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Oh the pain the pain

I was sitting around behind my desk, waiting. Waiting for my next case to walk in through the door, into my life, and into my wallet. Waiting for the next broad-who-turns-out-to-be-the-villain to kick me in the Crotch Of Love, or at least, Of Lust. Waiting for my clock to switch to the numbers 5 0 0 so I could head out of there like a sweatshop in heat. It was going to be a long wait.

Monday. 11:19 am. June 8th, 1998. The offices of Alloni Kramer, Private Eye.

That's what it says on the door. Or it used to say that, until the mug of the thug hired by the lug who was my last client, and, not incidentally, a mass murderer and psychic, broke through it, ruining the sign, not to mention the decor.

It used to say the Alloni Kramer, Private Eye part, anyway. Not much point in having the time and date painted on your door unless you were the kind of one-shot philandering money-driven businessman and scum sucker that usually hired me and could afford to have a full-time painter changing the sign every minute, which I wasn't, though I wanted to be.

Then it happened. My secretary walked in the door. My secretary has the kind of walk that makes grown men sweat, and the kind of body that invited all sorts of attention at the back-alley bar my secretary liked to visit. There was only one small problem.

"You've got a client," he said.

"Fine. Send her in," I told him. He gave me a wistful glance. That was just like Charley. He'll never get enough of my Lucky Charms.

Charley bustled busily out of the office. The next moment, She walked in.

She was the incarnation of all things feminine. It was like god itself had reached down from whatever place you believe he/she/it resides in, and intoned, "Let There Be Woman." And there she was. I dragged my mind out of the gutter and my chin out of my lap.

"Can I help you?" I said, hopefully.

"Yes. I'd like to hire you for a case."

"A case of what?"

"A case of money. I don't have anything... contagious."

I made disagreeing noises. She accepted the compliment, and smiled. I would do a lot for another one of those smiles. I would do almost anything. I would kill a puppy. And I like puppies.

"I need you to follow my husband and take a picture of him with... this." She pulled a photograph out of her wallet. It was a picture of a woman. And what a woman. She was the incarnation of all things feminine. It was like god itself had reached down from whatever place you believe he/she/it resides in, and intoned, "Let There Be Woman." And there she was. I dragged my mind out of the gutter and my chin out of my lap.

"Well, my last photography class was back in junior college, but I could give it a shot."

"Good. My husband's name is Gerald Flint. They'll be meeting in Sam's Deli, Video Rental, and Cheap Motel. Wait until they... prove exactly what they mean to each other. If you prove how well you perform, there might be... an additional fee tendered." Her voice lingered over the last phrase. I felt deeply, deeply repressed.

"Um," I said intelligently. "Um."

"Good. I'll be back tomorrow for the pictures... and with your fee."

I sat in a daze for a few moments. Then everything snapped back into focus. Just at the same time my door smashed open. Coming through the door were two very big monkeys in two very big monkey suits. Squeezing between them was a little weasel in a sharp suit. He adjusted his tie. "Og. Grog. Teach him not to mess with the boss's business."

"I don't know what you ugh!"

"What? I don't know what you ugh makes no sense. Wait, maybe it's a game of charades. Let's see. First word, one syllable, sounds like, hmm. Rolling around on the floor in agony? Hmm. I don't know what you pain? Oh, yes, sounds like pain. I'll have to think about that. Come on boys, let's go. Just remember, mister Krammler. Stay out of the Otoshi estate case. You got me?"

"My name is Kramer. I'm dealing with the Flint case."

"Oh. Sorry about that. You must get that a lot."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

That evening I settled in for an evening huddling in the closet at Sam's. Room 102. A few bucks at the counter got me the room number, and a key. All I needed was to wait for my cue.

I waited a long, long time.