The Mike Murphy Files and Other Stories (11 page)

“Ah,” I said.

We dropped off Gambini Senior and company on the steps of the 52
^nd
Precinct Station. They flopped around inside their nets and did some cursing and threatened us with great bodily harm. But their hearts didn’t really seem to be in it. I think they were pretty happy to be back on the ground. I strolled inside the police station. No one seemed to recognize me. I asked for Detective Thurston at the front desk. She appeared after a few minutes and did a double take when she saw me. It was my dashing good looks, no doubt.

“You!” she said.

“I have a present for you,” I said.

She seemed startled to find the thugs trussed up on the sidewalk.

“For you,” I said. “Merry Christmas.”

She pulled out her gun. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate it, but you’re still under arrest.”

“I do find you arresting,” I said, smiling in a suave manner. “Very arresting.”

She snorted a bit at that. Rather unladylike, but attractive, nonetheless. Her cheeks got a little red. “Get your hands up, buster.”

Jerzy hopped out of the Camaro at that moment and held the door open for me.

“Your car awaits you, Mr. Santa, sir,” he said, bowing low.

“Thank you, but I—”

“Get in before I shoot you with the Prototype. Hey, lady. He really is Santa Claus. Get over your narrow-minded worldview.”

“You’re both under arrest,” she said automatically, her eyes a little wide.

Snix gunned the Camaro and did a slow vertical takeoff. The last view I had of Detective Thurston was of her staring up at us, her mouth open.

“You could’ve waited a few more minutes,” I grumbled. “I was about to get her phone number.”

“You were about to get cuffed, is what you were. Very arresting! I can’t believe you said that. Very nauseating, more like.”

At any rate, despite the difficulty of elves, spending time in the slammer, and the fact that there’s tiramisu smeared all over my sled, it was a good Christmas. A good Christmas indeed. Herk and Jerzy returned to Hawaii, and Snix finally made it to Tahiti. It’s nice to be back home at the Pole, but it’s a bit quiet with all the elves gone. I think I might just pack up some presents and take the sled out for a jaunt to Manhattan. There’s a certain detective who deserves a nicer Christmas gift than a couple of tied-up Mafia thugs.

PLANNING PROBLEMS

From the journal of Martin Jones, Planner, BSc.

Feb 12. First day at work. Only Planning Department in the country that would hire me with this mail-order degree. Hope I didn’t waste my 50 dollars. Still, girl napping in next cubicle very cute.

Feb 13. Interview with Mr. Stanley, Head of Department. Seems nice. Not sure what he looks like, though, as he was hiding under desk whole interview. Tomorrow have scheduled first case. A Mr. Wolf. Feels good to be a public servant. I’m ready to meet the public and help them through their problems.

Feb 14. Productive meeting with Mr. Wolf. Very hairy man. Requesting demolition permit for vagrant structure built on his property. Wanted me to also arrest vagrant, a Mr. Piglet. Told him Planning Department does not arrest people. Referred him to Sheriff’s office.

Feb 15. My first code enforcement case. How exciting! Eleven people living on Bide Awee Lane have signed complaint letter against Mr. Jack, a local farmer. Letter says he is violating their view. I will visit him tomorrow. Had question for Mr. Stanley about mileage reimbursement. Not sure why he’s still hiding under his desk.

Feb 16. Drove out Mr. Jack’s farm. Nature of complaint is self-evident. He has planted enormous beanstalk growing several stories tall. Must be some experimental hybrid. Quite an eyesore. Is very proud of the thing and claims it comes from a magic bean. I suppose he is one of those hippies. They are forever talking about things like magic mushrooms, etc. Seems like harmless fellow, though. I shall research agricultural zoning issues. He might have to cut it down or pay fine.

Feb 19. Interesting case today. A Mr. Billy Gruff requesting access easement over a footbridge. Said bridge is on private property owned by a Mr. Troll. However, Gruff family has been crossing bridge for decades. Is there legal precedent similar to squatter’s rights that establishes access rights? Shall have to research. Mr. Gruff seemed quite moody about it all. When I instructed him to curtail use of bridge until next meeting, he tried to head-butt me. I shall submit written complaint to Mr. Stanley, if I can find him. Not under his desk. Perhaps hiding in closet?

