THE CONTRACT

I showed up at the office at 10am wearing my best tie (only one stain). The lawyers were coming in at 10:30. Divorce cases are the bread and butter for most PI's. If I got this contract, I'd be on easy street. As I walked up I noticed the door to my office had obviously been kicked in & there was someone rustling about in there. I drew my colt & peeked inside. There were two of them, both women. I didn't recognize them, they were too fat to be anybody I would care to know. I opened the door slowly and shot the skinnier of the two in the leg. I figured the fatter one would have a harder time running away.

"Who sent you?!" I yelled.

"I...I...I..." the fat one stuttered. The skinnier fat one just lay on the ground moaning.

"Look bitch, you've got five seconds to start talking or I start shooting you in the face, one bullet at a time!" That's when she wet herself and passed out. I pointed the gun at the woman I shot, "Start talking!"

"We're from Lyons & Goldman. We had a 10 o'clock appointment with Mr Monroe."

"We had a 10:30 appointment!!! Then why did you kick my door in?'

"It was like that when we got here. We wanted to make sure you were okay."

I patched up her leg as best I could and put a couch pillow under the other one's head. I offered Shot Girl some coffee while we waited for the ambulance, she declined.

"Don't worry, " I said, "I get shot all the time. It's not like getting shot back in the old days. These doctors today, they'll have that bullet out of you lickity-split." There was an awkward silence. I lit a cigarette. "Maybe we should go over my resume," I suggested.

After everyone had gone, I gave my office a thorough sifting-through to see if anything had been stolen. God, why do all these terrible things happen to me? The wall safe was untouched, luckily, & the gun safe was still locked & the cash box was still there & intact. The only other thing they could've been after was... oh no!... I'd had a 5lb bag of cocaine taped under my desk. I'd stolen it from the Colombians and planned to sell it to the Mexicans and hoped the Italians didn't get wind of it. The coke was gone. In its place was a bloody finger. I counted my own fingers... ten. Whose finger would they cut off to get to me? And who were They?

I knew I was going to need help. I called my pimp-friend Ronnie. "Ronnie! Ron my good man! how are you?"

"Ugh... What do you want, Gene?"

"I've had an idea for a really long time, & I think it's time you and I worked on it."

"I don't like the sound of that at all, Gene. I'm hanging up now."

"Don't make me call her," I said, leaving him no choice. "...Okay, I need five highly-trained hooker-spies by tonight."

"The only thing my girls are highly-trained at is sucking dick."

"Better make it six."

Ronnie showed up around 8 with six hookers. Two of them were Asian. We all piled into a taxi and headed down to Little Colombia, were Rico the Rat ran drugs out of his ristorante, that's Spanish for restaurant. We got out of the taxi three blocks away. Ronnie and four hookers waited a block away, while the other two hookers and I walked into the restaurant. Both girls had unloaded shotguns under their dresses. They sat us at a table and we waited for the signal.

Ronnie had the four hookers out in front of the restaurant arguing with each other. security didn't so much as flinch until the trash can came through the window. Then out came the shotguns and shrill hooker voices. As the Colombians reacted, I ducked into the back to have a quiet word with Rico. Rico went for what I thought was a gun so I shot him in the leg.

"Whose finger did you tape to the bottom of my desk!?" I yelled.

"Who are you?" he whimpered. It was then that I remembered that Rico had moved his business to a pet store downtown. I heard the sirens and decided to head out through the alley in the back. Three blocks later I caught a taxi. The two inside hookers caught up on the way. Then Ronnie and the other hookers, all mostly unscathed, met us at the car. I was a bit surprised actually. If they hadn't been there when they were I'd surely have left without them.

I told Ronnie I got what I came for and tipped him $50. He was pretty sore about the whole deal so that's cool. I never did find out whose finger that was or what happened to my cocaine. Life is full of mysteries. The next day I got a call from Lyons & Goldman. I got the contract! They said they liked my go-getter attitude. Sometimes, but not always, it pays to shoot a bitch.