Code Breaker

Oldetower frowned, the movement wilting the layers of fat under his chin so it seemed his whole head was deeply upset.

"Doozle!" He clapped a hand on the man's shoulder.

MacDoozle slid, briefly, in his chair before righting himself. "Yes, sir?"

"You're a pansy, Doozle."


Oldetower swung a chair around to the table and lowered himself into it. Though the chairs were not physically close, the hang-over from his superior's thighs pressed warmly into MacDoozle's left leg. He subtely scooted to the right.

The detective wrapped a sausagy arm around his partner's shoulders. "You've heard of Good Cop, Bad Cop." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, sir."

"You're a bad cop, but I won't hold it against you. I'll be the Good Cop. Teach you how it's done. Kay, kid?" He waved another member of the witness crowd over. "Watch close." He shrugged his arm from MacDoozle's damp shoulders and smiled kindly at the witness across the table. "What's your name, miss?"

"Er. Name!" MacDoozle barked. A hesitant, toy dog bark, but a bark just the same.

"Lahleeta Ahndersohn." She spoke with her mouth wide, gaping and pink, and a tissue clutched to her nose. Her eyes were spider-veined red and squinched into slits by puffily inflamed lids.

"Miss Anderson," Oldetower purred, "did you see anything that could be of use to us in solving this robbery?"

She plunged a finger in her ear and waggled it around. She flicked the resulting thick, cheesy lump at the tile. "Whaht?" she moaned.

MacDoozle tried a frown and slapped the table. The witness jumped and immediatly began hacking violently into a tissue. She spat a wad of phlegmy green, visible through the soggy Kleenex, and stuffed the dripping package into her shirt pocket.

She smiled and promptly apologized, "Sohrry. I haf a cohd."

"Oh?" Oldetower leaned conspiratorily over the table, "Tell me, miss, where did you get this code?"

Miss Anderson wobbled her finger at the twin boys in the far corner. They were currently engaged in picking the other's nose and smearing the mess down their checkered shirts.

MacDoozle winced.

"What can you tell me about this code?"

"Wahl, the dohctor sehs -"

"The Doctor?" Oldetower's eyes sparkled. He made a note to check on possible aliases.

"Yus? Wahl, he sehd nobohdy'd geht it if I did like he sehd."

Oldetower was now scribbling franticly in his notebook, nodding and muttering. The film of sweat on his forehead glimmered like the promise of promotion on the horizon. "Miss Anderson," he puffed with exhileration, "if you can give us even a portion of this code, the city can promise a substantial reward once this crime is solved. And, let me assure you, no one will 'get it'."

"Yeah! Give up the code, sweet cheeks!" MacDoozle screeched.

Oldetower grimaced. "Easy, Bad Cop," he hissed.

Miss Anderson contemplated the request. She stood, her chair squawking on the tile, and smiled in a vaguely nauseous way. The Kleenex landed with a wet 'whop' on the table. "Cohd. I wahnt my rewahd."

The End

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