The Ming Poodle: Chapter IV

Hugh Hamilton

In spite, the cabbie engulfed his well-chewed cigar and floored the pedal. Hugh lurched back uncomfortably into a jagged pile of books that the cabbie was currently enjoying. When he finally found his seating he picked up one of the books: "How to improve your foreign accent in 34 easy steps". He sighed for what could possibly be the third time that day and pretended to admire the urban scenery through the window. Eventually the cab pulled up in front of the police station and excreted Hugh, sans an unhappy 25 dollars. He stood up, brushed off some cab filth and entered the building. He waltzed up to the counter with a small outburst of charisma and questioned the receptionist.
"I'm sorry, we can't let the public access our files," said the receptionist.
"Come on," said Hugh in an unfashionable voice, "show me the files baby."
"Okay," replied the receptionist as Hugh was cursing himself for calling her "baby".
"Really?" said Hugh in shock.
"No."
"Damn." cursed Hugh. "Look, I'll be straight with you: I am a private detective. This information could be vital to the case. People's lives are at stake!"
"Well then, give us the details and we'll take care of it."
"But our clients don't want to get involved with the police, hence them coming to us."
"That's another reason why we should take care of it."
"...All right, what will it take to get those files?"
"A cut of the profits would be good."
"Would it?" said Hugh angrily.
"Yes it would."
"Right. What sort of 'cut'?"
"How about splitting it down the middle?"
"Ah, well that's kind of tricky, you see," began Hugh nervously, "because we're not actually getting paid, it's a sort of charity case."
"Charity case?" said the receptionist unbelievingly.
"Yes."
"Sure."
"...So any other offer would be alright."
"OK, how about you giving me money."
"That's also tricky. I don't really have any money."
"You don't," said the receptionist with contempt.
"Not a penny."
"Fine. No deal."
"Actually, I think it is a deal."
"Do you?"
"Yes, I do."
"And why do think that?"
"Well, let us say that I have a certain sound bite that your superior offices might be interested in" and with those words he whipped out his wallet quickly then stuffed it back into his pocket.
"Give me 25 dollars and I'll let you see the files."
"Yes, sir."
He handed her the money hastily with the relevant information and got the file.
"Thank you," he said gleefully as he ran out the door.
The receptionist waited for Hugh to leave then quickly phoned her dealer. She met him at the set date a few hours later and the transaction was made. She needled and died abruptly. A hobo living in the gutter decided to drag the body off a pier at the docks and into the ocean for some strange reason of his own. The body eventually floated into the rotors of a seaplane and was nastily mangled. When he heard about this in the paper, Hugh decided to send flowers to the receptionists parents, but he found that he had no cash left.