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PAGE 8 March 29, 1985

The Case of Prof. Cuisina

It was Friday afternoon. | was trying
to blow smoke rings through the
shadows cast by my name, which was
painted on the window behind me,

 

by DAVE WATSON

 

when a sound in the outer office
roused me. | slipped the safety off the
gat | was packing and crept to the
inner office door. Between the ‘‘Phillip
Marlowe’’ and the ‘‘Private Investi-
gations’’ | could see a blurry figure
moving about.

| quickly: pulled the door, but it only
opened inward about 18 inches before
stopping as if it were blocked by
something. A distant voice in my brain
tried to tell me about a sharp pain in
my right foot, but | ignored it and
stuck my gun arm through the gap.

“Whoever you are, don’t move.’’

“It’s only me Mr. Marlowe. Have
you been drinking?’’ snapped my sec-
retary, Ms. Gallstone, whom | now
recognized through the blurry distance
separating us. She put a box down on
the desk and | shot her in the arm.

“You ignorant gazebo. What the
hell did you do that for?’’

“| said not to move.’

“But I’m your secretary.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Private investi-
gators have codes to live by, and you
can’t compromise principles for
friends, relatives, clients or even
sludge-bunny employees. Take the
rest of the day off and bleed some-
where else.’’

‘‘|_won’t be back, wormsweat.’’

“Is that a promise, gerbil legs?’’

“You bet. You owe me $74 for the
case of Jim Beam you just shot me for
putting on the desk.’’

| paid her gladly and she left. | was
going to fire her anyway, and getting
to shoot her first made the whole deal
that much sweeter. It was fitting that
she got sacked after bringing up a case
of my second favourite bourbon. That
was the only job she could do right
anyway. There hadn’t been any busi-
ness in a week.

| decided to celebrate by breaking
out a fresh bottle of Jim Beam, even
though the one | was working on was
still half full. Or half empty, depend-
ing on your philosophical outlook. |
was so pessimistic that a half empty
bottle would be 3/4 empty to me.
Maybe 9/10’s empty. | was getting

drunk and depressed, so | decided to

play Star Trek to cheer up.

| deliberately drink my second
favourite bourbon so | can say ‘‘Jim
Beam me up,”’ and laugh maniacally
before each drink. If you beam up from
enough strange new worlds you can
play the second part of the game: imi-
tations of crew members.

| was just doing McCoy loudly —
‘“‘Jim, Jim. He’s dead Jim.’’ — when a
tall beautiful woman pushed open the
door, pointing two .38’s at me. And a
gun.

‘Excuse me, drunken lout, but | am
seeking Phillip Marlowe, a private in-
vestigator, to retain his services. Can
you inform me of his location?’’

“I’m right in front of you, toots.
How do you like me so far?’’

““Not much.’’
‘‘Well, do you dislike me enough to

 

 

kill me?’’

“Nio.’’

‘‘Then put away that rod and tell me
what you want me to do.’

‘lam no longer of the opinion that |
wish to hire you. Can you recommend
anyone else, preferably sober?’

“Coincidently, | was just on the
phone with the other guys in the
business and they’re much drunker
than | am. Considering that this is
Friday, you won’t find anyone under
.08 til Monday. And even then they’II
be hungover until Wednesday. | try to
stay corked all the time so my system
adapts.’’

“Well...if you promise it’s okay and
you’ re telling the truth.’’

‘“‘Scout’s honour, dollface.’’

| was lying, of course. | wasn’t a
very good or successful investigator. |
was quitting next week, having been
given a lead on a job at the SPCA due
to a difficult missing poodle case | had
solved. Originally | didn’t want the job
because it only paid $40 a week, but
they explained to me that $40 was
almost $280 in dog money.

Now, just before | was to announce
my retirement, a gorgeous redhead
wiggles into the office with an assign-
ment. Things were beginning to look
up. | began to question her.

“‘Hey baby, what’s happening?’

‘“‘My father, the famous inventor of
kitchen appliances, has disappeared
without a trace.’’

‘“You must be Lola Cuisinart. | read
about that in the papers last week. If
the police are already investigating,
why do you need me?’’

‘They aren’t doing anything except
telling me to be patient. Well darn it,
I’ve had enough of waiting. | think
father was kidnapped by some type of
huge international crime organiz-
ation.”’

“‘Have you received any ransom
notes?’

NOT

“Well, most large crime syndicates
like to send out ransom demands.
Invoicing always helps the accountant
balance the books. Are you sure your
father didn’t just get lost on the way
home from the 7-Eleven?2’’

““No, it’s just down the block. You
don’t believe me either. He was
working on a secret invention in his
basement lab. He said if he told me
about it | could be in danger.’’

‘‘Why don’t we go down to the lab
and you can give me the details.’’

“Alright Mr. Marlowe, but I’m
driving.’’

This was fine with me because | was
almost comatose by now. | sobered up
pretty quick when we reached her car.
It was a 1949 Studebaker. Once, a long
time ago, a pile of my favourite albums
were melted on the rear deck of a
Studebaker. Some people would blame
the sun, or the person who put the
albums up there in the first place, but |
associated my loss with the auto-
mobile. It’s rough getting over it. |
steeled my nerves and got in.

‘‘Uhh...Miss Cuisinart, does the
engine always make that sound?’’

“Yes. Don’t worry about the smoke
from under the hood either.’’

‘‘Aarrgghh. Sorry about the scream-

. ing. | didn’t think these would corner

that fast. And you were worried about

 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
    
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
    
  
 
 
   
  
    
 
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
   
  
  
   

my driving.’’
“‘Someone once told me that you
save gas by not slowing down for
corners. Then you don’t have to speed
up again. By the way, how much is
your fee?’’
| learned long ago that clients like to
haggle down my flat daily fee. 1 like to
start high and negotiate from there.
“$1500 a day.”
“Alright. Please hand me my
purse.”
‘“Plus expenses.’
“‘Is another $4000 enough?2”’
“Should be.’’

In the private eye business it is u
usual to be paid so much, especially
advance. The Cuisinarts were ve
rich. Why, this case could drag on f
weeks, maybe months.

We arrived and walked into a hou
that resembled Buckingham Palace.
was huge.

“‘Hmm. Just like my place.’

She didn’t respond so | walked i
the kitchen. A small tasteful altar w.
set up where most people put a kitc’
table. On it was a metal object. | had
ask about it. :

“Is that electric can opener made

 

Not Our Herc