The Gritty City

It was late in the afternoon. I was sitting at my desk looking out of the window at the street below. There was a cold rain falling; the few pedestrians that were visible had umbrellas and were hurrying to get to their destinations and out of the winter weather. My secretary, Stella, who usually occupied the outer office, had gone home for the day. "Maybe I should do the same," I thought. Yeah. I lived alone in a cheap flat and my partner, Travis Austin, with whom I'd be drinking Scotch down at Louie's about now, had been bumped off a month or so ago. My chair creaked as I swung back toward the desk. I contemplated paying a few bills before leaving and pondered making one last pot of coffee. Just then there was a knock at my door.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Tackhammer? The sign on the outer door said Tackhammer and Austin Investigations. I hope I'm not interrupting."

I looked up. She was tall and lithe and moved like a professional dancer. Long, dark hair framed her oval face. I made a bet with myself that the clothes she was wearing had set somebody back ten grand. She was a knockout. "Come in," I replied, "and have a seat."

She slid into the chair in front of my desk, crossed her long, silky legs, put her purse in her lap and gave me an appraising look. "My name," she said, "is...
[maddog]
-----------
Cindy Stillwater and I need your help. I hear you and your partner are the best in the business."

"It is actually just myself now. My partner was offed last month by the mob but that is another story for another day. What is it that you think I can do for you?" said Tackhammer, or Tack as he was known to his friends.

"I think I am being followed. I haven't actually seen anyone but it's that feeling that causes the hair to stand up on the back of my neck that tells me someone is behind me."

"Ok, I can understand feelings. You gotta trust your gut on these things. So, let's start at the beginning. When did this start and do you have any idea why someone might be following you?"

"Well, it all started when ...
[margaret]
-------------
I was shopping with Clinton and Stacy in New York. You can see I took their advice. I'll show you the before pictures sometime," she laughed.

That laugh. That laugh grated on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. Or the dentist drilling too deep. Whatever I did, I had to keep this woman from laughing in my presence again.
[Susan]
-------------

She didn't look like the kind of clueless lump that usually winds up on What Not To Wear. If that snide pair of fashionistas were responsible for her looks they deserved a gold star. I was curious. "What did you look like before your makeover?" I asked.

"I'm an archeologist," she responded. "As you can imagine people in my line of work spend a lot of time in the field and in the back rooms of museums. My wardrobe mostly consisted of baggy field pants, olive drab t-shirts, hiking boots, pith helmets and a few pairs of jeans. I never wore makeup and usually kept my hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Not a pretty sight." She started to laugh.

"Dead babies!" I exclaimed. Her smile disappeared.

"What?" She looked taken aback.

"Nothing," I responded. I couldn't let her laugh again and that was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment to stop it.

We had gotten off track. So, changing the subject I said, "Let's get back to your feeling of being followed." There must be something more substantial than a mere feeling to make you want to hire a detective."

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I know this sounds odd, Mr. Tackhammer, but I think it has something to do with a discovery my associate, Dr. Wingnut, made at our last dig. We were in the jungles of Central America following up on rumors of an extremely advanced civilization. We had just begun to excavate a new site when Dr. Wingnut began to act very strangely. He was very secretive and uncommunicative. I suspect he brought something back with him... something he didn't share with the rest of us. It was when we arrived home that I began to sense that I was being watched."

"Is this Stillwater broad some kind of nut case?" I wondered to myself. "Or is there something to her story?" Nuts or not, I needed the work. My bar tab at Louie's was getting pretty high. "OK," I told her. "I'll look into this. In the meantime, here's what I want you to do..."
[Maddog]
____________

"Take the trolley down to China Town. Go to the Frying Dragon massage parlor and ask for Madam Hori. She'll know what to do with you..." I paused as Ms. Stillwater's body language began to show signs of hesitation. "She runs a safe house and will help you lay low for a while. I know that sounds really bad but trust me on this. I've been using her for years...".

This was no laughing matter (thank God!). But sensing an even greater uncertainty in my client, I quickly moved on. "I'll pay a visit to this Dr. Wingnut and shake him for some answers. Where did you say this dig of yours was?"
[Jeff]
____________

"You can find Dr. Wingnut in his lab. That's where he spends all his time unless he is on a dig. He is always searching for the key to a hidden treasure, an ancient city, solving some mystery to which no one before him has found the answer. He is a good looking man and a very eligible bachelor but he rather spend his time in the past instead of digging up interesting facts about a lovely, intelligent woman, ... like me," Cindy said.

"Ah, a love triangle. You, him and the artifacts. Just the artifacts, ma'am." I was doing my best Sergeant Joe Friday and forgot all about trying not to make her laugh. Fortunately, she was too young to get my joke, which I guess I could take as either good - she didn't laugh, or bad - I was starting to feel like her father and this was a kick in the pants. I've still got it, don't I? A question to ponder for later but clearly we weren't getting anywhere with this line of thinking.

