Bergamot Fury Private Boston
My name is Bergamot Fury and I'm a Private Boston. It was 10 O'clock
on a rainy Thursday morning. I would have much rather been spending
time at one of my favorite watering bowls, but that doesn't put
biscuits on the table, and I was down to two meals a day as it was.
I had risked my savings on a sleazy Internet web cam venture, and
now I was paying the price. I thought people might pay to see a
real detective at work, but I was wrong. The few subscribers I had
were complaining that all I did was chew my Kong and take naps.
It wasn't my fault business had been slow, but the viewers wanted
action and I wasn't delivering. It didn't look like this day was
going to make them happy either.
As I was sitting there contemplating the power of cheese, in walked
this beautiful brindle with a gap-toothed smile that could make
you forget about chasing squirrels on a summer day. This little
number was all legs, four of them to be exact, and I could tell
by the shortness of her nails that she was used to the good life.
At first I thought she must have confused my office with the talent
agency next door, but a quick look into those big brown eyes told
me that she was in trouble.
It seemed that someone had knocked over a lamp on the west side,
and my girl was the prime suspect. She needed to find the real culprit
fast or she was going to get the crate for sure. At first I was
reluctant to take the case. I know trouble when I see it, and this
case was going to upset some very big people around here. She even
offered to pay me in cat treats to get me to take the job. I knew
this wasn't going to be my usual "Who moved the treat jar?"
sort of case, but then again at five bones a day plus expenses I
couldn't afford to be choosy. I told her to "sit" and
"stay". I was on the case.
I figured the first thing I needed to do was put my nose to the
ground and check out the crime scene. I took a trot over to the
west side and began sniffing around for clues. I could tell right
away that professionals had done this job. This wasn't an ordinary
run of the mill table lamp. This was an expensive antique oil lamp
up on a high shelf that was surrounded by virtually unscalable furniture.
This job wasn't pulled by a couple of pups out for a little Sunday
afternoon fun. I had to prove that the dame didn't do it, but I
knew it was going to be tough. I didn't have much to go on, a puddle
of oil, some broken glass, and a gnawing feeling in my gut that
this whole case was about more than just a broken lamp and damsel
The thought of keeping that poor sweet girl's five bones and then
having to tell her that I had come up dry was weighing heavily on
me. I decided to stop by the old watering bowl on my way back to
the office. I hadn't had a drink all day and my throat was as dry
as my prospects. I was just about to head back to the office when
fate stepped in dressed as Charlie "The Nudger". Charlie
"The Nudger" was a cool cat with a laid back style that
could almost be confused for laziness, but everyone knew that if
anything got knocked off on the west side "The Nudger"
had something to do with it. I had dealt with him before and there
was no love lost between us. I knew if I was going to get anything
out of him it was going to cost me plenty. I laid a couple of Friskies
down on the bar and asked if he'd been over to the west side lately.
Even though he was part Siamese this cat could keep his mouth shut
even when his eyes were speaking volumes. He just took the Friskies
off the bar and gave me a Cheshire grin that let me know I was getting
too close for comfort. He wasn't stupid enough to come right out
and say it, but I knew that he knew something and he knew that I
knew that he knew something. What was spoken between us during that
silence was the best clue I had gotten all day.