This is a tricky undertaking, not least because the very notion of a private investigator first flourished not in the real world but in fiction. The private eye has been a staple of popular culture for so long that it can be difficult to disentangle the fictional archetype from the real thing, and part of Maroney’s aim in his book is to demythologize his vocation. “You’re an investigator now,” the man replied. When Maroney showed up for work at the giant detective firm Kroll, back in 2005, he e-mailed an executive to ask where that executive’s office was, hoping to introduce himself. It is part memoir, part how-to guide, a celebration of the analytical and interpersonal intelligence that makes a great investigator. But “The Modern Detective” is not an exposé. In a disclaimer, he says that he has had to change names and alter some details, presumably to protect client confidentiality. One hallmark of the business is discretion-like spy agencies, private eyes must often keep their greatest triumphs secret-so it is notable that Maroney would write a book like this. Contemporary private eyes, Maroney explains, are often “refugees from other industries,” including law enforcement, journalism, accounting, and academia.
They engage in a dizzying variety of low-profile intrigue: tracking missing people, tailing cheating spouses, recovering looted assets, vetting job applicants and multibillion-dollar deals, spying on one corporation at the behest of another, ferreting out investment strategies for hedge funds, compiling opposition research. More than thirty thousand private investigators now work in the United States, Maroney reports in his new book, “ The Modern Detective: How Corporate Intelligence Is Reshaping the World” (Riverhead). Unprompted, Antoni declared, “Kennedy was the last great American.” And, when he said that, Maroney knew: this guy was going to talk. memorabilia: photos of Jackie Kennedy, Hyannis Port, the grassy knoll. One wall was decorated with a homemade collage of J.F.K.
Surveying the apartment, he noticed moldings blurred by layers of accumulated paint, a CCTV camera, and, on a table, a holstered Glock. Prior to becoming a private investigator, Maroney had worked as a journalist, and he had an eye for detail. Now the man was suing city authorities, and his attorneys hired Maroney, who runs a detective agency called QRI, to find the jailhouse snitch and see if he might recant.Īntoni invited his visitor in.
“He was a victim of police misconduct, and you may have information that can help.”Īntoni had a sideline as a police informant, and, two decades earlier, he had offered sworn testimony to help convict Maroney’s client of murder. “My client is a man who spent more than ten years in prison for a crime he did not commit,” Maroney said. He had rehearsed this overture, hoping to make Antoni feel enlisted, rather than antagonized. “I’m here to ask for your help on a case.” “I’m a private detective,” he said to Antoni. But Maroney takes a dim view of such subterfuge. Occasionally, the ruse is more elaborate, involving a fictitious business, with phony business cards, e-mail addresses, and social-media accounts. In such encounters, some investigators adopt what is known as a “pretext,” telling a fib about the purpose of their visit, or assuming a fake identity. He had tattooed arms and wore a gold chain around his neck. As he was climbing the stairs, Maroney ran into a man who was walking out. When Maroney arrived at Antoni’s apartment building, he found that the buzzer was on the fritz, so he waited until another tenant walked out, then slipped inside. He had recently been released from prison, and Maroney consulted a proprietary database to find his new address. The man he was looking for, Bill Antoni (a pseudonym), had a rap sheet that included charges for assault, burglary, and attempted manslaughter. But Maroney, who is a careful student of human interaction, figured it’s easier to hang up on someone than it is to slam a door in his face. In this era of the ubiquitous smartphone, even an unscheduled call can feel like an intrusion showing up unannounced at someone’s house can seem outright belligerent, and a bit antique. One day in 2016, a Manhattan private investigator named Tyler Maroney went to doorstep a seasoned criminal.
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