BlindedWes Noyer, P.I.
Sunday, OCT 2
Last evening, I nursed a few saucers of cream while I nursed the fresh lump on my head. It had grown so much it was nearly the size of a third ear—making the usual valley between my two peaked ears into a continuous range.
After studying my old case files on the De Tullio brothers for a few hours, gargling some cream, I had fallen asleep and woke in the morning with a splitting headache. I had fallen asleep in my office—not on the chaise lounge or even the high-back armchair, but rather my swiveling executive chair. When I woke up, I had zebra lines of bright sunlight falling across my black fur.
The blinds often played tricks with the light and thus tricked the mind, too. Often I would reach for my trusty yo-yo only to find an empty room, holstering my weapon with a mix of relief and embarrassment. It’s no surprise then, that for a moment, I thought that the figure in the corner of my office was a product of my aching head and the striped light, but the figure was very real, veiled in the shadows the day still allowed in the room.
The sultry voice spoke from the shadows, ‘I was beginning to think you’d never wake up, Inspector Noyer.’ The figure followed, stepping into the light as soon as I stared a moment in its direction. I saw that it was a she. I thought for a moment that it was Lucy, but this cat was not pure white but calico. She took a moment to unwrap a Dum Dums lollipop, raspberry, and placed it in the cradle of her cheek. Then she said, ‘That’s a nasty lump.’
‘I’ve had worse,’ I said.
‘Run with the wrong crowd and you might anger the bulls.’
‘The bulls hit me with hot air, if anything, not the book. I was working a case. I got crowned—dry-gulched from behind.’ Suddenly angry about being ambushed the night before, I added, ‘The coward!’
‘You poor thing,’ she said with what seemed like honest concern. I realized I was being too open with a dame I just met. She said, ‘Weren’t you heeled?’
‘Like I said,’ I patted the yo-yo holstered at my hip, ‘They got me from behind. No time to draw my yo-yo.’
The calico paced the office on her pipe-stems, unimpressed. Her curiosity made quick work of my small bookcase and of the oddities I’d mounted on the wall: a pirate’s hook, a spyglass, a framed map corner, a two headed fish skeleton, a voodoo doll, and others from cases of yesterday. I assumed she’d explored my office already, while I had been sleeping.
‘What’s the score,’ I said. ‘Who are you?’
‘Hannah,’ she said, then after switching the lollipop to the other side, ‘Barbara.’
‘I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before.’
‘You haven’t.’
‘What brings you to Wes Noyer, INC.?’
‘De Tullios…’
‘I’m listening,’ I said, but she’d apparently finished speaking. ‘Put your mouth in and tell me what about them. They hurt you? Threaten you?’
Hannah moved over to my lamp, slowly unscrewed the shade, tossed it aside and revealed a hidden microphone. Not mine. Someone else’s. My office had been bugged. She plucked the microphone off my lamp, and, after tossing it to the floor, crushed it with her paw.
‘They have a new boss.’
‘Swell,’ I said, not sarcastically enough. ‘A born leader?’
‘Sure. Smart enough to organize this,’ she gestured to the crushed microphone. ‘Smart enough to steal something of mine, too.’
‘And what was that?’
‘It’s not what it is that’s important.’ She smirked. ‘It’s where they’ve hidden it that you should concern yourself with.’
‘Set down and bite an egg with me? We’ll discuss this.’
‘Can’t,’ she said. Just like that. No explanation. ‘I just want to be kept in the loop if you pursue the De Tullios and their new boss. I’ll pay you handsomely to do so. I just want what’s mine back, you understand.’
‘My plate’s a little full at the moment.’
