Mr. October

By: Kenda

 

*This story makes reference to the aired episodes, Beauty and Deceased, Shadows, and Tanner, P.I. For Hire.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A.J. Simon was whistling a nondescript tune as he entered the Simon and Simon office on Wednesday afternoon. Rick was seated behind his desk, leaning back in his chair.  His hands were folded behind his head, and his feet were propped up on one corner of the desk’s surface.

 

A.J. came to a halt in the center of the office.  He studied his sibling, who was smiling broadly. "Why do you look like the cat who just ate the canary?"

 

Rick continued to smile. He offered no reply to his brother as A.J. walked to his desk. The blond man sat down and began leafing through the mail he’d carried in.

 

When the mail had been looked over and sorted into various piles, A.J. looked at his brother once again.  The silly grin Rick had been wearing when A.J. had first entered was still present on the older detective’s face. 

 

"Okay, Rick. What's up?"

 

"Whatta’ ya’ mean, what's up?"  

 

"I haven't been your brother for forty years--"

 

"Almost forty-one," Rick interrupted, in light of the fact that A.J.'s July 29^th birthday was only three weeks away.

 

“I haven't been your brother for a good number of years, without knowing when you're up to something. It's in the air. I can smell it. And even if I couldn't, that stupid smile on your face gives you away."

 

"You won’t think it's so stupid once you find out the reason for it."

 

"Don't count on it," A.J. assured as he returned his attention  to the stacks of mail on his desk.

 

"If that's gonna be your attitude, I'm tempted not to tell you about the new job we've been hired for. Unfortunately, I can't do it by myself, it's gonna take two guys. But, on the other hand, I suppose I could hire Carlos. Yeah, come to think of it, that would work out pretty good. I could pay him a small salary, and keep the rest of the money for myself...including the five thousand dollar bonus that was offered."  

 

A.J. tuned into the words, “five thousand dollar bonus.” He looked up from the mail. "What job?"

 

"Oh, never mind. Just forget the fact that while you were tying up loose ends on the Prat case today, runnin’ your tail off chasing all over San Diego for a guy who’s gonna have to pay us in about forty monthly installments, I managed to get us a job that looks like it will guarantee at least one week's work, which at five hundred dollars a day comes to twenty-five hundred dollars. Plus the five thousand dollar bonus we've been offered if we can crack this case in five days, which I'm sure we will. So let's see...that's about seventy-five hundred dollars, isn't it?"

 

A.J. clapped his hands together in applause. "Very good, Rick. You can add. After all these years, Mom will be so pleased."

 

"Don't be such a wisenheimer, or I really will hire Carlos."

 

"What exactly does this dream job that's awaiting me involve?"

 

"Well, let's just say it won't involve any stake-outs standing in a pouring rain."

 

"Okay. So what's the job?"

 

"And it won't involve sleeping all night in my truck, which you hate, I might add." 

 

"All right, fine. What's the job?"

 

"And it doesn't involve having to ask questions of anyone in the seedier parts of town, which means our chances of gettin' beat up, or havin’ the office destroyed, are slim to none."

 

“Sounds good.” A.J.’s jaw clenched as his patience with Rick’s game began to wear thin.  “Now what’s the job, Rick?"

 

”Oh, yeah, and we get to work with all kinds of classy, beautiful women. Just your style, little brother."

 

A.J. stood up, placed his knuckles on his desk, and leaned forward. "Rick, for the last time, what’s the job?

 

Rick put his hand over his mouth. "Well...hum...mmmmmm.”

"What?"

 

“Well...uh...it’s...uh...”

 

A.J. took one step toward his brother and warned, "Rick..."

 

Rick let his feet drop to the floor and sat up straight, prepared to make a dash for the door if necessary.

 

"Well, it's uh...we've been hired by...uh...well see, A.J., it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up on, and I thought you'd probably overlook the fact that I didn't consult you before takin' the job 'cause of the bonus money and all, and then she wanted an answer right away, so--"

 

"Rick, just tell me what you've gotten us into now, please."

