The Untreed Detectives

by J. Alan Hartman

  “Neptune?”

  She sniffed. “Don’t be silly.”

  “Don’t be silly, Dick,” Percy echoed.

  “Quiet, Percy.” I tapped my pencil on the desk. “You’d better go ahead and describe your dad’s treasure.”

  “Very well. It’s a large chest filled with gold and silver coins, as well as a great deal of gem-encrusted jewelry.”

  “I see. The usual.” I wrote it down. Her story was coming together. “Where did he get it?”

  “The ocean floor is littered with shiny things. He spent many years collecting it.”

  “What did Marvin plan to do with it?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged. “The sparklies in the chest are pretty, but not even an octopus would go to the trouble to steal them. My father doesn’t care if he gets the chest back or not.”

  Percy’s mouth fell open. “He doesn’t care? My dear, are you saying neither you nor your father have any idea of the wealth contained within his chest?”

  “What wealth? It’s not as if we could eat any of it.”

  “Good heavens,” Percy blustered. “Don’t you see—”

  “Hold the phone,” I interrupted. Something smelled awfully fishy about her story. “If he doesn’t want it back, why are you here?”

  “Father wants his golden trident returned. He actually uses that.”

  “His trident? You mean one of those fork-looking things they use in gladiator movies?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “It’s made entirely of solid gold, and has a handle and three barbed tines. That’s why it’s important, you see. Father uses it to spear fish, and because it’s made of gold, it never rusts.”

  I was beginning to buy in—not completely, but I was broke and couldn’t afford to be choosy. “So, you want me to find the thieves and recover the trident. Is that it?”

  She tilted her nose. “I know who the thieves are. In fact, I met with the head thief in his office, explained everything, and asked him to return father’s trident. He laughed at me and refused.”

  No surprise; it’s not every day a green-haired dame walks into your office and claims to be a Mermaid. I kept my thoughts to myself. “Who’s the guy? Um, that is, who’s the thief?”

  She reached into her dress top, removed a card and handed it across the desk. “This is him.”

  I looked the card over. Sam Saab, President. Chicago Undersea Explorations & Pawn. It sounded legit. Resting my elbows on the desk, I brought my fingertips together, forming a steeple. “So, you want me to meet with this guy and retrieve your dad’s trident. Is that it?”

  “Yes, and I don’t care how you do it.” She sniffed. “You can steal it back for all I care. It would serve those thieves right.”

  Steal it? Sure, and after that I’d enjoy many a long, dreary day in the can. Still, under the circumstances it would be tough to convince Sam Saab to give up the solid gold trident. I wouldn’t.

  “Dick,” Percy began, “why can’t we simply explain matters to the men who took the treasure? I’m sure they will gladly return the trident after we assure them they can keep the remainder of the items.”

  “Sure they will.” I rolled my eyes. “All I have to do is tell them the golden trident belongs to a Merman who wants it back, and they’ll hand it over.”

  “Hmm.” Percy stroked his chin. “Yes, you make a good point.” He smiled to Coral. “Don’t worry. We’ll think of something and have your father’s trident returned in no time.”

  “I’m sure you will.” Coral smiled at Percy, and turned to me with a scowl. “I suppose you will demand something in exchange for your services?”

  “You bet.” I leaned forward, my forearms on the desk. “My fee is a thousand clams a day plus expenses. Double-time for weekends.”

  “So much?” She frowned.

  “Private dicks don’t come cheap.”

  “I’m sure my father will agree provided you return his trident. I’m certain you will too,” she gave Percy a breathtaking smile, “with Percy helping you. When can you start?”

  “Saturday.”

  “But that’s two days from now.”

  “I’ll be busy ‘til then.”

  *

  Sam Saab sat behind his desk, his red face contrasting with the golden trident hanging on the wall behind him. “You must be joking,” he blustered. “You’re nothing more than a con artist who’s hooked up with that girl with green hair. Did you honestly think I would believe that stupid story?”

  I relaxed in the leather chair facing him, and shrugged. “Yeah. I had a hard time believing it myself at first, but I’ve been hired to return the trident to its rightful owner.”

  He half-rose from his chair, pointed to the door, and yelled, “Out! You’ve wasted enough of my time. Beat it!”

  “Look, Sam, why don’t we do this the easy way? All I’m asking—”

  “Out!”

  “Sure, but—”

  “Out!”

  I slammed the door behind me, stood in the hall considering my next move, and almost jumped out of my skin at hearing, “You were right, Dick. The man wouldn’t listen to reason.”

  “Damn it, Percy, how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?” I shuddered, and then calmed my nerves. “I told you I wanted to handle this myself. How long have you been here?”

  “The entire time you were in there with that popinjay. The very idea… I had to bite my tongue to refrain from giving him a piece of my mind.”

  I chuckled. “Maybe you should’ve said something. It might have scared some sense into that jerk. Oh well, come on, we’ll… Saaay. Wait a minute.” After thinking for a moment, I snapped my fingers. “That’s it! You want to help Coral, don’t you?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Okay then, come on. We’ve got some planning to do.”

