Kilted Private Eye, Episode 5

[Old Hippie]

It's still out there, but it's gettin' kinda long, so I'll start another thread so you don't have to scroll too much...

“The Finger is gonna kill me,” he moaned. “It’s a choice, Bruno,” I said harshly. “You tell me a good story, you give the Finger to the cops, and you walk. Or you can join me in a little toast to the lady here, and help me polish off a jar of chutney.” Lady Eilidh began to stir. Bruno hastily removed his feet from her back. “Or I can take a little walk myself, leaving you and Lady Innis here to get acquainted. She’s a little frustrated with you right now.”

“You don’t understand!” wept Eyebrows. “I get up the Finger’s nose on this and it ain’t ‘Gee, Bruno, I guess you messed up.’ It’s the end, man!” Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Bruno began to yank futilely at his bonds. The end of a really impressive nose came in where my office door used to have a window. The nose was framed by a pair of horn-rim spectacles which seemed to be supported by a pair of embarrassed sideburns and resting on a moustache. “Ah, Herman, so good of you to ankle over here with my chutney,” I said jovially. One of Herman’s sterling qualities is that he rarely asks stupid questions. Deliver a jar of the world’s most execrable chutney to a PI who happens to have a guy tied up in a chair and some fancy babe passed out on the floor? No problem. All in a day’s work and thanks for the five dollar tip, Mr. MacTavish.

I pulled the jar slowly out of the paper bag, allowing Bruno to savour the sight. McSweeney had included a large stainless steel serving spoon that looked suitable for prying open the jaws of a blacksmith’s vise, should I desire to feed chutney to one. I held it up and admired the play of the light across its sensuous but workmanlike curves. Bruno was attempting to gather the shattered threads of his defiance together. Lady Eilidh was stirring a bit more but still not awake. I opened the jar and set it next to the spoon, then leaned back in my chair to let the aroma permeate the room and heighten the suspense.

Bruno began to literally run sweat. The poor boy was going to dry up and blow away if he kept that up. I had to admit the smell was making me sweat, too. It was like having an iron poker seasoned with citrus and tamarind rammed up my nose. I opened my mouth to begin working on Bruno again when from the floor Lady Eilidh giggled.

[Old Hippie]

An' we'll stick another one on 'ere, jist for grins...


“Reggie! You know I love that! I cannot resist it! Come and let Momma ravish you, dear boy!” She giggled some more and writhed on the floor. Bruno and I looked at one another uneasily. I checked her, and she was still out of it. Evidently we’d stumbled on a family secret best kept firmly under wraps. Bruno had quit struggling and was watching Lady Innis intently, with his mouth slightly open. What he neglected to notice was that I now had the spoon loaded with chutney. Whatever entertainment might come from Reggie’s odd habits, I had a secret of a different sort to coax out of Bruno’s ugly mug. Might as well start softening him up.

At that moment Lady Eilidh’s eyes clicked open. Since she was on the floor, she had a great view up Bruno’s hairy nostrils. Her eyes got very wide, followed by her mouth. She began sucking air for what promised to be the hypersonic scream of the decade, so I did what I could. I leaned over and stuck the spoon into the airstream, planting a large load of chutney squarely in her mouth. The scream instantly reversed course without using a roundabout and became an indignant snort. A bit of chutney must have gone down the wrong pipe, because her face got red as a beet and the ensuing coughing fit sprayed Bruno liberally with Innis’ finest. He was too shocked to say much.

Fortunately, the reflexes honed in Her Majesty’s service had taken me into Eyebrows’ blast shadow, so I wasn’t going to be paying for another kilt cleaning just yet. Lady Eilidh was now on her hands and knees, coughing rackingly and wheezing. “You absolute filth!” she accused me. “I might have died!”

“That was precisely my reaction the first time I tried some, yeah,” I said. “After a while your tongue gets numb, and then you’ll be able to stomach it.” Lady Eilidh drew herself up shakily and glared at me. “You persist in needling me about matters beyond your concern. First Constance, now the very foundation of our dynasty and fortune.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Who was that American politician who married the ketchup heiress? Kelly? Kennedy? No…Kerry, that’s it. My dear, you’re just like him. You married in.” Lady Eilidh’s mouth worked and she spat a chunk of chutney past my left ear. “Gahh,” she growled. “Everything was fine. Just peachy. We had it all, a mansion, the yacht, vacations on Loch Mahooha…but now we’re being blackmailed.”

Things were beginning to get interesting. Maybe putting the arm on Eyebrows wasn’t going to get me a leg up. I might be left without a foot to stand on, with no Finger and my nose outta joint. I had to find some way to whittle this situation down to one problem, and then deal with it.