 

"Well...uh...well... we've been hired by Marion St. Clair to--"

 

"Marion St. Clair! Marion St. Clair of Nouveau Chic Magazine?"

 

Rick smiled. "Yep, that's the one. Your girlfriend."

 

“Marion St. Clair is not, nor was she ever, my girlfriend!"

 

"I don't know about that, A.J. You two looked like you were gettin' mighty friendly when Beth and I left here to go to dinner that night."

 

"We were not getting friendly," the blushing blond man stated firmly.  "Well, maybe she was getting friendly, but I was definitely not reciprocating in any way, shape, or form. That woman's a runaway train loaded with raging hormones."

 

"Sounds like your kind of woman to me, little brother," Rick teased. "Raging hormones, huh? What was it like? No, no, don't tell me. I don't think I'm up to hearin’ your tale of a night filled with wild sex."

 

"There was no wild sex. There was no sex period, so get that idea out of your dirty little mind right now. I do not engage in...anything, with a woman who tells me I need to drop five pounds off my ass." 

 

Rick laughed. "Maybe not, but that remark musta made an impression of some kind on you, 'cause for three weeks after that all I saw you eat was yogurt, and you worked out on that weight machine over there about five times a day."

 

"I did not!"

 

"Did too," Rick replied with the truth, then changed the subject before A.J. could debate it further. "By the way, I never did ask how you got rid of Marion that day."

 

A.J. smiled sheepishly as he reluctantly admitted, "I hid behind Mom."

 

“You what?”

 

“Just as Marion was about to...rip my clothes off, or so it seemed anyway, Mom walked in. I ran over and stood behind her while I introduced her to Marion. Then I gave Marion some line of bull about how I had promised Mom that I'd help her canvas the neighborhood collecting for one of her charity organizations, and how we had to get going."

 

"What'd Mom say?"

 

“Ah, you know Mom. She did a fantastic job of playing along with the whole thing, and rescuing me from Marion's clutches in the process. I guess she'd seen enough of what was going on to know that I needed help, especially since you had abandoned me."

 

"Unlike Mom, A.J., I know you can take care of yourself."

 

"No, Rick, unlike you, Mom doesn't like to see older women molesting me." 

 

"Don't flatter yourself, little brother. Marion's not that much older than you."

 

"Fifteen years if she's a day!"

 

"Oh, give me a break! She might be fifty, but even that's pushin' it. And let me remind you, that you're no spring chicken, blondie. Let's see, if I remember correctly, it's birthday number forty-one in three weeks."

 

"She's at least fifty-five,” A.J. countered. “Believe me, if you take away the plastic surgery, the make-up, and the designer clothes, it wouldn't be a pretty sight."

 

"Isn't it that way with every woman?" Rick pondered.

 

A.J. ignored that question as he got the conversation back on track. "No. No way. There is absolutely no way that will I work for that woman."

 

"A.J., come on.”

 

"No, Rick. You go ahead and hire Carlos. I don't care. I'll stay here and work on other cases."

 

"A.J., come on, I need you. I can't do this one alone," Rick pleaded. "And besides, I've already told Marion we'd take the job."

 

"We will be taking the job," A.J. emphasized. "The only difference is, Marion’s getting one Simon instead of two. We've done cases that way before."

 

"Yeah, but I can't do this one without you."

 

"Not ten minutes ago you told me you could. With glee, you informed me that you'd hire Carlos if I kept giving you a hard time. So, I'm giving you a hard time. Go ahead, hire Carlos."

 

Rick looked down at his feet and mumbled, "I can't."

 

"What was that?"

 

“I...” the detective cleared his throat and met his brother’s eyes.  “I can't hire Carlos."

 

"Why not?"

 

" 'Cause he doesn't...well he's just not...oh hell, A.J., Carlos doesn't have the looks for this job, and you do."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"See, it's like this. Marion's company, Nouveau Chic, publishes four magazines now. Nouveau Chic, Elegance, Beautiful Woman, and her newest one - the one you had a chance to star in a few years back - Mature Lady."

