Lost Time Incident

July 05, 2003

The Inspector & No-Nose Charlie Eat Breakfast

The world of a detective is a hard one. When I walk the streets on a case, I take time to observe the comings and goings of your average workaday type person, briefcase in hand, expensive watch on their wrist. And it seems to me that if their life was a sort of bed, it would be quite plush, with just enough resistance to support your spine.

A detective's bed-- to continue the metaphor-- would be a slab of wood. Probably with splinters. Covered with a blanket that smells like it's seen better days, but it's only seen them from a distance.

Actually, I don't even have a bed. I sleep sitting up in my office chair, my right hand holding my pistol. I used to sleep more often, but there's only so many times a guy can take getting hoisted outta bed by some guy who looks more cow than man, roughed up, stuck in a trunk, and put on a case by some millionaire who's being blackmailed.

These days, if you wanna hire me, you come in through the front door of my office, after ringing the doorbell, and while I'm awake. Any other approach is just gonna get you shot.

Today, I had no case. I was spending the morning and the last of the money from my last case on pancakes, eggs, sausage. Across the table from me at the diner was my partner, No-Nose Charlie. We'd been inseparable, partners for eight years, ever since he saved my bacon by shoving a galoot who had been strangling me and pushing my head towards an unguarded band saw.

That was The Case of the Wood Shop Strangler. I'm not so good at coming up with the names. Charlie's been trying to get me to just number them or arrange them by date. Maybe he's gotta point.

I was enjoying my last tongue-full of egg when our waitress came back. She didn't bring the bill-- she brought a question for No-Nose Charlie.

"Hey, Mac," she said. "What happened to your nose?"

I stopped chewing to listen.

"Ever heard the expression 'cut off the nose to spite the face?' That's me, lady," answered Charlie. "That'll teach my face. And you know, it hasn't messed with me since."

No-Nose has been my sidekick for years, a handy man to have your back in a fight, quick with a pistol or a cheap-shot to the jaw. A card-shark, a gentleman, a quick-witted foe of evil. And every time he's asked about his nose, there's a new answer.

"I lost it in a cardgame. No kidding, it was a bet. If I had won, I'd have a guy's left hand in my pocket right now. Not sure what I'd do with it. Not sure what he does with my nose. It was a stupid bet."

If the rest of the day doesn't pick up, maybe I'll suggest to Charlie that we spend this Sunday making his missing nose into our next case. The Case of the Missing Nose. Charlie can probably come up with a better name for the case than that.

I can get my magnifying glass out of the drawer in my office and he can polish up his sidearm and before the day is out we'll have knocked teeth outta some stoolie and feel that we're on the trail of the truth.

I haven't had that feeling in weeks. And it beats hell outta what I'm feeling now, which is full, which is tough because I don't think I brought enough to pay for breakfast and we're gonna have to leg it.

Worse comes to worse, if anyone comes close to catching us I know Charlie will distract 'em by offering to blow his sinuses out on their shirt. I don't think he can really do it, but no one wants to take the chance.

He's a fine man. I love him like a noseless brother.

Posted by Michael at July 05, 2003 10:46 AM