Feb 20. Mr. Wolf has returned for additional permit. Wants to build barbecue pit and smokehouse on his property. Very detailed plans. Shall submit copies to Fire, Environmental Health, and Building for approval. Girl in next cubicle still very cute. However, seems to spend all her time sleeping. Never seen her awake yet.

Feb 21. Finished research on agricultural zoning issues. Sent letter to Mr. Jack. He has ten days in which to remove offending beanstalk or pay $1,000 in fines.

Feb 22. Another code enforcement case. A Ms. Witch has somehow built entire house out of unapproved materials. Will drive out to inspect after lunch.

Drove out to Ms. Witch’s house. Nice property in middle of forest. House clearly not built to code. Walls are made of gingerbread. Windows seemed to be made out of some sort of sugar. Ms. Witch came outside. Very pleasant lady. Claims was not aware of existence of either building code or Planning Department. Says she will hire architect to remodel. Seems to have lots of children. They crowded at the windows, waving and yelling at me. Very friendly, like their mom.

Feb 23. More code enforcement. Is that all I do these days? People in town have signed petition to restrict public performance of music. They cite a Mr. Piper of Hamelin who apparently skips through the streets, blowing on his flute at all hours, as well as the so-called Bremen Musicians, a folk quartet. They are particularly incensed at the folk quartet, as their music apparently sounds awful. “Like a bunch of braying donkeys,” states one affidavit. Cannot find telephone number for Mr. Piper or the folk quartet.

Feb 26. Public nuisance case. Old wall on city property. Children keep climbing onto it, falling off, getting injured. Latest injury some idiot named Humpty Dumpty. Fell off and broke his head. Probably going to sue city for big bucks. I wrote letter to Public Works Department to put caution tape around wall. Schedule for demolition next week.

Feb 27. Finally! Some real project planning. Apparel design company wants to build studio downtown. Partners were in for a meeting today. Impressive background. They have designed apparel for European nobility, such as Emperor of Denmark. When asked what sorts of material they work with, both partners started giggling. Very unprofessional. Our town needs more jobs, but, unfortunately, they say they will not need to hire employees.

Feb 28. Mr. Wolf back again. Says yet another vagrant has built an illegal dwelling on his property. A Mr. Pig. Requests new demolition permit. Says he must use dynamite this time and then proceeded to salivate on my desk. Must be glandular disorder.

March 2. Permit application for eight-foot-high electric fence. The building ordinance only allows six-foot-high, non-electrified fences. Have to refer this to Planning Commission. The applicant, Mr. Bear, was not pleased. Says he has “varmints” sneaking into his house and eating his porridge. Advised him to buy shotgun and not spend thousands on fence. He looked thoughtful at this.

March 5. Girl in next cubicle still sleeping. Not so cute with all that drool.

March 6. Mr. Wolf back yet again. Remarkably hairy and smelly. Raving about another illegal squatter on his property. A Mr. Swine. How does he attract these people? Says he will use bulldozer for demolition this time. Was pleased when gave him approved plans for barbecue pit and smokehouse. Was not pleased when informed of $500 fee.

March 9. Slow day. One walk-in at front counter who wanted advice on environmental impact of killing frogs. Claims they are not endangered red-legged variety. Says frogs are always entering her house and asking her to kiss them. Talking frogs? I suspect she is eating magic beans, like Mr. Jack. However, in spirit of public service, instructed her to buy pesticide and sprinkle liberally around perimeter of house.

March 10. Interesting application. Woman wants business permit to work at home, spinning straw into gold. Classic cottage-industry ordinance. Refrained from pointing out impossibility of her business plan, as can still charge her application fee. She’s obviously crazy. Am I unethical? She paid fee in real gold coins.

March 11. Mr. Jack the farmer in. Asked him if has cut down beanstalk. Hemmed and hawed, then changed subject. Said he grows mulberries. Big problem with monkeys and weasels running all around mulberry bushes. Sometimes weasels go pop and explode. Very messy. Wants to know if he can get depredation permit to shoot monkeys and weasels before they make messes of his mulberry bushes. Referred him to Fish & Game Department. Note: must make site visit to see if beanstalk cut down or not.

