The Case Of The Cases: Chapter II

Hugh Hamilton

The lamp flickered pathetically for a moment then short-circuited. Ben looked curiously at the clumsy re-wiring he had failed to notice a moment before while Hugh busied himself with chalk poisoning.
"Well how did he get the chalk in his coffee then?" asked the doctor suspiciously
"I don't know. Maybe he confused it with a sugar cube," replied Ben sheepishly.
"Hugh doesn't put sugar in his coffee, everybody knows that."
"Maybe he confused it with a frozen milk ice cube."
"What?"
"It's this thing Hugh does. He makes the coffee as hot as possible then slips in a milk ice cube to achieve the perfect drinking temperature."
"Uh huh," said the doctor, aiming a careful frown at Ben.
"Uh... but is he all right now?"
"Yes, fortunately he didn't get too much of it in his system. He'll be all right."
"Good, can he come out now?"
"Yeah, but tell him to get some rest."
The fab two made a quick bill-avoiding dash for the door and then caught a taxi home. As they walked towards their gorgeously iconic front steps, they noticed a strangely striking man waiting beside the door.
"Uh hello?" said Ben. "May we help you?"
"Yes, I'm looking for the P.I.s."
"Ah, that's us," said Hugh.
"Is it? What a stroke of luck."
"That you managed to run into us at our office?" teased Ben. "Yes, that is an incredible coincidence."
"Anyway," said Hugh, shooting an angry sideways glance at Ben, "do come in."
The tall, handsome moustachioed man smiled and allowed himself to be led.
"So, what is it you want?" prompted Ben.
"It's quite simple," replied the man. "I want you to find my briefcase. I believe someone took it thinking it was theirs."
Ben and Hugh arched eyebrows.
"Where did this take place?" asked Hugh.
"It was near the turnstiles at Brightbelly station."
Ben consulted a piece of paper.
"How interesting," he said to himself.
"What?" asked the man.
"Oh, nothing," said Ben. "Did you, by any chance, take someone else’s briefcase by mistake?"
"No."
"Rats. I'm not sure if this is the sort of case..."
"I'll pay you three hundred dollars a day. This briefcase is, ahem, very valuable to me."
"Done!"
The man left.
"This is certainly odd," said Hugh.
"Yes it is," agreed Ben as the door-bell rang.
They led a middle-aged, slightly greyed man into their office.
"I'll get right to the point," he said, getting right to the point. "I want you to find out what my wife does when I'm away. I suspect she might be having an affair."
"OK," said Ben. "Name and address?"
The man handed them a piece of paper.
"The pay details are on that too. I have to go." He went.
Ben, fishing out another piece of paper, sighed.
"I assume that was the racquetball husband?" assumed Hugh.
"Yes, yes it was."