Mona, Private Investigator.
James Valentino was one of those clients you just couldn’t say no to.
I’ve had a few high-profile cases before, and even those guys didn’t pay as well as Mr. Valentino. Sure, it was sometimes hard to get in touch with him, but oh boy, he paid on time and more than what was asked.
So, naturally, I wasn’t going to complain when his investigation led me to the Sirens dance club at 3;00 AM.
The bouncer at the entrance eyed me suspiciously as I approached the door. They probably didn’t get a lot of women, and from what I read on its website, it was supposed to be a slow day.
“Identification.” He extended his hand toward me.
As if I could pass for someone under 21.
“Here you go, sir,” I said, slipping a $100 bill under it. He glanced at my ID for a split second and returned it, sans the bill.
