User:Tragicbooty/Unbooks

Master Bates and the case of the double-entendre

Chapter 1

It was late. The dim glow from the clock threw stupid light in pale green around the walls and still I couldn't sleep. I cast my mind back over the last 14 and a half hours. Private investigation was a stupid career choice I guess, but then I'd always thought that maybe this sort of career you don't choose... Maybe it chooses you.

I'd risen early, feeling stiff, and reached straight for my packet. It was too early to start already but I could barely stop myself and so, already gasping, I reached down, took out a cigarette and lit up. Then I went and made some coffee and slumped down on the bed again. I'd certainly pulled a hard one the other day; William Tickler had been killed. Willy Tickler was a handyman by trade though in this dead end town he'd had no real business and had poured his money into a bar between the laundry place and the pawn shop. It was simply called "Willy's". It was a hell of a place, real run down and dirty. In this kinda town all the scum runs to the lowest point and Willy's bar was the pits. He'd been found in his safe room at the back, shot twice in the head, but the door had been locked and bolted from the inside, no windows, no trapdoors, no.. wossname.... roof thingy... roof hole thing...

I stubbed out my cigarette and stood, stretching myself erect.

...Skylight! No skylight. And no gun either. Besides, who'd whack Willy? The police were stumped, and Willy's daughter had needed all the help she could get, so for a few dimes a day I was looking into it. It was a mystery all right and it was still only Tuesday.

I got ready and went downstairs to my office.

Chapter 2

My office was outside, parked right on the street. I got in it and looked across to the butchers where Johnson Hancock stood in the window, pounding his meat. Johnson looked up and saw me, wiped his hands on his apron and headed across the road. He was a nice kid Johnson, but quiet and not too bright. He'd been a boxer, a good one, but he'd been knocked out once too often. Even now though, you'd still see him practicing his moves by slamming the ham, or slapping the salami. Reliving the old days I guess. I wound down my window.

"Hey Johnson, how's it going?"

"Yeah, it's good thanks Mister Bates, say listen -"

"I've told you before, Johnson, Mister Bates is my father."

"Sorry - Master Bates. Say, listen. There was this woman looking for you earlier. She said she had some information about Willy."

"Yeah, where is she now?"

"She said she'd come back. She said you might remember her anyway, Rosie Palm she was called."

"Hey thanks Johnson" I said, as he trundled back to his shop.

I'd met her only once before. I'd been working as a security guard in a clothing shop, and she'd been caught shop-lifting. It was over ten years ago but I never forgot a name, and who could forget Rosie Palm getting caught red-handed? She was sweet then, only a kid really. God knows what she'd be like now.

I went and got some more coffee from the flat then went and sat back in my office and turned the radio on while I went over the police files I'd procured. Willy Tickler. An upstanding guy reduced to a soft flabby mess. It made me shudder. Two kids, one girl one boy, Fanny and Randy. Randy Tickler had left just like their mom, but Fanny had stuck around and helped out her old man. Now she was alone.