Ken’s Blog

While talking with the owl, I took a look around. As always, his digs were simple. The room was empty except for two cushions, with a low wooden table between them. There were no pictures on the walls. Nobody knew for sure, but I’d heard the owl came from somewhere in the Far East. Seemed like as good a guess as any.

The lack of clutter was helping me think, and now the pieces were starting to come together in my mind. If Rebecca was pointing the finger at Lulu, what did that say about Rebecca? Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she looked. I needed to figure out a way inside her head.

“Owl, what do you think is the biggest mystery about these murders?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Who.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s it, the big question: Who’s our killer? Is it really Lulu, or am I being played? Something’s going on between those two sisters, and I’ve gotta find somebody with the right angle to help me dig out the truth.”

The owl seemed to think deeply before replying. For a long time he just sat upon his cushion in silence. Finally he looked at me, and uttered a single word. “Hu.”

“That’s it, of course!” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of this angle before. “Hu, down at the crime lab. Hu owes me a favor, and is one of the few people I can rely on to keep quiet. Owl, you’re a genius.”

The owl looked please, but wisely chose silence.

“Before I go,” I asked, “is there anything else you think I should know?”

There was another silence, even longer than the one before. Then the owl spoke. “Smellephant,” he said, “as an anthropomorphic personification representing a genre archetype, you necessarily exist within a specific dialectic framework. Rebecca and her counterpart Louisa personify the antipodes of this dialectic, inasmuch as they comprise two intrinsic and complementary aspects of a single unifying principle. Your essential quest is to find the unity within these apparently antithetical forces, thereby achieving a state of clarity and balance that will serve to illuminate your very existence.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, “I already knew that.” The owl was a smart bird, but he could say the most obvious things. Guess we all do sometimes. I got up to leave.

But it looked like the owl had one more question for me. “What do you get,” he asked, “when you cross an elephant with a rhinoceros?”

“Hell if I know.” It was time to go. I put on my trench coat, drawing it tight against the cold, pulled down the brim of my fedora, and stepped out into the night.

“What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhinoceros?”

“Who?” said the owl.

“No, what,” I started to explain, “It’s a joke,” as the owl stepped aside to let me in. Then I remembered that the owl doesn’t do jokes. Might as well get down to business. “I need your advice. There’s been a murder.”

“Who?”

“Good question. J. Chesterton Winthrop. In his own bedroom.” Owl just shook his head sadly. I went on to fill in the details, the death of the hare and the parrot, what Sam found in the hall of records about the two Winthrop girls. I hesitated for a moment, and then decided to admit that I had moved beyond an, um, professional relationship with one of the sisters.

Owl fixed me a disapproving look. “Who?”

“Lulu. I’m not even sure Rebecca goes in for that kind of thing. I can’t say I’m sorry about it. Of course, if Lulu turns out to be the prime suspect in a murder, a certain party is going to step in and take over, sooner or later.”

“Who?”

“The chief of police. And he’s going to tie it back to the murders of Whiskers and Manny. But there’s one thing I can’t figure: Why would she tip me off like that — about her own sister?”

“Who?” the owl asked politely.

“Rebecca. You’d think she’d keep a thing like that to herself. You know, maybe there’s bad blood between those two. Say, just talking about this is helping me think everything through — it’s all starting to make sense. I knew I came to the right bird!”

“Who?” said the owl, with a faint smile.

“You of course. Don’t be so modest.”

By the time I’d sent Rebecca home she had calmed down a lot. It probably helped that I didn’t mention my little encounter with her sister. I just told her that I had no idea where Lulu was. Which was, in fact, the truth. I needed time to think, and meanwhile, the less she knew the better.

Rebecca was clearly shook up, but she would be ok. As for me, well, I can put on a pretty good show when I need to, but now that I was alone in my office again, it wasn’t so easy. Sometimes the old shadows have a way of getting a little too close, and it can get hard to think with all the crowding. When that happens, I’ve got a system.

I took out the bottle of JD Single Barrel, and put it on the desk in front of me. Then I got a clean glass and poured myself a very generous shot. After I’d tossed that one back, I poured myself another. This one I would nurse for a while, while I thought things through.

Until Rebecca had made the connection, I hadn’t thought of Lulu as a suspect. But it made sense — she certainly had motive, and there was one obvious way she had opportunity: She could have gotten past all the security by posing as her sister. Once inside, a single shot with a silencer would finish the job. Then she could have gotten out the same way she came in. All very neat and easy.

