In Through the Out Door
Five days became a week, then became two weeks with no word from the erstwhile detective. This was definitely not like Leon, the proverbial bad penny who invariably found a way to turn up when he was least expected, or wanted. And Count D, although he pretended not to be affected by the policeman's absence, was.
After twenty days, he decided enough was enough.
It was important for Chris' sake that they find his brother. At least that's what he told himself, as he decided that they needed to leave the shop. "Come with me, Chris, we have something to do," he beckoned to the young boy. D stood within the open door of the shop, waiting for him, but it was obvious that his patience was being pushed to the limit.
Where are we going? Chris asked curiously. He and T-chan followed behind the oriental shopkeeper as he swept them from the shop, elegantly garbed as usual, today in a red silk kimono, with small blue flowers embroidered upon it. His mien was determined and his step steady, and it was obvious that they were on some sort of a mission, but what? Already it was not an ordinary day, for Count D generally chose to remain within the confines of his quiet shop in Chinatown, so something must definitely be up.
"To your brother's apartment," came the reply, as they navigated their way from Chinatown to the slightly seedy area which Leon called home, his taste in domiciles being called into question. His taste in most everything, actually. D ignored the catcalls that were aimed his way, the whistles and the laughter from the unemployed rubes that lines the street, focusing on what they were doing, as he kept Chris close to him, protectively, and T-chan managed to look menacing, while Q-chan hovered about them, silently.
"Is that your mama?" was the last comment that could be heard as they entered the building, walked the few floors to Leon's apartment, stepping over refuse and unidentified objects, before entering (D was good at getting into places without keys, but don't ask him how he did it).
The place was a teetotal disaster area and D's heart fairly stopped as he leapt to the conclusion that Leon had been assaulted and dragged from the place. But then he realized it was merely slovenly housekeeping on the detective's part. Half-full glasses of mysterious fluids were set about, as well as bits of unidentifiable comestibles which D wasn't sure were ever truly edible. Holding his nose with one delicate hand, he began to pick up the refuse as he went, unable to believe that a human being could actually live like this.
He quickly tore down the salacious posters upon the wall, to shield Chris' innocence, covering his eyes as he did so - grinning large-mammaried girls with no clothes and low IQ's. He put them into a trash bag along with the numerous magazines of the same ilk which littered the apartment, and which were covered with specks of suspicious intent. "Never you mind," he told the young boy as he attempted to thumb one open.
Room by room they went, but no trace of the detective - at least no recent trace - could they find. Not a clue as to a case he might be working on, no phone number, nothing. Admitting defeat at last they had no choice but to leave, running the gauntlet of rudeness once more. But this time the catcallers were put to flight by Q-chan who chose to swoop among them suddenly, scattering them to fierce cries of, "Watch out, they lay eggs!" as the objects of his dives ran to cover.
D's steps began to drag as they walked back through Chinatown. Where, oh where, was Mr. Detective, and was he safe? And why did he care so very much? It was all so confusing for him.
He should be happy that he was not being hounded any more, not being annoyed by the impertinent questions, nor accused of things that ran the gamut from drug smuggling to murder. That he was not having to pick up after the detective, nor listen to his lurid tales of conquests past and future. Or hear him complain about the animals in the shop. Or....
D dabbed at one eye carefully. He must have gotten something in it, that was it. Perhaps something airborne. Treacherous wind.
As he approached the shop he saw to his dismay and indignation that the front door was wide open. His eyes grew wide with amazement. How could that be? How could that possibly be? He hastened his steps, intent on catching the intruder at work, and deal with him as only Cound D could - thoroughly and efficiently. Violence was never his way.
He told Chris to wait on the sidewalk, just for a moment, leaving Q-chan as guard while he went inside.
And there, sitting on the sofa just as pretty as you please, a half-empty glass in one hand, cookie in the other, feet propped up on the coffee table as if they had a right to be there, was..... Leon Orcut himself.
"Took you long enough," the detective complained through pastry-stuffed mouth, which only made his words come out garbled, but D understood.
"We've been to your apartment," he said smoothly, tucking both hands inside his long hanging sleeves, as he beckoned to Chris to come in and shut the door behind him. "Were you raised in a barn, Mr. Detective?" he berated him. "Well, having seen your home, I can easily believe it."
His words were cross, but his eyes were shining as he stood there, looking down upon Leon, who started to choke.
"My apartment? What the hell were you doing in my apartment?"
"Bettering it," was the brief reply. Chris silently hugged his brother, before taking T-chan, and heading to the back of the shop. He'd heard their fights before, and he could already see what was coming.
As Leon continued to rail, D never backed down, giving as good as he got - and never letting the detective know how glad he was to see him again, or how afraid he had been. Some things Leon did not need to know. At least not now.