Re: OT: The Maltese Sibling

On Mar 19, 1:42 am, "Tom Cronin" <tkhkcro...@xxxxxxx> wrote:
I was working late one night, ready to lock up the office and head out
into the rain. Business had been bad ---real bad--- and I was barely
making enough dough to keep the lights burning. Sure, there was the
occasional broad looking for proof that her husband was cheating on
her, but usually all it took were a few choice snapshots and the poor
mutt never knew what hit him. Not too challenging for a top-notch
private *** like me. I started to reach for the cheap bottle of hooch
stashed in the bottom drawer of my desk, when she walked in.

Long, dark, wavy hair. Petite, but you could tell that underneath her
raincoat she was really put together. There was something about this
dame that seemed familiar...

"You were in the pictures, weren't you? Elaine something-or-other...?"

"Yeah. That was me. But that was a long time ago. Call me Julia."

"Listen, lady, this better be good. I got a train to catch."

She tried to light a heater, but her hands were shaking too much. I
lit it for her.

"Thanks. I hear you're the best around. I need your help finding
someone. I can give you a c-note up front, and pay you the rest
later... here's his picture."

She threw down a black-and-white head shot onto the table in front of
me, and when I saw it I stopped breathing. The eyes were beadier, the
hair a little thinner... but the picture was of me.

"Lady... Julia... is this some kinda joke? 'Cause, lemme tell ya, I'm
in no mood. No freakin' mood."

"It's not a joke. He's been gone a while, and I think you're the only
one who can find him."

Then it dawned on me... how could I have been such a knucklehead?

"His name's Brad, isn't it? And today, March 19th, is his birthday,
right?"

She blew a perfect smoke ring that floated above my head for an
eternity.

"Nice work, Sherlock. Now you think you can help me?"

"Give me the dough, and I'll have him back to you in ten minutes."

"Thanks, mister. He always said you were the dependable one in the
family."

Taking the money, I brushed past her on the way out the door, grabbed
my hat, and flew down the stairs out into the rain. Now, where was
that place? Two block over... one block down... there--- across the
street.

The shop's lights were still on, and outside was a sad sack of a
fella, staring at the display in the window. He was just about to turn
and leave when I clamped him on the shoulder.

"Always wanted that one, didn't you?"

He barely acknowledged me, and looked wistfully back into the window.

"The silk sequined party dress with rhinestone tassels. Mom always got
so angry whenever I asked for it."

"Look, mutt... I mean Brad. I know we haven't talked much lately, but
I want to make it up to you. How much for the duds?"

"$89.95, plus tax. But I don't have that kind of cash on me..."

I pressed the c-note into his clammy paw. He looked at it and without
saying a word, sprinted into the store just as a hatchet-faced broad
with legs like whiskey barrels was starting to flip the "Closed"
sign. He came skipping ---yeah, skipping--- out a few minutes later,
with the dress in a bag under his arm.

"There's change. Do you want the change? Maybe we could use it to buy
ice cream or something... you don't suppose we could go to the movies,
or maybe see the ballet, or go ice skating, or..."

I smacked him hard in his pie hole. He whimpered some, but at least he
shut up.

"Put a sock in it, mutt. We still got some unfinished business."

With that, I led him by his sleeve back in the direction of my office.
Why that peach of a dame would want this guy back, I dunno, but
business is business.

"And hey, mutt... I mean Brad... one more thing: Happy Birthday."

Tom

Happy Birthday Tom!!!! Happy Birthday Brad!!!

.

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