  *

  “Sam, this is Richard Dick.”

  I held the phone away from my ear as he let go a string of profanity.

  “Look,” I continued, “I won’t keep you tied up, so just listen for a moment, okay?”

  He growled into the phone, “You’ve got five seconds.”

  “Good. I’m sending some, um, friends over to your office. Deal with them anyway you like, but give me a call when you’ve decided to hand over the trident.”

  “Say, what is this? You planning to strong-arm me? Listen, Bub, you start that crap and I’m calling the cops.”

  “Go ahead, call the cops and see where it gets you. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” I grinned and hung up.

  Percy laughed. “Well done.”

  “Piece ‘a cake. How many do you have lined up?”

  “Oh, all of my friends thought it would be great fun, but I limited the list to thirty. Even so, I dread to think of the liquor bill.”

  “Thirty sounds good.” I shrugged. “Don’t worry about the liquor. You’re rich.”

  “Don’t be flippant. Money is money.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Who’s on your list?”

  “Oh the usual crowd, though Al Capone will be bringing the Purple Gang with him.”

  I chuckled. “That ought to do it.”

  *

  Three days later the phone rang. It was Sam Saab, his voice desperate, though I could barely hear him above all the moaning and howling in the background. “Dick, come pick up the trident. And get these damned spooks out of my office!”

  Of course, it wasn’t as easy as all that. Saab insisted that Coral sign an agreement on behalf of her father releasing all claims for the remaining treasure. I stood beside her in Sam’s office as she signed, while he leaned on his desk twitching, his bloodshot eyes darting around the room. I almost felt sorry for the guy.

  Afterwards, Coral went to dinner in Lake Michigan while Percy and I idled in my office. For once he remained visible, but fidgeted in his chair until finally announcing, “I fear I’ve fallen madly in love with Coral. I’m considering asking for her hand in marriage.”

  “Marriage?” I
snorted. “A ghost marrying a Mermaid? That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”

  “Humph. I hoped you would show more tolerance. In fact, I seem to recall you having a fling with Marilyn Monroe after I introduced you to her ghost.”

  “So what? At least she’s not a fish.”

  “Coral is not a fish, she’s a Mermaid.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Is not.”

  “Is… Forget it.” I crossed my arms, leaning back in my chair. “How does she feel about you?”

  “It’s the strangest thing, Dick. She has grown close to me as well, and said, ahem, she loves me.”

  “You don’t say? Are the two of you planning to move into your Lincoln Park mansion?”

  “Not exactly. I intend to go to sea with her for the time being, but we will have to spend time in Chicago as well. I must haunt my home from time to time, of course.”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  I saw them off at a pier on the Chicago waterfront. Marvin met us there, a bearded, hairy-chested guy who kept his mouth shut and didn’t bother to get out of the water. It was tough seeing Percy jump into the water alongside Coral, but I waved as they swam away.

  *

  Two weeks passed. Marvin had paid up, and I sat at my desk flipping through the pages of a cookbook. My meals consisted of clam chowder, fried clams, broiled clams, boiled clams, clams ala king…

  “Dick, I’m back.”

  I almost fell out of my chair. “Damn it, Percy, you did it again.”

  “I’m terribly sorry, (sniff) but I had to come home.”

  “Uh-oh. Don’t tell me there’s already trouble between you love birds, er, love fish.”

  “It’s true.” He sniffled. “I made a dreadful mistake, but I had no idea… Dick, Merpeople are thoroughly barbaric.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? How so?”

  “Oh dear, where to begin? For one thing, though I hate to sound indelicate, they poop in the sea without making any pretense at privacy.”

  “Ouch. That’s bad.”

  “Yes, and beyond that (sniff) Coral’s dinner manners, or lack thereof I should say, are positively ghastly. She…” I heard him gulp.

  “She what?”

  “I shudder to mention it. She snatched a sea slug that was drifting by and devoured it on the spot. Can you imagine such a nauseating thing?”

  “Probably, but I’m not going to.” My chair squealed as I leaned forward. “How did you get home?”

  “I was deep in the sea when an eastbound freighter passed overhead. I swam up and got on board. Fortunately, it docked in New York and I caught rides in automobiles until reaching Chicago.”

  “Was Coral heartbroken to see you go?”

  “Yes, well no, that is… We had been arguing because I was attempting to teach her civilized manners, and—”

  My desk phone rang. “Hold that thought.” I answered it. “Richard Dick Private Investigations, Dick speaking.” I listened for a moment. “Oh hi, Coral. Percy? Sure, he’s right here.”

  I stretched the phone across my desk towards the empty chair. “It’s for you.”

  “Percy?”

  “Percy?”

  The Dastardly Crew of The Untreed Detectives

  Kara L. Barney

  Hailing from Salt Lake City, Utah, Kara L. Barney has been writing since she was six years old. She graduated with a B.A. in English: Creative Writing from Brigham Young University in 2009, and though she has written in many genres, short stories has been one of her favorites. This is her second piece of fiction following The Hudson Diaries, also published by Untreed Reads.