"Ok, I will go pay Dr. Wingnut a visit," I said in my most manly voice. "In the meantime, if you think of anything unusual about the dig in Central America, or if you see anyone following you, give me a call. I'll send someone to protect you."

"As she gracefully exited my office, I realized we had yet to discuss a fee. "Good grief," I thought. "At this rate I won't be able to pay off my tab!"
[margaret]
_____________

The good doctor's lab was at the university. The campus was a sprawl of ivy-covered brick buildings. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to its layout. It was as if the buildings had been scattered across a forest glade willy-nilly. I figured the best way to start would be the administration building to find someone who could give me directions through this academic maze. I applied one of my most tried and true detective techniques, called wandering around, and soon found myself in an office at a desk that had a sign on it that said Information.

A gray-haired woman with no makeup and an disapproving expression looked up. "May I help you?" I guess I didn't look as if I belonged on a campus. My broken nose and the scar tissue above my eyes prety much rules me out as part of the college scene.

"Yeah, maybe you can," I answered. "I'm looking for Dr. Wingnut's lab. I have an appointment with him." A little white lie wouldn't hurt.

"I can tell you how to get to the science building if you like, but I will tell you that Professor Wingnut is not on campus right now." Then, in response to my probing she elaborated. "He hasn't been here for the last ten days. He missed his classes and failed to show up for a faculty meeting. We've been unable to reach him."

I knew she would be hesitant to give me any personal information about Wingnut, like his address, so I borrowed a phone book and looked him up. He lived at 2105 Laurel Avenue. I drove over and knocked at the door. No answer. I walked around to the back and looked in a window. The place looked as if it had been hit by a tornado so I tried the patio door. Sure enough, it was unlocked. I stepped inside. A closer inspection confirmed that the place had been ransacked. What had someone been looking for, and where was the professor?
[Maddog]
____________

As I briefly pondered the whereabouts of the doc, I realized I was famished. All that thinking had worked up a serious hunger for a plate of enchiladas, rice and beans and a cold Dos Equis. Starting my inquiry on the university campus had it's advantages for right around the corner was a Taco Cabana, it's pink stucco gleaming like a beacon for the ravenous on the cheap. Remember, I failed to secure a retainer from Cindy and was currently down to my last ten dollar bill.

Hunger and thirst soon pacified I was able to fully focus on the task at hand. I returned to my office, put my alligator skinned cowboy boot clad feet up on my less-than-sturdy pressboard desk and cogitated.
[Caroline]
___________________

A few moments of deep cogitating and the next thing I knew I was Indiana Jones searching for the Ark of the Covenant in order to prevent the Nazis from finding it first. I was avoiding spiders and big boulders and close to finding the Ark when the shot that grazed my ear snapped me out of my dream. As I wiped the drool from my cheek, I looked up to see a hulk of a man in a trenchcoat pointing a Walther P99 semiautomatic pistol at me.

"Hey, you just shot a hole in my wall and now I am not going to get my security deposit back," I exclaimed. "There really was no need to do that. Where are your manners? Couldn't we have just discussed your issue like gentleman?" I clearly thought I was being reasonable while trying not to show any concern. I was a tough guy with manners, what could I possibly have to fear and where was my gun anyway?

"Stay away from Dr. Wingnut if you want Cindy to stay alive," the hulk growled. "This is just a warning. Next time I won't be so mannerly." He turned and walked out of the door.

"Well, isn't this an interesting development," I thought. Now, I definitely need to work out the fee with Cindy. I don't mind getting shot at or risking my life but doing it for free really irked me."

Just then, my cellphone bleated at me. It wasn't a phone call but a text message and a cryptic one at that.
[margaret]
-----------------------

appl dy kps dr awy
T.A.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Hmmm... T.A. was my dead partner. But, he had used an iphone, not a BlackBerry. What was this all about?

[susan]
-------------------------
I was inclined to ignore the message. It couldn't have been from Travis... he was as dead as dirt. An apple a day keeps the doctor away? The doctor reference could have meant Dr. Wingnut, but I didn't want to keep him away. I wanted to find him. And an apple? A computer? Perhaps, but the computer in Wingnut's study was a Dell and the university used IBMs. A fruit? Not likely. I supposed that the message could have been in some kind of code but if so I would be wasting my time until I could find the key.

Whatever Wingnut was up to, it had attracted the interest of at least one unsavory character. My bet was that the thug who tried to scare me off was too dumb to be in business for himself. Someone had sent him. So far, all I had was a bunch of questions and no answers. My only option was to grill the Stillwater dame to see what additional info might come out. I had a feeling that she knew more than she was letting on. Also, if she was really being followed as she suspected, there had to be a reason for it. Instead of hiding her at the Frying Dragon Massage Parlor and Szchewan Restaurant I needed her to get back to her regular routine so I could spot whoever was watching and track him to his employer.