March 13. Strange day. Never seen such short people in my life. Seven short men (all with long beards) applied for mineral extraction permit. Were displeased to hear they needed grading and excavation permits as well. Ka-ching! $1500 at one go! Gorgeous girl waiting in lobby. Turns out she’s with the short men. Why do the freaks get all the awesome ladies?

March 14. This building needs better security. Being a public servant is a good job, but sometimes the public needs to be kept out. Little boy in stupid blue outfit marched up to my desk and blew his horn. Gave me a heart attack. Informed me he was looking for his sheep. Do I work for the SPCA? Blew his horn again. I called security on him. Submitted memo about building security to Mr. Stanley. His office door was locked.

March 15. Sleeping drool girl still at it.

March 18. My first lawsuit. Mr. Troll stomped in and informed me is suing me, entire Department, and the Gruff family for trespassing, aiding trespass, etc. Very ugly man with deep voice. Kept my cool and told him must address concerns to our Legal Department. Clever move on my part, as they require forms to be filled out in triplicate, 7 different languages, and Braille. They will then lose his file for a minimum of 1 year.

March 19. Yet another code enforcement complaint. Apparently, local juvenile delinquent by name of Wee Willie Winkie has habit of running through town in his nightgown. This happens late at night. Delinquent Winkie raps on windows, yells questions about whether children are in bed. Obviously disturbed. Some kind of adolescent peeping Tom. He is the one who should be in bed. This has nothing to do with Planning Department. Shall refer to Sheriff’s office.

March 20. Bizarre. Guy in tights, wearing a sword, strode into office. Shouting something about rescuing the sleeping beauty. Drew sword and killed copy machine. I dialed security, but they said they were busy. Recommended I hide under desk or in file cabinet. Guy in tights approached me and called me undeserved names, such as varlet and poltroon. Sleeping drool girl caught his attention (thank God) by sudden snore. Promptly kissed her. She woke up and they waltzed off together. Good riddance. She never did any work. Who’s going to clean up all the drool?

March 23. Think I’m in wrong profession. If I ever get my hands on Mr. Jack, he’ll regret it. Huge man came in this morning. Huge. Said Mr. Jack told him I allowed beanstalk to remain. I told him not true, but he would not listen. Said he’d grind my bones to make his muffins or popovers, or something equally disturbing like that. Told him he needs to address concerns to head of department, Mr. Stanley. He stomped off to Mr. Stanley’s office. Spent rest of day hiding under desk. This job would be better if it did not involve public.

March 24. Wrote resignation letter. Slipped it under Mr. Stanley’s door.

ICE AND FIRE

Once upon a time, a baby girl was born. Her name was Matilda, and she was a princess. Matilda was the only child of the King and Queen of Lune. If you have done well in geography class, you’ll know Lune was a small kingdom. You’ll also know the main source of income for the country was the rubies mined there. They were a lovely shade of red and brought excellent prices. The mine also produced emeralds and amethysts, but these were of little value in comparison to the rubies and were used as doorstops, paperweights, or children’s toys.

Matilda had many such toys, but she ignored them in favor of other pursuits. She was fond of gurgling and staring at stray bits of sunlight. She enjoyed flinging oatmeal from her high chair. She delighted in chewing on furniture or the Queen’s best lace or the ears of the King’s long-suffering hounds. But, as babies do, Matilda grew up into a little girl.

She became good friends with the hounds, after they forgave her, and best friends with Peter, the only son of Jim Snow, the chief miner.

“I wish she’d play with other children,” said the Queen. “More suitable children.”

“You really are a snob, my dear,” said the King.

“Perhaps if we made Jim Snow an earl.”

“If that’ll make you happy,” said the King.

The Queen conferred on Jim Snow the rank of earl. She gave him a purple silk sash that he was to wear to dinners at the castle. He trudged home for his lunch of boiled potatoes and sauerkraut. He neglected to tell his wife about their recent social elevation, stuffed the silk sash into his sock drawer, and promptly forgot about it.