Chapter 2: A Private Dick in Action


    Chapter 2: A Private Dick in Action


    I’ve said it before, I always like to make a grand entrance. And kicking the door down is a real attention


    getter. Besides, it’s fun.


    I followed the falling door into the bedroom, Wilma held before me in the ssic two-handed grip.


    Taking in the scene, I was surprised to find that he was even more of a bastard than I had thought.


    This girl’s father, an important attorney, had hired me to check out this new boyfriend of hers. The


    father, as most fathers do, did not like him, and wanted me to find proof that he was unsuitable for his


    young, innocent daughter. I had doubts that a neen year old that good looking and with that kind of


    come-and-get-it body was still a virgin, but he was paying me and for that kind of money she could be a


    nun as well as a virgin.


    So I tailed them. He never suspected that I was following him, except for a brief bit when I tripped over


    that waiter’s foot and caused a mess in the restaurant.


    From my observations, I had to agree with her father; this guy was just too good to be true. There was


    a certain slickness about him that set my teeth on edge. The daughter, just neen and fresh out of


    high school, was totally taken in by a man in his early twenties who had taken such an interest in her.


    When he drove her to his apartment, I knew he was going to make his move.


    Time for Sled Speed, the world’s greatest Private Dick, to move in. Her father had made it clear that he


    did not want this man, or any other, to deflower his precious little girl. Normally, I would never consider


    interrupting two consenting adults in the act of procreation. But this time I was being paid to prevent


    that act from happening.


    Things changed when I snuck into his apartment and listened outside his bedroom door. I had


    expected to hear some giggling, maybe a sigh or two, perhaps even a cry of delight if I had been a little


    toote. What I heard was a muffled scream.


    Now, people, I’ve been around the block a few times, and seen some pretty weird and kinky stuff. One


    time I rescued a sorority girl from the hands of white vers down in old Mexico. And once rescued my


    main squeeze from a mad scientist who was performing experiments in pain that the AMA would never


    approve. What I’m saying is that I know a scream of distress when I hear it.


    I pulled Wilma out of my shoulder holster, told her to get ready, and kicked down the door. Yeah, I


    know, it probably was not locked and I could have just opened it carefully, but, as I said, a loud, grand


    entrance gets people’s attention better.


    The perp was kneeling on the bed with a de at the girl’s breast. That didn’t sit well with me. I pointed


    Wilma direct at his head, aiming right between the eyes, and told him, in my gruff private dick voice,


    “Hold it right there, punk!”


    His eyes went wide with fear. Looking at Wilma from the front like that does it to men.


    “Drop that knife,” I barked.


    A smart man would have dropped the knife and begged for mercy. But this guy was lost in his own little


    insane world. I saw him look at the knife and then at me, and could almost hear his thoughts as he


    wondered if he could get to me before I shot him.


    “You better think twice, buddy,” I said. “This is a Desert Eagle .50 caliber automatic. It is the most


    powerful automatic in the world and can blow your head clean off.


    Please check at N/?vel(D)rama.Org.


    I saw a little doubt in his eyes, so I went on with the rest of the spiel.


    “Of course, I might miss you. What you’ve got to ask yourself is, do you feel lucky tonight? Well,


    asshole, do you?”


    He must have felt lucky. Twisting around, heunched himself from the bed in my direction.


    Wilma put an end to his stupid acts forever.


    Her voice was very loud in that small bedroom. But she did her job. This asshole stopped in midair as if


    he had hit a brick wall. Then he was jerked backwards to fall across the tied down girl. Wilma had sent


    a .50 bullet crashing into his chest, breaking ribs and ripping apart vital organs as it went. He was dead


    before hended on the girl. He then proceeded to bleed all over her naked body.


    I had a job on my hands calming the girl down after dragging his body off her. It took a while, but I


    found the handcuff keys on the dresser and released her. She was sobbing and shaking, and I had to


    hold her naked body for a long time before she calmed down long enough for me to call the cops.


    I will say this: he might have been pure evil inside, but he had good taste in women.


    The cops showed up and we went through the usual procedure. She was taken off to some hospital to


    be checked up. The main uniform looked at the perp for a while then asked me what the hell I had shot


    him with: a cannon?


    I showed him Wilma. He admitted he had heard about those hand howitzers but never seen one.


    Eventually, he had to let me go. I drove back to my apartment and spent some time filling out a report


    and billing for my client. I had no idea one of the biggest cases of my illustrious career was about to


    pounce on me.