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PostPosted: Fri Oct 16, 2009 9:38 pm

As QC reached his abode he passed into the kitchen area. Laying the envelope down ever so gently; treating almost as if it was the most fragile thing in the world, he moved to the fridge. Some warm milk, he thought, while I ponder this affair of the envelope farther.

Taking the half empty milk bottle out of the fridge he paused briefly as if something had come to mind. No that wasn't it was it?. Moving over to the cupboard he retrieved a small pan and placed it on the stove; turning the burner on low. Pouring a cup or two of milk in the pan he returned to the fridge. Placing the bottle back inside QC decided to call it a night after the milk had warmed and he had drank. The envelope, the key, Cairo...what was the connection.

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PostPosted: Sun Oct 25, 2009 7:14 pm

10:30 seemed to come quickly. QC had already been awakened by a call from the police about the Stutz around 9 AM. In his haste to get to the factory the night before, QC had parked in a tow away zone. Since it had a flat tire; and QC without a spare, he had gotten back home by way of a city cab. The city’s finest knew the car was QC’s when they came upon it that morning. They also knew his line of work and had given him a break - allowing him the opportunity to get the Stutz towed.

The thing that had him quizzled was that the tire itself should even be flat. He had just put new rubber on the Stutz a month back. In the dark - and due to the evenings happenings - he had not taken the time to look the tire over closely. Not his usual thoroughness, but the evening had been exhausting.

And another thing, where’s the Persian. QC had left her in the very chair he was presently in - dead as far as he knew. And just as dead men tell no lies, dead clients just don’t walk away. The thought drew his mind to the envelope from last night in his coat pocket. Furthermore, what happened to my goldfish? “I wonder what Toomaloo and Akimbo found out at the station?” he thought out loud. A knock at his office door shook him from his quizzle. “Come on in, it ain’t locked!” he said, assuming it to be Skip and Legs - whose real name was Evangeline - as it was indeed 10:30.

“Skip, Ms Akimbo, good morning to you both. Hopefully the rest of your evening was, shall we say, productive?” intoned QC.

“Hope you slept well”, said Skip, “as we seem to have an even bigger mystery than we thought last night.”

“We got to Sarah Lee Station,” mentioned Legs, “and found the locker. Who would’ve thought there’d be a locker numbered 00000?”

“You tried the key. What did you find?” asked QC.

“Well, that’s just it. Even as the locker is so oddly numbered, it matched the contents - nothing. Not one blessed thing in that locker!” exclaimed Toomaloo.

“An empty locker that a ferret risked his life to get the key for - it doesn’t add up,” quizzled QC.

“What do you know about that odd fellow who delivered that key to you at the factory last night? Is he to be trusted?” queried Ms. Akimbo.

“No more than that parrot you took on Skip,” said QC.

“Another thing,” started Skip, “While Legs and I were at the station I noticed an iguana taking an interest in the two of us while we checked out that locker. I’ve got a feeling he’s connected to that ferret although I can’t be sure.”

“Let’s consider what we do know,” offered Legs - whose real name is - well you already know that.

“I had a client come to me yesterday with a case. Unfortunately she dies before I found out what the case was...”

“Died?” questioned Skip.
“Yeah, hair ball - or so I thought. You see, I searched her for any clues and found the note written on a napkin from the Kit-Kat Lounge that led me to the factory where you two were. It mentioned the Maltese Goose and was signed simply “T”. I couldn’t do anything about the body at the time so I left her propped in this very chair...”

“Ooooooo!” exclaimed both Skip and Legs simultaneously at the same time.

“.... and when I come in this morning - no body. And Shark is gone too.”

“Who’s Shark?” asked Skip.

“My goldfish,” answered QC pointing to the empty fishbowl atop the filing cabinet.

“Don’t suppose they eloped do ya?” laughed Skip. Legs frowned - sometimes Skip was a bit silly at the most inappropriate times.

“We have a key to an empty locker and an envelope with an odiferous notion about it,” completed Ms. Akimbo.

“And don’t forget an apparently interested iguana,” added Skip.

“Too many pieces! The Maltese Goose, a missing dead client, someone whose initial is “T”, a factory that revealed nothing and a key to a locker that did the same,” a quizzled QC listed. “What should be our next move?”

Another knock came at the door. “Yeah!” shouted QC as he moved to open the door.

“You the owner of a 1929 Stutz?”


“Where do you want it?” the driver asked.

“Take it over to Lou’s on 53rd. He’ll know what to do. Thanks!” said QC as he turned to face Skip and Legs. “It appears we have much more to do.” he added as Skip and Legs nodded in agreement.

