Joe Conrad: Private Investigator

By: Joe Oxford

    It was a hot steamy afternoon and his ice cream was running down the small of her back. The dogs tongue darted back and forth catching the droplets before they could reach the floor. It was 2:00 p.m.

    From behind the door came a faint squeaking noise. The knob began to quiver and Joe became startled dropping the ice cream cone into the dogs eyes. He wanted to jump up and appear as if he had been doing nothing but his left leg cramped up as he swung it over her right shoulder, kicking her in the temple and causing a series of events that are just too embarrassing to put down on paper. Both the woman and the dog lost their sight in a sudden loss of dexterity. The dog regained it's sight five years later and she regained hers only shortly before that. Sad times were only a memory now.................

    He was, and probably still is, Joe Conrad. She had come to him seeking his help and found nothing more than a few pleasingly free moments of private investigation, a fifty dollar dry cleaning bill, and the loss of her sight for nearly three years. She located Joe two years after she found her sight.

    "I'm glad you came looking for me after all of these years," he told her without realizing that he was a total idiot.

    She leaned back in the leather swivel chair with thoughts of violence and evil dismemberment racing through her head. She could only sustain a smile on her face for seconds at a time, and even then she had a hard time keeping her nervous twitch under control. She knew he had no intention of using a pun about her loss of sight over the past two years, but still she was quite a bit peeved and his uncontrollable mouth was just the thing that would probably send her over the edge into the deep abyss of insanity.

    "I'm here on strict business," she replied, running her hand over the cool steel handle of a small revolver that she had tucked neatly away in her purse.

    "I see," he said, once again sparking the perverse thoughts of uncontrolled acts with razor blades.

    She flinched....

    "That's more than enough! I can not bear your unintentional torture any longer. I must leave now or I am afraid I will commit a terrible and almost heinous act of revenge," shouted the woman as she made straight for the door.

    "Look here Mr. Rhoke!!" He screamed, jumping up in pursuit.

    She stopped and spun around while at the same time snatching the small revolver from her purse, the barrel almost positioning itself perfectly below the rim of his hat.

    "I never wanted this," she sobbed. "Five years ago I came to you for one reason, I only wanted you to investigate the disappearance of my brother Robertiero, and I received nothing more than the loss of my sight."

    Her finger tensed. Joe Conrad felt the unfamiliar sensation of guilt plummet to the depths of his ice-cream coated stomach.

    "See you later Joe!"

    Jean Rhoke had almost expected to feel the swift backlash of the cold black revolver kick her hand but only experienced the equivalence of having a sack of potatoes dropped on her head.

    The only way that Joe could keep his blind dog from jumping up on clients was to tape it to the ceiling. It was a freak accident, the tape had simply given way. In the fall the dog had smacked his head hard enough to regain his sight. Jean lost her sight once again along with the rest of her sanity. Joe went out for ice-cream.

No moral. 

THE END