I drove to Chinatown and slipped into a space at the curb right behind a delivery van that was just pulling away. The smell of hot peanut oil blanketed the restaurant and the cacaphony of high pitched foreign voices coming out of the kitchen sounded like a flock of crows fighting over a dead squirrel. The back stairs to the apartment above the Frying Dragon were poorly lit and creaked with each step I took. I knocked at the door at the top of the stairs. "Miss Stillwater? It's Tackhammer! Hello?"
[Maddog]
____________
I pushed the door open. There was Stillwater, lying on a table, wearing only a little towel while a man with conspicuous muscles stood next to her. "Come on in," she said. "Lars was just finishing up my massage. He's as smart as a carrot but he's nice to look at. He told me that he decided to become a masseur when he first heard the song 'People who knead people are the luckiest people in the world.' By the way, I feel so much more relaxed. And the Chinese food isn't bad either. I suspect, though, that something else is going on around here. Lots of coming and going at odd hours of the day and night."

"We need to talk," I said. I slouched down into a overstuffed chair that had seen better days and waited for Lars to leave and Stillwater to get presentable.
[Maddog]
____________
When Cindy returned to the room, she was wearing a very attractive green dress with a V-neck, empire waist and a skirt that floated at the bottom all of which really accentuated her hour-glass figure. She completed the ensemble with black peekaboo pumps with a subtle leopard print on the heel. Her long, dark hair was gathered into a loose bun at the nape of her neck.

"You wanted to talk, Tack?" Cindy said as she plopped down onto the ottoman facing my chair.

I tried not to stare as i said, "This arrangement isn't going to work. I think we need to put you back into your normal routine so I can try to find out who has been following you." I hesitated to tell her that Dr. Wingnut's residence had been ransacked since I didn't want to scare her. "I will be following you and will have my buddy, Joe, providing additional cover."

Joe was currently watching over my two-bedroom cottage. Joe is Travis' beloved German Shepherd. When Travis died, I kind of adopted Joe and we have been a team ever since. "To detect and protect," that's our motto. Well, okay, not really but it sounds good.

"So, tell me more about the dig that you and Dr. Wingnut were working on," I said. "I also need to know about your daily routine."
[margaret]
_________________

As I said in the beginning, I live in a cheap flat. My two room cottage, as I like to call it, is a cabin in the woods, about an hour from the city. It has two rooms alright... the one in which I have my bunk, a table with a hotplate and an easy chair, and a "room" that is nothing more than a small storage closet. Joe keeps the occasional possum, armadillo or squirrel at bay.

I wondered why Stillwater called me Tack. That seemed pretty familiar for some dame I had only known for a couple of days. Was she trying to cosy up to me for some reason? I don't flatter myself that I'm a chick magnet. I decided to keep my antenna up and see what happened.

"Well," she responded, "we were working in Southeast Mexico, close to the Guatamalan border, in a heavily forested area. Our main concern was bandidos, tomb robbers who track archeologists in order to take advantage of their finds. It can be dangerous, in addition to being heavy, hot and dirty work. We had discovered a site that was both puzzling and exciting. It seemed to predate the Mayans, yet it was obviousy the remains of a vastly more sophisticated and advanced society. Our first concern was to try to identify the people who left those strange artifacts and to return to the ruins with additional professional help to continue the dig."

"Who, either inside or outside of the academic community, would be most interested in your work?" I asked.

"Just the usual people," Stillwater answered. "You know, the University, National Geographic, other archeologists. But you know, there is one person who seemed to take an inordinate interest. I don't know much about her; I saw her with Professor Wingnut several times, but whenever I got close to them they stopped talking and turned the other way."

"Do you know her name?"

"I overheard a cellphone call and I think she's the person the Professor was asking for. The name was Apple O'Day."

"Apple O'Day?" I thought. "That rings a bell. Wait a minute, the cryptic message on my cellphone! It said Appl dy! Could this be a clue?" Well, as the saying goes, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's gotta be a duck. So, by the same sophisticated logic, this had to be a clue!"
[Maddog]
_______________

Rather than keeping the doctor away, it seemed that this Apple person was keeping Dr. Wingnut close to her. But mabe she was hired to befriend the good doctor and lead him away from his work so that someone could sabotage it! Maybe these saboteurs were the same people who were after Cindy.

"I need to know more about your projects with Dr. Wingnut," I told Cindy. "It may be just the clue we need. You say you had stumbled upon an ancient advanced civilization in Central America."

"Yes," Cindy said, "the exact center of Central America: Lebanon, Kansas!"

I smacked my hand against my forehead. Had Apple and the bad guys kidnapped Wingnut and taken him to Honduras when in fact the object they were looking for would have been a 4-hour drive in a rented Kia away? And did this revelation lessen, or increase the danger Cindy was in?
[Gwen]
_______________

Before we took this investigation any further, I decided I had to bring up my fee schedule with Stillwater. With so many questions swirling about and not knowing whether or not Honduras or Kansas were in my future, I needed to at least get a handle on my financial situation. And then maybe I would move this conversation to my favorite hangout, Taco Cabana, TC's to those in the know.

