| Private Dick by Anthony Ainsworth & Lucas Vereline [email protected] & [email protected] |
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| Leon Richardson wished his life was more like it would be if it had been written and directed by a fifties hollywood director. He had no particular writers in mind, but rather a general idea of the themes and styles that might have been employed. He particularly desired certain details of office life present throughout fifties media. This desire for anachronism usually began as he got to work and looked at his secretary. Leon's secretary was quite definitively not a drop dead gorgeous blonde bombshell. Leon's secretary was certainly not going to be giving him any special services outside of the job description. This was true in part because Leon had no interest in exploring an latent homosexuality, and in greater part because Leon was not his secretaries type. Leon was beginning to think about another of the great constants of fifties detective stories; the bottle of scotch in his desk drawer when he noticed a greasy looking man waiting in the chair across from his secretary's desk. He didn't really want to drink that much. Instead he wanted the slightly roguish romance of belting back a few shots early in the morning. Even more, he didn't want to have to face his so proper young secretary's expression if he were caught smelling of alcohol so early in the morning. This was a very particular look that only his secretary could deliver. It was a carefully blended mix of a faint contempt, a stronger sense of smugness and a very clear and overly solicitous concern and forgiveness. Leon opened the door into his private office and walked over to his desk. He sat down in the large reclining black leather chair while staring at that drawer. He started to reach out to open the drawer, just to look at the bottle, but realized that he had just seen something odd. It took him a while to figure out what was out of place in his environment. After a moments thought he reaced down and pressed the button to talk to his secretary. "James, is there somebody waiting out there to talk to me?" "Yes there is. He has been waiting here for quite some time sir, " James replied. Leon considered this for a few moments. "James, kindly send our visitor into my office now." The door quickly opened and the greasy looking man walked through and thrust his hand out to Leon. "Jack, Jack Squinley, pleased to meetcha." Leon examined the hand before sticking his own out and permitting it to be shaken. "Uh, yes. It's quite nice to meet you too." They stood there staring at one another for a few moments until Leon spoke up again. "So, um what can I do for you?" "I need you to extract someone for me?" "Excuse me? Exactly who do you think I am?" Leon was increasingly uncertain just what was going on. "Listen I happen to be a very poweful and influential man. I manage a certain band that is going to be the next big thing. You have probably heard of them, the "Twin Titties". Of course, my position recquires a certain level of discretion when dealing with problems regarding the members of my band. One of the Titties has been kidnapped by her last boyfriend. This was a particularly ugly relationship and we would prefer not to have the details known by the press. Thus we need the services of a private but resourceful man such as yourself." Leon sat there and thought about everything that he might say in response to this crazy man. He thought about explaining that the majority of his job involved looking up public records that most people simply didn't know about. He thought about explaining that this job might recquire him to do things like breaking and entering, which he did not have permission. He thought about explaining that he had not fired his gun in over a month, and that had been a mandated yearly test. He thought about how drastically the job of private investigator had changed, and how it had probably never been exactly what it was supposed to be anyway and he was definitely not qualified to "extract" anyone. "Ok," he said. "Excelent," said Jack pulling a long cheap paper cigar from inside his coat and lighting it with more than just a subtle flick of his wrist. A wreath of smoke circled around his face making him look like a fat grease devil. Leon caughed and pointed at the non-smoking sign posted on the wall but Jack paid no attention. "I have some information for you," said Jack pulling a giant manilla envelope from his briefcase and slamming it down on the desk. Leon wished that he'd taken at least a couple of shots before agreeing to see this man. "Since this is dangerous work I charge $600 dollars a day plus expenses," Leon caughed and his lungs burned like hot cinders. " I'm going to need a $1300 dollar deposite. James will take care of everything on the way out." Standing up he yelled into the intercom, "James, please draw up the contract papers and show Mr. Squinley out - and bring me my allergy medicine." Leon shook Mr. Squinley's hand vigirously as he escorted him out the door as rapidly as possible saying, "Don't worry we will be in touch in the next couple of days. We'll put our best effort into this. Thank you for coming in," and then Jack was gone from the room. Leon put his head dow on the desk and caughed slowly. A few minuted later the James entered the office with the allergy pill, a glass of water and a concerned look on his face. "Dear, you should at least open a window," he said. Leon drank the whole glass of water in one gulp and swallowed the pill while James went over to the window and opened it. |
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