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Private Investigator – Chapter 13

Posted in erbooker by erbooker on 01/05/2015

Private Investigator

Frank Francis is a private detective. A private eye. A private dick.

Chapter 13 – It Never Entered My Mind

I was mindin’ my own business at the Stop-N-Buy convenience store down the street purchasing a pack of smokes when, just my luck, in walked trouble. LeRoy “Trouble” Utz, the lowest-level criminal in Hoboken. This guy couldn’t even steal candy from a baby without screwing it up. And believe me, he tried. Seven separate incidents of failed baby candy theft.

“Everybody hit the deck. This is a stickup.”

I hit the deck as requested, grabbing a hot dog off the rotating oven on the way down. I chewed noisily as I contemplated my next move. Maybe reach up for another hot dog. That move had worked like gangbusters the first time. The hot dog was really, really good.

“Alright, empty the register and nobody gets hurt. I don’t want any funny business.”

Dante, the store clerk, tried to reason with LeRoy.

“LeRoy, you’re not even wearing a mask. Everybody knows you. You live in the apartment above the store. Just go try to steal some candy from a baby again.”

“How do you think I got this?” LeRoy showed Dante baby teeth marks on his hand.

I watched closely as I consumed my second hot dog. It was time to make my move. I stood up and approached “Trouble”.

“Hey LeRoy, it’s Det. Francis here from down the street. Listen, you–“

A bullet whizzed past my head and I ducked back behind the counter, grabbing a third hot dog on the way down.

“There’s only thirty dollars in the register,” Dante explained.

“Hot dog!” LeRoy exclaimed. I looked up nervously, cheeks full of weiner. “That’ll get me all the way to Poughkeepsie. Give it here.”

Dante emptied the till and I saw my chance–nope, another bullet whizzed by my head when I stood up. I huddled beneath the counter with my fourth hot dog. Tense situations make me nerve-hungry.

LeRoy “Trouble” Utz backed toward the exit waving his gun wildly and exclaiming how he was so great at robbing convenience stores like some sort of blowhard braggart when the door burst open, knocking him to the ground unconscious.

Albert walked right past him and found me behind the counter, “Boss, what’s taking so long? The car’s running and I’m hungry.”

“Albert, I’ve got bad news.” I rested a greasy hand on his massive hulking shoulders. “I already ate.”

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