A Job for a PI

Posted on Thu Nov 4th, 2010 @ 4:57am by Lieutenant Commander Melissa Daniels M.D. & James Wilson LLB PI [P: Ratchford]

Mission: Ten Little Diplomats
Location: Starbase Medical Center
Timeline: Current

Melissa continued to write an email to the PI she had managed to look up.

To: jwilson@starbase332.net
From: mdaniels@starbase332.medical.mil
Subj: Your Services

Dear Mr. Wilson,

Starfleet Medical has a job for you. If you are interested, please come to Base Medical, and ask to see me in my office and I'll explain more.

Sincerely,

Dr. Melissa Daniels MD
Chief Medical Officer and Base Medical Administrator
Starbase 332

[Base Medical]

James arrived at the medical centre a few hours after the Doctor had sent the email. He hadn't really been very busy; noone else had yet come to him with a case, but he never liked to rush straight to a client. They, afterall, were coming to him with a problem. In this case, it also gave him some time to do a bit of background on his client; a lot of the senior staff were new from the Jackal, and there wasn't much knowledge around the station, and so he had to be a bit more creative in his research. He'd looked up the doctor's records, obviously, and he had also looked into the hospital records to see who had been in to see her in the last couple of days. What the doctor had asked him there for might not be related to either, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Ambling causally into the reception area, he caught the eye of one of the receptionists at the desk, and smiled. "Doctor Daniels?" he said, his tone cheery.

"Right this way," the receptionist responded. James had always found that putting in the little extra effort to be charming tended to save a lot of time when it came to receptionists. If you could make them like you in the first five seconds, they were more likely to take you to who you wanted straight away. If you bored them, then they'd be more likely to hold you up checking on details.

The receptionist entered the doctor's office first. "Doctor, someone to see you." Melissa nodded. "Show him in."

"Good morning my good doctor," James said as he strolled into the room. "You rang?" he continued, echoing the catch-phrase of an old TV show that was popular from the 1960s through to the 1990s back on Earth.

Melissa spoke, "Good morning Mr. Wilson. As I noted, we have a job for you."

James offered himself a seat, took it, and removed a rubber ball from his pocket to begin throwing up and down in the air. "So what do you have for an amazingly analytical mind, doctor? I trust I'm not identifying some strange new kind of rash, am I?"

She spoke, "Recently, we've had a people come in complaining of symptoms related to stomach influenza. Some strains we've treated are relatively harmless, but others could cause serious problems if the right species consumes contaminated food. That is why Federation Law requires adequate decontamination of all imported foodstuffs."

"And you want me to find out if any of these restaurants are purposefully trying to poison your customers?" James asked directly. He knew that it wouldn't be that straight forward - or he hoped it wouldn't be, if he had judged this woman and her intellect correctly - but he wanted to draw out from her the exact job she wanted doing.

"I don't think the Restaurants here are knowingly serving contaminated food, but I do think several of the supply companies are selling contaminated food. Even the Klingon Restaurants, while a little grubby, has passed every inspection we've run." Melissa noted.

"So in essence," Wilson said, leaning forward in his chair as he slipped the rubber ball back into his pocket. "You want me to track down the source of this contaminated product, find out why it's there, and get it corrected." It wasn't so much a question as much as a statement, but he left her room to answer him none-the-less.

Melissa nodded, "Exactly Mr. Wilson. It's only a matter of time before someone, or you yourself, eats a plate of contaminated food. If I take this to Starfleet Security, it will be put on a waiting list due to the recent diplomatic function the base is hosting. But if I have the supplier's name, and the proof, I can shut them down for a full investigation."

"Sounds like a simple enough thing to do," James muttered. He'd prefer a case that sounded a bit more complex, but then again, he was just starting up here - right now he should take anything he could, just to make sure he could pay for his rent. Besides, it might turn out to be more interesting than first impressions put forth.

"So, will you take the Job?" She presented her hand across her desk.

"What sort of commission are we talking about?" he asked. He always wanted to make sure that the fee was suitable before committing himself to a job. He had an assistant once back on Earth who had failed to avoid that mistake, and James had to pay both their shares of the rent for two weeks as a result.

Melissa handed him a PADD containing what he needed to know, as well as authorization for his fee. Half to be paid now, and the other half after the job is complete. Fifty thousand Federation Credits. And transferable to latinum if he desired so.

"You have yourself a deal then," James responded, shaking the doctor's hand.

Melissa spoke, "Thank you Mr. Wil...." She was interrupted by a voice over the medical center's PA system. "Code Blue... Emergency... Repeat, Code Blue..." She jumped up and left her office.

"I guess I'll show myself out," James muttered, taking his PADD and walking out of the CMO's office, vaguely wondering who it was that was entering cardiac arrest.

---------
Lieutenant Melissa Daniels M.D.
Chief Medical Officer

&

James Wilson L.L.B.
Private Investigator