 

"Go on.”

 

"Someone who works for Marion is stealing negatives from her various photo shoots and selling them to other magazines before she gets a chance to publish them. So far twelve pictures that by rights belonged to Marion, have appeared in Vogue and Glamour in the past three months."

 

A.J. forgot his opposition to working for Marion St. Clair as he listened with interest. "I thought all those types of pictures were taken by free-lance photographers, then sold to the highest bidder."

 

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too, but Marion said that's not always the case. She employs her own staff of photographers and developers. Only the models that come and go are what you might call free-lancers, although she did say that she even employs some of them exclusively."

 

"So she thinks whoever is selling her negatives is a photographer, or one of the photo lab people?"

 

Rick shrugged. "She really has no idea. She employs a hundred people, and said it could be anyone from a lab tech, to a photographer, to one of the layout people, to a janitor. Anyone would have fairly easy access to the negatives."

 

"She doesn't have security procedures in place?" 

 

"No, none to speak of really. I told Marion not to initiate any for the time being, since leavin’ things as they are won't arouse suspicions, and will make our jobs easier."

 

"Our jobs? I don't recall agreeing to accompany you on this little adventure."

 

"Come on, A.J.," Rick begged. "She really wants to hire you...I mean us, and she's willing to pay a good bonus, and it's gonna be easy work. Let's face it, at least half the jobs we do involve crappy conditions. Besides which, we're only offered a bonus like this about once a year if we're lucky."

 

"I don't know--"

 

"Come on, A.J. We could really use that bonus money."

 

A.J. thought Rick's arguments over for a few seconds, then against his better judgment reluctantly agreed.

 

"Okay, okay. I'll do it."

 

Rick's smile lit up his whole face. "I knew I could count on you, little brother. Thanks."

 

"Don’t thank me yet, because if Marion is too annoying I might get in my car and head right back here.”

 

“Aw, she’ll be too busy running her business to bother you.”

 

A.J. wished he were as confident of that fact as Rick. Not having the desire to be given false promises from his brother, A.J. moved on with his next inquiry.  “I have a feeling I'm going to hate the answer to this question, but I'll ask it anyway. Exactly how are we working our way into Marion's organization?"

 

"I’ve been waitin’ for you to ask that.”

 

“You have, huh?”

 

“Oh, yeah. And you’re gonna love it.”

 

“I’m going to love what?”

 

“Your job.”

 

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like this job nearly as much as you seem to believe?”

 

“Because you have a negative attitude before you even know the facts.”

 

“With good reason.  You’re the one who set this job up.  Now what is it that I’m going to be doing?”

 

“Well see...I...I uh...I'm gonna be a photographer...and you...you’re uh...”

 

“I’m what?”

 

“You’re gonna be a model, A.J."

 

"Absolutely not! No! I’ll be the photographer, and you’ll be the model."

 

"A.J., no. It'll never work. I don't have the looks to be a model."

 

In an uncharacteristic brotherly compliment, A.J. assured, "You do too."

 

"No, I don't. Well, maybe as the Marlboro man, or some outdoors type like for Field and Stream, but Marion's magazines aren't like that. They're classy. They require someone with a certain...finesse. Someone like you, who looks good in a suit and tie, or a tuxedo, or one of those expensive shirts with the little alligator on the pocket." Rick's eyes twinkled as he teased, "Or in a pair of skimpy Speedos like you wore for the Faces of the 90s pageant."

 

"Against my will!" A.J. stated emphatically. "I wore them against my will, Rick, and if you think for one minute that I'm going to wear them again, and have my picture taken for a magazine while I'm more than half naked, you're nuts!"

 

“This isn’t exactly the first time you’ve accused me of that, you know.”

 

Through clenched teeth, the blond detective said, “And I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

 

“Come on, A.J., look at the bright side. This is gonna be a simple job. Nothin' to it. We drive up to L.A. where Marion's main office is at, spend enough time there to catch her thief, then come back home seventy-five hundred dollars richer."

