Fer yer readin' enjoyment...a little light fiction from a fertile mind.

Episode the First

As I let myself quietly into my office after a late-evening dinner with some old chums at the Thistle & Whistle Pub, she let me have it with a cast-iron miniature haggis paperweight just over the left ear. Fortunately, the scent of “Tahitian Sunset” perfume had alerted me or she could have put my lights out for good. I was able to duck just a little as a small galaxy exploded in my head. I hit the floor. As she wound up for another shot I grabbed one slim ankle and yanked her feet out from under her. After a brief tussle I was able to spare a hand to pull my handcuffs from my sporran and restore some order in the room.

I won’t pretend that women wearing “Tahitian Sunset” follow me around beating me over the head with paperweights, but I’ve had enough similar experiences to keep my reflexes sharp. Rubbing the growing knob on my left temple, I hoisted her up and plunked her into the chair beside my desk, none too gently. I shuffled through my memory, trying to place her. I was beginning to suspect she’d been the coat-check girl at the Lion Club the previous Saturday. What I couldn’t noodle was the reason why a coat-check girl would want to biff me on the conk. I gave her a once-and-a-half over. Even a little rumpled from my treatment, with tear tracks on her cheeks and smeared makeup, she was worth the extra half. Making small talk in such a situation is difficult, but I am an expert. She stared wide-eyed at me as I adjusted my kilt.

“You’re not him,” she said. So much for small talk. I sighed and started a new entry in my mental file under the heading “Prospective Paying Clients, Divorce Cases, Risk of Assault.” It’s Thursday night, a night like most nights. Dark. Dark times for dark deeds in a dark city, and darkness covers those who unravel them. It’s a gritty city, but a city with a heart. It’s where I work. I’m Angus MacTavish, and I’m a private eye.

From behind my desk I bent an eyebrow in her direction. “OK, sister. Let’s start at the top. Who am I not? Why should I care? And how did you get in past a lock guaranteed against anything short of thermonuclear weapons?” She wasn’t wearing enough clothes to hide a thermonuclear weapon, and I suspected that the building would show some evidence had one been used to get in my door, but I hoped to put her off balance. Off-balance people say things I can use.

“You left the door unlocked,” she said. “Since he was after me I came in looking for help. Since you weren’t here, I looked for a pistol but all I found was that disgusting paperweight. When he came in, I belted him. Only it wasn’t him, it was you.” She rattled her handcuffs on the chair behind her. “Will you kindly take these off? It’s no way to treat a lady.”