The Birdseed Caper
A film noir mystery featuring my pet bearded dragon. Narrated by Jennifer Hale.
It was mid-afternoon when the dame entered my office. One of my regulars. If I had to be honest, her visits were single-handedly keeping food on my table. What can I say? Not too many people willing to look past my spiky exterior. Guess I had a something of a soft spot for her.
"Now who ate all the birdseed?!" I heard her cry as she desperately peered out my office window, her fists balled on her hips in frustration. Wasn't sure what her deal was, but she had a case for me. Figures. I'd just gotten comfortable under my heat lamp, been looking forward to getting baked for a couple hours. Guess today wasn't going to be the day. "The usual rate?" I asked.
For the first time since she entered, she turned to look at me. "Oh my god, Bugsy, you are such a mess!" ...I'm not too proud to admit she was right. I had something of a... nasty habit of losing control of myself. Throwing plants around, knocking things off walls. I'd even smeared my own filth across my tail more than once. Sometimes the dame had to bring in her husband to clean me up and set me straight. But I ain't apologizin' for who I am.
Next thing I knew, I was being lifted from my desk. She was pushy. Guess she wanted me to get to work.
I had to be cautious as I stepped out of my office. I was set up in a bad part of town, couldn't afford much with what I was pulling in. The dame kept me supplied with green, but I always seemed to chew through it pretty quick. You can always find cheap office space, but it's all a matter of what you're willing to pay if the cash is tight.
The gang that owned these streets called themselves the Starlings. You knew when you found yourself in Starling territory. Their luminescent, spackled uniforms made them stick out like a sore thumb; and if you were fortunate enough not to see them, you'd still hear their jabbering from blocks away. They seemed likely culprits for the seed heist, but I knew better. These birds were too full of themselves to be it for the chicken feed. Nah, they preferred the fatty stuff. I could rule them out.
They didn't rule me out, though. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by these thugs, crowing and putting on their usual tough-guy act. Seemed like the pack grew bigger every year; but I kept my cool. What you need to know about Starlings is that they got all of the flight and none of the fight. Might seem intimidating when you're staring down that many at once, but if you show them a little resistance, they'll back off real quick.
So that's what I did. I might look like a scrawny gal, but I know a couple a' tricks to throw them off. I puffed up my chest, titled my head back and flared my beard. They weren't expecting me to get that big that quick, and I had my opening. Scurrying is a useful ability to have in a line of work like mine, and scurry I did—right past them and down a nearby gutter pipe. Must have been too much trouble for them to follow, though you wouldn't hear me complaining. Likely left me for something easier to harass. Already this job was more trouble than it was worth.
Not that I minded the diversion; I was right where I wanted to be, anyhow. Down in the mean streets below the deck was a little place I knew; used to be a grill before I moved in, but these days it's bar, run by an old friend of mine. Called him the Cardinal. Risky operating on Starling turf, but those that stay in business this long know what they're doing. The Cardinal worked in the shadows, making his deals in those odd hours of the day, before they woke up or after they turned in. And he saw a lot. He'd have the answers I needed.
"Well well, if it ain't my favorite private eye," the old bird chirped as I ducked into the place. Though the Cardinal was getting on in years, the bright red coat he favored was immaculate as always. "Got some dandelion wine in today. Good stuff, if you can afford it."
"Give me the dandelion, hold the wine," I replied, tilting my head to make sure no shady characters had followed me in. The coast seemed clear. "I need information. About some missing birdseed."
"Whoa, whoa," said the Cardinal as he took a couple steps away from me. "I don't think I like what you're implying."
"I ain't accusing you," I told him, and I meant it. "This was a big job. An entire feeder wiped out. Now you listen to me; we've been something close to friends a few years now, and I know that kind of hit isn't your style."
"...I had wondered where all the seed had gone this morning," he admitted, letting his guard back down. He leaned in closer to me, lowering his voice to a whisper. "All right, listen. I don't know much, but I've heard tell of a new guy in town. They say he came in from the Oaks."
"Bit of a wild part of town, the Oaks," I muttered. These kinds of things just couldn't be easy.
