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} It was a rainy afternoon in the City of Angels. I was sitting in my
} fifth-floor office, watching the grime on the window get smeared by
} the smog-saturated raindrops. I hadn't had a client in three weeks
} and I was broke. The rent hadn't been paid in two months and the
} landlord was getting snarly. I was, too.
}
} My feet were up on the desk and I had a lit Camel in one fist and
} a glass of Wild Turkey in the other. I may be broke, but it doesn't
} mean that I have to drink cheap bourbon. As I leaned back in my chair,
} I could see the gold letters on the frosted glass of my office door:
} "ROTAGITSEVNI ETAVIRP ,ELCARO TENRETNI".
}
} I was just thinking about packing it in for the day and seeing if I
} could interest Lisa in a couple of steaks -- her treat -- and some
} serious cuddling when the door opened. A small, thin, sallow-faced guy
} in a long, dirty, threadbare raincoat slunk into the office. He had
} shifty eyes. I casually swung my feet off my desk and sat up straight.
} Putting the drink down on the scarred wood, I allowed my hand to
} drift down and make sure that the .45 strapped to the kneewell was
} still in place, and still cocked. I didn't like the look of this guy.
}
} I liked it even less when he spoke. "Is it Sssssammmm Sssspade,
} my precioussss? No, it'sssss not! It'sssss the Oracle..."
}
} "That's right, Mac. The Internet Oracle. What can I do for you?"
}
} One thin, bony hand came out of the raincoat. His fingers had webbing.
} This was seriously weird. One long skeletal finger pointed at me.
}
} "I wantsssss it back, my preciousssssss..."
}
} "Lose something?"
}
} "I wantsssss it back..." he repeated.
}
} "Look, Bud, I can't help you unless you give me more information.
} What's missing?"
}
} "My preciousssssssss," he hissed. I would as soon as plugged this
} freak as soon as listened to any more silibants, but a gig was a gig.
} Besides, I was tired of corn flakes for dinner. So, I tried one
} more time.
}
} "Look, guy... what's your name?"
}
} He swallowed. Hard. Loud. It was going to be one of those clients.
} I tried another tack.
}
} "My fee is a sawbuck a day, plus expenses. *I* decide the expenses.
} A C-note down; you get your change back -- if there is any change --
} at the end of the case. Now, I'll ask again: What's missing?"
}
} "My precioussssss..."
}
} So, he wanted me to track dowm some broad who'd run out on him. Sure.
} Why not? Any dame in her right mind would run like hell from a wierdo
} like this guy.
}
} "Okay, Mac. Sure, I can find her. What does she look like?"
}
} "You're gold, aren't you, my precioussssss?"
}
} A blonde, eh? Yeah, I could see it, now.
}
} "Height?"
}
} "Sssssmall..."
}
} "Thin?"
}
} "Round...."
}
} A little dumpy broad? Why not?
}
} "When did you last see her?" I asked.
}
} Instead of answering, the little freak let out a loud, high-pitched
} wail. I'd head that sound once before, on the beach at Iwo Jima, when
} my best friend caught a bullet in the belly. It's not a sound I like.
}
} Just then, the phone rang. The suddenness almost made me jump out of
} my skin. I snatched up the receiver, keeping one hand free to grab
} the .45 if the freak made a move while I was on the horn.
}
} "Oracle," I barked.
}
} "Orrie, it's Captain Gandalf."
}
} Great. My day was turning out just swell. Capt. Gandalf was a hard-nose
} cop out of Central Division.
}
} "Whadda ya want, Captain?"
}
} "We have a lead on a jewelry heist."
}
} "What's that to me?" The freak had stopped screaming and was watching
} me with eyes the color of oatmeal. Both hand were back in his pockets.
} I didn't like it. At all.
}
} "The gang has been hitting places all up and down the coast. Strange
} thing is, they're passing up all sorts of loot. They're picky: They
} only take one thing."
}
} "Yeah? What's that?"
}
} "Rings. Gold rings."
}
} "So? I'll ask again: What's that to me?"
}
} "We think they may contact you to try to find one ring, the one
} that'll complete the set."
}
} Gold. Small. Round. It was beginning to come together.
}
} "There a reward?" I asked, as casually as someone with a taste for
} fine bourbon and a Thunderbird budget can get away with.
}
} "Yeah. Five big ones."
}
} I whistled softly. "That's a lot of green. What's the description of
} the perps?"
}
} "Small, kinda fat. Here's the weird thing. They usually goes barefoot.
} Witnesses say that they've got hairy feet."
}
} "Hairy feet?" I could see the freak stiffen at that phrase.
}
} "That's all we got, Orrie. You get any guy like that come in and
} start talking about gold rings, gimme a call. We'll split the reward."
}
} Bastard. More like, split my skull and take all the reward.
}
} "Sure, Captain. I'll give you a call."
}
} I hung up. The freak hadn't moved, but he hadn't taken his hands out
} of his pockets, either. I leaned forward.
}
} "Look, Mac, I've got a proposition. You're looking for a ring. Now,
} *I'm* looking for a ring. Let's head down to Joe's and I'll buy you
} a cup of coffee. We'll talk it over. Maybe we can come to some sort
} of arrangement."
}
} The freak grinned. I tried not to shudder. This guy hadn't brushed
} his teeth since Roosevelt -- the first one -- was president.
}
} I grabbed my hat and held the door open for the freak. This was going
} to be an interesting evening after all. Lisa would just have to wait.
}
}
} You owe the Oracle a version of "Tales of Middle Earth" as written
} by Jane Smiley.
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![[IO]](https://kinzler.com/picons/db/domains/org/internetoracle/unknown/face.gif){kind=small}
