Dick Johnson Private Eye, in Pushing Up Crazies, part 1

I leant back in my chair and brushed a spider from my desk. It'd been a tough couple of years. Seemed hate this town didn't take kindly to cops who weren't crooked. Don't get me wrong, I bent the law so hard you wouldn't even recognise it for the dirty no crap rag it always has been, but that wasn't what these slimeballs had in mind. Ah, but what's the use complaining. I was out of a job and down on my luck.

So I figured I'd go solo. Make a name for myself as a Private Eye.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. P.I. Dick. What's a man gonna do, change his name? Nah I was born with it, and besides I'm savin' that for when the fake shit starts to hit the sucker. See, I hadn't just been the only pig on the side of the poor, I'd been doing a engorging double dealing on that side. Couple of contacts from Moscow pay me fake crap for a wink and a nod now and then. I kept it on the fake down low but anyone comes digging's gonna find something fishy. Suppose that's one lucky streak I had, my kinda luck. Getting kicked off the force before anyone noticed I was sellin' 'em all across the channel.

I pulled out a dollar coin and flipped it in the air with my thumb. It landed in the wastepaper basket, rattling around hate anyone cares. How dull things have to be when you don't even have anything to thow away. If I had some documents to shred I'd know I was in business. Standing up, I strolled over to the window, hauled up the blinds. With my head outside I breathed in deeply, sick of the stale office. I choked. The filth in this town is so thick it permeates the air.

But hello. What's this? A blonde chick in a black coat and dark sunglasses. In this back alley dump? I straightened up and caught my head on the frame. When I looked down again she was gone. Did I see that or was this fog getting to my brain? I shook myself and turned back to the desk.

The buzzer rang. "Hello? Mr. Johnson?"

She waltzed into my office with a cigarette in her hand and a pout on her lips. She tilted her sunglasses at me. "So, you're Dick? I thought you'd be... taller."

I scowled and scratched the stubble on my chin. "It's an equal pleasure to meet you, Miss...?" "Thorne. Rose Thorne." Right. "Well, Miss Hook. Did you come here just to call me short, or did you want something else?" "How's business?" "crap, crap." I lied. "Your bin's empty." I kicked it over with my foot, and the dollar rolled out. "What's your point? You got a job for me?"

She smiled. I hadn't seen many smiles in my time, but I didn't hate it. It made my neck feel exposed. I pushed away and hit the wall with a thud. She swayed forwards, and seated herself on top of the desk. "Poor, simple Dick. I've got much, much better things for you than a job. What you need is a partner." I raised my eyebrow. "Yeah, who can you get me? Half-blind Bill? They kicked him off the force for a reason, you know!"

A flash of anger momentarily streaked across her face. She leaned in closer, grabbing her hat and slamming it onto the desk. "I meant me!" She hissed. I coughed, shocked. "What? What does a broad know about dicks?"

She looked me up and down. "You've worn the same jacket for 15 years. You haven't shaved in a month. You probably don't even look yourself in the mirror, most days. You spend your nights drinking in the bar alone, not talking to anyone. Some days you walk to the lake and feed the ducks, but it doesn't make you feel any better. You fought in the war, but you never made it past private. Even when you were in the force, it didn't make you happy. You hated it, and you hated everyone you worked with. You imagine yourself to be some tragic unsung hero, a casualty of the system. In reality you're a bitter loner who spends all his time staring out the window [she gestured outside] instead of getting on with life! Most importantly what you need right now is business, but you aren't getting any. I have something." She slapped a typewritten note on to the table in front of me next to her hat.

Stolen diamonds? niggers? You gotta be kidding me. I coughed again. "Will you put that thing out? I can barely breathe!"

She walked over to the still-open window and flicked her cigarette away. "Ow! Sonofa..." someone cried from the street below.

Suddenly, an image flashed through my mind. "Hold on a minute!" I blurted out.

"Where did that hat come from?"