Chapter 11

The next morning, I contacted a couple of most vouched private detectives.

"Okay! I already know all of this. Tell me something useful here. Isn't that what a detective is supposed to do? Find something extraordinary? If all I needed was his house address and some of his pictures, then I wouldn't have hired someone at your price for sure. I could have just opened Google," I spoke scanning through the files in frustration.

"Don't panic, sweetheart! Your punch lies in the second half of this file. You would find it worth your bucks for sure. Trust me," the long goatee bearded detective spoke with utter confidence as I flipped through the last of the sheets.

There was a photograph of a man with his address mentioned on the left.

"He's your guy, Lionel Mancini," he spoke.

"What do I do with him?" I asked, staring at him while gurgling at my soda that created bubbles on the surface.