Voyage, meet village age. You hear three lunatics robbed the cartel dropping Brooklyn last name. I guess I'm not as blug dead as you are two point four million worth of cope. But someone's stopping and weigh it. Just what I heard? What name you're gonna use in the contest? Humphrey van Waiting? Oh why not? Hu? But see horn swimming two cumbers? Yeah, that Humphrey van Waiting just rolls off the tongue. You and Gale are the only ones who know why I chose that name. You're going down,
Reggie Worston. You did when you fought Big Sleep. How long are you gonna keep bringing that up? I wonder the fight didn't not as please you sat on that man like he just slapped your mom. Lose a fight, then I'll have something else to bet on it. See what odds you co yet? Yeah right, I don't have your kind of money, speaking of, I'm late to make a couple hundred bucks to illuminate the minds of our youth. Let me know how that tenure works out. Hey, mine was
a backhanded compliment. I sighed and looked up from the manuscript I was working on. In a few months, I'd probably be denied tenure. My first book had been well received. My only shot to retaine employment was to finish the second one quickly and effectively. Even then it was a long shot. Too many people in the department resented me, many had reason to. The truth was I was half in, half out. I had a second career
of sorts. Lisa Flowers. She leaned toward me across the desk. I noticed, there's always the reddish brown shoulder length hair, the dark, intelligent eyes, and most and worst of all, the glittering diamond and gold band on a left hand. My sister's gone, Tony, how long? Long enough that I came to tell you? Where was she? Last? Browns Villain, Red Meat Village, Telly. She was an honor student. She was going to grad school. Here sounds like she was smart enough to choose
better friends. You're all heart I see why your students love you. Hey, I'm a philosophy professor and a writer trying to complete a manuscript, that's all. You're a do good, part time private investigator, solving cases that no one else can. May I She knew she didn't need to ask, and sat down before I answered Anthony. Internally, I groaned, she never used my proper name. I knew the request that was coming, Missus Flowers. This wasn't her married name. I neglected the doctor title of this part
time psychology professor and full time psychotherapist. I knew both what she wanted and that I couldn't refuse her. She smiled. She knew it too. Find her Tony please. She's my kid's sister. She's in trouble, so if I help your divorce and Nicholas Bueno Nikki Good on the street was her Argentine husband, ne'er do well, never known to hold a job, leaching off his wife hooked on bodybuilding, steroids and coke. Her dark eyes heated, as they always did when I disparaged her. Man if he heard that,
he'd bend you in half for the fun of it. Even when annoyed like now, her diction, her accent, and her alluring eyes always retained the upscale demeanor of her Upper West Side upbringing. I stared at her. I knew she'd run with Hell's kitchen tufts when she was a rebellious teenager, but I never saw a sign of it. Yeah, Reggie might not approve of my new shape. Why'd you marry him? Anyway? Smart women, foolish choices? Why do you stay married to him? She got up and walked
to the door. She turned, and now her eyes were serious. Please find her. Her final words were a plea, the void of any banter her eyes for an instant, the burrier lord, something warm, radiated something from an internal locust, and suffused empathy like sunlight. Then the wall erected again, but not before I swallowed deep in my throat. She was halfway out when I called to her. At least she turned around. Photo description, distinguishing marks. Anything I can use to idea, I'll get it to
you. I also got questions, friends, contacts, habits, non associates and such. I've got answers, but I'm in session in an hour. I gotta get home soon. Then she was through the door, and nothing was left of her in the room but her scent. It was enough. I went to Reggie's apartment. He had a spare bedroom outfitted exclusively for his obsessive habit. It featured an oversized, dark brown leather easy chair with standing reading lamps on I decide. By his right hand, there was a small
brown table with a few highlighters and red pens on the surface. There was no television, moved stereo, no sofa. Reggie didn't drink alcohol, He didn't smoke. He scorned all forms of drugs, even begrudging an occasional pair
of aspirants he took to he's aching muscles. He read a lot, constantly, lighting every wall of his hideaway wrap around bookcases Florida Ceilo, overstuffed with books alphabetized by author, divided into sections, overwhelmingly literature, also history in the small section of leading history of philosophy, texts carefully mocked up, annotated, and discussed with me. His alcoholic father called him a pussy bookworm at
times when he beat him, Reggie refused to hit back. His mother had been a nurse, support of a Roman child, but descended into hard times than drug addiction and death. He was alone. I turned to him. I suppose we're not calling the NYPD, notpe. They're hampered by the punctilios of the law. Punctilios it means niceties or amenities of conduct. I am so gonna beat your ass in the essay contest. The university had decided to
hold an essay contest opened to students and faculty and their sponsored guests. He was supposed to foster a sense of community or some bullshit. Reggie and I just wanted a chance to beat each other at something you can try, but we already know you're not smarter than me. Yeah, why's that You've been dragooned against your will into detective work by a fine psychologist you're painting for. Uh huh, Well, now I'm dragooning you. So if you say yes,
then which one of us is the idiot? We can debate. In the car, Lisa had given me her sister's name, Destiny. Yeah. I thought she was screwing with me too, but now that really was her name. Reggie went with me to meet Detective Damian Stacy. Stacy's full had a white hair, made him look seventy years old. He was forty six. I showed him a picture of Destiny that Lisa had given me. She was twenty one and had this tattoo on the left side of her neck of
twin dragons and circling each other. Stacy sent me to hand. Cassidy patrol Copy worked in Brownsville for years and and I were both vets mech two and a rack her usmc Persian Gulf one. She had nothing for me, but promised to look into it at the university. I got Destiny's home address from my friend in the admissions office, Kate Norris. I circled back up with Reggie. We met at a park Betsy Head, near Lisa's sister's address.
