Victoria P.I. Steele episode #1 · Monday June 1, 2026 by colin newell
It was a regular Friday in the offices of Robert Steele when the phone rang.
I grabbed the handset out of the cradle, like a James Bay seal reaching for a tourist treat at Fishermans wharf..
The name is Robert – I’m a private detective with the firm Steele-Wall down on Fisgard in sunny Victoria.
My long time partner, Jimmy Wall met his fate on Fan Tan Alley one cold December afternoon… as of yet unsolved… and that is a story for another day… I digress…
So his name remains on my office door… as something of a promise of what you will run into… if you ever cross me.
Judging by the voice on the other end of the blower, I knew I had a live wire. She spat her words out like a pro-wrestler on a Saturday afternoon, which was odd. It was Friday. Friday, high noon.
It seems one of her favorite cafe’s had just dumped their quality single origin beans for some johnny-come-lately discount brew and, don’t tell me let me guess, the drinks are the same price.
Yea, this was a clear case of brew and gouge. I hate it when that happens. I hate it when the phone rings and there is an angry client on the other end of the chatterbox. I hate stomach aches and today I was cooking up an Olympic gold medal.
Like a dozen clown detectives packed into a Volkswagen beetle, I managed to squeeze a few words in edgewise..
“So let’s take it from the top shall we?” I coached.
Catrina Bell, or “Cat” as she is known down on Fisgard, works as the executive legal assistant with the Crown attorneys office and Cat’s no slouch. She knows a bad fish when she smells one so she knew who to call.. and looking at at my empty work calendar, I knew my day was looking up.
“Ah, Mister Steele, is this you?”
“Ma’am”, I mumbled between gritted teeth… “It sure is. What seems to be your beef? “
“I was down at the Matrix today, you know the cafe down between Wharf and Sunset?”
“Yes, Ma’am… the one between Jimmy’s Pawn and Leo’s Bar n Grill?”
“Yea, that’s the one… I go there, like, every day without fail and…”
“well, you know how it is. They get you all jazzed up on great coffee, all tasty and perfect, and…”
“Please continue…” I encouraged while peeking at my Hamilton watch.
“Well, I was in for my usual flat white and… well and… well and….”
Just then the scent of spicy ginger beef drifted through my open upstairs office window one measly half block from Don Mee’s and yet it might as well been miles away. I wasn’t going anywhere this afternoon.
By now I was furious (and hungry) as I snubbed out a virtual Marlboro into an imaginary ash-tray next to my Olivetti.
“Here’s the way it is Catrina. There are two kinds of people out there – The good people: that’s you and the men and women in your office – you know and trust.
And then there are the coffee people: the bad people, looking for every opportunity to screw with the general public. That is where I come in.
When my phone rings, it is like the sound of a crying baby. And lately, I have been getting a crib full.”
My job never ends. Coffee cop and private detective. It is a thankless one and the pay is crap. But sometimes on a sunny day, when the wind is blowing in the right direction and things are going my way, I can sit in the corner cafe and everything is okay. The brew is hot like the pavement over Douglas and Yates on an August night…. until the phone rings…
“Mr. Steele, ah… Mr. Steele….Hello? Are you still there?”
I snapped out of my narcissistic reverie long enough to realize that I was still on the phone…
“Their americanos were just so perfect.. crema like butterscotch churned by angels.. and now… and now it’s…
“Go on, Miss C.. and don’t let me interrupt…”
“The coffee is like a double-double Tim Horton’s that has been forgotten in the back-seat of a Pontiac Acadian, left overnight in the strip mall and allowed to bake in the heat of the day…”
“Cat, I get your vibe, and it pains me to know that every day in this sleepy little town, there is one more coffee crime going down…Now you relax and let Mr. Steele take it from here.”
As she hung up the phone and I tapped another pretend Marlboro out of my near-empty deck of phantom smokes, I realized one thing …Damn, I need a coffee!
Detective Robert Steele is the sole proprietor of Steele-Wall a private investigation firm keeping a handle on caffeinated crimes and general mischief in the sleepy little town of Victoria.
Colin Newell, author of the coffeecrew blog once helped write an episode of C.S.I. Las Vegas (Season 3 – Episode Last Laugh) – since then, pretty much everything has gone to his head.
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