The Adventures of Duffy Dean, Detective (V)

FFF just happened to be down the street, so there was no time like now to check and hope there might be something there, before someone got wise to the existence of this key. The sun shone steadily and a light wind soothed the street. Located in a grand brick building three blocks from the police station, the bank’s marble entrance exuded warmth and strength. One would expect a lot of activity there, but the building was practically empty. A couple cuties watched me from their teller positions, and a grizzled vet security guard rubbed his fingers on his service revolver. He knew the deal though, and saw I was no threat.

“Duffy!! Duffy, duffy, duff. My main puff puff. Where have you been, sweetie?” Marjorie Morningpuss purred, as she slinked up and practically enveloped my whole body. I was suddenly ensnarled in a silent lambada. Within seconds no part of my frame hadn’t been caressed by the sexiest cutie this side of the Mississippi River. She was part-time mistress to half a dozen powerbrokers, and could easily pick one and retire to a life of hedonistic pleasure, but she preferred to work and enjoy the field and freedom. Thank God for that! We had several pleasurable trysts over the years, including one memorable trip to Las Vegas. And that story stays in Vegas! She was a beautiful Bengal with rich cream coat covered in delightful dark brown spots, and fur softer than a kitten’s bottom. And she had a wonderful tail. “My perky Sherlock Holmes. Why haven’t you been snooping around my house lately, killer?” I just melted in her presence. She took my paw and led me back to a private office where XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX WOW XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX YOWSA! XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 

[ed. Redacted due to explicit material not meant for young eyes. Take it from me, our intrepid detective was only interrogating and using his special charms to further his investigation. ]

“Did the temperature go up ten degrees in here? Are the fire extinguishers going to start sprinkling us?” I quipped.

“Mmmmmmmm. My little fire starter. “ She cooed. “You know, we could always go over to the Hilton and see if we could set some sheets on fire. But I’m sure you are here for more than my tasty affections. What do you need, big guy?”

“Any chance of me having a few uninterrupted time in the safe deposit boxes?”

“Why honey, you can have my XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX any time.”  Oh, what a wicked grin. “But yes, I think I can sneak you in for a few minutes.”

“That would be great.”

“You have to promise me you won’t remove anything though, just take a look.”

“Sure, dollface.”

She escorted me back into the lobby and then over to the safe. I handed her the key and she brought me a medium sized grey box. I slipped into a private cubicle and opened the box. Nothing. The box had already been cleaned out. I felt the air go out of me, another dead end. A fine white dust could be seen on the inside, so it was possible the cocaine theory might still be plausible. I set the box on the table and took my head in my hands, pleasantly worn out from Marjorie and tired from the case. What had I gotten myself into? What had I missed? As I started to get up I noticed a shimmer along the inside top of the box, and upon closer inspection I could see that there was writing in pencil, faint enough that it would be missed by most eyes, but for the experienced sleuth it could just be made out.

IF YOU ARE READING THIS, MY NINTH LIFE HAS RUN ITS COURSE. 

TRUST NO ONE.  FRISKIES IS NICE, BUT NEWMANS IS BETTER.

[Join us tomorrow as we continue The Adventures of Duffy Dean, Detective on this radio channel.]