‘Don’t think of this as a second course. Think of this as a mere cherry on top.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘That’s all I ask.’ She made her way to the door, where she paused. ‘Word is, the De Tullio brothers are holed up in the backroom of some Laundromat,’ she added. Then with a wave of her paw she was out of my office. I heard her soft footsteps grow quieter and quieter until I could hear them no longer. The rest of the sounds were buried under the constant whoosh of my ceiling fan, until I dismantled it looking for more hidden cameras and microphones. I found nothing. With a room looking ransacked, I made my way to the nearest newspaper stand. With the change I had in my coat pocket, I bought a paper. Tucking it under my arm, I took a seat at a cafe and ordered breakfast. None of the articles caught my attention, but I read them all in hopes of a clue. I was about to give up until I made it to the classified section and saw that an ad had been taken out, which could have been talking about Lucy. It read:
⋆ ⋆ BUYER WANTED ASAP ⋆ ⋆
Honest brothers looking to sell. Highest bidder.
Jewel of the white variety. Purrfect condition.
Enquire in person at The Wanderer’s Launderer
on Seventh Street. Ask for Fred. Not Lars.
Jewel. White. Purrfect. The ad had to be talking about Lucy. Perhaps the De Tullio brothers’ new boss wasn’t so smart after all.
I took a cab to the neighborhood of the Laundromat and rented a room at the motel across the street. The Limbo—a cheap and bare joint to squat or disappear for a while. The motel specialized in weeklys. A cul-de-sac for collecting broken dreams. After I had dropped off my surveillance gear, I visited a nearby convenience store to buy some snacks: crumb donuts, gummy bears, and some sport drinks. Blue. I liked the blue ones. Back at the motel room I scooted the bed to the window and watched The Wanderer’s Launderer to see what I could learn. I knew it was only a matter of time before one of the De Tullio brothers popped their heads out or some shady buyer came to purchase the prized Lucy. It wasn’t until night fall that anything exciting happened. Before that it was simply families and students going to wash a week’s worth of clothes, watch some reality TV, and buy pop from the vending machine in the front. Some played the pinball game or the candy claw machine, but none ventured to the back as far as I could tell. Certainly, no one came out with Lucy in a carrying cage.
Come evening, though, I saw a familiar face approached the Laundromat and then walk to the back. The calico. Hannah Barbara. She didn’t trust me to help her out, after all. Decided to take matters into her own paws. I couldn’t fault her. I only told her that I’d think about helping her. That usually meant ‘no’ in my line of work. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into. Picking a fight with the De Tullio’s on their turf.
She’ll crab this case up, I worried. I couldn’t let this one ride; I had to help. She probably wasn’t even heeled. What good could she do without a yo-yo? A sharp tongue served to save and to condemn—a coin toss at best.
Despite my better judgment, I found myself approaching the laundromat. If I heard a scream I’d have probable cause to enter, yo-yo drawn. That was my idea, at least. Well, that’s exactly what happened. Hannah screamed and I went running. Her cries came from the back room. I made my way down the long line of dryers and washing machines. Half of them were gargling filthy clothes; the other half were hungry. The families had cleared out by then, probably eating dinner together. The students had mostly gone as well, no doubt to study or eat ramen from a microwave. So, who was using the washing machines? I didn’t know. I made it to the back where a large metal door towered with intimidating bolts and demoralizing slabs of steel. Luckily, the door stood ajar. Otherwise I’d have never gotten in and if I did I would certainly not have had the element of surprise.
The room was dark. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I swear I saw her. White fur. A flash. A ghost, the bulls would say, a ghost and nothing more. But I know what I saw. I was right about the advertisement. I know I saw Lucy for an instant, just before my attention was drawn to the middle of the room when a spot light lit it up. Hannah was seated, bound with rope and with tape over her whiskers and mouth. She struggled, eyes wide, and I realized too late that she did so in warning.
Before I had time to react a cloth was slipped over my mouth and I smelled the sickly-sweet scent of a strong chemical and watched as my yo-yo fell from my paw and uncoiled on the ground in front of me just before I noticed the edges of my vision going black. At least this was more respectable than a slug to the back of the head, I thought. No new bump on the head to worry about. Swell.
And then I was blinded with blackness.
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