Aachoo Voo, Private Eye: 01/15/22

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye

Episode 21

Solved and Unsolved Mysteries

My life was relatively quite quiet for a few months which gave me time to think about things and work on my files and still open cases. I closed some minor cases that were run-of-the-mill things that were almost too boring to deal with but I needed to put them to bed and get paid so I gritted my teeth and closed them. Cases like The Missing Cases of Shoelaces from Griffin's Shoe Store. Yawn. (It had been the gang of feral cats that still hung out in the alleys in our neighborhood. The one I had saved Weiner from.)

What is it with cats and strings and yarn and stringy things? They certainly were sly and sophisticated in their thefts though. We found flashlights and floor plans of shoe stores as well as delivery schedules and small red wagons in their hideout. Hundreds of opened packages of shoe strings. balls of yarn big enough to choke a goat and dozens of half nibbled mouse carcasses and donuts of every variety. There was a poster of a cartoon mouse hanging on a wall inside the wall of McDo's Doughnut Shop where I traced them to that had a bullseye drawn on it peppered with many little darts.

There were lots of cat beds made out of newspapers and old and new clothes all lined up in a row with little Persian rugs beside the beds and little teddy bears lying on them. (Aha! Not so tough, eh Kitty Cats?) I took loads of photographs because who would have believed me otherwise? Griffin's got their shoelaces back in good condition except for the ones that had been braided into ladders and utility ropes. It took a full day to clean the stuff out and nail all the holes shut. That place looked like a luxury hotel for felines! I swear some of those beds had mink coverlets! And matching pillow shams!

Then there was the case of The Missing False Teeth (which I found under an old lady's bed for crying out loud, along with a Bible and six unpaired pink socks.) And there was the case that had baffled me to no end because I had been given absolutely no clues, no identifying pictures, no descriptions and had never even been told what it was that was missing! I finally told the elderly man who'd hired me that I'd found his missing whatchamacallit and put it back on his living room shelf and he seemed quite pleased with that news, paid me generously and commenced to search for something else gone missing that he could hire me to find. (New York City is a lonely place.) Bless his heart.

I also was contacted by Nick's friend Clyde who informed me that Nick had disappeared quite suddenly after his release from the last hospital. He had tended bar a few times but was not feeling very well. He seemed kind of depressed that all the kinks hadn't been worked out of his legs yet. He put on a happy face but Clyde could tell that something just wasn't right. I felt terrible for him. He had been alright until I'd ruined his life. I hadn't meant to but I never meant to ruin any man's life, I just did in one way or another. I investigated things as best I could and spent many days and nights at Nick's Place talking to his friends and customers and following up leads. There were lots of lonely women around who missed him and his unique way of communicating telepathically. Eventually, I talked to someone who had talked to someone who had seen someone see Nick down by the warehouse where his Grandfather Resko's magic equipment had been stored.

I remembered Nick's stories about his grandparents and the way they had vanished in that magic show cabinet and wondered if perhaps Nick had utilized it. So I set out to see if it could be found. Clyde and I searched every inch of that warehouse discovering all sorts of wondrous and magical and spooky things. At last we found the Vanishing Cabinet under layers of dusty sheets and magic show posters starring Nick's maternal grandfather and his lovely assistant/wife, Joy. We uncovered the 4x6 box and stood open mouthed in amazement. There was a shirt sleeve, a pant's leg and a shoe stuck in the door of the cabinet. We finally got the thing opened and that was all that was in it. Not the left sleeve or the left pant's leg or the left shoe, just the right ones. We looked at one another in fear as those items slid down and hit the floor. We then noticed a piece of white paper that said simply in Nick's flowery, unusual handwriting...............

Gone to find my grandparents. But I'll be back.

Nick never came back from parts unknown that anyone knows about and he was never seen again. Clyde took over running the club and made Jack Knife James his partner until Nick returned. So I didn't really solve that mystery or close that case but I darned sure tried! And just like in poor Andy's case, I never forgave myself. (Rest In Peace/Pieces, Nick! I'll save your shoe for you!) Then I took a break and went on vacation and came back with a lemur that I named Popeye and he joined our happy menagerie at Lefevre Arms and I loved him dearly. The parrot on the other hand, no. He stayed on his worst behavior with the lemur. He loved to startle the cute little animal at all hours of the day and night. One day I was afraid he'd actually make Popeye's big petrified eyes...well, pop out.

Then the most horrible thing happened. I was arrested, hauled down to Headquarters and charged with the murder of Si, the Shellac salesman! After all that time, I had almost forgotten about him and he barely crossed my mind except when I shopped for Shellac and refinishing products at Marshall's Hardware and Hat Emporium. I was still working on furniture in my spare time on occasion but only occasionally. There was a new guy working there that wore black horn rimmed glasses, a bow tie and seemed to know nothing about the business whatsoever. His name was Eugene. He kept his nose buried in a bird watching book and let dishonest, stealthy customers walk out with coat pockets full of sandpaper and putty. At least I didn't have to fend him off like I did Si but could shop and come and go unmolested. I did miss the free delivery that Si had provided, however.

"What is wrong with you guys?" I shouted as the cops half carried me out of my apartment that late Friday morning just as I was feeding my pets their brunch and making coffee. "At least let me put on some clothes!" But they were impatient and rustled me out to the patrol car in my bunny slippers and pink bathrobe. I bent to get in and looked up and there was the smiling face of the bleached blonde down the hallway. She waved her plump fingers at me and slammed the window. Things began to click into place. I was being framed. Out of petty jealousy and meanness.