"Okay, Ms. Stillwater, before we go any further, we need to discuss my fee. I've got bills to pay and Joe to feed," I said lightly.

Suddenly, Stillwater's lovely face crumpled. She began to cry. Not just cry but wail and moan and flail about. Hard to believe, the sound was worse than her laugh. I had to act quickly. I poured her a large cup of water and told her to drink it, all of it. A friend of mine who had taught kindergarten years ago shared this trick with me. She said that you can't cry and drink at the same time. Thankfully, it worked. By the time Stillwater had consumed the water, she had settled, hiccuping intermittently.

"Ms. Stillwater?" I queried. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry (hiccup), Tack," Stillwater murmured. "It's just that when you mentioned your fee, I became a little overwhelmed. You see, I have no money. I am just an underpaid archeologist with huge student loans that I can't even pay(hiccup). I was led to believe that you, and your former associate, occasionally took on pro bono cases. I hoped I could appeal to the Good Samaritan in you and get you to help me."

"Oh, boy," I thought. "I must have the word sucker stamped on my forehead!" Aloud, I said, "Excuse me for prying, but how is it that a poor archeologist can dress the way you do? Your wardrobe, at least what I have seen of it, must have set you back tens of thousands of dollars!"

Stillwater looked momentarily confused. Then, with a hint of a giggle (I braced myself, fearing the full on laugh), she replied, "Remember I told you that I was a contestant on What Not To Wear? Well, usually they give the poor slob $5,000 to shop with. Apparently, I was the worst case they had ever seen. The producers felt so sorry for me that they gave me a $50,000 budget. So, I walked away with a killer wardrobe and little else."

That explained a lot. So now, sucker that I am, I was going to agree to risk life and limb for a hot archeologist with no trust fund, no sugar daddy, no nothing in the moola department. Sheesh!

At this juncture I growled, "Why don't we take this conversation over to the pink taco hut around the corner. I need a beer and some enchiladas to help me think."
[Caroline]
_______________

Two entire meals for $6 was just what I needed, since Ms. Stillwater didn't offer to even buy my lunch. Why was I taking this case? She cried too much and wasn't even that cute--Nick and Carmindy can only do so much with hair and makeup, even if Cindy did have that $50,000 wardrobe. Maybe she could sell some of it to pay me! I eyed her faux-fox-fur jacket, wondering if it were actually real and how much I could get for it on consignment. My ex-wife was big on consignment--so much so that she sold all my stuff before she threw me out and I didn't see a dime. But anyway, back to Cindy, she was blabbering on about something...

"...can't get ahold of my lab assistant, Ricardo. He was an exchange student from Honduras who came to KU for it's world-famous archeology school. He was smart but he was always skipping lab hours, running off with his girlfriend. She had some weird name, like maybe a vegetable, or a fruit..."

"A fruit???" I thought. Could it be...
[Gwen]
________________
Another fruit? We had the masseur at the Frying Dragon, someone named Apple O'Day and now Ricardo's girlfriend, Peaches. The fact that Ricardo was from Honduras certainly put his geographic origin in the neighborhood of Wingnut and Stillwater's dig on the Guatemalan border but I was going to have to work on it's relevance. First Wingnut went missing, now the lab assistant Ricardo. Maybe Stillwater would vanish, too, and I could forget the whole, unprofitable case.

Stillwater had said something about Lebanon, Kansas being the center of Central America. Clearly, using "advanced civilization" and Lebanon, Kansas in the same sentence was an oxymoron. Was she just making a joke or was she trying to tell me something? Was Lebanon, Kansas another clue or a red herring?

Meanwhile, heartburn was beginning to set in. This was the eighth meal I'd had at the Pepto Palace this week. If I didn't move upscale from Taco Cabana soon my Zantac expenses were going to go through the roof. In fact, even now, if I don't show up at the drugstore for a couple of days the pharmacist calls to see if I'm OK.

I decided to see if I could locate Peaches. If she was that tight with Ricardo maybe she could tell me where he was. And if I could find Ricardo maybe that would lead me to the missing professor. Peaches shouldn't be too hard to locate... a little bit of digging at the university should tell me who she was. One thing that was beginning to get under my skin, though, was what could be behind these disappearances. What had they found at that dig that was remarkable enough to set this mysterious chain of events in motion?
[Maddog]
_______________
Before I could put my plan into action, however, I was knocked to the ground by a sudden, searing pain. No, it wasn't the Dame Stillwater's laugh that got me this time. Or her cry. (Just in case, I looked at her, but her mouth was definitely occupied with chewing. Unfortunately, no one had taught her that chewing with her mouth open was impolite. And disgusting. I may very well have temporarily lost my appetite for TC's.)

