by P C Hatter
“Just Sylvia Gamal.”
The swish of my tail must have given me away because her eyes narrowed. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”
“That’s kind of tough on a forty-acre estate.”
“And that’s why I’m issuing the invitation.”
“Really?”
She took my glass and set it as well as hers on the coffee table. That left her hands free to encircle my neck. One long kiss later, I reached over and pulled the chain on the table light, and we were in darkness. By the amount of squawking she did, I was a little more than expected.
Once the light was back on, I was able to examine her backside at leisure.
“I ought to spank you.”
She leered at me. “Promise?”
“No, Annabel, I will not.”
“Phooey. How’d you know?”
“No black feather.”
I put myself together and grabbed another drink. “Am I still invited for this Saturday.”
“You bet, tiger, and don’t be late.”
I crammed my hat back on my head and made my exit. Back home, I sat in my favorite box with a case of beer and thought about the case. It didn’t dawn on me until my third beer that the best place to get more information on Styles was at the school he most recently attended.
After a good scrub, I was in my car and headed out of the city. Duke already gave me what information he had on the guy, including the school. With no one on the road at midnight, I made it to the college in no time.
The dean’s place was dark, but I wasn’t going to let a thing like that stop me. I leaned hard on the bell until a portly porcupine in a nightcap opened the door.
“What’s all this racket?”
“Kaiser Wrench, Investigator from New York.” I held out my badge, and he eyed it. “I’m here about a dog named Damien Styles. You might have known him as Arnold Hues.”
“The local constabulary is handling the case. Now if—”
I jabbed my finger into his soft underbelly, mindful of his quills. “Listen buddy, there’s a good chance a murderer is on this campus. If I don’t find him and fast, they’re likely to kill again. How would it look to your reputation if the newspapers found out you sheltered a homicidal maniac?”
The Dean was so flustered, I thought he was going to start shedding quills. “Room one-hundred-five, southeast wing. The police took the key.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I turned and sprinted for the dorms. The place was quiet. Even the bat hanging outside one of the dorm rooms, which had a tie hanging on the knob, was asleep. What had the kid attending day class instead of going to college with all night classes I didn’t know. But I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the pup.
Room one-hundred-five was right where the dean said it would be. When I put my ear to the door, I didn’t hear anything but decided to stay cautious. Since the police seal was broken, doing otherwise would not be smart. The room was the last one down the hall opposite the janitor’s closet.
I stood to the side of the door, turned the knob, and pushed. The door wasn’t locked. But that didn’t matter. The gunshot was loud enough to wake the dorm, but at least the bullet missed me. I dove into the room and returned fire. The gunman got off another round, and I felt something tug at my coat.
The yelp I heard told me that my second shot hit someone, and I flipped on the lights. Axel Dabrowski lay on the floor dead. The smell of smoke came from a bunch of burnt papers in a metal waste can.
CHAPTER 11
The noise out in the hallway was growing and someone yelled, “Who’s in there?”
I roared back. “Get back to your room you idiot. This is police business.”
The news might not compute with some of these kids, so I had to move fast. I did a quick search of Dabrowski along with the room. The gun was the same as the one I found under his bed back in his apartment. I recognized the mark I etched into the butt. The papers were well and truly burnt, other than a small piece with a number on it. That, I put in an envelope.
Dabrowski used a rug to help shield the flames from any prying eyes, but in doing so, one of the papers stuck to the bottom. If the one piece was anything to go by, Axel Dabrowski would have been spending the rest of his life, including his afterlife in prison. On the paper was a statement that Dabrowski was the killer and that the evidence was in a safe deposit box back in the city with the key in trust with the manager. This I put in another envelope, wrote my address, and stuck a stamp on it.
After shooing the lollygaggers from the hallway back in their rooms, I posted the envelope in the mailbox down the hallway. I’d spotted the thing earlier when I entered the building.
At least I knew now that Damien Styles had been running things. He not only preyed on naïve females but people with shady pasts.
When the local yokels finally showed up, it was with enough pomp and swagger that would make a politician blush. The opossum wanted to arrest me for murder, but I got in his face and convinced him otherwise. After he stopped playing dead, I let him examine my badge and license. Still not totally satisfied as to who I was, we got on the horn to Duke.
After another shouting match, followed by staring at opossums playing dead, I left and headed back to the city.
The sun was rising by then. I didn’t feel like going home, so I stopped at a payphone to call Sylvia. She was already up and dressed for the day.
“Mind if I stop by?” I asked.
“Come right up. I’ve got time before my first appointment of the day.”
When I got there, Chatty took my coat and hat. Once I was snuggled into a comfortable chair, Sylvia sat next to me.
“I got a professional question, Doc.”
“And here I thought you were here for personal reasons.”
“Trust me, I’d rather be doing that.” I followed up my words with a lingering appraisal of her suit dress.
“All right, what’s your question?”
“How does a person become a nymphomaniac? I mean, are they violent?”
