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Five Little Piggies

Folks call me Deadbolt, Hasp Deadbolt. They do that because it's my name. I'm a PI. Some free advice? Never get involved with quintuplets. Mothers of twins say the kids double-team them from infancy. I've never raised children so I wouldn't know, but it might be like having quints for clients. Four of them anyway. This is how it started.

Alma and I were cuddling on the couch. Or rather, she was talking about how to decorate the nursery, should we ever need one, and I was cuddling her. My cell phone rang. I let it go to voicemail, but later I listened to the message. It was from someone with a squeaky voice.

"Help me, Mr. Deadbolt, you're my only hope. My brother went shopping this morning and never returned. The police will do nothing. My brothers and I are frantic!"

I called him back. He said his name was Long Borsson.

"The police don't consider a person officially missing until they've been gone for 48 hours, Mr. Borsson. Why do you think your brother is in trouble?"

"Sir, he was planning to cook lunch, and now he's missed a fabulous roast-beef dinner. This is not like him, not like him at all. Food is very important to my family. Plus, a big scary-looking wolf has been hanging around and slavering. I suspect fowl play."

"Wolves are not birds," I said absently. I hadn't seen BB since an incident involving Mother Hubbard and a set of triplets*, a few years back. The wolf had escaped, and I wasn't happy to hear that he might be operating in my town again.

"Lemme let you talk to my brother," Mr. Borsson said, and I heard a new voice on the phone.

"Mr. Deadbolt. This is Forthright 'Veggie' Borsson. My brother might not have made clear the gravity of our situation." He went over the whole thing again, but I knew nothing more when he finally ran down than I had when he started.

"Mr. Borsson. 'Veggie.' If the Big Bad Wolf was stalking your brother, the police would have taken it seriously. Did you tell them about that part of it?"

"I'll give the phone to my brother. Maybe he can explain it better."

I started to ask how many of them there were, but a new voice, even higher and squeakier than the other two, started in. "Mr. Deadbolt. I am Squeaky Borsson. Perhaps my brothers did not make themselves clear. My brother, Opposable Borsson, has been kidnapped and eaten by a wolf. I want you to do something. Save him!"

"I am as opposed... err, against cannibalism as the next guy, but how can I save someone who has already been eaten?" His logic wagon had lost a wheel somewhere.

"Mr. Deadbolt. You don't understand. My brother isn't dead. He's standing right here."

"Let me talk to your brother." Maybe the next one would be a better listener.

"Which one?" he asked.

*

I decided that I needed to speak to these guys face-to-face. Maybe that way they'd make more sense. At nine o'clock the next morning I knocked on the door of a large brick ranch house. Closely shaved geometric topiary filled beds between the windows on either side of the door. I didn't know what to expect, so I wasn't surprised when a pig wearing overalls and a clean white T-shirt opened the door.

"Mr. Deadbolt, I presume."

I nodded.

"I'm Homer Borsson," he squeaked, shaking my hand, "please come in."

The foyer contained a small table under a mirror in a large gilt frame. On the table was a framed family photograph: five brothers, arms linked in front of the house. Down the hall I could see heavy dark furniture, and more photographs hanging on the wall. The first room on the right was the den. Three other pigs stood in front of a massive brick fireplace. Above the fireplace hung a gigantic painting of an elderly swinish couple, dressed conservatively and with not a trace of a smile. The three brothers who stood below the painting wore identical overalls, but with different colors and vintages of T-shirts. OMFG.

"Your missing brother, Opposable, he's identical too, right?" They nodded in unison.

They started to tell me the story again. The first one had been home all day, and hadn't seen or heard a thing. He wanted to make sure I understood this, and impressed it upon me vigorously, to the tune of 30 minutes plus. The next was the fellow who had enjoyed dinner. He had _really_ enjoyed it. By the time he was through I could have drawn you a timeline of each bite. Roast beef, medium rare, the tip of an asparagus spear (lemon butter), potatoes (not much gravy, but it had been made with oysters), etc.. The third didn't eat meat at all, he explained, but his vegetarian meal had been more than adequate, I gathered. The last was a timid sort, emphasizing how terrified his missing brother must be, and how much more terrified he would be if he was in the same situation. Don't think this story came across as coherently as it appears in the summary I just gave you! Two hours after I got there, I knew less of importance than I had when I walked in the door. I _did_ know the complete grocery shopping list that Opposable had taken with him to the market, but I wasn't sure how that was going to help me find him. In the end, I took the case in self-defense. I could discount the cacophony of his overprotective brothers, but something didn't smell right about Opposable's disappearance. I thought he was in trouble.