 

The look A.J. shot his brother said, "If only it could be that simple."

 

Rick rose from his desk. He walked over to A.J. and draped an arm around his shoulders. "Kid, this could be your lucky break. Fame and fortune as a male model might be just around the corner. Think about it. When half the women in California over the age forty see you in Mature Lady, there's no telling what might happen. Your phone will be ringing off the hook."

 

A.J. slid out from under the solicitous arm. "No, it won't be, because I'm not going to appear in any magazine. I'll take this job, I'll even be the model, but I will not have my picture in anything Marion St. Clair produces."

 

Rick sighed with resignation. "All right. Have it your way. But I'm tellin' ya’, you're passing up on a helluva opportunity here. "

 

"I’ll decide which opportunities I want to take advantage of and which ones I don't, thank you very much." A.J. glanced at his watch and saw it was twenty minutes after five.  “Come on. Let’s call it a day. God knows I’ll need all the sleep I can get before I have to face Marion’s quick hands again.”

 

“Yeah, and without Mom around to protect your virtue,” Rick quipped, as he grabbed his cowboy hat off an arm of the coat rack and followed his brother out of the office.

 

________________________

 

The following Sunday afternoon, the Simon brothers drove up to L.A. in A.J.'s Camaro and rented a modest, clean motel room a few blocks from the Nouveau Chic office complex.

 

At nine on Monday morning, the detectives were shown in to Marion's suave chrome and glass office. A.J. made a face at the decor he found distasteful as he studied the all white surroundings. The only splash of color came from the rich black carpet that was under his feet, and the modern art paintings on the walls. As Rick was greeting Marion, A.J. thought, This is just her style. Overbearing decor for an overbearing broad. A.J. tuned back into what was happening when he saw Marion zeroing in on him with a huge smile on her face.

 

"And A.J.! It's so nice to see you again!"

 

A.J. backed away as Marion tried to kiss him on the cheek. He thrust his right hand between their bodies, in part because it was the only gesture of greeting he was willing to give her, and in part because he wanted keep as much distance as possible between himself and the woman.

 

Marion graciously accepted the offered hand in place of a cheek. She shook it while Rick looked on with amusement. The stylish redhead was dressed in a tailored yellow blazer and short black skirt. She eyed A.J. from head to toe as she continued to hold on to his hand. She took in his pleated gray dress slacks, gray dress shoes, navy blue sport coat, light gray shirt, and navy, gray, and mauve silk tie.

 

"Clothes do make the man, A.J.," Marion cooed with a smile and a wink.

 

Before A.J. realized what she was up to, Marion reached around with her left hand and patted his rear end.

 

"Ah!" A.J. yelped. He extracted his hand from Marion's grasp and jumped back out of her reach.

 

"I see you've lost that five pounds I wanted you to. Perfect. Just perfect, A.J.!"

 

A.J.'s face turned red as he glared at his brother over Marion's shoulder. It was obvious to the blond man that Rick was deriving great enjoyment from Marion’s antics.

 

Based on the look he was getting, Rick knew he'd better save A.J. from Marion's clutches unless he wanted to be locked out of their motel room that evening. He walked up behind Marion, laid his hands on her shoulders, and gently steered her away from A.J.

 

"Marion, why don't you tell us exactly what you'll need us to do," Rick requested.

 

The woman gave a nod of agreement as she sat behind her desk.   Rick sat in one of the chairs across from her, while A.J. chose to keep his distance and stand several feet behind the empty chair meant for him. Rick threw his brother a look that asked, "Aren't you taking this a bit too far?" but didn't say anything. He returned his attention to Marion, as she began to detail the roles the brothers would be playing at Nouveau Chic.

 

After a secretary had brought in coffee for the trio, Marion briefed Rick and A.J. about their jobs as photographer and model. She then showed them a blueprint of the building's interior, as well as gave them information on various employees whom she thought would have the easiest access to the negatives.

 

When Marion was finished telling all she could think to tell, and the detectives had asked all they could think to ask, the woman rose from her seat.