What was happening to me? Besides the light-headedness I felt after watching Stillwater eat, I felt as though a thousand needles were stabbing me all over at once. It couldn't be my lunch - I'd consumed enough Pepto to calm an elephant's belly. Plus, the pain I was experiencing started on the outside of my body and then shot through every nerve I had, or so it seemed.

Just before my big head hit the table on my way down I thought, "By golly, I've been tasered!"

[Susan]
-----------------------
I slowly came to and as the cobwebs cleared I realized I was still lying on the floor in TCs. Cindy was still munching her bean and cheese burrito and looking completely unconcerned. As I slowly crawled to my knees, I saw the hulk, the same hulk that tried to shoot me in my office, and by way of introduction she said, "This is Tom. He's my brother and he is a little overprotective."

"A little overprotective? Jeepers, he tried to shoot me in my office and threatened my life!" I bellowed.

"Well," Cindy explained, "it turns out he was the one that was following me. He didn't know you were trying to help me and he took matters in his own hands. I keep telling him he watches too many of those crime dramas on TV but he doesn't listen."

"Good grief," I thought. What kind of family is this? But still, we had the issue of the missing Dr. Wingnut and I am not one to let a puzzle go unsolved. Just ask my ex-wife about my love of crosswords and my persistence in completing them. Needless to say, I am a veritable fount of trivial information.

"While you were sleeping," Cindy said, "I remembered something! Before we left for Honduras, Dr. Wingnut spent a lot of time doing research. Not only was he obsessed with this ancient yet advanced civilization, he believed that these people had discovered the world's largest diamond mine that was subsequently lost after a terrible earthquake. No one has been able to locate it since."

"Hmmm, now things are getting interesting," I thought. I needed to get to Dr. Wingnut's computer to view the history of the websites he had recently been viewing. Maybe the history would yield a clue. I was also curious if this Apple O'Day character was friend or foe to Dr. Wingnut. Did she think Dr. Wingnut was a diamond in the rough and was she interested in him for his mind and body or was she solely interested in him for the diamonds he might find? Afterall, diamonds are a girl's best friend, aren't they?
[margaret]
__________________

I looked at Stillwater's brother. "Nice to meet you," I said. "You look a lot like that professional wrestler, Hulk Hogan." I extended my hand. "No hard feelings." When Tom reached out to shake I gripped his right hand tightly and hit him in the jaw with a hard left. All those years I spent in the ring, it seemed like a shame to let those job skills go to waste. It sounded like someone striking a tree with an axe. Tom's expression didn't change. He just blinked once before his eyes lost their focus and he went down like a bag of sand.

By now the diners at the Taco Cabana were all moving to the other side of the restaurant. A pimple-faced young man in a wash and wear short sleeved dress shirt with a name tag that said Manager rushed up, careful not to get too close. He looked down at Tom, then at me and said, "You have to leave. I'm going to call the police. You're not welcome at Taco Cabana. Don't come back." The first thing that crossed my mind was that this was my chance to break my TC habit. But what's one Taco Cabana when there are others, lurking, waiting to add fuel to my heartburn...

As we helped a still woozy Tom into the back of my battered 1994 Crown Vic I turned to Stillwater and said, "One thing that I have to know... why do you keep referring to Honduras when you initially told me that the dig was somewhere near the border between Mexico and Guatemala?"
[Maddog]
________________

Stillwater stared back at me a little sheepishly. "I know you are probably wondering how a formally fashion impaired, seemingly geographically challenged woman like me also can be a successful, if poor, archeologist and work with a god like Dr. Wingnut. I am sorry that I keep changing the location of the dig. It's just that I needed to make sure that you are paying attention. I read a lot of dectective novels and I know how you guys operate. You see some knockout of a woman and think you can use your renaissance man-llike qualities and take her case and have her, too. Well, I will not be a participant in any macho investigator's bodice-ripping, dectective fantasies. But, now that I know where we stand, I will divulge the true location of our dig..."
[Caroline]
______________

Renaissance man? Let's see. I have broad interests. I can safely say that over the years I've been interested in many broads, none of whom were as weird as Stillwater. I am involved in the arts. Many of my friends are grafitti artists and I can safely say that I can name the tagger nine times out of ten when I see new work. And I am accomplished in the sciences. I am proud to have been a pioneer in the physics of splitting the stale bagel. How much more renaissance can you get? Renaissance man! Who'd a thought?

Stillwater was a looker, but she had some drawbacks. She had a laugh that could extract a confession from a comatose perp, she chewed her food with her mouth open, needed fashion triage to be presentable, and had a hulking brother who had fired a gun in my direction and tasered me when I was occupied at simultaneously subduing an enchilada dinner and Olympian heartburn. I had a feeling that the only way her bodice was going to get ripped was if it was caught in the machinery at the dry cleaner's.

At least she seemed to have overcome her distrust and was going to open up. At the moment the location of the Mexico/Guatemala/Honduras/Lebanon, Kansas dig wasn't at the top of my list. Finding Peaches and doing a little forensics on the Professor's computer came first. I was willing to bet that the artifact that Wingnut had found, and about which he had been so secretive, was the key to the location those precolumbian diamond mines. If so, it's no wonder he was attracting attention. In fact, that could be the reason that Stillwater was so anxious to find Herr Professor. Maybe her motives were less than pure.

"OK," I said, putting the car in gear. "Let's get the show on the road."
[Maddog}
_______________
As I was driving, I got another cryptic message on my cellphone. What's with all the texting, doesn't anyone call anymore? The message said:

fruits are a fish
T.A.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

The fruits are a fish? What could this mean? And it was signed TA again! Could it be my partner, contacting me from the great beyond via the wonderful world of cellular technology?

Ok, let's think about this. What fruit is like a fish? Something is fishy, that's for sure. All this misdirection...misdirection...red herring... Maybe, the fish is a red herring! If so, fruits are a red herring? Dr. Wingnut was supposedly searching for diamonds not fruits. Ah, but there were other fruits involved! Apple O'Day and Peaches! Now I was catching on and all this thinking about food was making me hungry again, too! Clearly the recent tasering didn't affect my appetite.

Maybe Cindy's motives really were less than pure. Who was the person throwing all this information at me? Cindy! Who did the hulk belong to? Cindy! Hmmm... maybe she using me to find Dr. Wingnut so she could steal the diamonds or steal recognition for the discovery of the missing diamond mine! Maybe she would pay me in diamonds? Clearly, something was not right here and I had to discern the truth before I could find Dr. Wingnut.
[margaret]
________________

My brain was churning. What did the new text message mean? Why couldn't the person who sent it just come out and use plain English? For Pete's sake, what would it hurt? Fish and fruit? I had orange roughy at Zsa Zsa's Seafood Shanty one night last week. But I settled for the idea that there was something fishy about one of the fruits in this case. I was already suspicious of Apple O'day, but Peaches? Was she more than a student with a crush on Stillwater's assistant? Had Peaches actually done something to make Ricardo disappear? Maybe Ricardo the lab rat was in this up to his butt and she'd decided that he was a weak link. Bang bang, bye bye!

Just as I pulled up to the curb in front of Wingnut's house it dawned on me. The TA of the text messages wasn't Travis Austin. Trav was pushing up daisies at the Campo Santo Cemetery and Amusement Park. Nor was it someone making a morbid joke. The TA stood for transactional analysis! Of course! After all, TA is a theory of personality that describes how people are glued together psychologically. It can be used to diagnose many types of psychological disorders, using the parent-adult-child ego states to do this. It's all about problem solving. Aha! I was saddled with a client who appeared to be more than a little strange and her "brother" who seemed to me to be a little unhinged, too. If I could untie the Gordian Knot of their behavior perhaps it would go a long way toward the solution of the puzzle. THAT'S what someone was trying to tell me!
[Maddog]
_____________
No... no... no... TA didn't stand for Transactional Analysis. That just couldn't be right.

I sure needed someone to bounce my theories of off. Maybe I should grab a case of Negro Modelo and head over to Campo Santo and have a little tête à tête with the original TA. What would he be thinking right now? (I don't mean right now... he's obviously not thinking now. I mean if he was still here.) What would he be thinking? I thought about Austin. About the things he liked. I thought about his favorite haunts... how he spent his free time. Of course! TA stood for the well-known (albiet crude) slang for certain anatomy belonging to the female gender!

How could I be so dense?!? Usually you see it abbreviated TnA, but with all the texting shortcuts these days, people are only using what's absolutely necessary.

So, I guess my invisible sidekick was a woman. Interesting... and frightening. After all, the last thing I needed right now was another woman involved in this case.

[Susan]
----------------------
On second thought, maybe that tasering (and all the years in the ring) had affected my thinking. My own reasoning was causing me to spin in circles. Although I don't believe in ghosts, I think Travis really was trying to tell me something. Ok, so I hadn't had a date in a long time which obviously led to the latest ruminations but I would have to get back on match.com once I solved this case!

If Travis were here, what would he do? He would look for the obvious which was so often staring one in the face. This all started with the missing Dr. Wingnut who was on the trail of an ancient lost diamond mine. Surely anyone who found the mine would become very rich. Was Dr. Wingnut interested in that puzzling and exciting site of an advanced and sophisticated society, a site that may have been the location of the world's largest diamond mine in order to gain a life of fame and fortune, babes and mansions, pedicures and fancy duds? More likely, he was interested in the discovery and what that would mean historically and for his reputation (and maybe a small percentage - who didn't want to drive a Ferrari?). But some of his ardent followers probably had less than scrupulous intentions. So, either Dr. Wingnut had found a clue to the location of the mine and went off on his own to pursue it or someone thought he had the location and perhaps had kidnapped him in addition to ransacking his apartment looking for information.

