Private Dick!; Chapter Eight

The following may be grammatically incorrect, to highlight the

main character's lack of smarts! 

Chapter Eight:

     I was on a new case; and enjoying the hell out of it. After not having one, and an ill-fated stab at acting, I was back doing what I loved doing, sleuthing; and this one was sleuthing at it’s finest:

     I had been at my desk, with absolute boredom closing like a people-vice on me, when in walked a case in stilettos. She wasn’t a knock out, but there was something about her; maybe it was the skin tight dress she wore like a very attractive deal. I arose from behind my desk like a red balloon, and blurted,

     “Wow, whatever you’re selling, I’m buying!”

     She just stared at me, until I thought she was a mute, then she replied, “Oh great; another sexist pig!”

     I cleverly responded, “Hey, I’m not a pig!”

     The look she gave me could have melted iceberg lettuce. “Well, I came to you because I’ve heard good things about you, but obviously I heard wrong!”

     I finally awoke from the hypnotic sexual trance I’d been in after seeing this dame, and replied, “Oh, you heard right; I’m the best!” I doubted it was true, but a little self-promotion, or a lot, never hurt.

    “Well, if you’re the best, you will find my brother.”

     Oh, oh, a missing brother case. People got emotional when the case involved a missing loved one. “Tell me about him.”

     “Well, he never came home from work yesterday, and that’s not like him.”

     Oh, oh, another ‘that’s not like him’ case. A missing brother case, AND a ‘that’s not like him’ case, the double whammy. “What’s he do for a living?”

     “He’s a magician’s assistant for, “Humper, the Juggling Wonder!”

     “Humper?”

     “Yeah, the Juggling Wonder!”

     This guy sounded not too good, at juggling or hum--”

     “Oh please, Mr. Havelock, you’ve just got to find him; we were like this!” and she put one cherry-red-fingernailed hand on top of the other.

     I assumed she meant close, not a sandwich, and replied, “I’ll look into it, Miss--ah...”

     “Delilah Morfose, but my friends call me Deli.”

     I envisioned a club on wheat, before I replied, “I check into it.”

    

     I figured the place to begin my investigation was at a “Humper” show, so I called up “Magic-Watch” and learned there was a show scheduled for 8 pm that very night in Crawdad, a nearby city to Chum.

    

     And so, I was in the audience when Humper, the Juggling Wonder hit the stage.

 

     Two hours later, when Humper had juggled his last ball, I made my way backstage, and found his dressing room. I knocked politely on the door, and received a not-so-subtle reminder to ram something up a bodily orifice. Instead of doing what he’d suggested, I decided to melt into the background, and just listen.

 

     After about an hour spent twisted like a bent deal, crouched behind a box marked, ‘box’, and I was just about to admit this hadn’t been a very smart idea, Humper came out of his dressing room. His name matched the guy, except the only thing he looked like he was humping was himself. He stopped in the doorway, as apparently that was as far as the phone chord reached , and dialed a number. As I strained to hear, Humper said,

     “Hi, it’s me, how soon can you have my share of the money?”

     Who was he talking to?

     “No, I haven’t seen any private eye around. What? So he did buy the lost brother story; what a knob this guy sounds like!”

     I felt the red-hot flame of anger rip through my brain, and launch me at Humper, who must have seen me coming and stepped to the side at the last moment; an I went flailing past him, and ended up cart wheeling down the hall. I struggled to my feet, and whirled around to face--nothing. Humper was gone.

 

     I sat outside Sandy Walker’s house, waiting for her to come home. The longer I waited, the madder I became. She’d played me like a moronic harpsichord. There was no brother. I’d returned to my office to find the place ransacked, I don’t know what she thought she’d find, as I was living on peanut butter  sandwiches, without the bread, I was so poor. Whatever the reason, my place looked like a hurricane came through; the couches and chairs had had their stuffing ripped out, the refrigerator had been emptied, and the damn-near-new jar of peanut butter was emptied with a spoon, like whatever it was she’d been looking for was going to be inside. Damn, that was an almost-new jar!

 

     Deli Morphose wasn’t her real name, of course, and the address she’d given me was somewhere in the middle of Chum Lake, but I had a friend with the phone company, and Sandy Walker’s phone had been called by Humper, so here I sat.

 

     At last, Deli, or Sandy, returned home. I sat across the street and watched her mount the steps and walk inside, closing the door behind her. It was definitely the same dame. I walked angrily across the street, and climbed the stairs; trying to think as I walked. I couldn’t. I paused as I prepared to ring the bell. What was I going to say, that I was pissed? Oh well, something would come to me.

     I rang the bell and heard approaching footsteps.

     “Yes, who is it please?”

     So much for my original plan of just grabbing her, and throwing her into the yard. She wasn’t going to open the door. I disguised my voice as much as I could, and said, “Ah, yes, my name is, err-Randy Sprocket, and I’m selling kaleidoscopes door to door, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in taking a look today?”

     “Oh, kaleidoscopes, I love kaleidoscopes! Just a sec,” and she swung the door open.

     I was as surprised as something unexpected, but as soon as she opened the door, I gabbed her arm and pulled it behind her back. She let out a grunt of surprise, and said,

     “Oh, it’s you, the dick!”

     “That’s right, Deli.  What did you expect to find at my place? Oh, by the way, clever ruse sending me to Humper while you trashed the joint. What were you looking for?”

     “Oh, a little birdie told me that you had precious gems stashed away somewhere in your office.”

     “Well, your little birdie just took a dump on your shoulder, because I’m more broke than something that doesn’t work right.”

     “Damn, I told Humper not to trust that guy!”

     “Well, looks like Humper took a dump on your shoulder too, because apparently, he’s long gone.”

     “You mean me?” said a voice behind me. Before I could react, Humper, the Juggling Wonder used me to live up to his name, ripping my arms away from Sandy Walker and sending me flying off the porch, where I stuck my head on the cool concrete of the sidewalk, then my world went dark.

 

     I came to with a pink tongue licking across my face, leaving me feeling like a slobbery private dick. A big black dog was licking me like an ice cream cone, and I pushed him away, shouting, “Don’t” He growled at me, then came a voice from next door,

     “Here, Prometheus!”

     Prometheus?

     Prometheus growled at me once more, then ambled away. I tried, quite unsuccessfully, to make it to my feet, then tried again. This time I made it, and looked around in despair. No only did I have a whopper headache, but my office was trashed, and Sandy Walker and Humper, the Juggling Wonder were long gone. Now what?