 

“Rick, I’ll introduce you to some of my photographers in a few minutes, and then I’ll show A.J. the sets where the models work.” The woman crossed to a filing cabinet.  “A.J., before we go, I need you sign something for me."

 

"What's this?" A. J. asked, as he was handed a lengthy form in triplicate.

 

"It's just a standard release allowing me to use pictures from your photo shoots. You'll be paid for them, of course."

 

A.J. thrust the paper back at the woman. "No!"

 

"But, A.J..." Marion pouted.

 

"No, Marion," A.J. reiterated. "I'm a private investigator, not a model."

 

"And that's a damn shame, too. I can forge a new career for you, A.J., just like I told you two years ago. You'd still make a hell of a Mr. October."

 

"I'm very happy not being Mr. October, and very happy being a private investigator," A.J. replied, as he turned on one heel and briskly strode from the office.

 

Rick put an arm around Marion’s shoulders as he escorted her from the office. "He's a little grumpy today, darlin.’ Don't worry, A.J. may come around yet and see that he has a future at Nouveau Chic."

 

Marion didn’t know Rick was teasing her when she replied with determination. "I'll do everything in my power to make him realize that, Rick."

 

“I’m sure you will, Marion,” Rick agreed, as he caught sight of his brother waiting for them by the elevator at the end of the hall.  “I’m sure you will.”

 

________________________

The Simon brothers didn't get much done in the way of detective work Monday. Their time was taken up with getting introduced to their ‘co-workers’ and familiarizing themselves with their surroundings. Tuesday was a different story, however. Rick and A.J. started their workday at Nouveau Chic at eight in the morning, and didn't quit until almost eight that night.

 

Although neither brother came up with any solid leads, in-between their ‘jobs’ they both managed to do some first class snooping, and ask some seemingly innocent questions of several of Marion's employees. Since the brothers didn't want to be seen riding together in A.J.'s Camaro, Rick had left work at seven-fifteen and walked the four blocks back to their motel room, leaving A.J. the car to drive. At five minutes to eight A.J. walked in, threw his room key and car keys onto the dresser, then collapsed across his double bed.

 

Rick was sitting on his own bed, propped up against the pillows. He was reading the newspaper while occasionally glancing at the TV, where he had a baseball game playing at low volume.

 

When a minute of silence passed, Rick looked over the top of his paper at his inert brother. "What's wrong with you?"

 

"I'm tired," the blond uttered with his eyes closed. "Not only is modeling boring, it's exhausting as well. I'm not sure if it's so exhausting because of all the clothing changes and posing, or if it's exhausting because of how boring it is just hanging around waiting for everyone to be ready for you."

 

Rick nodded as he thought of his own day as a photographer. It seemed as though he had spent more time arranging the sets the way he wanted them, as opposed to actually shooting pictures of the model.

 

A.J. moved to sit back against his pillows, as well. He kicked off his shoes, allowing them to drop to the carpeting with a soft ‘plunk.’ "Remember when we were kids, and Mom used to drag us from store to store for an entire day right before school started and make us try on about a million clothes?"

 

"Yeah. It was a pain in the ass."

 

"Take it from me, it’s still a pain in the ass. I must have changed clothes thirty times today."

 

"To the delight of all the ladies, I'm sure," Rick deadpanned.

 

"Not hardly, Rick. I was in a dressing room. By myself. With the door closed."

 

Rick let the subject of clothing changes end there. He and A.J. spent a few minutes discussing what little information they had each gathered that day, then walked across the street to a restaurant for a late supper.

 

________________________

 

The following day, Rick and A.J. were able to make some headway when it came to getting better acquainted with the Nouveau Chic company, and her employees.

 

Rick was busy throughout that Wednesday taking photos of various models, both male and female. Not being much of a photographer, he had to bluff his way through most situations. Rick relied on what little knowledge he had obtained regarding the profession from his talk with Marion, as well as on his observations of the other photographers she employed. As usual, Rick's confidence had been high when he had told A.J. over lunch on Monday, "How hard can it be making your living taking pictures all day? All you gotta do is snap 'em and say, ‘Smile real big, babe.’ and ‘Lookin' good, Darlin’."

