Smokin'
My
name is Deadbolt, Hasp Deadbolt. I'm a P.I. In my business, trouble
often comes calling. This time a giant bug grabbed my elbow and
jerked me around, tearing my shirt.
"Lady,"
I said, "violence is not necessary."
"Emergency!"
She screamed. "My house is on fire, my children will burn!"
She pointed. A plume of black smoke rose a few blocks away.
"Did
you call the fire department?"
She
nodded, urging me in the direction of the blaze and ripping my sleeve
clean off.
"Then
fly away home; I'll be along." I started running.
*
By
the time I got there, the fire was out. Her children huddled around
her skirts, crying. She counted frantically. "Ann, my
youngest, isn’t here!"
I
waded into the rubble. I started in the wreckage of her kitchen.
"Here she is ma'am," I called, "under the pudding
pan."
While
the frantic mother was cuddling the baby, a local cop arrived.
Constable Johns and I went way back. Bridget had a sharp eye, she
was tough, and she owed me, since the "Boy Blue" incident.
"Good
work Hasp," she said, "but why are you interfering with an
arson investigation?"
"Arson!?"
I exclaimed. "This just happened." If I'd been thinking
a little faster I would've claimed Mrs. Ladybird was my client, but
just then the lady in question turned to us.
"Arson!"
She looked at me. "Hasp Deadbolt?" I nodded. "I
want you to help me nail the bastard who tried to kill my babies."
She turned to Constable Johns. "What do the police think?"
"Well,
ma'am, I'm not at liberty..."
"Deadbolt,
you're on the case. Is 100 a sufficient retainer?"
*
"Constable,"
I said, "we need to talk. Let me buy you a pastry."
"I'll
fill you in," she said, taking a bite, "if you help me."
There'd been a string of suspicious fires on the north side.
"We've
kept quiet. We don't want copycats."
The
fires were set in broad daylight; it had to be somebody who spent a
lot of time in this part of town. I rubbed my chin. Old Miz Hubbard
was doing time in the happy house. "This is not Georgy Porgy's
style. I like Dr. Fell, but I can't say why."
Bridget
nodded thoughtfully. "I can put him near two fires, maybe
more."
“Let’s
check his house.” I couldn't do that legally, but Bridget could.
The next day we waited until the doctor left on his rounds and we
went in the back door.
*
Not
much can turn my stomach, but all I will say about what we found
there is this: I do not love thee Dr. Fell.
The
end
For
those unfamiliar with the two nursery rhymes referred to here, these
are links to versions similar to the ones I used.
Ladybird,
ladybird, fly away home
http://www-personal.umich.edu/~pfa/dreamhouse/nursery/rhymes/ladybug.html
I do
not like thee Dr. Fell
http://www-personal.umich.edu/~pfa/dreamhouse/nursery/rhymes/fell.html
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