What bothered me more than anything was that I hadn’t even thought of this angle until Rebecca spoke up. Was I getting too close? It was hard for me to think of Lulu as a killer, but the shamus in me couldn’t deny the possibility.

Yet there was something nagging in my gut, something that didn’t add up. I just couldn’t put my nose on what it was. What I needed was a little shot of wisdom. And Mister Jack Daniels wasn’t doing the trick.

It was time to see the owl.

I hadn’t figured on Winthrop getting iced. When a guy’s that powerful, it’s not so easy to get to him. “How’d it happen?”

“That’s the strange thing,” the Chief shook his head, “the guy was found in his own bed, in his P.J.s for crissake.”

“Why is that strange?”

“Because he had a bullet through his head.”

That surprised me. The Winthrop mansion is loaded with security — guards, alarms, trip wires, all the good stuff. What kind of killer could get in, ice the head guy, and then get out again, all undetected? Who the hell were we dealing with here?

I could tell the Chief was thinking along the same lines. It looked like there might be a new player in town, one who didn’t play fair.

As I made my way back to my office, I thought back to the first time I’d met Winthrop, a few years ago. By then the guy was already at the top of his game. I been summoned to the mansion because he’d heard I had a nose for danger. Wanted me to track down one of his runners who’d been dumb enough to start dipping off the top.

It was a really classy place — curving stairs, crystal chandeliers, fancy chairs lifted from the old court of some French king. That didn’t bother me. It’s not like the poor bastard would be needing them anymore.

It was kind of hard to face up to a guy like Winthrop, in a place like that, and say no to his face. But I’ve got to draw the line somewhere. I knew all too well what they’d have done to that runner if I’d tracked him down. I shuddered just thinking about it. If he was lucky, they would show him some mercy — kill him fast and got it over with. But I also knew Winthrop wasn’t the kind of guy to show any mercy.

After that, Winthrop pretty much left me alone. I’d like to think he respected my principles. More likely, now that he had me figured, he thought an honest elephant could be useful some day.

I was still thinking all this when Rebecca showed up at the door. I took one look at her face and I could tell she’d been crying. I gestured for her to take a seat.

After she’d gotten herself together, she just squared her shoulders and fixed me an intent look. “Mr. Smellephant, I think my sister may have done something awful.”

I had a hunch the cops knew more than they were letting on, and just maybe I could get some answers. When I got to headquarters it was late, but I could see the light was on inside. I knocked on the big brass doors, and the Chief himself answered.

“Burning the midnight oil, Chief?”

He looked tired. “What can I do for you Smellephant?”

“Well, for one thing, I believe you’ve got a gun here that belongs to me.”

The Chief shrugged. “Follow me.” He led me back to the evidence desk.

It felt good to get my gun back. I don’t like to use it, but I like the feel of it in my trench coat pocket, just in case.

“You’ll need this too,” he said, handing me my license. “Everything checked out. Your gun didn’t kill Manny.”

“I could’ve told you that. Got any ideas whose gun did?”

“You know we don’t discuss that kind of thing.”

“Sure Chief, whatever you say. What about Winthrop’s gun?”

He gave me a long look before he answered. “You’re fingering J. Chesterton Winthrop for the murder of Manny the parrot? You might want to rethink that.”

“Oh,” I said casually, “You mean it could be dangerous? And just why would that be?”

“I’m telling you Smellephant, you really don’t want to bring Winthrop into this.”

“Really? Seems to me he and I are about even. I’ve got this gun in my pocket, and Winthrop’s got you in his.”

The Chief shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what you think you know, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Elephants don’t bark. How can you be so sure Winthrop’s not our guy?”

“Well, for starters, Winthrop’s dead.”

Chapter 4

“Why do elephants drink so much?”

“To try to forget. Smellephant, you already told me that one. What, you don’t remember?”

“Yeah Sam, I remember. I remember everything. That’s what we elephants do.” I looked at the empty whisky glass in front of me, and I thought back on the night before. I would always remember that night, which was a good thing. I would also remember waking up alone the next morning, which was not such a good thing.

“Why can’t we just remember the good parts, Sam? It would make life so much easier.”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “We need those bad parts. Makes us human.”

“Last time I checked, I was an elephant and you were a chimpanzee.”

“I was speaking metaphorically.” He took another shot. Gotta say this for him, Sam could handle his liquor like no chimp you’ve ever seen.

The bartender set us up another round of Jack Daniels. “Sam, remember when I used to drink single malt?”

“Yeah, but you were boring then. Way too happy. I kinda like you better this way.”

