Detective Willie Lobster clutched his gut and took several quick gulps of air.
The panting reminded him of Daniel, his recently dead Spaniel.
"My God," Savanna Koqteese asked. She hesitantly stepped out from behind the office door. Grimacing, she tried to to stare at the watery-eyed Detective.
"I'm not crying," Lobster wheezed. "I'm just...still in mourning."
"Shouldn't you go after him?" Koqteese asked, motioning out the still open office door.
"What?"
"The banana that attacked you," she said. "He's getting away..."
"Oh my God," Detective Lobster exclaimed. "Lady, what day is it?"
"Huh?"
"You know, Monday...Tuesday..."
"Oh, it's Thursday," Koqteese said, not sure what the day of the week had to do with running after the maniac-banana.
"Thursday," Detective Lobster said. "Thursday, Taco-Day. Come on..."
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Down to Nacho Heaven to see a man about a taco."
***
Detective Lobster and Savanna Koqteese were sitting in a grimy paper-mache booth. Lobster was wearing a massive, cheap, foam sombrero and a large bib. Koqteese, on the other hand, wore only an embarrassed look.
"This place is...interesting," she said.
"Yes," Lobster said. "It certainly is! Best tacos in the city."
"Listen, Detective, I can't go any further with you until I know if you'll take my case."
"Case?" Lobster repeated. "What case? I thought you were just looking for your dog."
And then the tears began to flow once again on the grizzled Detective's face.
"Daniel...you son-of-a-bitch..." Lobster sobbed. "That bullet was meant for me...for ME damn it!"
Koqteese got up to fetch a few extra napkins. She hated to see snot on a grown-man.
"Speaking of terrible injustices," Koqteese said, segueing into her brother's disappearance like a lazy podcaster. "My brother Pedro has gone missing."
"Really?" Detective Lobster said, wiping salsa from his fingers.
"My family hasn't heard from him in days," Koqteese said. "We're getting really worried."
"Maybe he can't remember your phone number," Lobster said. "Ever think about that?"
"But if he couldn't call, surely he could just come over..."
Lobster smiled.
"Honey, you ever think your brother might have forgotten your phone number AND where you live?"
"Could that happen?" Koqteese asked.
"Could a cocker-spaniel catch a bullet with his teeth? No. But damned if he didn't try..."
Just then, the portly-criminally-connected (but not a criminal) owner of Nacho Heaven, David DeJesus waddled over to their booth.
"Hola, Detective, how es your tacos?"
"Fabulous," Lobster said, sniffling. "I was just about to get up and order another soft-shell..."
"Con carne?"
"Si," Lobster nodded.
DeJesus snapped his fingers and a waitress appeared with the Detectives delicious soft-shell taco.
"So," the portly restaurant owner began, "You never bring a date with you to Taco Night...so I know that this lady must be a client of yours, senior."
DeJesus was right, Willie Lobster never mixed business and tacos. It was just bad business.
"Mr. Lobster was just about to take the case of my missing brother Pedro," Koqteese said.
DeJesus nodded, "Pedro. I like that, I have a few sons with that nombre."
Detective Lobster squinted across the greasy taco platter at Koqteese. He didn't like how she's presumed he was taking her case--he also didn't like how much make-up she was wearing.
"We were so happy when he got that job, working at the used car dealership off Interstate-21," Koqteese said, starting to cry. "But now my brother is missing..."
DeJesus stroked his mustache and said, "Interstate-21? You mean your brother got a job working at Carmageddon?"
"Yes," Koqteese said. "That's right, working for Mr. Baddguy."
"Oh man," DeJesus said groaning. "That's over in the Sunbelt...that's a real rough part of town."
"The Sunbelt," Detective Lobster repeated. "The Sunbelt. Why does that ring a bell? There's something I'm supposed to not do..."
"Hey Lobster, you gonna investigate this lady's brother you should be careful," DeJesus said. "Go see my cousin DeMoses, he owns a bar on Shady Street...it's not too far from the Sunbelt. He can tell you more about this Baddguy."
Detective Lobster bit into his taco, uncertain if his gut hurt from being punched or from all the Grade-F meat.
"Maybe I'll do that...maybe I will..."
SCATTERSHOT READERS YOU CHOOSE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT:
Does Lobster take an antacid?
OR
Does Lobster go home and get his glasses?