His voice dropped further. "Weird thing is? From what I'm hearing, he ain't even a bird."
That stopped me in my tracks. It was a long while before I was able to respond again. "...What would something that ain't a bird want to do with that much birdseed?"
"You tell me," he challenged, crossing his wings and giving me a curious look. "Seems odd for a lizard to have such an interest in some seed, too." But catching the glare I shot back at him for having compared me to a common skink, he relented. "Well, you'll want to be careful," he told me. "Folks from out toward the Oaks ain't always the most predictable. You best stay out of trouble."
I nodded grimly. "Trouble has a habit of finding me no matter what I do. But thanks anyway. Now, how about a Grasshopper for the road?"
A few minutes later, I was meandering through the lawn, picking antenna out of my teeth. I had a lot on my mind, thinking about what I'd learned from the Cardinal. A stranger in town, and and a whole feeder of seed vanished, seemingly overnight. Was there a connection? Something about this all seemed familiar somehow...
I was careless, too in my own head. The slimebuckets came from the shadows, startled me. It was all over in a flash; and before I knew what had happened, I'd caught two slugs in my belly.
They were delicious.
...But then something else seized on my distraction and jumped me for real. That's when the lights went out. Guess that's what I get for thinking with my stomach.
I didn't want to open my eyes. Waking up was as painful as it felt any morning, really; and wherever I was, I didn't have the warmth of the sun to fuel me. Must have been why it took me so long to realize I wasn't safely tucked away in my hidey-log back in my office. No, I'd been pulled off the streets and dragged away to some out-of-the-way tree. And I wasn't alone.
"I hear youse bin' sniffin' ‘round after me," the voice said. I sized him up; he was a big guy—a good deal bigger than me—and hairy to boot. His front teeth were a good two centimeters too long for his own good. But what caught my eye, more than anything else, was his big, bushy tail.
It occurred to me then that I'd actually seen this varmint before. Can't say why I didn't think of it when the Cardinal mentioned it. Must have been in half a stupor from the haze of the heat from my lamp and the hornworm juice swirling around my innards when I'd witnessed this squirrel from my office window, eating from the feeder plain as day; and seeing him again, I'd finally been able to dredge those memories back up from the depths.
"Well, I hear you've been taking seed that doesn't belong to you," I retorted, possibly unwisely. Could have been better to play it dumb, feign ignorance. Maybe I'd be let go. On the other hand, maybe not. I never minded a little gambling, but I hated when my life was the wager.
"Yeah? And whassit to a lizard like youse?" the squirrel laughed.
It was the wrong thing to say to me. Because I am a fucking dragon.
My strength reignited by righteous fury, I launched myself at him. I ain't ever been big on the phrase "leaping lizards" myself, but it doesn't come from nowhere. And they never expect it from someone like me. Before he could react, my claws were at his eyes, and I bit down on that bushy tail for good measure. It wasn't pleasant for me, but it was less pleasant for him; and in a scrap like that, you take whatever edge you can get.
The other thing about being a good gambler is knowing to quit when you're ahead. I wasn't going to win a straight-up fight with this guy—not when he was packing incisors that big—so I decided it was time to split. You remember me mentioning scurrying earlier? You see why it's such a handy skill now. In a blink, I was climbing out that tree-hole past the squirrel's goons, my claws gripping into the bark as I raced for solid ground below.
"After her!" the squirrel cried out, but it was already too late. They might have the advantage in the treetops, but there was nothing but flat turf between me and my office, and their lazy hops were no match for my skittering. I was in the clear; and with any luck, that no-good rascal would think twice before showing himself in these parts again.
I climbed back up to the second story where my office was located; when I returned, I found that the dame was still here, putting the finishing touches on cleaning my space. She never seemed interested in whether or not I liked the mess, but I'd have her know that I put a lot of effort into making it that way. Regardless, it was time to reveal the culprit and put this mystery to b—
"There you are, Bugsy!" she said, a twisted smile playing on her lips. "Just in time for your bath!"
Fuck.
Bugsy, P.I. does not approve of my shenanigans.