"What did this 'guy' look like?" I asked, still making eye contact with Jacob.
No reply. I shifted my eyes back to the phone and waited. Still nothing. I asked again. "What did this man look like?"
"I don't know! Six feet tall, short brown hair, slender body. That's the best I can do. Now please, I have work to do."
I frowned. This guy was cooperating quite nicely till a few moments ago. I listened attentively and said nothing. I could hear him mutter a few words to someone else, then heard him put the phone to his ear. "Goodbye," he said.
"Thank you for the help," Jacob said. The line cut before he finished his sentence. I walked past Jacob and grabbed my coat from the hanger.
"And where are you going?" Jacob asked.
"Down to the diner," I said frankly.
Jacob raised an eyebrow then placed his hands on his hips. "Why?"
"I'd like to ask that man some more questions, but in person."
Jacob studied me closely. "You think he's hiding something," he stated, half-asking half-telling.
I nodded slowly. "Can't be certain, but it's worth a shot."
He said nothing. Instead, he turned and picked up some files on his desk. "Come back soon," he finally said, "Mrs. Duncan should be over within the next two hours. I'd like to go over a few things with you prior."
I pushed the door open and entered the diner. The smell of coffee aroused my senses as I approached a very attractive waitress standing behind a podium. "Table for one?" she asked.
I smiled at her. "No thank you, I'm not here to eat. I called a man about a half hour ago, and I was just coming down here to chat with him in person."
"Did you catch his name?" the waitress asked.
I stared at her for a moment. Beautiful blue eyes stared back. I knew it was no time to admire a woman, but what can I say? I am male after all.
I shook away the thoughts which also seemed to communicate my answer to her question. She nodded slowly then turned. "Is Mr. Renn back there?" she yelled to someone behind a counter.
Next thing I knew I was met by a man wearing a black vest. "What can I do for you?" he asked kindly.
"I'm Archer Houston," I said, shaking his hand. "I talked to you on the phone earlier?"
His kind face suddenly transformed into a glare. "I told you, Mr. Houston that I have work to do. I have nothing else that I can tell you."
He was hiding something. I knew it! I just had to figure out what it was.
"What's in your jacket pocket, Mr. Renn?" I asked, tapping his chest.
"Nothing," he said calmly.
I glanced behind him at the counter. "Anything in your office?"
His eyes widened slightly. "No."
"Do you mind if I take a look?"
"Yes I mind," he began, but I was already headed towards it.
"Mr. Houston you cannot go in there!" he yelled, obviously distressed.
I threw open a door and entered. Not even Sherlock Holmes could have predicted what I found.