“Thanks,” I said, “You are a true friend. And thanks for checking on the birth records.”

“No problem Smellephant. It was all right there — two healthy twin baby girls. The weird thing is, soon after that the trail goes cold. Lulu just disappears — no dental records, no kindergarten enrollment, none of the usual stuff.”

“What’s your theory?”

“Well, you’re the shamus, but my guess is Winthrop found out Lulu was back, and hired Whiskers to make her disappear from the record.”

“And that way when he gets rid of Lulu…”

“There’d be no paper trail. It’d be like she was never born.”

“Bastard,” I said. “Yeah, I had it figured pretty much the same way. Except why would Winthrop ice Whiskers before the job was done?”

“Dunno,” Sam shrugged. “Maybe he thought the hare was finished.”

“Yeah, and maybe Whiskers talked to Manny before he got iced. The parrot was ready to squawk, so he also had to be taken out of the picture.”

“That’s a big pile of maybes, Smellephant. How do we know for sure?”

I downed my last shot for the evening. “I’ve got an idea.”

I got back to my office fully intending to get right down to work, but that’s not what happened. Instead, I got a surprise. Rebecca was waiting for me.

Except it wasn’t Rebecca. It was like seeing Rebecca through some kind of crazy mirror. The face was the same, and the long lean body, but everything else was different — somehow tougher, more hard edged — the hair, the clothes, the attitude. Especially the attitude.

“You must be Louisa,” I said, looking her up and down, not at all minding what I saw.

“I see you’ve been hanging out with my sister,” she laughed. She sounded nothing at all like her sister. The voice was the same, but minus the posh British accent. I was starting to get the picture. One sister grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth, private schools, everything Daddy’s money could by, and the other one on her own, getting the kind of education they don’t teach you at St. Mary’s.

“You can call me Lulu,” she said, tossing her dark hair and looking at me they way an elephant likes to be looked at.

“Why’d you give your sister the slip?”

She laughed. “You don’t waste time do you? The usual reasons. I found out my dad’s trying to have me killed.”

I hadn’t figured that, but it fit. Winthrop was one cold bastard, and he didn’t like surprises. “And your sister would’ve led you right to him.”

“Rebecca’s a dear, but there’s a lot she doesn’t know about the world. Got a light?” I was starting to like this dame. I lit a cigarette for her, and another one for me. I’d quit a few months back, but right now a cigarette felt just about right.

She was looking around the office. “So this is where the famous Smellephant hangs out.”

“You like it?”

“Depends. Where do you keep the booze?”

From the bottom drawer I pulled out two glasses, and one bottle of JD Single Barrel I’d been saving for a special occasion.

She looked at the bottle appraisingly while I poured. “Tennessee Whiskey? I figured you more for the Macallan type.”

I shrugged. “Used to be.”

“Yeah,” she said, “I get it.” She took a long slow sip, never taking her eyes off mine. “Then you got your heart broken.”

That surprised me. This dame was sharp. I didn’t say anything — what was there to say?

“She must’ve been something,” she said.

“Mind if we change the subject?” I said.

“Oh, I can think of one or two things to keep us occupied.” She came close, took my whiskey drink and put it down on the desk. I didn’t mind.

Then she came a lot closer, and I didn’t mind that either.

“Look Smellephant, tortoise, hare, everybody got the racket, no?”

“No,” I said agreeably. “I mean, um, yes.”

“Today hare beats tortoise. Maybe tomorrow tortoise beats hare. Is good for everyone.” Tommy gestured expansively. “So far is all good. Is big town. Is plenty lettuce to go around.”

I nodded. He was making sense.

“Then one day somebody new comes in, messes with things. Upsets the cart of apples.”

“Sure, the apple cart.”

Tommy looked at me sharply. “You got a problem with cart of apples?”

“The cart of apples,” I said hastily. No point in quibbling.

He sipped his tea, looking reflective for a moment. “Whiskers and me, got long history. Is good history. Sure ok, differences between hare and tortoise. But always we work it out.”

“You guys went way back, huh?”

“Da. This town used to be different. Honor among thieves was more than just nice words.” For a moment I thought Tommy was going to lose it. “OK, what’s past is past. Now hare is dead. But not from Tommy.”

“Yeah, I get it,” I said. Tommy’s old school — if he says he didn’t kill you, you can believe him. “So the hare was iced, and you’re being set up. But why? Who else is in the lettuce racket?”

The tortoise shook his head sadly. “Is different kind of lettuce. Whiskers was, how you say, branching out. Faking the papers.”