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PostPosted: Sun Oct 25, 2009 11:39 pm

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PostPosted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 9:56 pm

"Don't you think we should see what exactly is in the envelope?" queried Skip. "Especially before we proceed any further."

In the recounting of what had happened and what they knew and what they didn't know QC had forgotten the envelope in his coat pocket.

"What do you make of the scent?" asked Legs - whose real name (Will you stop that they already know for cryin' out loud! Why don't you just call her Evangeline since you seem to have to mention her real name so often!?!) (It's too long to type all the time. Sorry)

"I have a feeling that it is a reflection of the place it originated more so than what might be enclosed in it," reflected QC. With that he pulled the envelope out of his pocket. Holding it up to the light of the window revealed what appeared to be a piece of paper with some writing on it. QC picked up his letter opener and sliced through the top seam. Gingerly he pulled the piece of paper from within, unfolded it upon the desk and, as Skip and Legs bent in to look at it, he started to read it out loud...

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PostPosted: Tue Jan 05, 2010 10:48 pm

"The Dog Wars may have been long ago, but they are only the beginning of the woe." read QC.

"And look, it's signed Mr. P," observed Skip. "That mean anything to you Q?"

It was an obvious yet painful question for QC. By some standards 15 years was a long time, but in this case it was not long enough.

"Yeah, I have a hunch," he replied. "It takes me back to the Dog Wars some 15 years ago. There was this guy, a sort of mastermind, grand poobah kind of guy....nah, more like a ringleader of a gang named Peabody. Part of the Dog Movement during that conflict. Last I knew he was in Cairo or so I thought until now."

"What do you mean?" asked Legs.

"Well, as you can see Ms. Akimbo, this paper appears to be new - at least not 15 years old by any stretch. The watermark is still quite crisp, no aging in evidence. If this signature is Peabody then he ain't in Cairo anymore."

Just then the office phone rang startling the 3 of them.

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PostPosted: Mon Sep 24, 2018 8:37 pm

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"Q Cat, private eye, How may I assist you?" QC stated in his most business like tone.


"Yes, I'm here. How may I help you?"


"Yes, yes, I'm here. What do you require?" replied QC with a stronger tone of impatience.


Hmmm, thought QC to himself, this is getting nowhere. Perhaps If I spoke French. Acting on a hunch QC let loose with all the French he knew. "Eiffel Tower, Champ de Elyse, parfait sundae, parlez vous, cie vou plez, mon ami!" (Pardon me for any misspelling, dear reader.)

"Yes, is this the party to whom I am speaking?" the voice on the other end of the line intoned.

"Yes. Q Cat, private eye, how may I assist you?"

"I have a collect call from Algiers. Will you accept the charges?" It was the long distance operator - or perhaps the smooth operator. Too intrigued to say no at this point QC affirmed his acceptance of the charges. "I'll connect you now. Snoooork, go ahead caller."


Quizzled Cat here. How may I help?"


Dang! I'm not going through this again QC reasoned. He was just about to hang up when Skip interrupted. "Let me take a crack, QC."

"Very well," opined QC, handing the phone over to Skip.

"This is Skip Toomaloo. What'd ya want? I ain't got all day," burped Skip figuring a more testy approach might be in order.


"Ya got ears and a mouth doncha? Speak up!"


Cupping his hand over the mouthpiece, Skip turned to his compatriots and whispered, "I don't think that worked either. You wanna try Legs?"

"Sure, Skip, maybe we just need a feminine touch." Ms. Akimbo - her first name really really is Evangeline, I promise - took the phone and proceeded to converse with whomever was on the other end. QC and Skip looked at each other in a sort of slack jawed way that someone watching a folksinger who does a credible job of finger picking guitar would.

"Well I never!" exclaimed Skip.

"I certainly haven't either," replied QC. After a few more minutes Ms. Akimbo cupped her hand on the mouthpiece and turned to address the boys.

"She says she's sorry about the goldfish. I think it's your undead client, QC."

"What!?!", he nearly shouted, "Give me the phone, if you would!" Legs handed the phone over to QC.

"I'd like an explanation as to exactly what happened to you last night, how are you now in Algiers, what is your name and whatdaya know about Shark, my goldfish?"


"Arrrgh!" shouted QC handing the phone back to Legs. "I just need some warm milk to calm down. Yes, that's it, some warm milk." QC stumbled towards the fridge to retrieve the milk. Suddenly, Legs exclaimed, "Guys, you've gotta hear this!" and she held the receiver up so they could all hear. . .

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