Reggie market his Gangland. I took Molly my nine millimeter, which I kept in my shoulder harness Destiny. Await Destiny's neighbors. At first, Destiny's neighbors. Destiny's neighbors sound like a hippie band. We skirted past the park and ambled a short distance to me Destiny's address. The houses were dark and nobody was in the street. Thick gray clouds had rolled in with a damn cold looked like snow. I glanced around the stream. We'll wait people whom from
work soon bomy day. We crossed the street to watch from the other side. We paced the other side of the stream. We watched ceaselessly. We talked about the essay contest. We talked about the chances of Lisa getting divorced. We talked about my past engagement to Jessica Miranda Reggie had never met, and about my reasons for breaking it off. We talked about my next book. We talked about Reggie's rise to the heavyweight title. A light snow started
to fall. We walked some more. We kept talking. Jessica is a d E agent now right? Yeah? She is? Are you on speaking terms? Nope? You broke her heart. I know. I still remember, all these years later, the stricken look of her eyes when I ended it. We were silent for a minute. Then Richie spoke with Comb in the drug infested sections of Red Meat Village looking for Destiny Hunter. It would be additive to have a DA agent for resource, without a doubt. Is
this a tender topic for me? A little for her? A lot? For how long ago? Six years your last long term relationship? A car glided down the street, moving slow, looking for a spot. I watched it roll past us, then slide around the corner. It skidded slightly on the slick pavement. Yeah. I dated different women, but until Lisa, there's been nobody like Jessica. Is Jessica married now? Nah? I would have heard six years before this dance with Destiny is done, we might have
to contact her could be He said, no more about it. We kept walking. We watched relentlessly. It was almost six fifteen. A tall, stout woman started up the stairs to Destiny's building. She wore a navy blue kerchief, nodded around a bun of dark hair. She hefted an overstuffed shopping bag a woman's clothing store. We darted across the street. Ma'am. She
turned to face us. She was light skinned by racial I guessed forty, wore round, oversized glasses, and looked surprisingly unperturbed at the large man in his companion converging on her in the dark street. Can I help you? Her voice was church goers, sweet, we have questions about Destiny Hunter. Oh. She fumbled around for the keys in her bag. The police were already here, but come on in. She unlocked the outer door and then the inner one to her apartment. She ushered us in, turned on several
floor lamps. The apartment was comfortable, with large reddish brown area rugs covering well polished hardwood floors. There was an overstuffed, well worn sofa in the living room center, a glass coffee table with a vase of artificial geraniums, and an old school console TV across from the sofa. There was a painting of Jesus on the wall above the television. The color of the area rugs reminded me of Lisa's hair and shook my head. Would you boys like some
tea? Oh? No, thank would be divine? Thank you. She served the tea and we sat around the coffee table. Are your friends of destinies? I had my first chance to take a good look at her. Her voice and her eyes were tender with mercy. Jesus had taught her to love everybody, I guessed. She wore a loose fitting blue ankle length dress and low black heels. I'm Tony, this is Reggie. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Manjuri smoke, I'm a private eye. Man. Well,
I'm afraid I haven't seen destiny in some time. How much time must be a couple of weeks. I've been in her apartment twice to clean it, like she asked a couple of years ago, but there's no sign that she's been there. You got a key, Yes, we have a key to each other's place. It's good to do with someone you trust in case of emergency. She saw the hopeful expression of my face, but I swore to the police that I would not let anybody in there. Yeah, look,
mounserie, I I just spoke to the cops. They're not concerned yet about Destiny's disappearance. We are times critical. Such a nice girl. You know, she's a psychology. We know, but there's no telling who might have gotten their hands on it, especially in this neighborhood. I know it's been going downhill in the last couple of years, especially at night. I don't
