Socks Without Matches

by BobA. Troutt

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  Socks Without Matches

  The 9 Lives of Randolph Hensley Gwathney, III (The Private Eye)

  I sat in my office on the corner of Lori Lee and Sixth Street when a beautiful, long haired Persian Queen walked in; the gal was gorgeous. She had a short body, round head, stubby nose, small ears and a bushy tail

  “May I help you?” I asked as I leaned back in my chair too far and tipped over.

  “Are you Randolph Hensley Gwathney, III?” she asked as she sat down on the corner of my desk.

  “Whom may I say is asking?” I replied as I got up off the floor and looked in to her beautiful sparkling green eyes.

  “Kitty,” answered with a soft purr.

  “I may be the guy you’re looking for,” I said as I eased out from behind my chair, walked over to the window and peeped out the blinds. “What can I do for you?”

  “Mr. Gwa…th…ne…y III,” she stuttered as she tried to pronounce my name.

  “Most of my friends call me Randy,” I told her as I caught a glimpse of the sigh of relief on her face.

  “How do I know you’re the cat for the job?” she asked with another soft purr and this time with a meow.

  “You don’t,” I replied as I walked over to my filing cabinet and pulled out my last eight cases.

  Which by the way, they were my only cases. I slowly turned to her but was yanked back by my tie hung in the filing cabinet. She sort of snickered and turned her head quickly so I wouldn’t notice her laughing at me. I was so embarrassed.

  “Here, Kitty, this is a little of my work. You can make up your own mind after you read them.”

  “These are very impressive,” she said as she thumbed through them.

  I stepped up close to her and tilted my head.

  “Here are some claw marks I got from my last case, a couple of alley cats with sore tails,” I explained.

  “Purr,” she went softly again.

  Kitty asked me to go over my files with her so she could make a decision. I told her I would be happy to. I opened my first case file and explained it to her.

  “Case One: Up a Tree,” I said. “This is the first case I received when I came to town. It was the case of a missing kitty. I worked around the clock trying to find the missing kitty. It finally dawned on me one morning at three o’clock. I rushed over to the client’s house with my fireman suit on. My instincts were right. I found the kitty up a tree in her front yard.”

  “Oh, you are so brave, Randy. That poor little kitty,” she meowed.

  “It was nothing,” I replied as I went to sit down in my chair, missed it and fell to the floor. Kitty immediately jumped up and ran over to help me.

  “Are you alright,” she asked when she came over and helped me to the couch.

  “I’m fine,” I replied. “Now, where was I?”

  “I believe you were about to tell me about case two,” she stated.

  “Oh, yes. Here we are,” I said as I struggled to put my glasses on. “Case Two: The Warehouse Caper. I had worked the graveyard for months. I moused around waiting for my big break. Finally, it came. I was a night watchman at the warehouse when I busted up a band of cat burglars smuggling in stolen jewels off the waterfront. They were nothing but a bunch of scaredy cats. Why, Miss Kitty, you’re shaking all over. Everything is going to be alright,” I soothed her.

  “Oh, Randy you’re so courageous. I don’t see how you do it,” she said.

  “Here Kitty, I brewed you some catnip tea. This will help calm you down,” I said.

  “Oh, thank you, Randy,” she purred as she took a sip of the tea.

  “I couldn’t get over how pretty she was. She was a cat’s meow.”

  I didn’t think my cases would upset her so much, I thought. What would she want with an old stray like me?

  “Let’s continue with Case Three: The Case of the Last Laugh,” I said. “I worked as a clown for a week in a circus that came to town. Rumor had it that some big cat out of Chicago was holding up the show. But after a few quick cracks of the whip, I had him right where I wanted. I had him running around in circles. By the time I was finished, he was eating out of my hand. Yep, Miss Kitty, it didn’t take me long to tame that tiger.”

  Unexpectedly, the phone rang. I hurried over to answer it; one of my informants called to give me some information for a case I was working. The tip was important. The suspect I was looking for was a foreigner that talked with an accent. I knew there couldn’t be many in the city that fit that description.

  “What is it, Randy?” she asked with her Persian accent.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s another case I’m working on.”

  “And what case is that? Is it a secret?” she smiled and said.

  “Someone stole a very expensive Himalayan cat from the cat show last week. I’m checking to see what I can find out,” I explained.

  “Do you have any leads?” she asked as she stretched and her claws popped out.

  “A few,” I replied. “But none of them are substantial enough to help. Alright, let’s get back to business. Case Four: The One That Flew the Coop. This is a case I worked on the south side as a bird watcher. It was about a bird that flew the coop. I never did find the bird. However, I brought in an out of town stray cat and booked him since I saw tiny yellow feathers coming out of his mouth. Now, case five kept me on my paws, all four of them. I worked the night shift doing an undercover stakeout. I parked beside the road and waited for the black cat to cross the road. The night was long and foggy and the coffee was cold. About two o’clock that morning it suddenly happened. I saw some headlights coming down the road. Then all of a sudden, a black cat ran across the road. I reached over and grabbed it in the nick of time. I carried him in and booked him for pussy footing around.”