  Herschel Cozine

  Herschel Cozine has published extensively in both children and adult publications. Work by Herschel has also appeared in Alfred Hitchcock and Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazines, Wolfmont Press Toys for Tots Anthologies and Woman’s World. His story, “A Private Hanging” was a finalist for the Derringer award.

  Lesley A. Diehl

  Lesley retired from her life as a professor of psychology and reclaimed her country roots by moving to a small cottage in the Butternut River Valley in upstate New York. In the winter she migrates to old Florida—cowboys, scrub palmetto, and open fields of grazing cattle, a place where spurs still jingle in the post office, and gators make golf a contact sport. Back north, the shy ghost inhabiting the cottage serves as her literary muse. When not writing, she gardens, cooks and renovates the 1874 cottage with the help of her husband, two cats, and, of course, Fred the ghost, who gives artistic direction to their work. She is author of several short stories and a number of mystery series including the microbrewing series, a rural Florida mystery series, and her most recent The Eve Appel mystery series.

  Amber Rochelle Gillet

  Amber Rochelle Gillet is a married mother of four boys and currently resides in Northern Massachusetts. She holds a full-time career in the IT field and a part-time career as an author; her most popular writing work to date is the PMS Private Investigator Series.

  Kaye George

  Kaye George, the author of four mystery series, has been nominated for Agatha awards twice. She writes short stories, mysteries, and a bit of horror. She also reviews for Suspense Magazine, writes for several newsletters and blogs, and gives workshops on short story writing and promotion. Her home is in Knoxville, Tennessee.

  Whit Howland

  Whit Howland resides in Godfrey, Illinois. He is married to his wife Kim Howland and they are the proud owners of three crazy but very sweet cats. When he is not writing he spends his time volunteering at the library either straightening up the mystery section or as a book detective searching for lost library material. Whit has a very insatiable appetite for crime fiction and decided that along with reading it, he also wanted to write it.

  Janet Majerus

  Janet Majerus was raised in Quincy, Illinois, a lovely old town built on the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River. She graduated from the University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana, with a degree in journalism, but she has gone on to wear many hats. She worked as a science editor, served as the elected mayor of University City, Missouri, a suburb of St. Louis, and is the author of four books including the young adult Grandpa and Frank, and three in her Jessie Schroeder murder mystery series: The Best Laid Plans, Thicker Than Water, and The Ayes Have It. Janet and her husband, Robert Burke, now live in Taos, New Mexico.

  Wade J. McMahan

  Wade J. McMahan writes fiction across a broad spectrum of genres. Several of his short stories have been published by Untreed Reads Publishing, as well as such places as The Wordsmith Journal Magazine, The Ampersand Review, Crow’s Nest Magazine, The df_Underground, and Pine Tree Mysteries. He is a member of the writer’s community Scribophile, and is currently working on a historical fantasy novel, Waves in the Wind, which he plans to complete in 2013.

  Rodolfo Peña

  Rodolfo Peña lives in southern France with his French wife and a wayward cat. After many years of hardships, (having a steady job and income, exercising responsibility, drinking in moderation) he gave up that lifestyle (which was no life and had no style) and decided to become a translator. To amend that bad decision, he has made a worse one by becoming a full-time writer. His wife supports him brilliantly by taking in borders and washing other people’s clothes.

  Neil Plakcy

  Neil Plakcy’s golden retriever mysteries have been inspired by his own goldens, Samwise and Brody. A native of Bucks County, Pennsylvanie, where In Dog We Trust, The Kingdom of Dog, Dog Helps Those and Dog Bless You are set, Neil is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, Columbia University and Florida International University, where he received his MFA in creative writing. He has written and edited many other books; details can be found at his website, http://www.mahubooks.com. Neil, his partner, and Brody live in South Florida, where Neil is working on a fifth mystery, and Brody is busily chewing something.

  Gillian Roberts

  Like her series protagonist, Gillian Roberts w
as a high school English teacher in the City of Brotherly Love. In addition to the fourteen books in the Amanda Pepper series, she’s written two mysteries set in Northern California where she now lives, a collection of short stories, and her only nonfiction, You Can Write a Mystery. Under her actual name, Judith Greber, she’s written four novels in which people die, but nobody sleuths. She and her husband are the parents of two grown sons, and grandparents of two perfect children. Their nest is not empty because they share it with a large, spoiled Golden Doodle.

  Albert Tucher

  Albert Tucher is the author of more than fifty short stories about prostitute Diana Andrews, as well as the novella The Same Mistake Twice, just out from Untreed Reads. Stories about Diana or from her world have appeared in such venues as ThugLit, Shotgun Honey, Oregon Literary Review, and The Best American Mystery Stories 2010, edited by Lee Child and Otto Penzler. Albert Tucher recently made his debut in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine with a standalone story called “Hangman’s Break.”