The Macguffin
It was another slow Friday afternoon at the Irving Hurst Detective Agency. I’m Irving Hurst, proprietor and lead investigator. We’re off Irving Blvd., in the seedy part of town. Which could be anywhere. Hadn’t had a customer in over a week. Could be the heat. The heat was something else. No AC, bill hadn’t been paid for months. Double bladed ceiling fan still worked. Hot. Yeah. Hot. I loosened my tie another knot. Dang dress code.
Effie Mexia, my secretary was about to close up shop, when three Hummers pulled into the parking lot, one after the other. The lead was yellow and black and had a dyspeptic tiger painted on the front. The second vehicle was blue and silver and had a bearded axe wielding maniac on the hood. I presumed it to be a representation of a Viking or such. There weren’t too many Vikings in this neck of the woods. Of course there aren’t too many tigers either. The last car was red and white and had a bird decaled on the doors. I mentally reviewed my Audubon Society Bird Identification field guide and decided that this was a cardinal, perhaps a testy one, angry that its feed had been disturbed or even taken away.
The 3 car doors slammed and a young woman carrying a small dachshund, a young man and a mixed pair of twins, opened the door, marched past my secretary and into my office. The young lady with the bowser slapped a stack of fifties on my desk and said, “We’d like to hire you, Mr. Hurst, someone has stolen the IISD Spirit Stick.”
I put my claws on the stack of fifties. Man, I could finally put in that teak panelling in my basement pool room. The dachsund growled.
That wasn't no dachsund, it was a dang chihuahua.
Now, you decide where the story goes next!
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