“Counterfeiting? That’s a new angle.”

He gave me a long searching look, and I could tell he was deadly serious. “Yes, is new angle. You follow that angle and go straight. Find real killer.”

I suddenly thought of Manny. Maybe this is what the parrot was trying to tip me off about. Maybe I was looking for a single killer. Maybe it was time to get out of Turtle Town and find out who had really iced Whiskers.

When I left Sam, he was still poring over a stack of birth records and old papers. He told me it would take a while to sort out, and that was fine with me. I had an appointment to keep, one that might just get me some answers. Or might get me killed. You never know.

Turtle Town isn’t the friendliest place, at least not when you’re an elephant with a nose for danger. As I walked down its narrow twisting streets, I could feel all eyes on me. For the first time since I’d handed over my gun, I missed the feel of it in my pocket. These streets held unwanted memories, and with every step those memories were coming back. I turned up the collar of my trench coat. It was a cold night, and I had a feeling it was about to get colder.

When I finally got to the old Tortoise Shell, I tried to slip in quietly, but that wasn’t going to happen. The moment I stepped through the door, all conversation stopped dead. The bartender took one look at me and silently gestured to a booth in the back. The feeling in the room when I made my way through the bar was definitely not hugs and kisses. But I figured I was safe. If Tommy had wanted me dead, I wouldn’t have gotten this far.

“Smellephant!” Tommy’s rich accented voice rang out, and as I slipped into the booth, I could hear conversation gradually resume. If Tommy wanted me there, nobody was going to argue. Nobody ever argued with Tommy.

“It’s been a while,” I said quietly.

His face broke out into a broad grin. “Too long my friend. I am old Russian tortoise, ok so I know, I am keeping all day in the shell and I hide.”

He gestured to the samovar on the table between us. I’m not much of a tea drinker, but this wasn’t the time to argue. “I’m listening.”

“So what tortoise thinking all day in that shell? I’m thinking, I tell you, I’m liking this Smellephant. I got news, I should share with my old friend, yes?”

I took a sip of tea, wishing it was Jack Daniels. “Yes,” I said. Maybe I was about to get some answers.

Chapter 3

“How many chimps does it take to type the works of Shakespeare?”

“Shakespeare was a hack,” Sam shot back, without even bothering to take the cigarette out of his mouth. As usual, he was typing away, one hand on his old Remington and the other flying over the adding machine he always used to check his figures. He was pretty unflappable, for a chimp.

I looked around the vast and dingy space. The Hall of Records was in the basement of City Hall, showing just how much respect it got from the powers that be. But truth was, this town couldn’t survive without Sam. The stacks of papers piled up from floor to ceiling of his domain, room after room, were the city’s life blood, the collective memory and final arbiter of all legal questions, land disputes, contested wills, claims, writs, liens, copyrights, defamations, and assorted mayoral proclamations long forgotten.

And Sam somehow kept it all in his head. Ask him about the baseball team that set up shop in this town back in 1923. The franchise lasted just six months, but if you ask Sam about any random player’s contract, he could get his nimble simian fingers on the original in under two minutes flat.

So I figured I’d come to the right place. “Sam,” I said, “got anything about identical twins?”

Sam didn’t even look up. “Sure, they come around about one every two hundred fifty births. Gotta figure we’d have a few of those in this town by now.”

I wasn’t really getting his attention. “Suppose I told you I was looking for my identical twin sister.”

That stopped him. “Smellephant, you been hitting the sauce again?” He sounded genuinely concerned. He was, after all, my best friend.

“No. Well, yes,” I said, “But it was just a joke. Maybe not a good one.”

Sam turned away from the typewriter to face me, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. “I know when you’re like this. You’re mixed up with a dame, I can tell.” He didn’t wait for a rebuttal. “You really think that’s a good idea? I mean, you’re not even close to being over…”

“No,” I said quickly, cutting him off. I didn’t like where this conversation was going. “It’s a case, that’s all. Client’s named Rebecca. She’s got me on retainer.”

“Rebecca what?”

“Winthrop.”

Sam whistled. “You’re hanging out with a dangerous crowd, aren’t you? You’d be better off sticking to thieves and murderers. It’s safer. What’s she want?”

“Claims she has an identical twin sister, just showed up in her life one day. I think she’s telling the truth.”

“That’s impossible. No, wait a sec,” Sam got that faraway look in his eyes, the one I’d been hoping he’d get. “I remember something … The Winthrops, about twenty years ago… I think I’ve got it.”

And with that he was gone, vanished into the back room.