Read SK01 - Waist Deep for Free Online Page B

tie. He’d asked me my destination. When I told him Fillmore High School, he’d started the meter, asked me if I wanted to hear some music and drove on without a word. The interior of the cab was spotless and didn’t smell of anything other than the faintest whiff of pine. He navigated his cab through downtown quickly but without causing me to lurch in my seat and before long we were headed up Grand Boulevard. When I checked his speed, I noticed we were exactly one mile per hour under the speed limit.
    I nodded my approval and looked back out the window. I thought about the interviews ahead. A small tingle of excitement fluttered in my chest.
    Outside , the real estate was getting more expensive the closer we got to Fillmore.

13
     
     
    Principal Roger Jenkins was not impressed with me.
    I could read it in his eyes. They narrowed when he scowled at me, carrying the look of the unjustly inconvenienced along with a wisp of suspicion. His handshake was brief, but firm. He allowed me into his office and shut the door behind us before settling behind his desk and asking for my credentials.
    I sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “I could show you my driver’s license so that you know I am who I say I am.”
    Principal Jenkins shook his head. “I meant a badge or whatever private investigator’s carry.”
    “I’m not a private investigator.”
    Principal Jenkins ’s scowl deepened . “I was led to believe that you were.”
    I shook my head.
    When I didn’t offer an explanation, Jenkins leaned back, his expression unchanged. “Mr. Sinderling said that he would be sending a private investigator.”
    “Maybe you misunderstood,” I suggested mildly.
    The scowl deepened further. I wondered if the students ever called him Sphincter-Face. “I don’t think so,” he said with a hint of a sneer.
    I shrugged. “Mr. Sinderling is worried about his daughter. Maybe he misspoke. It doesn’t matter. Either way, he gave you my name, right?”
    Jenkins gave a short, abrupt nod.
    “Then there’s no problem.”
    He didn’t nod, but instead stared at me. I imagined it was the same fierce gaze he leveled at Freshmen boys caught scrawling dirty words on bathroom stalls. I was sure that he was used to people wilt ing under that stare, whether it were a student, staff member or even a parent. In his world, it was probably an extremely effective tactic, one that rarely, if ever, failed him.
    But I wasn’t from his world.
    Our little stare contest lasted another thirty seconds. I reflected impassivity back to him. I didn’t want to up the stakes, because it was starting to look like he was going to deny me access to conducting interviews at the school. I wasn’t sure if he had the authority or not, but it didn’t matter. He could deny me today and what was I going to do? Call the police? Sue him?
    “The problem, Mr. Kopriva,” he said in a low voice, “is that I am not comfortable letting an imposter private detective have free reign at my school. All for a runaway child.”
    “Principal Jenkins,” I responded formally, in a low tone that matched his, “I am not an imposter. I have not represented myself as a private investigator. I am a private party, designated by Mr. Sinderling to investigate the circumstances surrounding his missing daughter. And he has specifically authorized me to speak to his daughter’s teachers on his behalf.”
    “It’s not a matter of—” he began.
    “Let’s just end this little pissing contest right here,” I interrupted.
    Jenkins eyes widened briefly, then narrowed again. “All right. How?”
    “It’s simple,” I said. “You don’t want me here. I understand that. But I’m not going to bother anyone except Kris’s teachers and only for a few minutes. You can come along or send someone along if you want to.”
    “Or,” he said, “I can ask you to leave before I call security.”
    I nodded. “Yes, you can. In fact, go ahead and do it right now.” I motioned toward his