‘Trousers’ Akimbo – Detective for hire’.
What follows are excerpts from my latest novella’ Unpublished as yet (I think there might be a bidding war). TA-DFH follows the adventures of…
‘Trousers Akimbo, detective for hire.
‘I Make It Happen’.
Interrogation a speciality.
Dirty Work Done.
No result-No fee’.
Page 10. ‘Trousers Akimbo – a days work’.
For Christ’s sake. Who did this guy think he was fooling?
The orange skin. Those little blue circles around his eyes…and for fuck’s sake…the hairstyle. Dead give-away.
The fake moustache served no purpose. The same with the horn-rimmed glasses. Worst disguise Akimbo had ever seen.
Akimbo was aggrieved. Insulted even.
What kind of idiot did this man think he was and how dare he barge his way into Akimbo’s office and demand anything?
The orange ape had frightened the life out of Matilda. She worked for next to nothing and didn’t need to take the disrespect this pig shovelled out by the ton. He’d made her cry and that made Akimbo mad. His brain worked overtime on all the things he’s like to do to this guy.
A job was a job and what with everything and its mother, Akimbo needed the money…not least to pay Matilda with. Revenge would have to wait.
Akimbo sucked in a breath and took the bad manners, the ignorance, the sense of entitlement in his stride. Even the orange-guy’s effeminate voice gave him an instant migraine…
‘So I said you gotta respect me more. If you don’t, we’re done. Finished. Over. You will be dead to me.
You seem to think I’m dumb. Well let me tell you big-shot, I said. Let me tell you. I am well-educated. Probably the most educated person you have ever met. I told him, I went to the best educational establishment. I learnt bigly. I’m a clever guy. Everybody says so. I have the highest IQ. The best people will back me up I said. My IQ is very high. One of the highest. It’s a well-known fact. Everyone knows…everyone.
And you know what Akimbo…he laughed at me. He. Laughed. At. Me.
No-one, especially a loser like him laughs at me. No-one.
That’s why I’m here.
I want him done.
I want him cooked and outta here. You get what I’m saying? I hope so Akimbo because I ain’t saying it again. You may have tapes running and I ain’t stupid.
I want you to do this. You will be well rewarded. Money is no object. I want…’
Akimbo had stopped listening. His head throbbed. He couldn’t take no more…he spat the words out…
‘I’m busy. Get the fuck out of here. And when you pass by my secretary’s desk…apologise’.
The orange baboon turned to red as he stood, slowly shaking shocked by Akimbo’s audacity. He pointed a tiny finger at Akimbo’s face.
‘If you knew who I am you wouldn’t speak to – ‘
Akimbo rose suddenly from his chair grabbed the gibbon’s red tie and pulled him close…
‘What part of Fuck off don’t you understand ass-hole’.
Akimbo let got of the red tie suddenly causing the orange man to stumble backwards. He was frothing at the mouth and lost for words. He garbled something about ‘having friends in high places’, turned on his built up heel and was gone.
Akimbo took a moment to look at the ceiling in his office. And as though he was addressing God…
‘OK? Eh? What you looking so surprised at? Yeah…I got scruples. Don’t be so surprised. It ain’t always about the money…right?…RIGHT?’.
A tear-stained Matilda walked into the office…’You OK?’
‘I’m OK’ said Akimbo, smiling through his gritted teeth. ‘You notice how small that guy’s hands were? What is that…a disease you think’?
Page 15. ‘Trousers Akimbo – Bloodline’.
‘Trousers Akimbo watched fascinated as Monty’s fingers were pulled slowly into the industrial paper shredder and jolted as the red mush splashed into his face. As he wiped the goo from his face with the cuff of his silk and very expensive suit, he wondered why Monty was smiling. Maybe a form of panic, hysteria even? Whatever the reason, the smile would soon fade. Monty would feel the full force later, when the pain and the shock really kicked in. That was a definite.
But for now…Akimbo was intrigued. And glad.
Glad that he had removed Monty’s new leather driving gloves from Monty’s shaking hands before the fun began. Fuck Monty’s thick gold wedding ring and the price of a recent manicure, all that really mattered was the fact that the gloves were a perfect fit for Akimbo’s own blood-stained hands.
There were some benefits to this kind of work. Benefits that made the unusual and tiring hours, acceptable’.
Page 87. ‘Trousers Akimbo – Street warfare’.
‘At 5 am exactly the street sweeper would arrive and toss what he thought was a discarded and battered melon into his cart. He would probably curse at its unusual weight and wonder at the redness of its juice, but hey, it was the weekend. People did all kinds of weird shit at the weekend. Once, he recalled he had found a dead rat in between two pieces of bread…he laughed to himself at the memory…no telling what goes on at the weekend. People go crazy. He would pause, trying but failing to remember the last weekend he had off. Some people just don’t know how lucky they are.
Trousers Akimbo would be there too, watching the street guy work. Tired admittedly, but pleased and relieved that the evidence could be disposed of so easily. It had been worth the wait. Akimbo would smile to himself as he imagined what the street man’s reaction would be if he knew what he had really tossed in with the rest of the garbage.
All he had to do now was get rid of Atorro’s wide brimmed trilby… but that was easy. There was a charity shop on the corner of Concert and Vine who would be glad to receive such a quality hat…and for free’.
Page 90. ‘…the foot bone’s connected to the leg bone…the leg bone’s….
Akimbo’s refrigerator was nearly full. So much so that there was no room for food. Coupled by the fact that he had to make ridiculous excuses to Belinda in order to keep her away…from ‘the door’s jammed’ to ‘I think there might be an electric currant running through it…it’s dangerous’, things were getting stupid.
Still, the way he figured it there was only one more parcel to come. The final parcel that would tell Akimbo who the body parts he had been receiving for the past week, belonged to. The head would be there first thing Friday morning.
It had started with a well-wrapped leg. That was Monday. Same, Tuesday. Wednesday was Torso day. You didn’t have to be a detective even of ‘Trousers’ Akimbo’s stature to know that it was a woman.
Wednesday was an arm as was Thursday.
If whoever was performing this grisly task was a methodical being, (Akimbo couldn’t bring himself to use the term ‘human’), then Friday would mean completion day. Akimbo would be in possession of the full set.
Friday was wet. But Akimbo didn’t care. He stared off into the distance. The street was empty…he looked a his watch…
‘Where the hell was the post guy? He’s never usually this late’.