Table of Contents
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eISBN : 978-0-399-53169-9
Copyright 2005 by Chuck Chambers
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PRINTING HISTORY
Perigee trade paperback edition / September 2005
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I would like to thank Susan Brown, for her long hours of work, as well as Joe Kane and Gentry Austin for their help
with this book.
I appreciate my family enduring my long nights and my grumpy mornings.
Thank you all for helping me; without you it would not have been possible.
INTRODUCTION
I DIDNT INTENTIONALLY set out to become a private investigator; the job came to me. It was 1982, and I had made a career change, leaving the Palmetto police department after five years as a patrolman to open up a small window and door repair business. During my time with the Palmetto PD, my beat was the back alleys and packing houses, a rough neighborhood. I received three letters of commendation, one for stopping an armed robbery in progress. One of the advantages of working for a small-town police department was that you had to learn to do everything yourself. There wasnt a detective or crime specialist on call, like the CSI TV shows. We had to do it all ourselves. I took advantage of the opportunity by learning as much as I could, taking all of the special courses that were available to me.
In 1980, I was assigned to the county drug task force. I became very aggressive on the war on drugs, so much so that the local drug dealers got together and issued a contract on my life. At the time, I was living in a rather remote area with my wife and kids and I feared for their lives. We decided that the risk was too great for the relatively low pay and relocated for a time to Wyoming. After two years, I returned to Florida to open a small window and door repair business, hoping for a quiet, simple life. But one day, the phone rang and changed all that. It was Howard, a former prosecuting attorney in Manatee County, Florida, with whom I had worked with on several cases during my years as a cop.
The reason Im calling is because you did a good job as a policeman, and I have a problem that I thought you might be able to help me with, he said. I have a client whose ex-husband is coming in from Texas and has court-ordered visitation for the weekend. He has threatened my client with abducting the children and taking them back to Texas. I want to hire you to follow them the whole weekend to make sure he doesnt.
I took out a pad and paper and began to scribble notes.
I agreed to help Howard and his client. I called up my good friend Jimmy to ask if he wanted to help. We started tailing the mark after he arrived in town, following him as he picked up his children and drove about seventy-five miles to a small town up the Florida coast. The man swung into the driveway of a ranch-style home set back off a gravel road, surrounded by orange groves.
Just my luck. A quiet country setting with no other houses nearby and a lot of wide-open space. Not a very good place to set up a twenty-four-hour, undetected surveillance. The only thing I could do was seek cover in the middle of the orange grove that would still afford me a field of view of the house and driveway. We found a suitable spot right next to a pond about 1,000 meters from the house and settled in for a long, hot weekend. And it was long, because the husband never left the house with his kids. The next day was Saturday and by noon I could tell Jimmy had questions on his mind. He finally blurted them out: When are we going to eat and what are we going to eat?
We raked our cash together for a total of $5.65 and drove to the nearest country store. Walking in the front door, we passed a shelf loaded with chewing tobacco and advertisements for Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. It became increasingly clear as we strolled the aisles that five dollars was not going to buy us much food for the rest of the day and for Sunday.
I paused at the back and looked up at a small display of Willies Famous Fishing Kit. It was a plastic pack with a few hooks, a bobber, and about twenty-five feet of line. Jimmy and I smiled at the same time and knew Daniel Boone would have been proud of our thinking.
We bought the fishing kit and headed back to the orange grove and the pond. Jimmy strolled about, catching grasshoppers, while I rigged two fishing lines with hopes for dinner.
Well, in short order we caught a half dozen small perch and then it dawned on us: We had no way to cook themno pans, no forks, no plates. We both shook our heads and wondered what the hell we were thinking as we sat on the ground, leaning back against the truck.
I felt something digging into my back from the pressure and, shifting around, glanced at the front tire just as Jimmy said, Hey, we can pop that hubcap off and cook them in that.
Jimmy took the hubcap down to the pond to scrub off the road grime while I dug around in the truck for any liquid to cook the fish in. Way in the back, a dusty can caught my eye, and I raked out a can of Budweiser beer that must have been under the seat for months. We poured the beer in the hubcap, made a small fire, and cooked the fish.
By Sunday, the mark pulled out and dropped the children off at their mothers house. Our client was happy, and so was II had just made more money in one weekend than I normally did in a week.
I dismissed it as an adventure until about two weeks later, when the phone rang again, and it was another lawyer I didnt know, asking, I got your name from Howard, and need some help. So began my new career as a full-time private investigator. Now, 20,000 cases and twenty-two years later, I have decided to pass on the tricks of the trade and the techniques that Ive developed to those who want to become their own private investigator.