*

I decided to start by tackling the problem from the wolf angle. At first I couldn't find a thing. www.circleoflife.com didn't list him under "Predation Forecast," and the Carnivory Service (www.cs.gov) had not issued a Wolf Watch, much less a Warning. Then, taking a break with the Citynews.com, I spotted a notice about the neighborhood watch program in Heritage Hills beefing up its security patrols. The Hills weren't far from where the five little pigs lived.

The gatehouse at Heritage Hills was staffed by a goose.

"Petunia! I'm surprised to see you working for The Man."**

"A girl's gotta eat. Don't worry. I put in my time for the workers when I'm not on duty. Not to mention raising my goslings as responsible global citizens. What brings you here, Mr. Deadbolt?" I explained about the wolf, and she told me where to find the security chief. It's a small world. This is the kind of town where you can't go any place without running into somebody you know. That's why I'm always amazed when people seem to think they can keep their affairs secret. If I was going to cheat on Alma, I'd have to go to the next county to do it. Gas ain't cheap.

The chief of security I hadn't met, but Mr. al Rashri had heard of me.

"Mr. Deadbolt!" he exclaimed. "So good to meet you." He shook my hand vigorously. "I follow your adventures assiduously. The Humpty Dumpty case?*** Brilliant! What brings you to HH? Thinking of moving up?" He laughed. Picture Santa Claus, but with a louder voice.

"No sir, although you have a wonderful place here. I want to talk about wolves." He lost his smile then.

Al Rashri motioned me to a seat and offered me some coffee. He waited until we were both settled before he said anything else.

"I'll tell you, Mr. Deadbolt, in this business you hear things."

"Like what?" I said, taking a sip. I shuddered, ever so slightly, and set the cup down on his desk, far enough away so that I wouldn't absentmindedly pick it up again.

"Things like howls in the night. Heard something last night. I'm not sure what it was, but it wasn't no coyote." He leaned forward. "Can I trust you to be discreet? I don't want to hurt sales over something that's probably nothing, really. The owners don't like anything that hurts sales"

I nodded. "Mum's the word." And it is, if you're buying flowers for Mother's Day.

He was whispering now, and I had to lean forward myself. My hearing hasn't been so good since the little drummer boy moved in next door. "Pets have been disappearing. Dogs, cats, chickens, a couple of hedgehogs. I can't keep it quiet much longer. I've doubled my patrols, but half the herbivores quit, and I haven't been able to hire enough tough guys to fill the shifts. Some of the residents are threatening to move out, and the owners are on my case. I don't know what to do!"

I gulped my coffee. Gah! It was all I could to keep from hurling it across the room. I set the cup down and clasped my hands together.

"Let me handle it. Give me a security pass."

*

That's how I found myself out in the woods at midnight with a taser and a pair of night vision goggles. I've been on some stakeouts in my time, but out there, with the owls hooting, and the stars peeping between the leaves above my head, peepers peeping down by a woodland pond, was one of the most pleasant I have ever experienced. That is, it was until I felt something touch the back of my neck, and all of my muscles contracted violently and simultaneously. The next thing I knew I was lying on my back. A huge wolf had his jaws around my neck, teeth gently indenting the skin of my throat.

Been there before, but I can't say I care for it.

"Hey there, BB, long time no see." I smiled weakly. "Since when did you start using a taser?"

He growled, and bit down slightly.

"I know you're not supposed to talk with your mouth full. I promise not to try to get away."

He let go and backed up a pace. He knew I wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm a predator, Deadbolt. Kung Pao Tofu just doesn't do it for me. Besides, if your meal doesn't try to escape before you pour the barbecue sauce on, it's not worth eating."

He had a point. Not a good one, but he had it.

"I hear where you're coming from," I said, "but in this multicultural and multi-species civilization of ours, you can't just go devouring citizens willy-nilly. I suggest you get your kicks virtually, or, here's a thought. Why not check out paintball? It can be a pretty challenging sport. I have the bruises to prove it." I could feel the strength seeping back into my limbs, so when he lunged for my throat, I grabbed his paw and jammed his own taser right into his mouth. He was something else. Oh, he had it all right. He was smoking. And by the time the judge got through with him he'd be making license plates until the end of time. At least.

I found the missing pig bound and gagged in a hollow under some brush. The wolf had been using the place as a den. The little guy was starving, dehydrated, and filthy, but as soon as I untied him and took off the gag, he ran screaming all the way home. As for me, I'm relieved to see the wolf behind bars at last.

And one more thing. Alma and I are going with a barnyard theme for the nursery, in pastel pink and blue, if you're thinking of purchasing a gift. Don't spend a lot, and think spring.

The end

* "Give Your Dog a Bone," _Nursery Rhyme Noir_, Sam's Dot, 2008.

** "Encounter in St. Ives," _Nursery Rhyme Noir_, Sam's Dot, 2008.

*** "The Addled Egg," _Nursery Rhyme Noir_, Sam's Dot, 2008.

Nursery Rhyme Noir: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/42875