"The Bed That Smelled Back"
It was one of those days in LA when the sun seemed to have taken a personal dislike to every living thing. The city was baking under its wrath, the streets shimmering like an oven. I was in my office on the fifth floor of the Hatfield building, trying to conjure up a breeze from the desk fan that was fighting a losing battle against the heat. My name's Marlowe. I'm a private detective.
The door creaked open and in walked a woman. She looked like a million bucks, and just about as hard to hold onto. Platinum blonde hair, eyes that sparkled with a hint of danger, and a figure that could stop traffic.
"Mr. Marlowe?" she asked, her voice as smooth as silk and just as delicate.
"That's me. What can I do for you, Miss...?" I replied, leaning back in my chair.
"Dumont, Ava Dumont. It's about something... embarrassing," she blushed, looking down at her hands.
I gestured to the seat across from me, "Well, Miss Dumont, embarrassment's a common ailment in this city. Let's see if I can help."
Ava took a deep breath, "I've been finding... feces in my bed. I need you to find out who's doing it."
Her request was bizarre, but in my line of work, bizarre was just another Wednesday.
"I've changed the sheets, I've even replaced the mattress, Mr. Marlowe," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly, "But it keeps happening. And the worst part is, I can't figure out who would do such a thing. I live alone, I keep to myself, I..."
Her voice trailed off and she sighed, a weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world.
"I lost a key a while back," she said suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to her. "Down at The Neon Parrot, I think. It's a dive, but they make a good Manhattan. I didn't think much of it. I mean, who would want to break into my apartment? And for this?"
She gestured helplessly, her hands shaking.
After Ava had spilled out her strange predicament, I leaned back in my chair, steepling my fingers. The city outside the window was a hazy, heat-soaked mess, but in here, the air was thick with tension and fear.
"Ava," I said, my voice steady, "In cases like these, it's usually someone the victim knows. An ex-lover, a disgruntled employee, a neighbor with a grudge. Anyone come to mind?"
She looked startled at first, and then thoughtful. Her gaze drifted to a spot on the wall behind me, as if she was playing back the film of her life, searching for any possible suspects.
"Well, there's Richard, my ex," she started, "But he's a big shot film director. This... this doesn't seem like his style."
"And your staff? Anyone who might hold a grudge?" I probed further.
She shook her head, "No, I treat them well. They have no reason to do such a thing."
"Neighbors?"
Again, she shook her head, "We're cordial, but I keep to myself mostly."
She looked helpless, her eyes wide and scared. It was a look I had seen many times in my line of work, a look that said 'I don't understand why this is happening to me.'
I agreed to take the case, and before long, I found myself at her swanky apartment in the upscale part of town, staring at the tell-tale signs of the intruder's unpleasant calling card. As I examined the unwelcome deposit, I muttered to myself, "I've had dirty jobs, but this one's really hit the bottom."
Before I agreed to take the case, Ava had dropped a lead that seemed promising at first. A jilted ex-lover, one Richard Carmine. Carmine was a big shot in the film industry - a director with a notorious reputation and a string of affairs as long as his film credits. Ava had ended things with him months ago, but Carmine was not a man used to hearing the word "no".
I found him on set, directing a scene with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. He was tall, with a mane of silver hair and a gaze that could freeze lava. When I mentioned Ava's name, I saw a flicker of something in those icy eyes.
"Ava? Haven't heard that name in a while. She find herself in trouble?" he asked, his voice dripping with faux concern.
"Seems like someone's been leaving her unpleasant surprises," I replied, watching his face closely.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, "That so? What kind of surprises?"
I didn't mince words, "Feces in her bed, Mr. Carmine. You know anything about that?"
The smile vanished. He looked genuinely taken aback, "What the hell, Marlowe? You think I'd stoop that low?"
He seemed surprised, maybe even a little disgusted. But there was no guilt in those icy eyes, no hint of deceit. Carmine was many things, but he wasn't the culprit.
Back at square one, it was Ava's offhand remark about a lost key that led me down the right path. It was a lesson in the unpredictability of detective work - sometimes, the most promising leads end up being dead ends, and the real clue is hidden in an innocent comment that almost slips by unnoticed.
I started tracing her steps, and it led me to a downtown bar, The Neon Parrot. A seedy joint where the whiskey was cheap, and the secrets were spilled easily. The bartender remembered Ava, remembered her losing something. And he remembered a small-time crook named Benny "The Rat" Rizzoli being around the same time.
Finding Benny turned out to be easier than I thought. He was holed up in a dilapidated pool hall on the wrong side of town, hustling small-timers out of their week's wages.
He was a greasy little guy, nervous and twitchy. The minute I walked in, he knew trouble had found him. When I cornered him by the bar, he tried to play it cool, his rat-like eyes darting around for an escape.
"Benny," I said, leaning against the bar, "I'm looking for a key. A key to a nice place up in the hills."
Benny's eyes flickered with recognition, but he quickly hid it behind a smirk, "A lot of keys in this city, Marlowe."
"I bet," I replied, "But this one opened the door to a little more than you bargained for, didn't it?"
His smirk faltered, but he was still playing dumb, "Don't know what you're talking about."
I leaned in closer, my voice low and steady, "Let me paint a picture for you, Benny. A beautiful dame, a lost key, a high-class apartment, and an uninvited guest who leaves a rather... distasteful calling card."
His face drained of color. The jig was up and he knew it.
"All right, all right!" He squeaked, his voice echoing in the near-empty bar. "I found the key, thought I could score some loot, but the dame had nothing worth taking!"
"And the message you left?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Benny shrugged, his greasy smirk returning, "Thought it was funny. Didn't mean no harm."
"Right," I said, standing up straight, "You might want to rethink your sense of humor, Benny. It's getting you into more trouble than you can handle."
I left him there, his face as pale as the cue ball on the pool table.
After Benny's confession, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite adding up. I revisited my memories of the crime scene, studying the evidence more closely. That's when I noticed it - the discrepancies between the first incident and the rest.
The first deposit was clearly a message, a crude and juvenile prank. But the others... they seemed different, almost accidental. A pattern emerged, one that led me back to Ava.
I confronted her in her apartment, the setting sun casting shadows across the luxurious room. "Ava, there's something you're not telling me."
She played innocent, her eyes wide, "What do you mean, Marlowe? You found the guy, it's over."
I shook my head, "No, it's not. Benny was responsible for the first incident, that's true. But I've seen enough of this city's secrets to know when something's off. The rest of the deposits... they're different, Ava. They're yours."
Ava's face crumbled, tears pooling in her eyes, "I... I didn't mean to lie. I just... I thought if I could pin it on someone else, I wouldn't have to face my own demons."
The truth was out, as ugly as it was. Ava had been struggling with a secret of her own, a sleepwalking habit that had spiraled into something darker. The initial incident had triggered something in her subconscious, leading her to repeat the act night after night.
As a private detective, you learn to expect the unexpected. But this was a twist I hadn't seen coming. The case was closed, but the memory of it lingered, a strange tale that would haunt the shadows of my mind for years to come.