Those 70ish Girls

W Spade et al and crew cut out early on Friday since they hadn’t secured any new clients and nothing really criminal happens on the weekends in Murdo. Besides, the new assistant, Friday, wasn’t starting until Monday.

On Monday, things began to change. You could feel it in the air. Northeaster, is the only word I can think of to describe how the breeze suddenly changed direction.

It was one of those times when you remember exactly where you were and what you were doing the moment you heard the news.

W, et al, and Friday were hanging out in the basement drinking coffee when they heard a strange sound. It was almost a full minute before Friday realized it was her phone ringing.

Friday: W Spade et al, Private Investigators …this is Friday. No, dear, my name is Friday. Today is Monday. What can we do for you? We solve, dissolve, and resolve your problems.

Friday: I see… What did him in? Uh, let me see if W is free. He’s our Head and Neck Murder Manager.

W: W Spade at your service. Please fill me in on the gruesome details.

It seemed like forever before W hung up the phone. His face was as white as Friday’s hair in a Saturday snowstorm.

W: The police got a call about a guy floating on his back at the swimming dam. Apparently, he had met his demise.

Lav: He must have tried to do a back flip off that rickety dock.

W: No Lav…he was murdered.

Lav: Oooh..Do you mean someone rubbed him out?

MG: Who was he?

W: Anybody know a guy by the name of Rick Click, aka Slick Rick Click…?

You could hear et al suck in air. Yesterday’s mysterious caller and the dead guy Clicked.

W: Grab the keys to the El Camino et al. Friday, hold down the fort. We have to get to the dam before…before…

MG: Before what, Dad? MG is watching W closely for clues, but all she sees is his stupid hat.

Then she looks again. He has a brand new cigar in his shirt pocket… and it’s still in the wrapper…things are getting interesting…