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Wednesday, October 18, 2017

The Case of the Black Monkey---Part 2 of 3

by gt281 (writer), State of Denial, August 23, 2012

She fell on the sofa in a crumpled heap of pin stripes, the gun dropped to the floor at my feet.

I went back to my office around 9:00 the next morning, I took my bowling ball with me, bowling season was over and there was no reason for me to have it rolling around in my trunk. It always made me jumpy when it rolled over an empty bourbon bottle, besides it needed to be waxed again and I thought I could do it while waiting for a new client to show up. I had only been in my outer office a few moments when the door opened and in stepped a little woman wearing camera straps and a blue pin striped man's suit. She smelled like she had dropped a bottle of gardenia aftershave on her, it filled the whole office with its pungent aroma. I knew I’d have to open all the windows after she left just to get rid of the odor. It was beginning to make me nauseous. She told me her name was Clara Cairo, and that she would pay me 5,000 dollars if I gave her the statue of the black monkey. I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about and that I’d never heard of the statue. I could tell that she was becoming nervous and agitated at my answers and just as she was about to pull a gun from her coat pocket, I swung my bowling ball and knocked her out. She fell on the sofa in a crumpled heap of pin stripes, the gun dropped to the floor at my feet. It was a pink pearl handled 22, just the type of sissy gun I figured she would have.

While she was out cold on the sofa I went through her pockets, straightened her nylons and examined her wallet, she didn’t have much on her, except a passport from Egypt BC, some French funny money, and a front row ticket to the opera ‘I Love Lucy’ playing at the Boytoie Theater on Sunday. I next patted her breasts just to make sure she wasn’t hiding any knives or documents in her size 38 bra, a black lacy affair with pink penguins over the nipples. I didn’t find anything but I had some fun anyway. As I waited for her to regain consciousness I put my bowling ball in the closet and made myself a coffee flavored bourbon, only the 4th one this morning, I was way behind in my coffee drinking. I was just starting my third cup of Java juice when I heard her moaning and groaning on the sofa. I stood there amused as I watched her put her clothing back in their rightful places. Must of happened when you fell I said to her. Her look was what I expected, delight and snoddy at the same time. I gave her back her papers and wallet, but I kept her gun. She pleaded with me for the gun, but I refused unless she came clean on why she was there.

She told me that she was a partner of a Mz FK Fattaman and that the statue had been stolen from Mz Fattaman two years ago and they had traced it to Brigid O’Savanna’s sister. She said Mz Fattaman would pay a lot of money to anyone that returned it to her. I tried to explain to her that I knew nothing about the statue, but I knew that she didn’t believe me. Women are like that. I then escorted her to the door and returned her gun, she immediately pointed it at me and threatened to shoot me if I didn’t turn over the statue to her. I just laughed. She then pulled the trigger, twice. Seems I had forgotten to tell her that I took all the bullets out while she was having her nap. I then kicked her in the ass and out the door, telling her never to come back or that I wouldn’t be so gentle when playing patti-cake with her next time. This case was becoming more complex and longer than I had bargained for. I’ll have to ask for more money next time I see Brigid O’Savanna.

Since I had given Gretchen the day off to visit her sister in San Chiwawa, I was alone all day in my office. The coffee didn’t help much as I was trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together, I was thinking that maybe I was missing the edge pieces. Around 6:00 that evening I decided to call it a day and go over to Jimmy’s for a night cap and some stale pretzels, maybe even meet a couple of pickle warmers that I didn’t owe money to. As I was about to open the outer office door, a women barged in and collapsed onto the floor, she was carrying a package wrapped in dirty diapers and three week old newspapers from Egypt. She had been shot and was gasping for air as she told me that she was Margo O’Savanna, Brigid’s sister. Then she cursed at me like a drunken sailor and died on my office floor. I took the package she was carrying and examined it closely, the Egyptian Hieroglyphs meant nothing to me, but since Clara Cairo had an Egyptian passport I figured this must be the statue of the black monkey she was looking for. I felt I wouldn’t have much time though before who ever shot Margo, would be coming here. I hid the statue under the floor boards in my office closet, it’s where I hide the good bourbon from Gretchen. Unfortunately for me it had been empty for over a month. I then quickly wrapped Margo’s body in the carpet and placed her in the stairwell, then I examined her as I had Clara Cairo, too bad she was dead, we could have had some fun together. The blood stains were the easiest thing to clean up, I’ve learned over the years that bourbon can take out just about any stain. It’s a sad waste of mouth wash though.

To be continued...



About the Writer

gt281 is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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