Regnad Kcin- Private Eye... The Case of the Erstwhile Accountant- Part I- Elnora

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[In all fairness, I have to give credit where credit is due... I got the name and the idea for this series from a skit by Firesign Theater- "Nick Danger, Third Eye"]

It was a dismal day in the City of Angels, a day that matched my mood. Business was bad and the boredom of having nothing much to do was even worse. I sat at my desk reading my name on the glass door of my office- the door being closed it read: N-I-C-K D-A-N-G-E-R. I was fumbling in the lap drawer of my desk for a smoke when my secretary Flora buzzed the intercom... she was a real sweet kid with a penchant for picking losers.

"Mr. Kcin, there's a lady here to see you," she said.

"Send her in sweetheart," I replied trying not to sound too eager.

She was a knockout, and not the cheap kind either... tall, almost elegant, with a pair of getaway sticks that would make Betty Grable jealous. I motioned her to a chair and she sat crossing those gorgeous gams as she did. I felt something begin to stir in my pants... it was my cellphone- I had forgotten to take it off vibrate after tailing a subject earlier.

"Mr. Kcin," she began. "I'm Elnora Pimpledick and I have a terrible problem." The tears were beginning to gather at the corners of her big blue eyes. I handed her my handkerchief and she smiled gratefully, dabbing at her eyes.

"How can I help you Miss, er, Mrs.?" I stammered praying for the former.

"It's Miss," she smiled batting her long, languorous eyelashes- looking down coquettishly. She really knew how to play the game, this one.

"It's my brother, Harold," she said looking up again, "he's disappeared... I need you to find him. I don't care how much it costs, just find him please."

"I charge $1000 down, $200 a day plus expenses," I began. She reached into her purse and put a stack of Benjamins on the desk... the band around the bills read $10,000.

"Will this do?" She asked giving me the demure look again. There was something not right about this, but when you looked like she did, you were used to getting your way. She crossed those long legs again and leaned back in her chair giving me a better view of those pins.

"When's the last time you saw Harold, Miss Pimpledick?" I inquired.

"It's Elnora," she demurred, trying hard to wear those eyelashes out.

I called Flora in, who immediately rolled her eyes giving me the "oh brother" look. "Would you take this to the bank and make out a receipt for Miss Pimpledick?" I asked with a wink. "Also type up one of our standard contracts."

I've got to give the kid credit, she kept a straight face all the way through. I turned back to my new client... "Now, when's the last time you saw Harold?" I asked again.

"It was two days ago," she said, her eyes welling up again. This broad could turn it on and off at will. "He's never been gone this long before and I suspect foul play."

"What does he do?" I was looking for a tell, something that would let me inside those batting eyes and give me a clue. What was she up to? What wasn't she telling me?

"He's an accountant," her eyes were telling me not to ask too many questions. She crossed and uncrossed those legs again trying to distract me... showing a little more each time.

"Miss, er, Elnora," I replied hands outstretched. "You're not giving me much to go on here. Why don't you come clean and tell me the whole story... otherwise I doubt I'll be able to help you much."

She began to sob so I poured us each a stiff shot of Rye from a drawer in my desk. She took it gratefully and downed it in one draught. When she looked up the coquettishness was gone. She looked at me steadily and siad, "I think he's been murdered."

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

"He started doing some work for a politician... the Police Commissioner I think. She held her glass out for another drink which I gladly joined her in. "He gave me this, in case something happened to him," she said handing me a key to a safe deposit box.

I took the key telling her: "Let's make sure he's gone missing before we worry about this. Now what can you tell me about his habits?"

"That's just it," she said. "He doesn't have any. We're from a fairly well-to-do family, we live in our parent's house... they're passed on," she went on. "He goes to work, he comes home, like clockwork," she began sobbing again.

I went around the desk and laid my hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "We'll find him," I began. She grasped my hand and stood up throwing her arms around my neck.

"I just knew you were the right man for the job," she said forcing a smile. "I just knew it."

I peeled her arms off my neck and asked, "does your brother have an office? Somewhere I can begin the search?"

She dug in her purse and handed my a business card... "This is his card, all of the information is there." She began to hand me back my handkerchief...

"Keep it, "I said, "you never know when it will come in handy. Now if you will go and see Miss Sullivan and fill out the contract, I'll go by his office and see what I can find. Don't worry, these things usually turn out to be nothing." I was trying to be reassuring.

"Can I call you later?" She asked hopefully. "Just to see if you've found anything."

I handed her one of my cards against my better judgement and told her: "All of my numbers are on here- office, home and cell." I had a bad feeling about this case- a real bad feeling... but 10 G's is nothing to sneeze at in these troubled times. I excused myself and went down the back stairs to my '83 Nissan 280ZX Turbo and headed for an address on Wiltshire Blvd.