Color Me Weird by Robert Tacoma

Author:Robert Tacoma
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789085241522
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 2006-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Rose smiled at Walter when he came back from lunch. It was a cautious smile that fell off a cliff when she saw Mumbles. Suddenly she was all business.

“Which first, bad or good?”

“Bad.”

“Tourbutt called while you were out. Said he’d call back.”

“And the good?”

“I heard from Mr. Short’s attorney. He’s still trying to get things wrapped up with the estate. Since the missing wife is listed as beneficiary it’s going to be at least a few more days. He says for us to keep things going here at the office for a while longer if we want.” She held up a check. “I told him you solved a case and we got paid. I had to work at it a little, but he finally gave the okay for you to get a salary, the same as Mr. Short’s.” Walter got a look that said he owed her. He took the check and thanked her sincerely before heading for his office with his partner in tow.

“Mn mmn mhn.” Mumbles took a seat and made a coke bottle shape with his hands. His eyebrows danced like caterpillar clog-dancers and his eyes winked. Walter blushed a little.

“Yes, she is a nice looking woman.”

A soft knock on the door. Rose brought in some papers.

“I forgot to give you these faxes from the professor in Miami.” She set the papers on the desk and gave Walter a much better smile. As she walked back out of the room her hips swayed about three feet in each direction. When the door closed and the show was over, Mumbles turned with eyes as big as dinner plates.

“Don’t say it.”

“Mn mnmm!”

Walter looked through the papers from the geologist, but his eyes kept going to his check on the desk. His check. His first pay check as a private eye.

“I’m going to call Mr. De Leon, set up an appointment.” He held up the check. “Care to join me for a trip to the bank? I figure half of this is yours.”

The little man shook his head decisively, then pulled rolls of money from his clothes.

“Mmn mm nm.”

“If you say so. Let’s get out of here before Tourbutt calls.”

The phone rang.

♦

“Are you sure this is the way to the Scorpion Pit Bar?”

“Mmm nmn.”

“Oh, that’s encouraging. I thought you said you knew the way.”

Walter turned the car down a shell path that opened onto a parking lot that looked like it could pass for a tropical junkyard. Rusty cars and trucks with a sprinkling of shiny motorcycles in the shade of coconut palms. The bar an old block building that had probably been a fish house at one time.

With the Yugo parked between an old pickup with Ohio plates and a Harley with no plates, the two budding investigators headed for the door.

“I guess Tourbutt owns this place as well as the topless bar. I can’t wait to meet him, see if he’s as much of a jerk in person as he is on the phone.”

“Mm nn mhmn.”

“Yeah, really.”

A flatbed truck came roaring into the lot and backed up to the front door of the bar.

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