want to start any trouble with the police. You aren't start any trouble with the cops, but you might save Destiny Hunter from a mess of trouble. All right, I'm willing to trust you boys. She took a key from a desk drawer in the next room. She lives upstairs. She flicked on a light and led us up the stairs. At the landing stood one door, brown, unmarked, nondescript. Monserie undid the lock and we followed her in. She turned on an overhead light. Do you want me to leave
you to your sleuthing? I can go back downstairs rather than get in your way. No, no, no, please stay, Monserie. We may have questions. It was one large room like a dorm room of a college kid, with a small bathroom off to one side. Textbooks were piled on a card table adjacent to a double bed. A reading lamp hung from the top of the bedboard. A computer and various pins and pads occupied a desk by the room soule window. There was a small metallic filing cabinet across from
the bed. On top was a hard blue paper weight in the shape of a swallowtail humming bird the Jamaican National Burden. On the wall above it hung a single photograph. It was of a young pretty girl on the ground, smiling, her arms around the neck of a golden retriever. If dogs could smile, the retriever was Reggie. Immediately went to the filing cabinet, got on his knees and pulled open the bottom drawer. I switched on Destiny's computer,
hoping I could hack into a personal email account. I couldn't. I opened the desk drawer and went through its contents. Just a bunch of pins, a memo pad, a chief of loose paper. Then I stopped. There was a faded photograph of a young girl, maybe ten, standing ankle deep in water. So blue. It resembled a painting more than photograph. In the distant background were hills and a cliff with a lighthouse perched the top.
I stared at it the Caribbean. I bed. Several minutes went by, and then I noticed a stain on the wall behind the desk and computer near the floor. Was it blood? I stooped to examine it. Reggie banged through the file cabinet's metallic drawers. We were so absorbed we didn't hear the door quietly latch shut and lock. She was such a nice girl. The sweetness of Monsourie's voice matched the scene. I think you need to look at this, Reggie and I turned around. She reached into the folds of
a blue dress and withdrew a pair of slim line automatic pistols. They looked black as a striking cobra and just as friendly. She pointed one at Reggie's chest, the other of mine. Do you think you're going to find destiny? Hunter? Aiming guns in my direction is a quick way to shore your life expectancy. Man, Your life expectancy is about thirty seconds the both of
you. Her head jerked slightly at me, this time her voice didn't sound quite as sweet, monsieur, Please, we're just trying to find Destiny. Maybe there are people who don't want her found, maybe Destiny herself. She helped the gun steady, not waving them around like an amateur. Reggie was crouched and still a tiger poised to strike. I sat motionless, right hand shielded from view, getting a grip on the chair. Her view was split
in two directions. She blamed. I overturned Destiny's chair, flinging it aside, and lunched sidewas Reggie, whose hands emotion could not be seen, left handed, grabbed a heavy hummingbird paperway and flung it in Manchet's face. He plunged to the deck. Instinctively, she threw up her right hand hand to block the projectile. She missed and dropped. The gun of metallic object struck her flush on the two, stunning and driving her back against the lockdoor.
I dived behind the foot of Destiny's bed, and Mama was in my right hand. I coined the nine of a chest. She pushed off the door and shook her head, trying to clear the vision. Two handed, she lined up her gun sights on me, dropped the gun Redmead Village as a production of Voyage Media. The series is produced by nat Mondel, Robert Midas, and Dan Benimore, directed, produced, and adapted by Dan Bennimore, based on Andrew Bernstein's upcoming novel of the same name. When a link to
the novel is available, it will be listed in the show notes. Starring Catherine Bell as Lisa, Malik Yoba as Reggie, and Ryan Heavy as Tony. Additional cast credits are available in show notes. Edited sound designed and mixed by Nick Miss, original music by Derlis Gonzalez. If you're enjoying the show, please leave us a five star review and opp podcasts n any where you're listening, and subscribe now for future episodes.