“Not usually. While many have emotional issues, they usually channel it into their favorite practice. If their attentions are rebuffed, they normally find someone else who is willing to accept their affection, no matter how brief.”
“So, it’s not likely that either twin is a killer?”
“A little farfetched. Both Annabel and Francine are damaged by circumstance. But while Annabel chooses to embrace physical activity, Francine takes a more sedate view on things.”
“I’ve yet to meet Francine. You going up to their place this weekend? I’m taking Deloris.”
“Yes, after work.”
I made the mistake of resting my head back and closing my eyes. The next thing I knew it was midafternoon.
Chatty checked on me with a smile. “Are you ready for breakfast? The coffee’s ready.”
One plate of sausage and eggs with a side of coffee later, I was perusing Sylvia’s book shelves. Most were text books. One on hypnosis caught my eye. It talked about how to put a person in a hypnotic state in order to suggest treatments so they would in effect, treat themselves.
Another was called the Psychology of Marriage. Both books made for interesting reading, but they were a bit hard for the layman to get through.
Sylvia came in as I was getting ready to leave.
“You’re not going, are you? I just got here.”
“I got a date with my tailor.” I showed her the hole in my coat.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, just a graze. Nothing to worry about other than my tailor’s bill.”
I kissed her on the cheek and make my exit. A couple of blocks down, I decided to step into the groomers for a trim. The place was empty except for a sheep standing at the register getting paid for the mound of wool he left on the floor.
“Must be nice getting paid for a haircut.”
The sheep took his money, gave me a dirty look, and walked out the door grumbling as he counted his money.
The chinchilla at the register motioned me over to a chair and said, “Black wool can’t be dyed like white wool. He don’t get paid as much.”
“Bleach?”
“Damages the wool.”
Nodding, I took a seat, and the chinchilla grabbed the clippers. With quick hands, he had me looking sharp.
When I walked out of the shop, it was to see cop cars, with lights on and sirens blaring, speed past. Duke was hanging out one of the car windows howling.
Instinct had me chasing after them. Outside a pharmacy, the street was strung with police tape, and cops were trying to get pedestrians to take a hike. Duke spotted me in the crowd and waved me over.
Clancy lay on the sidewalk. There were more feathers than flesh. A .45 caliber dumdum doesn’t leave much when it hits a pigeon.
“I take it by the expression on your face, you knew the guy?”
“Yes. His name’s Clancy. What happened?”
“Our shooter strikes again, only this time, drugs are involved.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. When was this guy going to stop? “Clancy wasn’t into drugs.” The crushed box next to the body said otherwise. Dried greens poured out.
“That’s not the real stuff. Apparently, this bird came into the pharmacy and asked the druggist to refill the prescription. Seems he’d dropped the package and was in a panic that he would get fired if he didn’t deliver.”
“And?”
“The package had no markings, and the druggist tested to see what it was. The tests came up catnip. The druggist called the police and filled a box with oregano. Tanner from narcotics is working the case.”
The thought of that honey badger on the case gave me pause. Tanner was a good cop, but you didn’t want to catch him on a bad day. I’d seen him get into a tangle with a Tasmanian devil and two skunks. Tanner might have come out of the fight smelling bad, but the other three went to the hospital.
“I think I’ll steer clear of Tanner. What else do you have for me? Did anyone see anything?”
“Nobody saw or heard anything. The guy selling newspapers said everything was fine and dandy. A dark sedan comes around the corner, and the next thing he sees is feathers everywhere. The sedan speeds up and out of sight.”
“Did anyone get a license plate?”
“Of course not. They were all looking at the exploding pigeon.”
“So, our guy still has his silencer.”
“Yup.”
“First, he shoots and tortures Jeromy, then takes a pot shot at Dabrowski. Styles and Phillis are also killed and now Clancy. The answer has to be with Dabrowski, but he’s now dead.”
“No thanks to you.”
I glared at Duke who returned a baleful stare.
“If we can figure out why Dabrowski was shot at, we should have the answer.”
“Too bad we can’t ask him.”
“Knock it off, Duke.”
“Why? I’m having too much fun.”
“Well, leave this mess with Tanner and come with me.”
That got Duke’s ears pinned forward. Duke followed me back to my place. The postage pigeons were right on time because the letter I’d posted at the college was in my box. I opened the envelope and handed everything over to Duke.
“Thought you might like this.”
“Mind if I use your phone?”
After a few phone calls and a court order, we hightailed it to the bank. The evidence was all there. Too bad Dabrowski was already dead. I would have enjoyed seeing him hanged. Duke stuffed the evidence into a bag.
As we were heading out of the bank, he handed me a slip of paper with a bunch of names. “Do you know any of them?”
“Tatum and Case spent some time behind bars. The Cadency female I think is a society hen. Other than that, I got nothing.”
“Everyone on that list is in an upscale private sanatorium. And everyone of them are dope fiends.”
“How’d you find out?”
“Vice.” Duke grinned and wagged his tail.
“And the source?”
