Chapter 38

Morty Magoo is worried. He hasn't been able to reach Russ Knot or his own two flunkies and the PI bills are adding up. Adding up with no results. Mary Poppins and her friend, Bert, are missing, as well. Because of some exploding tea shop in Indonesia, they've been placed on Interpol's terrorist watch-list. Things couldn't get worse. Actually, they could get worse.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" a male voice booms through the speaker in the ceiling of Morty's office.

Morty jumps then feels his chest. Has he had a heart attack? Is God calling him up? Not possible. He's committed at least one or two deadly sins in his life. The devil has a better chance of pulling him down. Looking up, Morty cringes. He thought the speaker was there for music. He was always waiting for KC and the Sunshine Band or Earth, Wind, and Fire to perk up his day. He never suspected that he was this connected to the bosses upstairs. "Who is this?" he asks nervously.

"YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE, MR. MAGOO. NOW AGAIN, I ASK, KINDLY BEFORE I REALLY LOSE MY TEMPER. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

"I don't know what you mean, um, Mr. Nightmare. I'm sorry, I'm not sure what else to call you," Morty replies. He sits behind his desk, for protection more than anything else.

"MR. NIGHTMARE IS FINE, GIVEN THE SITUATION. AND YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO CALL YOU? THE NEXT GUY ON THE UNEMPLOYMENT LINE UNLESS YOU EXPLAIN TO ME RIGHT NOW WHY A WOMAN ON INTERPOL'S TERRORIST WATCH-LIST WAS ALLOWED TO STEP FOOT IN AN AMAZON WAREHOUSE!"

"Oh, Mary Poppins, you mean. Well, she was here initially searching for her umbrella. A former employer has it. Josee Tabor," Morty answers.

"YET ANOTHER PSYCHO ALLOWED TO ROAM FREELY AROUND AN AMAZON WAREHOUSE, MR. MAGOO. SHE SMASHED UP A BOARDROOM, DIDN'T SHE? WITH THE SAME UMBRELLA, I UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes, she did. And she was promptly fired and escorted out of the building because of it," Morty answers, relaxing slightly. Rising, he paces his office. "I gotta tell you, Sir, this whole umbrella story isn't sitting well with me. That's why I've got private investigators looking into things, on behalf of Amazon." He doesn't mention the bounty on Mary Poppins and Bert's heads.

"I ALREADY KNOW THAT, MR. MAGOO. THE BILLS ARE STACKED UP ON MY DESK. TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW. WHERE ARE THESE INVESTIGATORS NOW?"

Morty recoils like he's about to be struck by a lightning bolt. "Well, I'm not exactly sure. They've gone missing, Sir, I mean, Mr. Nightmare."

"CALL ME SIR. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THEY'VE GONE MISSING? WHERE THE HELL HAVE THEY GONE? ARE THE SATELLITES TRACKING THEM?"

"Um, no, just my mobile phone," Morty answers. Damn, Amazon has satellites?

"MOBILE PHONE? ARE YOU SHITTING ME, MR. MAGOO? YOU'RE TRACKING THE INVESTIGATORS CHASING DOWN AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST ON YOUR MOBILE PHONE? I'LL TELL YOU RIGHT NOW THAT INTERPOL ISN'T TRACKING MARY POPPINS ON THEIR MOBILE PHONES. THEY'VE GOT EVERY SATELLITE IN SPACE LOOKING FOR THAT WOMAN. IS SHE A SPY?"

"A spy?" Morty asks, confused.

"YES. A SPY, MR. MAGOO. HIRED BY HIM TO INFILTRATE THE BUSINESS."

"Him? Him who? Morty asks.

"YOU KNOW, HIM!"

"I don't think so, Sir," Morty replies. He still doesn't know who HIM is, but he knows better than to ask about it. "Again Mary Poppins was pretty eager to get her umbrella back. It's the umbrella that's got me stumped.

The voice upstairs pauses, then: "HMMM, AN UMBRELLA. MAYBE IT'S A SECRET WEAPON. EVEN BETTER, MAYBE IT'S SOMETHING WE CAN DUPLICATE AND SELL ON AMAZON. I WANT THAT UMBRELLA, MR. MAGOO."

"I'm right on it, Sir. As soon as I locate the missing detectives we will find Mary Poppins and get you that umbrella," Morty promises.

"SEND UP THEIR CELL NUMBERS. I'LL GET THE SATELLITES ON THEM RIGHT AWAY. …NOW, MR. MAGOO, HOW ARE YOU HOLDING UP DOWN THERE? HOW ARE THINGS ON THE SHOP FLOOR THESE DAYS?"

Morty crafts his response carefully. "Oh, you know, Sir, pretty good. Humming along, as usual. Busy, busy, busy, like little bees. Going above and beyond to pack those boxes as quickly as possible to met our customers' needs."

"THAT'S GOOD. I WANT MY EMPLOYEES TO BE HAPPY. I WANT YOU TO BE HAPPY, MR. MAGOO. CAN I SEND ANYTHING DOWN TO YOU? LUNCH MAYBE? HOW ABOUT A CHARCUTERIE PLATTER? A LITTLE MEAT, A LITTLE CHEESE, SOME PICKLES. DOES THAT SOUND GOOD TO YOU, MR. MAGOO?"

Morty is afraid to say he's already eaten lunch, so he nods instead.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU, MR. MAGOO. DO YOU WANT A CHARCUTERIE PLATTER OR NOT?"

"Yeah, I mean Yes Sir! That would be great. Thank you, Sir!" Morty answers quickly.

"GOOD, IT'LL BE THERE MOMENTARILY, ALONG WITH A GLASS OF WINE. YOU SOUND STRESSED, MR. MAGOO, LIKE YOU COULD USE A GLASS OF WINE."

"Yes, Sir, I could certainly use a glass of wine. I am a bit stressed. I'll enjoy the break," Morty states honestly.

"EMPHASIS ON THE WORD SHORT, MR. MAGOO. YOU ARE ON COMPANY TIME."

"Right, Sir. Of course. A short break," Morty responds as a charcuterie platter and a glass of red wine are delivered magically to his office by DoorDash. It is indeed the most amazing charcuterie platter he has every seen. He digs in, afraid not to, in case the voice coming through the ceiling speaker actually does possess a lightning bolt.