Chapter Three - Angel Investigations
Enter Cordelia Chase, who does not hit it off with Booker. DISCLAIMER
I don't own the Angel
characters or the 21 Jump Street
characters. Chapter Three
The building that housed Angel Investigations was typical of downtown Los Angeles. The façade was art deco reminiscent of the first half of the twentieth century, with a grand doorway that led to a sunny corridor lined with windowed offices.
It was not hard to find Angel Investigations. Booker cautiously opened the door and called, “Hello?”
A young dark-haired woman appeared from the office in the back. “Hi!” she said brightly. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah,” Booker said. “I’m looking to hire a PI.”
Her eyes lit up. “Of course! Please, sit down. I’m Cordelia Chase, one of Angel’s assistants. Can I get you some coffee?”
Cordelia brought him a styrofoam cup filled with black coffee and settled herself in the chair behind the lone desk. “How did you hear about us?” she asked.
Booker took a sip of the coffee and immediately regretted it. “I, uh, was referred by a friend.”
Cordelia frowned. “Oh. Who?”
“She would prefer to remain anonymous.”
That didn’t seem to satisfy Cordelia, but she ignored it and pressed on. “And what seems to be your trouble?”
“Trouble?” Booker repeated.
“Yeah. What’s on your tail?”
“On my tail?” Booker repeated again. “What are you…?”
“Are you not being chased by something?” Cordelia asked, confused.
Booker shook his head. “No.”
“Oh.” She frowned again. “Then what are you doing here?”
He was surprised by her frankness. “I told you. I need to hire a private investigator. Can I maybe just talk to your boss?”
She cast a doubtful look out the window where the sun shone brightly over the street outside. “Now’s not the best time,” she finally answered. “He’s, uh, busy. If you’d like to come back this evening, like say maybe around nine? I’m sure he could speak with you then.”
Booker sighed. “Fine.” He stood up. “I will see you then.”
He was almost to the door before Cordelia called, “Wait!”
He turned. “Yeah?”
She stood leaning on the desk, an amused expression on her face. “If I’m scheduling a meeting, I need to know your name.”
A ghost of a smile came to his lips as a memory stirred from years past. “Dennis Blackwood.”
She made a note. “All right, Mr. Blackwood. 9:00 tonight, in this office.”
“Sounds good.” He smiled and opened the door. As he walked out into the hallway, he nearly collided with a tall, thin man with glasses and a tweed jacket. “Sorry,” he said.
“It’s quite all right,” the man said with a British accent. “My fault, I’m sure.”
“Wesley?” Cordelia called. “That you?”
Wesley looked past Booker into the office. “Yes. I’ll be right in!” He turned back to Booker. “Excuse me.” He disappeared into the AI office and closed the door.
Booker shook his head and headed back outside. He had a meeting with his client.
Kate sat down opposite Booker at an outside table at a small café on the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. He looked up from his menu. “Hello again.”
“Hi.” She smiled the awkward smile of a greeting between acquaintances. “I was surprised to hear from you so soon. It’s only been two days.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes things go better than others.”
“So you found something?”
Booker shook his head and grinned. “No one works that quick, not even me. But I do have an appointment with our friend Angel tonight at 9:00.”
Kate frowned. “An appointment? What for?”
“To hire him of course.” Booker saw the skeptical look on Kate’s face. “The best way to learn about someone is to see them in action.”
Kate was impressed. “You know, that sounds kind of like something they taught us at the Police Academy.”
An odd look came over Booker’s face and he looked away. “Yeah, that’s where I picked it up,” he said.
“You were a police officer?”
He sniffed and said, “Yeah. Three years.”
“Doing what?” she asked eagerly. “Where?”
He shifted uncomfortably, focusing intently on the menu on the table. “Internal Affairs for two years. Undercover for one. Do you know what you want? My treat.”
“Uh, no.” Kate picked up the menu and skimmed it. “So were you with the LAPD?”
Something in Booker’s tone told Kate not to push the issue further. There was another awkward pause as they avoided each other’s gaze. Finally, Kate said, “I’ve heard the avocado-lobster roll is really good here.”
“I’m not an avocado fan.”
Kate smirked. “You live in southern California and you don’t like avocadoes?”
He laughed. “That’s what everyone says. But I’m still a New Yorker through and through. Give me pizza over avocadoes any day.”
Smiling mischievously, Kate said, “Give us time. We might make you into an avocado lover yet.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see.”
Ioki sat at his desk at the Wilshire Station, searching the LAPD’s extensive database. Many of his fellow officers had left for the evening, but one or two hung around for the evening hours. Ioki watched them carefully as he searched personnel files for Booker’s client Kate. He did not mind doing Booker the favor, but the idea of taking a fall for it did not sit well with him either.
Kate Lockley was easy to find. Interestingly, so was her father, a Trevor Lockley. He had recently retired amidst a scandal involving spiked liquor at his retirement party. Kate was stationed at the Metro Precinct with quite a successful arrest record.
He printed both pages and set them aside for Booker. He moved into a different database and began his search for Angel.
It turned out to be much harder than finding Kate or her father. Angel had no last name, no license, no Social Security number, no birth date, no evidence of existence at all. Ioki leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head. Perhaps Angel was an alias? If so, who was Booker really investigating and why go through all the trouble to hide his identity? What was Booker getting himself into?