The next
day dawned bright and clear. I hate that. One of these days – I swear – I’m gonna move
to New Jersey so I can enjoy some good old fashioned gloomy weather. Probably move right next to the Newark
airport; just to make sure I get the full “doom” effect.
Simon
walked in the kitchen in his boxers and got a cup of coffee. Didn’t say a word. I had that going for me anyway. I peeked in the living room and saw Jimmy
sleeping on the couch in his favorite ducky underwear. I had plenty of bedroom space (my new house
had four in fact), but Jimmy didn’t feel comfortable unless sleeping on a
couch, floor, or the backseat of a car. I
heard him murmur something about “caught in a river riptide” and “washing up on the rocks” and let him be. Went to get a cup of coffee myself. Made sure I turned the damn coffee maker off
this time.
I joined
Simon on the back porch.
“Well,” he said, “what do we do now?”
It was a
good question, even if Simon was the one asking. I had been pondering the same thing myself. So many clues. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Not that you can “make heads or tails” of anything; I mean, if you think about it,
it’s really a stupid thing to say. Which
is why I only think it but never speak it aloud.
“Well, I
was watching Nightline last night after you and Jimmy passed out and I got an
idea,” I said.
“What
was it about?” he replied.
“What,
the show?”
“Yeah. What happened that gave you the idea.”
“Nothing
they said. It just happened to be on when the idea came
to me.”
“You’re
sure?”
“Of
course I’m sure.”
“Because,” he continued, “Ted Koppel’s a pretty smart
guy. He generally says some pretty
insightful things. I just thought that
he might have said something that gave you an idea.”
“Well,
he didn’t. I’m my own man.”
“Okay,
okay, I was just asking.”
“No, you
don’t think I can come up with an idea myself, is that it?”
“I
didn’t say that.”
“Yeah,
but you were thinking it.”
“No, I
wasn’t. Look, Dick, you’re the smartest
person I know besides all of my friends and everyone else I’ve ever met. I mean that.
I was just trying to get a faint understanding of how you do what you
do.”
“Um-hmm. Sucking up now, aren’t you?”
“If you
say so,” he said. “So, anyway, what was the idea?”
“Well, I
think we might just be stuck in the mire of the details a little too deep to
see the big picture anymore. I thought
it might be a good idea to get another perspective.”
“You
mean like a 3rd party?”
“Yeah.”
“Like a
consultant?’
“Yeah,
something like that.”
“Where
are we going to find a consultant who would be able to help us with this?” Simon asked.
“I don’t suppose you happen to know one?”
“Oh, I
might. I just might indeed.”
Saul
“The Sandman” Goldblatt arrived promptly
at 3 o’clock, just as he promised he would.
I call him Sandy. We go way back. Well, technically that isn’t true; he has a
suite in my building that he shares with his partners Don Johnson (like the
actor, but no relation) and Don’s sister Stacy Johnson (like the girl I was hot
for in high school, but no relation).
One
morning about six months ago I came back from Starbucks and accidentally walked
into their office by mistake. I saw the
three of them and was so startled I dumped my coffee all over their carpet. Since I thought I was being robbed, and being
one who subscribes to the philosophy “shoot first, ask questions later”, I also
promptly chased them around the room and blew about a dozen holes in their nice
paneling (I was carrying a .40 automatic then).
Once
things settled down and I realized my mistake, I quickly apologized, and even
though I kind of felt they owed me for the coffee, I didn’t push it, what with
making a mess of their office and almost killing them and all. Long story short; we got to talking shop,
learned a little about each other’s business, and have become good friends and
allies, though I haven’t seen any of them since that day. So you can see why when I got to thinking
about hiring a consultant, “Johnson, Johnson, & Goldblatt” immediately came to mind.
I took
Sandy into the den and we sat down with Simon and Jimmy who were eating Apple
Jacks right out of the box. Sandy seemed
very calm and confident, not like the last time I had seen him when he had been
jumping around like a squirrel crossing a 4-lane highway as he had dodged my
bullets. I respected the fact that he
had obviously taken time to work on his bearing and presentation skills. Professionals do that kind of thing. I gave him a knowing nod.
“Hello
Mr. Lassiter,” he said.
“Please,
call me Dick,” I replied.