 

A.J. hadn’t hesitated to remind Rick that he wasn't even a good amateur photographer, and that the job would likely be harder than Rick thought.

 

Rick had ignored his brother's warning and answered him with, "You worry too much."

 

Early on Wednesday morning, Rick found himself with the freedom to arrange a set the way he wanted it for a spread that would advertise beach wear. He spent a lengthy amount of time moving a lounge chair and beach umbrella from one side of the set to the other, then back again, while not being able to make up his mind as to where he wanted them. Each time Rick moved the furniture the lighting technician had to move all his equipment as well. The man quickly got fed up with Rick's multiple moves and grumbled to the detective, "Let me know when you're ready." Then he walked over to one of the set designers and whispered with disgust, "Has this guy got a furniture fetish or what? I wish he'd make up his mind. He's driving me nuts."

 

The female set designer nodded in sympathy. "He was like this yesterday, too. It takes him longer to decide how he wants everything, than it takes him to do the actual shoot. "

 

"Where'd he come from anyway?" 

 

"I don't know. But he seems to be a friend of Marion's, so I guess we're stuck putting up with him."

 

Rick's presence interrupted the pair. The light tech glared at the detective.

 

"Are you done now?"

 

Rick gave a sheepish grin, sensing the man's disgust with him. "Uh...yeah, I think so. I like it this way."

 

As he walked over to rearrange his lights for the eighth time, the technician muttered, "You had it this way four times already. You could have made all our lives easier by liking it this way the first time."

 

"Kinda touchy, isn't he?" Rick commented to the set designer, as the light tech cursed under his breath while moving his equipment.

 

Before Rick got an answer from the woman, a sultry voice from the doorway captured his attention.

 

"Are you ready for me?"

 

Rick turned around to see what he deemed the most gorgeous woman he had ever encountered. Her long, thick, sun-kissed blond hair fell below her waist. Her facial features couldn't have been more perfect had an artist chiseled them. Long blond eyelashes framed big baby blue eyes, and full pink lips outlined a dazzling white smile. The beauty was wearing a white terry cloth robe that barely came to mid-thigh level, and accented her slim, tan legs.

 

As Rick's eyes traveled up those enticing legs, the young woman let the robe inch off her body and drop to the floor. Rick stared at the bikini-clad figure, only breaking his hypnotic state when the girl approached him and purred, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Kandy - with a K. And you're--?"

 

"Uh...Rick...with an R," the befuddled detective introduced. "Rick Marlowe."

 

The woman bumped her right hip against Rick's and winked. "I think I'm going to like working with you, Ricky."

 

Rick stared at the model's full bust line and stammered, "Uh...yeah, I think...I...uh...I’m gonna like workin’ with you, too."

 

The girl smiled. "Well now, since we’ve both agreed that we’re going to like working together, shouldn't we get started?"

 

"Yeah...yeah, I think that would be a good idea."

 

Rick spent the next few minutes telling the young woman what types of shots he needed to get. She knew her job well, and quickly assumed each pose Rick requested while he clicked off picture after picture.

 

When they had all the shots Rick needed, Kandy began to with the detective.

 

"Come on, Ricky. Take a few more."

 

"No, I've got all I need. Thanks."

 

"Oh, come on. You didn't even get my best angle,” Kandy complained as she jutted her barely covered breasts toward Rick. “How’s this?”

 

Without intending to, Rick's finger pressed down on the camera's shutter button, causing several pictures to be taken.

 

"Or how about this?" she asked playfully as she swiveled and jutted her shapely rear end toward him. "Or how about this?"

 

Kandy straightened and began to undo the ties that held up her swimsuit top.

 

That last action got Rick moving. Just as the top fell to the floor and he got an eye full of voluptuous female flesh, Rick grabbed his cowboy hat off his head and covered Kandy's nakedness. The model laughed at Rick’s red face and said, "Ride ‘em, cowboy."