The Cherries and the Snow Job

I am coming this cold January morning to visit Mr. Duncan MacLeod on a matter of some urgency, in the hopes that he will bestow on me some of the assistance and largess he is so known and loved for dispensing here and there amongst the unfortunate. Meet Mr. Unfortunate, viz. me, Benny.

I am in the company of the kid Richie, and we are both a little the worse for wear after spending the night in the Seacouver sneezer, which brings me to our other companions, to wit, Detective DeLancy and Officer Bob, a large copper with some very funny ideas about where to put his cold metal bracelets in the backseat of a black-and-white. There is also a doll involved. There is always a doll involved with Mr. Duncan MacLeod, which is also making him known and loved, though frankly, not so much when more than one doll is present, as I personally observe one night at the Chatterbox lounge, and wish I am not quite so close to a plate of pickled herring at the time, as the situation heats up more than is pleasant for such a retiring guy as I. But I digress.

The doll in this instance is named Amanda, of Paris and points north, south, east, and also west on occasion, such as yesterday, when she is in this very room when I come to pay a surprise call on Mr. Duncan MacLeod and find he is not at home. What I do find, and a very pretty sight it is, is the lovely Miss Amanda, pink and white as a peach, wearing a diamond choker and red red lipstick and not enough clothes to make a hanky for a flea. I discover in the past that surprise calls are most effective when I am in search of assistance from Duncan MacLeod, but never do I catch him so pink and white wearing such a hunk of ice, nor, might I add, with quite so much skin showing overall. Miss Amanda, who is apparently expecting more MacLeod and less Benny, lets out a yawp and begins to pass some unflattering comments while diving behind a large sofa cushion that hides most of her shape, but not all, because she is shaking and bouncing with some considerable distaste at the idea of me, Benny, not being the company she anticipates before shucking the pile of duds I spy lying near my knee on a chair. In fact, so pointed do her remarks become, that I am confused and drop my hat, and it is only when I am outside breathing the cold winter air that I can clearly see what it is I pick up with my hat from the pile of Amanda's clothes that looks so interesting from the corner of my eye while she is calling me unpleasant names. It is a little white velvet box in a red velvet bag and nestling down in all this velvet and red and white is a set of diamond and ruby ear bobs the size of maraschino cherries.

Of course, I mean to return these to Amanda, right after the game.

I am always interrupted at this point in my story by some copper or dick who is impatient to hear how I come to put two such hot items of stolen property up as collateral for a stake in a game of skill, and it is always at this point in my story that I tell the shamus what I am already telling him: I borrow the items in question, not from the Vander Root dame who owns them originally, or so I only recently learn, but from the peach of a thief, Amanda, who I see wearing what must be the Vander Root ice about her neck and very little else. Here, in the loft of Mr. Duncan MacLeod. Sez you, says the copper or dick, and to make a long story short, we are here in search of proof, as well as the aid and largess I mention at the top of the page.

The kid also keeps trying to butt in, but nobody cares.

We are not expected, which is to be expected, since this is also something in the nature of a surprise call, and we apparently catch Mr. Duncan MacLeod still in his bed. Where is Amanda, asks the dick, and Duncan MacLeod tells him she is not here; furthermore, he is surprised and displeased at my story because he claims he does not see Amanda for some time now, and he also passes some derogatory remarks about my character that are not pleasant to hear. I repeat to the dick and the cop and Duncan MacLeod about the surprise call and the surprised Amanda and the ice and even the red red lipstick and at this mention I see Mr. Duncan MacLeod give a little jump, like he is stung by a bee, and the copper comes back from sniffing around the joint and says, Who is that in the bathroom? And the dick says, What is that on the mirror? And sure enough, there is a red red lipstick print on the mirror, right where the peach of a thief was standing, looking at her skin and her ice. What is that on the statue? also asks the dick, and we now notice a red red lip print on the caboose of a naked lady, and another on the head of a bald geezer, and another in the corner of a painting, and, now that we look at him, very much here and there on the face and person of Mr. Duncan MacLeod, who is obviously just getting out of bed and is surprised before his morning shower and shave.

The copper is now banging on the bathroom door and singing Come out, Lady, and Duncan MacLeod is looking very strange, and the bathroom door opens up and out comes not the doll Amanda, but some skinny beaky moke wearing a towel and the remains of red red lipstick smeared around his kisser and nothing else.

The kid cracks up, but he is the only one finding this funny, except maybe for the skinny moke, who is looking at Duncan MacLeod like the cat who eats the canary, or possibly the cream. Duncan MacLeod is becoming as red as the red red lipstick, and the dick is pretty incandescent himself, and the copper is giving me a very knowing eye and the general feeling is that I have been sifting the white stuff down the collars of the Law. The dick jerks a thumb at the moke and says This is the doll? And the moke offers to take off his towel, which no one finds even funnier. Duncan MacLeod offers to vouch for the kid, but nobody vouches for Benny, and as I am being pushed into the elevator by Officer Bob, I hear the kid ask What the hell? and the moke says something about relax, kid, it is just cherries in the snow.

-End-