| When
he sauntered into my office I knew he had a problem, although the problem
as I could see it, couldn't have been too bad.
He dressed the way a guy with complete confidence in his manhood
would. In a frilly shirt and puffy pants.
I could tell he wasn’t limping, because his legs went all the way
to the floor [this is what years of private investigation help you discern
(graduated 1995, correspondence course)].
He looked at me with his troubled, sea blue eyes, and as he leaned
forward he exposed so much chest hair I wondered if I would get more than
just cash in payment. "Is
there a stripper somewhere missing his shirt?
And can I help you return it?"
I guess I hadn't
offended him, because I could tell by the look in his eyes he'd liked
that.
"You've got
a pretty turn of phrase for an uneducated--" and he used some words
I'd rarely heard outside of a quilting bee.
I knew then I liked him too; and he had a problem I hoped I could
solve.
As he brushed his
soft blonde hair out of his eyes flirtatiously, he said, "I want to
find the answer."
"The answer to what,
exactly?"
"Well,
pretty much everything." |
"Everything?"
I asked, surprised.
"Ten years
ago, I was kidnapped and held at pretzel
point by Telly Savalas.
When pleading for my life (and a little cheese sauce), I told him I
could get him the answer to life in exchange for my freedom (and a little
cheese sauce). He gave me a
decade to find it or he said ‘I would never eat cheese again’.
And to be frank, I’ve screwed around and now only have a week
left."
I flipped through
my Detecting 101 books, as I commented, "Frank. You know your captor
died a few years ago."
All of a sudden,
his blonde hair blowing back from his stubbled face, he seemed to a go a
little wild, and I liked it. "This
is Telly Savalas
man! His power goes beyond
the grave! Haven’t you ever
heard of the Diner’s Club? You
don’t get power like that unless you’ve made a deal with the
afterlife!" Then more calmly, "And my name's not Frank."
After some
confused conversation, Frank gave up.
"Do you have
any leads?" I inquired, "I mean, I usually have someone to follow,
something to tape, people in precarious positions to take photos of, do you have any free time?
|
Frank,
looking me inquiringly (and I liked that), "I’ve got money..." He began rummaging through his pockets (of which there were a
lot, everywhere, I would’ve liked to rummage through them myself).
Pulling out paperback books, chess pieces, a movie poster, CD’s,
beads, baubles and Spider-man action figures.
I finally had to
inquire, "Are those pants, Frank, or your bedroom? And is there room for me?"
Frank, none too
bright evidentially, "These are a 32, I don’t think there’s room
for anyone else...
...Mildred."
"My name’s
not Mildred," I commented. After
several moments of confusion, I gave up and called Zack in to take notes.
He finally pulled
out his wad, of cash. We
could get down to brass tacks (ouch).
He left no
instructions, just the sway of his hips.
As I sat back in
my chair I thought, "I’ve been wanting to visit my sister and
charge it to the account."
And, so my quest has begun.
|