  This cat is not as dumb as he looks, thought Kitty. I know his dumb act is just a front. Randy is really a clever private eye.

  Knock, knock, knock came a sound at the door. I rushed over to answer it; it was a delivery boy.

  “Here’s your pizza,” said the pizza boy.

  “But, I didn’t order any pizza,” I replied.

  “Is your name Randolph Hensley Gwa…th…ne…y, III or for short, Randy at Lori Lee and Sixth Street?” he asked.

  “Yes, it is,” I replied.

  “Then you owe me twelve dollars and five cents,” said the pizza boy.

  I paid the boy and pitched in a tip of twenty-five cents. When I handed him the money, I stuck a note in his shirt pocket.

  As the pizza boy was leaving he yelled, “Gee, thanks, cheapskate.”

  I hurried over to my desk and put the pizza down; it was hot.

  “May I use your bathroom?” asked Kitty.

  “Sure,” I replied. “The litter box is in there.”

  I quickly opened the pizza box. My hunch was right. There was a letter with a piece of pepperoni stuck on it attached to the inside of the box top; it was from my informant. The note stated that the suspect of the cat show catnapping was a feline with a gorgeous short body, round head, stubby nose, small ears and bushy tail. Huh, she seems familiar, I thought.

  “Randy, have you forgotten me?” she purred as she motioned for me to come and sit by her on the couch.

  I wadded up the note, pitched it in the trashcan and walked toward her.

  “Do you want some pizza?” I asked.

  “Why, sure,” she replied. “Has anyone ever told you how extremely handsome you are?”

  I acted as if I didn’t hear her, picked up the stack of files and proceeded on with my cases.

  “Case Six: The Siamese Twins,” I continued. “With this case, I worked security for a museum. I protected the miniature replicas of the Egyptian Sphinx. There were a couple of Siamese cats from out of the country trying to heist the Sphinx. All in all, the case wasn’t too bad. I stepped on one of their tails and chased the other off. The police dogs caught up with them u
p a tree. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,” I laughed.

  I glanced over, from time to time, at Miss Kitty; I had to keep my eye on her. She seemed to be nervous as I watched her sharpen her claws on my table. It wasn’t long before I began to put two and two together. In her case, it wasn’t adding up to be a very pretty picture. You know what I mean.

  “Miss Kitty, if it’s okay with you I will continue with Case Seven: There’s Something Fishy Going On,” I stated. “Huh! I see a lot of things in my business. For instance, that crazy Calico cat I had been following for a month. I finally caught him in the act; I had to pull his head out of a fish bowl.”

  The more I talked, the more fidgety Miss Kitty became. She started pacing the floor with tears in her big green eyes. I knew she was probably wondering how much I knew. I was just waiting for my instincts to pay off. I got up to calm her down, tripped on my shoelaces and fell face first to the floor.

  “Ouch!” I cried.

  I had forgotten to tie my shoelaces that morning. She ran over to me and gave me a hug. I could feel her claws slowly sink into my back so I pushed her away.

  “How much do you know?” she whispered under her breath.

  “What did you say, Miss Kitty?” I asked.

  “Oh, nothing; I must have been thinking out loud.”

  I went back over to the desk and picked up the last file.

  “Case eight never really developed,” I stated. “I exposed a bunch of copycats before they ever got started. Get the picture?”

  I looked over at her and she had stopped crying. She hurriedly grabbed her purse and told me she had to be going.

  “But, do I get the job?” I asked as I stood up and helped her put on her coat.

  “Well, Randy, I think you’re prrrretty good. I’d say you’re one of the best,” she said. “I’ll keep in touch.”

  When she went out the door, I stretched out on the couch for a catnap. It had been a long day. I thought about Kitty as I drifted off to sleep. I knew she had only come in to see what I knew about the cat show catnapping and if I was on to her.

  A few hours later, the door to my office opened. I rose up off the couch to see who it was. It was my partner, Dog Face, and he had Kitty with him.

  “You were right, Randy. I caught her red-handed with the Himalayan cat down the street in her flat. The Himalayan is safe.”

  “But how did you know? What gave me away,” she asked.”

  “It was simple; the long hair on your coat gave you away as soon as you walked in the office,” I told her. “I’m allergic to Himalayans. They make my head feel funny and I become clumsy.”

  Kitty turned to Randy and said, “You’re pppppretty smart, Private Eye Randy,” as tears filled her big green eyes once again.

  “Take her to the station, Dog Face,” I instructed as I eased back down on the couch to finish my catnap.

  Case Nine: The Too Nosey Feline had been solved. Case Closed!

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  Giggle Book One

  Giggle Book Two

  Giggle Book Three

  Leftover from the Holidays

  Tickle Box

  Bobby A. Troutt is a southern writer who writes a variety of short stories and children’s books.