"So, who had the most to gain," I wondered? I kept coming back to Cindy. If Dr. Wingnut was missing but she was able ascertain the location of the mine, she could be credited all the sparkling glory for the mine's discovery. She would be come famous and no doubt have a rock or two in her currently less-than vogue jewelry collection (from what I have seen to-date, Stacy and Clinton were so focused on trying to right her fashion wrongs that they ran out of time to address accessories).

It was time to turn up the heat on Cindy and get some answers, but first I had to go by the house and feed my fearless sidekick, Joe.
[margaret]
---------------------------

Joe! The perfect excuse I needed to separate myself from Stillwater for a while and think! And I realized that having her with me would further impair what little cogitating I could still do given the tasering and heartburn I had suffered recently. I quickly turned the car around and headed for my little cabin in the woods. It would be a perfect place to stash the dame. Almost no one knew about it, except for Stella and Travis (and he wasn't going to tell anyone about it's location), and it was remote enough that Cindy's presence wouldn't raise any eyebrows nor would her overprotective oaf of a brother be able to find her. Add in that Cindy had fallen asleep the moment I put the car in gear, once stashed she wouldn't be able to facilitate her own potential escape.

As I neared the cabin, I shook Stillwater gently. "We're here," I said. That dame is one sound sleeper. She didn't even flinch. After much prodding, pushing and yelling (mainly to get beyond that horrendous snoring sound coming from within that delicate female form), Stillwater awoke.

"What are we doing?" she asked. "I thought we were going to discuss the case and talk about the dig."

"I have some things to do and I need you to stay put for a while. Joe will keep you company while I am gone," I said brusquely. "He is a sweet dog but he doesn't like any sudden or suspicious moves. He has been known to rip off arms. Just snuggle with him, feed him cookies and let him sit on the couch while you watch t.v. and all will be fine." I patted Joe, filled his food and water bowls and left before Stillwater could object.

As I drove away I realized that I needed flesh and blood, not a gravestone, with whom to discuss this case. I stopped by the store and picked up a 6-pack of Anchor Steam and then Papa Murphy's for a take-and-bake pizza. I took the supplies and drove to Stella's house.

Stella, my faithful secretary. I rescued her from a dead end job as a NASA cafeteria worker. Years ago, Travis and I needed some help in the outer office and she was the one who responded to our newspaper ad. When she told us about her most recent position, I asked her how that made her a viable candidate to work in our office. She explained that she had worked as an administative assistant for an uppity up at NASA for years. The cafeteria stint was a demotion based on rumor that she thought herself the co-pilot and chief science officer on a secret space mission. Desperate to escape the spinach she was forced to serve, she answered our ad.

When I reached Stella's door I rang the bell. No answer. I hollered, "Stelllllaaaa!" (I couldn't resist.) She opened the door and rolled her eyes. "Original," she said. She held the door and I wandered in, beer and pizza in hand.

After a little chitchat we popped open a couple of beers, baked the pizza and dug in. As we ate I gave her a summary of our firm's latest case. When I got to the part about the text messages and the mysterious signature, Stella looked thoughtful. "Well, we both know your partner is pushing up daisies so it can't be him." After a few more bites she said, "I think I know what T.A. means. It's not a name but a description. You said that Cindy is an archeologist working with this university professor. Professors often have assistants. Teaching assistants! You also mentioned that Ricardo, the unreliable lab assistant to the nutty Stillwater woman, is missing. Is it possible that Ricardo is sending you the messages and signing them T.A. instead of L.A. (lab assistant) so that Cindy wouldn't be suspicious in case you told her of the messages? And is it possible that he and Dr. Wingnut have staged their own disappearance to escape the clutches of Cindy Stillwater? Given what you have told me of her brother, her sketchy information and her nutty behavior it sounds as if she wants you to locate Dr. Wingnut for her personal benefit...fame, fortune, fashion!"

"Egads!" I thought. Stella was onto something!
[Caroline]
_________________________

The detective agency was lucky to have someone like Stella working for it. She was a dead ringer for Christina Aguilera, which always got the attention our male clients, and had a PHD in astrophysics. When it came to problem analysis and deductive reasoning she was at the top of the list. Ah, bella Stella. I should have brought her in on this earlier.

Suddenly something occurred to me. "Well, rats!" I thought. I had dropped Cindy Stillwater off at the cabin but I forgot all about her "brother" Tom, who, when I last looked, was still sitting woosily in the back of my car, right where I had deposited him when we left the Taco Cabana.

