The Toyminator Read Online Free PDF Page B

life-endangering.”
    “But we came through, Jack, and –”
    “Look at us now?” Jack asked.
    “We’ll get back on top. Somehow.”
    “I’ll give it a week,” said Jack.
    “You’ll what?” And Eddie turned.
    “I’ve a week’s money in my pocket. I’ll give it a week with you. That’s fair.”
    “It’s
not
fair,” said Eddie. “Give a month at least.”
    “Well, we’ll see how it goes. So where’s this padlock that needs picking?”
    “It’s here,” said Eddie. But much to his surprise it was not. “It
was
here,” said Eddie, “only yesterday, but now it seems to have vanished.”
    “Perhaps someone else has moved in.” Jack viewed the door of Bill Winkie’s office,
BILL WINKIE INVESTIGATIONS
etched into the glass. There were some holes in the woodwork where the hasp of a padlock had been. The door was slightly open. Jack did not feel encouraged by this turn of events.
    “The door’s open,” said Eddie. “That’s as encouraging as.”
    “No it’s not,” said Jack, “it’s suspicious.”
    “Depends on how you look at it,” said Eddie. “It’s like the glass of water that is either half-full or half-empty, depending on how you look at it.”
    “I’m sure there’s wisdom in your words.”
    “I’m sure there isn’t,” said Eddie. “You’d best go first, I’m thinking.”
    “And why would you be thinking that?”
    “Well,” said Eddie, “you’re bigger than me and have about you an air of authority. And should there be anyone in that office who shouldn’t be there, you can shoo them away, as it were.”
    “I see,” said Jack. “And that would be your considered opinion, would it?”
    “Well, actually, no,” said Eddie. “I hardly gave it any consideration at all.”
    Jack shook his head and pushed open the door. It squeaked a little on its hinges, but it was a different squeak from the door hinges of Tinto’s Bar. An octave higher, perhaps.
    Jack and Eddie peeped into the office.
    The office hadn’t changed at all.
    Light drifted through the half-opened blinds, falling in slanted rays upon the filing cabinet, which contained little other than empty beer bottles; the desk that Jack had broken and inadequately repaired; the carpet that dared not speak its name; the water cooler that cooled no water; and all of the other sparse and sundry bits and bobs that made a private detective’s office a private detective’s office.
    “Ah,” sighed Eddie, “home again,” and he sniffed. “And don’t it just smell good?”
    Jack took a sniff and said, “Rank.”
    “Rank,” agreed Eddie. “But it’s a good rank, don’t you think?”
    “I do.”
    “And it’s great to be back.”
    “It is.”
    “And we will have great times, Jack, exciting times.”
    “Will we?” said Jack. “Well, yes, perhaps.”
    “We will,” said Eddie. “We will.”
    Jack looked at Eddie.
    And Eddie looked at Jack.
    “There’s just one thing,” said Jack.
    “One thing?” said Eddie.
    “One thing,” said Jack.
    “And what would that one thing be?”
    “That one thing,” and Jack now glared at Eddie, “that one thing would be that thing
there
. That one thing that you are so studiously ignoring. That one thing
right there
, lying on the carpet that dares not speak its name. Are you following me, Eddie? I’m pointing now, pointing to that one thing – do you see it?”
    Eddie followed the pointing finger. And, “Ah,” said Eddie. “You would be referring, I suppose, to the dead body that is lying there upon the floor.”
    Jack nodded slowly and surely. “That would be it,” he said.

3
    “It’s a monkey,” said Eddie.
    “It’s a
dead
monkey,” said Jack.
    “It might only be sleeping,” said Eddie.
    “It is
dead
,” said Jack.
    “Or run down,” said Eddie, approaching the monkey on the floor. “Its clockwork might just have run down – and run down is a small death, you know, amongst clockwork folk.”
    “Look at its eyes,” Jack approached Eddie, who