Fiends

    ‘Huh? Ligeia?’

    He grinned. ‘Still up to your tricks.’

    She frowned with confusion. ‘What?’

    ‘Saturday night was great. The greatest.’

    ‘Oh? You got together with your mystery woman?’

    ‘Sure did.’

    ‘Must’ve gone pretty well.’

    ‘You oughta know.’

    Her frown deepened. ‘How would I know?’

    ‘How about having dinner with me tonight?’

    The frown vanished. A corner of her mouth curled up. ‘Are you kidding?’

    ‘Not a chance.’

    ‘What about this other gal of yours? Ligeia? You just met her, and now you want me to go out with you?’

    ‘She won’t mind.’

    ‘She must be very understanding.’

    ‘What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other again. Not till next Saturday night, anyway.’

    ‘You some kind of a two-timer?’

    ‘Yep.’

    The door opened. A couple of students came in.

    ‘Look,’ Maureen said, ‘we can talk about this later. I’ve gotta get the spelling list onto the board.’

    ‘Fine.’

    He turned away, nodded a greeting to the kids, and paused at the door.

    He looked back.

    Maureen, facing the chalkboard behind her desk, wrote ‘fantasy’ with her right hand. Her left arm hung at her side.

    Allan stared at her elbow.

    She looked back at him. She raised her eyebrows. ‘Is something wrong?’

    ‘Your elbow,’ he murmured.

    She smiled. ‘Just had a little mishap over the weekend.’ She rubbed the dark crust of scab, then turned again to the chalkboard.

Eats

    I’m a trained investigator, so I knew right away that the dame who walked into my office had class. How did I know? She had blue hair on her head and a poodle tucked under one arm. I took my feet off my desk.

    ‘My name is Mabel Wingate,’ she said.

    ‘Want me to stand up and cheer?’ I asked through my mouthful of sandwich.

    She tittered. ‘Isn’t he delightful!’ She put the question to the pooch, chucking it under the chin. ‘Do you think he might be good enough to share his sandwich?’

    It was salami and Swiss on an onion roll with lettuce and onions and plenty of mayo. I’d just bought it at Lou’s Deli down the block. I’d taken only one bite. I didn’t want to part with it.

    ‘This is my lunch, lady,’ I said.

    ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked.

    ‘Are you planning to hire me?’

    ‘We shall see.’

    I’m not an idiot. If I didn’t fork over some of my sandwich to Snuggles or Snookums or whatever its name was, the old gal would find herself a different gumshoe. (I needed the work. Things had been slow lately, ever since I got on TV for plugging one of my clients. What can I say? Mistakes happen.)

    ‘You don’t watch much television, huh?’ I asked.

    ‘Please,’ she said. ‘The sandwich.’

    ‘Oh, sure.’ I set it down on my desk. She reached for it. ‘Ah ah!’ I snapped. ‘Not the whole thing.’

    ‘No, of course not. Excuse me.’

    She waited, hovering over my desk and watching while I scooted back, slid up my trouser leg, and pulled the shiv out of my boot. I pressed its button. The blade flew and snapped into place.

    ‘Dear me,’ Mabel said. She was impressed. Her mouth looked like a doughnut.

    ‘My toadsticker,’ I told her.

    ‘I do hope you’ve washed it.’

    I’ve seen what dogs eat. Washed or not, pooch wouldn’t care. I pinned the sandwich to my desk top and tried to keep its insides from slopping out as I cut. It made a real mess. ‘There you go,’ I said.

    Mabel snatched up the biteless half. ‘You’re a dear,’ she told me. She smiled at the dog. ‘Isn’t he a dear, Muffin?’

    Muffin licked its chops.

    But Mabel was the one who ate the sandwich.

    She wolfed it down, then eyed the remains of my half. I stuffed the last of it into my mouth before she could make a grab for it.

    ‘That certainly was tasty,’ she said. ‘I haven’t eaten properly in ages.’

    I had already noticed she was skinny, but I hadn’t given it much thought. After all, it’s chic to look like a cadaver.

    ‘Have a seat,’ I told her.

    She sat down. Muffin licked some mayo off her chin.

    ‘Someone,’ she said, ‘wants to poison me.’

    ‘I see.’

    ‘It’s frightful. I hardly dare touch a bite. I’m withering away to nothing. You must help me.’

    ‘I charge three hundred beans a day,’ I said.

    ‘Three hundred what?’

    ‘Dollars.’ It was double my usual rate, but I figured she could handle it. She wore diamond earrings, a pearl necklace, and eight rings. I knew that none of the jewelry was fake because of her blue hair and poodle.

    ‘That sounds a trifle steep,’ she said.

    ‘You get what you pay for,’ I explained. ‘I’m the best.’

    She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling as if she doubted my word.

    ‘You don’t want to pinch pennies,’ I said, ‘when your life’s on the line.’

    ‘I suppose you’re right.’

    ‘Of course I’m right.’

    She set Muffin on the floor. It skittered under the desk and started chewing on one of my boots. I used my other boot to fend it off while Mabel took a checkbook out of her purse. Usually, I insist on cash. A lot of my clients (back when I had clients) were deadbeats. But I figured I could trust Mabel.

    She made out the check to Duke Scanlon, Private Investigator. Then she filled in the amount. I licked my lips and stopped kicking Muffin. She signed the check and slid it across the desk. It got mayo on it. ‘Will that be enough,’ she asked, ‘to retain your services for a week?’

    ‘Consider me retained. For starters, what makes you think someone wants to poison you?’

    ‘I don’t think someone wants to poison me, I know.’

    ‘Has there been an attempt on your life?’ I asked.

    She rolled her eyes again. She was good at it. ‘My dear young man - may I call you Duke?’

    ‘Duke it is, Mabel.’