“That’s what Tanner is working on. Unfortunately, most everyone on the list is connected and no one’s talking. What we do know is that each got their drug of choice delivered by a half-wit pigeon.”
“Clancy.”
“Yup.”
“Clancy wasn’t working for Dabrowski anymore. Poor guy thought he had a legit job. I wish I would have asked him more questions.”
“You still racing me to the finish line?”
“You can bet your tail on that.”
“I’d rather bet a steak.”
“Fine, I’m starting to see a bit of light at the end of the tunnel. Not a lot, but a bit.”
“Let’s hope it’s not a train.”
Duke and I split up, and I headed back to my apartment to change. That’s when I noticed my wallet was missing. I went down to my car and searched but found nothing. The groomers, I paid with the change in my pocket, so the likelihood of losing it there was slim. That left Sylvia’s apartment.
Not wanting to lose the two-hundred dollars in the wallet, I headed back over and rang the bell. When no one answered I pounded on the door.
Chatty answered. “Hello.”
I pointed to the bell. “Doesn’t that thing work anymore?”
“It should.”
She ushered me in, as Sylvia rushed out of the back. She wore a smock and gloves. “Oh goodie, you’re back.”
Chatty left us alone and busied herself with the housework.
“I just came back for my wallet.” A quick search of the couch produced my wallet, and I stuck it back in my pocket. “So, what’s with the new getup?”
“Developing pictures requires this to keep my clothes clean.”
“Are you wearing any clothes underneath that thing?”
“You could find out. Want to come back and see my pictures?”
“Maybe later. I might not be safe in a dark room with you.”
She gave me one of her brilliant smiles. “Dinner?”
“Sure.”
“Let me change, and I’ll see you out.”
When she was ready, we headed for the door. It still didn’t ring. “This thing stopped working.”
“Darn.” Sylvia poked the carpet with her toe. “Chatty’s been vacuuming in here again. She must have knocked the plug out.”
I leaned down and plugged it back in. This time when I opened the door it worked.
“Should I pick you up about eight?”
She smiled and gave me a kiss. “Yes.”
CHAPTER 12
My tailor was hopping mad when he saw the bullet hole in my coat. Literally. I didn’t think the little brown Dutch could jump that high. The rabbit might have been worried about losing a client because before I left the shop, he made me promise to be more careful.
The phone was ringing when I got back to the apartment. Duke was on the other end of the line.
“Ballistics confirmed it. Our killer shot your bird.”
“Anything else.”
“Dabrowski’s gun only matches the slug you brought me after he tried shooting you. If the paperwork from the serial number is correct, the original owner was from down south. There were a few owners after that before it ended up here in a pawn shop. The last guy who bought it used the name Axel D. Brewer.”
“Let me guess, Dabrowski was Axel’s middle name.”
“His mother’s maiden name.”
A few comments later, I hung up the phone and took a shower. Midway through a sandwich, Deloris called wanting me to pick her up early for the weekend. She didn’t sound like she was doing too well, and I agreed to everything she asked.
With the receiver back in its cradle, I checked the time. I didn’t want to be late for my date with Sylvia. She met me at the front of her apartment, and when she spotted me, tapped her foot like I was supposed to have been there earlier.
With a gleam in her eye she said, “You kept me waiting five minutes.”
&n
bsp; “Don’t get out the whip just yet. Traffic was insane.”
“Oh, I don’t know, you might like me using a whip.”
“Get in the car, or we’ll be late.”
Laughing, she slid into the passenger seat, and I drove us to the pictures. After a two-and-a-half hour double feature, we had a late dinner and drinks.
When she ordered a beer, I must have given her a funny look.
“A female can like beer you know.”
“Maybe you won’t be so expensive to keep.”
“I can always work you know.”
“No wife of mine is going to work. I don’t ever want her to have to work.”
Sylvia gave me a sly grin. “Are you assuming I’ve already said yes? I don’t recall a marriage proposal. Maybe I should say no.”
“Okay, fine.” I took her hand. “Marry me?”
She laughed and said, “Yes.”
One very public kiss later, I said, “Tomorrow night we can slip the twins party and make plans.”
“And the ring?”
“Not to worry. I’ve got a couple of checks coming. We can run over to Tiffany’s and pick one out.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We finished our beers, and I took her home. Sylvia tried stopping the bell by covering it with her hand, but it still sounded and almost woke the maid.
“Come in for a drink?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to do this right, and if I stay here much longer…” I let the words drop.
“We could get married tomorrow.”
“Soon.” I kissed her again and booped her nose. She held the bell, so that it wouldn’t ring, while I slipped back out the door.
When Velvet finds out about this, she was going to hit the roof, and probably toss me off one. The thought of telling her didn’t sit well with me.
The next morning came early. I showered, trimmed my fur, and had breakfast. I called Deloris to make sure she was up, and she said she’d be ready by eight. The next call was to Sylvia.
“Good morning beautiful.”
She returned my greeting with a sleepy, “Good morning, tiger.”