.” He lowered his voice. “Let’s use some discretion. I was officially special consultant for counter-intelligence. I wasn’t employed directly by the government.”

“This is all a little much for me to handle,” I stammered, spilling soda down my chin.

“Just wait, Nancy, let me elaborate a little. If you think I’m nuts and don’t believe every word, then I promise I’ll never bother you with this again.”

“Well, I already think you’re nuts, and you’re already bothering me,” I replied while he rolled his eyes.

He began by giving me a narrative, just like a flashback in a movie. If nothing else, he was a good storyteller.

“Let me take you back to a time of innocence and…”

“Hold it,” I said, stopping him mid-sentence of his rant. “Just get to the point, will ya?” I retorted.

He sighed, and a sly smile came across his face as he began to tell his story.

Part 3 of The Beginning, coming soon

Taken from Flapjack, The Case Files of Icarus Investigations, Book 1.

The entire Case Files (enter only if you want to have fun)