Bergamot Fury Private Boston

My name is Bergamot Fury and I'm a Private Boston. It was 10 O'clock on a rainy Thursday morning. I would have much rather been spending time at one of my favorite watering bowls, but that doesn't put biscuits on the table, and I was down to two meals a day as it was. I had risked my savings on a sleazy Internet web cam venture, and now I was paying the price. I thought people might pay to see a real detective at work, but I was wrong. The few subscribers I had were complaining that all I did was chew my Kong and take naps. It wasn't my fault business had been slow, but the viewers wanted action and I wasn't delivering. It didn't look like this day was going to make them happy either.

As I was sitting there contemplating the power of cheese, in walked this beautiful brindle with a gap-toothed smile that could make you forget about chasing squirrels on a summer day. This little number was all legs, four of them to be exact, and I could tell by the shortness of her nails that she was used to the good life. At first I thought she must have confused my office with the talent agency next door, but a quick look into those big brown eyes told me that she was in trouble.

It seemed that someone had knocked over a lamp on the west side, and my girl was the prime suspect. She needed to find the real culprit fast or she was going to get the crate for sure. At first I was reluctant to take the case. I know trouble when I see it, and this case was going to upset some very big people around here. She even offered to pay me in cat treats to get me to take the job. I knew this wasn't going to be my usual "Who moved the treat jar?" sort of case, but then again at five bones a day plus expenses I couldn't afford to be choosy. I told her to "sit" and "stay". I was on the case.

I figured the first thing I needed to do was put my nose to the ground and check out the crime scene. I took a trot over to the west side and began sniffing around for clues. I could tell right away that professionals had done this job. This wasn't an ordinary run of the mill table lamp. This was an expensive antique oil lamp up on a high shelf that was surrounded by virtually unscalable furniture. This job wasn't pulled by a couple of pups out for a little Sunday afternoon fun. I had to prove that the dame didn't do it, but I knew it was going to be tough. I didn't have much to go on, a puddle of oil, some broken glass, and a gnawing feeling in my gut that this whole case was about more than just a broken lamp and damsel in distress.

The thought of keeping that poor sweet girl's five bones and then having to tell her that I had come up dry was weighing heavily on me. I decided to stop by the old watering bowl on my way back to the office. I hadn't had a drink all day and my throat was as dry as my prospects. I was just about to head back to the office when fate stepped in dressed as Charlie "The Nudger". Charlie "The Nudger" was a cool cat with a laid back style that could almost be confused for laziness, but everyone knew that if anything got knocked off on the west side "The Nudger" had something to do with it. I had dealt with him before and there was no love lost between us. I knew if I was going to get anything out of him it was going to cost me plenty. I laid a couple of Friskies down on the bar and asked if he'd been over to the west side lately. Even though he was part Siamese this cat could keep his mouth shut even when his eyes were speaking volumes. He just took the Friskies off the bar and gave me a Cheshire grin that let me know I was getting too close for comfort. He wasn't stupid enough to come right out and say it, but I knew that he knew something and he knew that I knew that he knew something. What was spoken between us during that silence was the best clue I had gotten all day.

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