“Yes,
well, Dick then,” he said, “what can I
do for you today.”
“We’re
looking for some advice – my partners and me – regarding a case we’re working
on. I thought an outside perspective
might shed some light on a few things that we haven’t been able to figure out.”
“Such
as?” he asked.
I laid
it all out for him. That dude that came
into my office to hire me, the spy moose and his worldwide rampage, Rok Hard
and the Barking Spider, the really weird trip to that country where the Dutch
people live, the break-in at the shampoo factory and all of the mops that were
missing, – no, wait, sorry, that’s something completely different – and all of
the clues picked up along the way.
“I see,” Sandy said when I was finished. I noticed that while he had been holding a
notepad and pen the entire time, he hadn’t taken a single note during my story. He obviously realized the sensitive nature of
the case and opted not to compromise national security by writing any of it
down. He probably had a photographic
memory and had memorized it all. That
would be bitchin’.
“And
what areas of the case would you like my firm to provide consulting services
for?”
“Well,
everything,” I said.
“Everything.”
“Yup. Everything.
The whole shooting match. The
whole kit and kaboodle. The whole nine
yards. The whole enchilada. The whole – ”
“I think
I get the picture,” he said
“Oh,
okay. Yeah, to be completely honest with
you Sandy,” I continued, ”we don’t have
a clue what’s going on with this case. Not
a fucking clue.”
Jimmy
and Simon nodded vigorously.
Saul was
silent for a moment, his brow creased in a puzzled expression.
“Mr. Lassiter, – ”
“Dick.”
“Yes,
Dick,” he said, “I’m a little confused
here.”
“Boy, do
we know that feeling,” Jimmy chimed in. Simon nodded in agreement, unable to add
anything as he had just stuffed another handful of cereal into his mouth.
“Are you
asking Johnson, Johnson & Goldblatt to consult with you regarding your
investigation,” Sandy continued, “or are
you asking us to completely take over
the whole investigation for you?”
“Um,” I said, “it would be the second thing you
said.”
More
nods from the nodding fools.
“That
seems rather unorthodox, don’t you think?”
“Well,
yes, in a way, but it’s been done before.”
“It has,” he asked, though in more of a ‘repeating the
statement in a dubious ‘I-don’t-believe-it’’ sort of way than in the more
conventional ‘asking because I really don’t know’ sort of way.
“Yes. In fact, I’ve done it before myself. Twice, if I remember correctly.”
“You
have.” Again, more of a statement thing.
“Um-hmm,” I said, nodding. Jimmy and Simon nodded too. A picture of well-oiled teamwork.
“Could I
ask, Mr. Lass – I mean, Dick – how many
cases have you worked on in your career as an investigator?”
“Oh,
boy, let me see here,” I said, looking
up into the heavens. “Tough one there. Um, wow, kind of hard to put a handle on it,
but if I had to guess – and I’m really stretching here – I’d have to say . .
. um. .
. two.”
“Two.”
“Plus or
minus one,” I concurred.
“Yes,
well. You realize this is a little
beyond the normal scope of my firm’s services, and as such, I’ll need to confer
with my partners – ”
“Dick,” Simon rudely interrupted, “it’s 7 o’clock.”
“Gotcha,” I said.
“Hey listen Sandy, okay, that sounds fine, you go right ahead. In fact, if you could just do that in the
other room – your conferring and proposaling and all – that would be just
great, because they’re doing a rerun of Fear
Factor on TNT that we haven’t seen – ”
“The one
where they have to eat bull testicles,” Jimmy
offered.
“ – right now and we’ve been looking forward to
watching it all day, so while we’re doing that, you can do, you know, whatever
it is that you do and we’ll meet back up in a hour or so, okay? Great.”
I got up
and ushered a confused looking Sandy to the next room while Jimmy and Simon
pulled all of the cushions off of the couch searching for the remote control. There was a slight panic when several minutes
went by without finding it, but it eventually turned up in the guest bathroom
medicine chest.
We
settled down in front of the tube and got ready for the first round.
An hour later
we had finished cheering the winner and were relaxing in the afterglow of
another fine episode when Sandy walked back into the room.
“Alright
gentlemen,” he said, “I have my
recommendations ready.”
Now we
were getting someplace.
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