"I'll be right back!" I told Stella, and rushed out of the door to the car. Sure enough, there was the hulking Tom, eyes crossed, drool at the corner of his mouth. I must have given him quite a concussion. What could I do with him? I didn't want to attract attention. Then it occurred to me. I jumped into the car and drove as fast as I could without running afoul of the traffic cops, back to the Taco Cabana. I hauled him out of the car, no mean feat considering that he probably weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, and, with an arm around his waist, walked him into the restaurant and deposited him at a table. To give him a little cover I bought an enchilada dinner and a couple of Dos Equis and put them on the table in front of him. Lucky for me, I didn't see the store manager.

Back at Stella's I explained the reason for my sudden departure. "Did you try to get any information from Tom before you left him?" she asked. I responded that, given his low IQ and concussion, getting info from him would be a case of ab asino lanam. Stella's eyebrows went up. "Funny," I said. "Ever since Cindy called me a renaissance man I've had this urge to speak Latin."

There was a pregnant pause, then Stella looked at me with lowered eyelids and flared nostrils, one eyebrow slightly raised. "I love it when you speak Latin," she purred. Then she gathered herself and said, "I think it's time you put some serious heat on this Stillwater person. Clearly she's the key to the whole thing."
[Maddog]
____________

I went to Wingnut's house. One way or another the trail would lead through him. It was a large bungalow half-hidden in the trees well back from a wooded lane north of town. I cut the engine and let the car drift to a stop a little down the lane from the house so I could observe for a while and think. Stella had hit a nerve. Why had Cindy come to me, of all the P.I.'s and idle lawyers in this town? I had my credits but there were plenty of other good ones holding down barstools these days.

It was almost evening. Lights were going on in house far up the street but not in Wingnut's bungalow. There was an asphalt drive in poor repair with an empty carport in view and to the side of it an old Range Rover up on blocks. I got out and took in the air, the last of the sunset through the heavy clouds--the street was dry but the air smelled like rain. No one was out in the neighborhood so I started up the drive, stopping to check the mailbox; it was jammed full; I'd scoop it out when I left but for now I continued empty handed toward the house trying not to pop too many twigs underfoot--though I doubted anyone was home--as I went around the side looking for a patio door to jiggle open. I also doubted I would find a Wingnut's laptop here, but who knew. I might not get far in the laptop itself--that's one reason I had hired Stell away from the NASA cafeteria, she was the techie I needed for laptops, blackberries, whatever ...

Then it hit me, standing in the backyard, just as I saw a light come on in the kitchen and a storm of birds started chirping. Where had Stella been lately? She was in and out of the office in no time if I was there, saying she had to see someone or run an errand. And last week when I came in she was at her desk doing something in her lap, looked up and quickly put something in her bag--a blackberry?

Music came from the kitchen, laughter, and the pop of what might have been a champagne cork. I moved through the ligustrum hedge trying to get a view through the sheer curtains of the kitchen window. Whoever had put Cindy onto me in this case already knew me, and maybe they knew Stella, too. Maybe it was someone involved in an old case of mine.

Dancing close to the window, with one arm around herself and drinking from the champagne glass in her other hand, leaning against the sink and laughing, talking to someone out of my view, was the only woman who could ever make my heart sing and step on it at the same time--my ex-wife, Carla.
[Robbie]
_________
I crept closer to the window. Just as I peered in the window, Carla was gathered into the arms of a distinguished looking man, dressed in the latest archeological fashion. Dr. Wingnut! I couldn't help myself and barged through the door. "Unhand her!" I bellowed.

"Tack!" Carla exclaimed.

"What is going on here?" I demanded.

"We are celebrating, that's what! Dr. Wingnut just declared the location of the ancient diamond mine to the archeological society. In addition to recognition for the discovery he was also awarded a small fortune. We just got married!" Carla crowed.

Married? When had all this transpired? Once again, I felt my heart being stepped on even though I knew I wasn't the man for her. I couldn't give her what she wanted... love, security and Ethan Allen furniture. Maybe it was my pride taking a hit at the ultimate and final rejection. But as I was pondering my emotions, the light bulb finally clicked on.

"You are Apple O'Day! These secret conversations and phone calls were because Dr. Wingnut wanted to keep his relationship with you private! Cindy was jealous since she has the hots for Dr. Wingnut and she could see those diamonds slipping away. When she couldn't locate Dr. Wingnut, she became suspicious of what was going on and came to me for assistance." I conjectured.

"You've got it, Tack!" Carla agreed.

"But who then is TA?" I questioned.

"TA is Stella, or "Tackhammer's Assistant". You may not recall but Stella and I went to college together and have remained good friends. She knew about my relationship with Dr. Wingnut and she was trying to let you know that Cindy was not what she seemed."

That Stella. Not only was she a good secretary but she had my back and she is hot. I think she might even like me. And better, she appreciated my renaissance quirks. If I hurried (after I sent Cindy on her way from my cabin and let Joe out for his daily constitutional), maybe Stella would still be awake. I could tell her "specialis est ostendo sum" and just maybe she would purr again.
[margaret]

THE END