The Handsome Detective Agency

I was working on my late afternoon cup of joe, thinking about what to have for dinner, when she strolled into my office. She was a homely piece of work. Her scraggly hair looked like it hadn't seen a comb in weeks. Her teeth would have made an orthodontist drool. She smelled like she didn't know the meaning of the word, "shower." Her clothes appeared to have been chosen at a thrift store... by a blind person. And her eyes were wonky. That explained which blind person had dressed her.

Being the consummate professional that I am, I greeted her, "The salon is next door. This is Handsome Detective Agency." She just gawked, so I asked, "Whadya want?"

She looked at me with her good eye - the one on the right - and said, "Mr., uh, Handsome, I need a private dick. Do you hire out?"

I cleared my throat and said, "You're not my usual type of client, but tell me the issue and I'll let you know if I can help."

"My brother was murdered." She pulled out a tissue that looked used three times over and honked into it. Twice. Then, she continued, "His body was discovered in an industrial trash bin, being picked at by crows. If those teenagers hadn't been curious about what they were eating, he would have been taken to the landfill and disappeared without a trace." She foghorned two more times and then held out a photo. "This is my best picture of him."

"Egad!" I could see the resemblance. Same hair. Same eyes. "I mean... gee whiz, what a shame."

"I need to find out who did this to him. The police have no leads. Will you solve his murder? Will you take the case? I'll give you an advance." I could see the hope in her one eye as she dropped $1000 on my desk. "Sure lady, I'll..."

"The name is Sylvia. Miss Sylvia Sanders. My brother is... was Harland, named after our grandfather."

"Wait! You're related to THE Colonel Sanders?"

"Yes, sir but kindly answer the question. Will you take the case?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." I stuffed her money in my front desk drawer to prove my dedication. Now, I was craving chicken. My mouth watered. Chicken to go, but not the potatoes and gravy. The Colonel himself, after he sold the franchise, said their cost-saving efforts reduced the gravy to "God-damned slop with a wallpaper taste." Just the chicken then. I could buy some potato salad from that deli on 4th and...

"Mr. Handsome? Mr. Handsome!"

I snapped out of my reverie, shaking my head, embarrassed that I had let my mind wander in front of a client. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"Harland's last know location. It was a party just two blocks from here. His body was dumped just a block away. That's how I found you. I was wandering these streets, hoping for some kind of a clue."

"That's good information. I'll take it from here." I handed her my business card. "Make sure you scan the QR code on this so that you can sign up for updates."

"Thank you, Mr. Handsome. Here's mine too. I'm ever so grateful."

"No problem. You can see yourself out. I have a dinner engagement." A KFC-by-myself dinner engagement. I glanced at her card with a start. Model? Since when did models become loathsome? I put her card in my wallet all the same. Money is money.

The next morning, I woke up with very little recollection of my KFC meal. Yet, there was the bucket, with three pieces left. I shrugged a shoulder and ate a piece cold for breakfast. Quick and tasty. I had a case to solve.

First stop was the club at which Harland had been partying. Two people were at the front desk, discussing some numbers. They looked up as I walked up. Gay, or trans. I couldn't tell. Whatever, I wasn't here to judge. I said, "Good morning. Do you recognize this man?" I held up Harland's photo.

The one standing said, "Of course. That's Harland Sanders. He's a regular What a dream!"

I barely kept from rolling my eyes. "Yes, it must be nice to be wealthy and not have to work."

The two looked at each other and back at me, like I had grown a second head. Whatever. I asked, "What do you know about him?"

A line of guys in drag walked in and went through the double doors behind the desk. Rehearsal? Many of them greeted the two as they went by, some kissing on both cheeks.

After they were gone, the one sitting said, "There was a post online about Harland being found dead. How dreadful!"

The other said to me, "...and for your information, Harland was a hard-working lawyer. He was our lawyer. We loved him."

They started getting emotional.

I snuffed that by saying, "This was his last known location. Do you, uh, gentlemen know anything about that?"

The sitting one stood up and asked, "What are you insinuating?"

The first standing one said, "I'm going to ask you to leave now, or I'll call security."

"Fine," I shrugged. I got some insight. Next stop, the dumpster where his body had been found.

There was still some police tape lingering. I carefully inspected everything and spotted a business card on the ground. MY business card. Interesting. So, one of my former clients was a murderer? At least that narrowed things down considerably. Things had been slow lately. I headed to the office, intending to check my files.

Sylvia Sanders was waiting at the door. She said, "Mr. Handsome, I forgot to give you this list of contacts and phone numbers from Harland's phone. I thought they might be useful."

"Yes, thank you. I'm making progress. Call on me tomorrow if you like, and I'll let you know what I've found."

"I will. Thanks again."

All day, I was digging into former clients and coming up empty. By 5:00, I felt like I would black out if I didn't eat. I was one my way home, when I decided to stop by that club.

The next I remember, I woke up at home. Someone was banging on my door. My hands were moist. What was that? Blood! The banging continued. I yelled, "Just a minute!" I quickly washed my hands and changed shirts.

There were policemen at the door. Behind them, was Sylvia. She said, "That's him."

The policeman in charge said, "Frank Handsome, you're under arrest for the suspicion of murder, five counts."

I said, "Whatever that hideous bitch told you is a lie."

Sylvia was barely held back, yelling, "You're the hideous one. Look!" She held up a compact mirror.

I yelled, "No!" I closed my eyes, refusing to see the truth. "I'm handsome. I'm...handsome... I... was blacking out. I don't know what happened. I needed to rid the world of unsightly people."

Sylvia screamed, "Those beautiful people were my friends, you... monster! I gave you that list to find my brother's murderer, not to give you more victims."

Well, I guess you could say I solved the case, in a way. I don't much like the institution, but at least there aren't any mirrors here, and every once in a while, we get chicken.

Sylvia Sanders:

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Mr. Frank Handsome:

This is for Sasha's summer mystery challenge, found here: