Private Eye

Released: 17th April 2004
Size: 231 KB
Genre: detective comedy/gamebook

Introduction
It was the end of another long and miserable day and I don't mind admitting I was beat. The case hadn't gone well and I was dreading telling the client the bad news the next day. But in the world of high profile crimes that I regularly dealt with, there were times when even the ingenuity, skill and expertise of yours truly weren't enough to win the day. So… tomorrow I would have to tell Mrs Harris that her cat couldn't be found and she really ought to cut down on Whiskers.

Such was life.

The office was dark when I returned which indicated my secretary had departed for the day. After shoeing aside the bums who were asleep in the entrance, I made my way inside, threw my coat at the coat rack (it missed, landed on the secretary's desk, and knocked over a mug which promptly shattered on the floor.) then staggered through into my office. It was there that she was waiting for me.

She was beautiful and she needed my help. (Yes, I know what a sad and tired cliché that is - beautiful damsels in distress and all that - but it's true. I swear.)

"I need your help, detective," she said, purring seductively. "And I am prepared to pay a considerable sum of money to you for this help."

I didn't stop to ask how she was in the office when the front door had been locked. When beautiful women offer me money for my help, all other considerations take a back seat.

"Tell me what I can do," is all I said.

She produced a photo. It showed five men sitting around a table, laughing and drinking.

"My father is the one on the left," she explained. "He was supposed to meet me yesterday. He didn't show. I fear…" A dramatic sob, such as only the best damsels in distress can manage. "I fear for him, detective."

She gave me some more information: her father was rich. Filthy, stinking rich (my phrase, she just said "rich"). He was an oil tycoon and also worked the stock market aggressively. He was worth millions. She didn't say how many millions but I got the impression that we were talking a lot of millions here. The kind of fortune that yours truly could only dream about.

"I will pay you-" and here she named a sum which was approximately eight times my usual fee "-if you find my father."

Under normal circumstances, I'd have advised her to contact the police. I'd have also pointed out that her father had only been missing for a day and she ought to wait and see if he showed up on his own.

But that was normal circumstances. Two factors got rid of the normal side of things: firstly, she was beautiful. And secondly, she was beautiful. Oh, and she was rich besides.

So I took the case on. Layla Kavallon, for that was her name, left me the photo of her father and a slim file containing information she had gathered about him and his business activities. Then she left. I was to contact her on a daily basis to inform her how the case was going. I watched her depart, and if my attention was focused more on her shapely behind and less on the case as she walked through my door… well, what can I say? I'm only human.