Oh, I would fix her wagon!!!! "Just you wait, Missy!" I mumbled as the car sped down the street, sirens blasting. Of course everyone watching recognized me and I ducked my head in shame while the cop beside me patted my knee and smiled. I jerked away and said through clenched teeth, "I did not kill that salesman! You know I didn't! You have no evidence whatsoever!" "We got circumstantial, baby. Lots of circumstantial. And rumors and witnesses and photographs and a very angry wife!" Aha! I knew it!

I called MiMi and she hurried down and brought me some clothes and things I would need. Along with some things I would not need like a negligee and jewelry and perfume. "Take this back home, MiMi, please." I pleaded in exasperation. "Why?" she drawled in her Cajun/Hillbilly accent. "Don't ye wanna look purty for ye mugshots?" "No, I do not!" I shouted. "In fact, I want you to bring me a pair of overalls, braid my hair up in pigtails and black my front teeth out!" I was so tired of law enforcement attention and side and full frontal mugshots! "Oh, I can't do that, babette." she said. "But don't worry about these coppers, honey, I'll protect ye from them critters! They won't lay an eyeball on ye when I get through with 'em!"

And they didn't because MiMi had put the fear of God, Beelzebub and Hell Fire in them before she left, very disappointed that they would not allow her to bail me out. This time. "Please don't tell Mother!" I begged as they escorted her away. "I won't, Cherie." she promised but it was too late. It was all over the mid afternoon news, the papers, the television, the radio, on the streets and the tongues of gossipers everywhere by the time she hurried herself back home. EXTRA!!! NEWS FLASH!! AachooVoo Arrested for Murder the headlines screamed and the cops said they were afraid she was gonna fry for it! Fry! And not in a cast iron skillet with gravy and potatoes and homemade biscuits and fresh corn and peach cobbler. My Lord! I had only been arrested for twenty minutes and already I was starving for MiMi's good ole down home homemade sweet Southern Cajun cooking and sick of prison food! I would have to ask her to cook me up a mess of something with nail files in it so I could break out of here. Geez Louise!! Rotting in jail sure made a girl go crazy, I'm telling you!

After they had fingerprinted me from head to toe, they took my fingerprints and twenty two mug shots, including several of me with the arresting officers, their bosses and their bosses' bosses. Then they lectured me, read me some scriptures, tried to get me to confess to that crime and several other unsolved crimes and just before actually taking me to a jail cell, they looked it up in their cop manuals to see if there was any such thing as an official legalized standard procedure allowing them to spank me. Thankfully there was not. I clutched my black lace negligee to my chest (they had let me keep it when MiMi wouldn't take it home.) (They had tried to make me wear it but I'd refused.) The girls of the night in the cell next to mine offered me all manner of costume jewelry and hose and used lipsticks, etc for the thing but I put my hands over my ears and shut them out.

I climbed into the bottom bunk of the bunk bed screwed to the wall and covered myself with my lace gown and a thin gray blanket. I cried a little bit because although I had been brought in on false charges many times before, I had never been actually jailed. I worried about my pets though MiMi would take care of them. I especially worried about facing the parrot if I ever got out of there after all the times he had taunted me and prophesied that I would one day end up in prison. I couldn't bear the thought of that. I couldn't bear the thought of my mother 'fainting' an average of ten times with her well manicured finger pointing at me and the multitudinous (?) scoldings and threats and the "Oh my Heavens! oh my Goodness! We're ruined! I can never show my face in public agains!" that I knew were coming.

Much to her surprise though, my arrest and notoriety brought her great popularity and an air of glamour and intrigue as well as dozens of Society Page photographs going and coming from balls and charity events, stepping out of limos to the flashbulbs of news hungry photogs. 'The Mother of Notorious Private Investigator Aachoo Voo' they called her, 'Arrested on Charges of Cold Blooded Murder in The Gruesome Death of Well-Known Shellac Salesman' etc etc etc. She was invited to all the best soirees, parties, banquets and gallery openings but never once did they ever film her coming out of a grocery store or a dry cleaners! Patricia Paramore Voo had her moment in the spotlight at last, her fifteen minutes of fame as someone would later coin the phrase and her hour of misguided glory as it were...and all because of me. The perpetual black sheep of the family. (Not counting MiMi and my brother.)

As I laid on the hard bunk pondering my misfortune, I thought about Tom B. and T Wayne and all of my friends who would be disappointed that I had been arrested but not shocked. I thought about my father and Poppi Voo and how they would probably blame themselves for never discipling me when I was a child but had only encouraged my hi-jinks. I felt bad for them. I thought about Nick and Andy and Lance. Especially Lance. A week before my arrest, Lance had taken me out on the town for dinner, dancing and a show. It was Lee Lee's closing night before she headed off for Hollywood and we had gone to see her and celebrate her success and frankly, we had painted the town red. And purple. We got back to Lance's place at three in the morning and slow danced for an hour or so and fell asleep in each other's arms. (Which can be dangerous if you're standing up and still dancing.)

We capped the night off with lots of kisses and sighs and as I made my way off the elevator and past the bleached blonde's apartment at five, her door opened. I tried uselessly to straighten my hair and un-smear my lipstick as she asked sleepily "Have you seen Lancey? I haven't seen him in ages and I need to tell him...." And that's where I messed up. I was half asleep and I said to her, "He's gone to sleep. Don't wake him up." She glared at me with pure hatred and slammed the door in my face. And I was convinced as I lay there on that awful, hard bunk bed crying in my pink bathrobe and bunny slippers that that was the reason I was here in the slammer right now! I would get to the bottom of this, I vowed. I would get out of here and strangle that woman and I would clear my name! So help me.......I......! But then the top bunk of that bed came crashing down on me holding a large still sleeping female felon, knocked me out and I was off to la-la-land. A place I was very familiar with.