30M2DW III - Day 7

Hint, Hint

The life of a hard-boiled cop isn't an easy one. At the station house you're only as good as the last case you cracked. In the dirty underworld of criminals, pimps and snitches you're only as good as your last Benjamin. And to the barkeeps of the world you're no good at all because they let you drink free beers and then you keep turning up for more like a bad penny. Not that I know any Pennys that are bad. In fact I know one who's pretty good, if you know what I mean. And in terms of currency I don't see how there can be any bad pennies because Canada got rid of them recently so we'd have to talk in terms of bad nickels, dimes, loonies and toonies. Just doesn't have the same ring to it.

And you may think it odd that a Canadian detective carries around a pocket full of Benjamins - American $100 bills. Well, yeah, it is a little odd but "Benjamin" sounds so much better than "Borden", some long-forgotten prime minister. And besides, the new polymer Canadian $100 bills smell like maple syrup. How could I ever attract snitches and maintain my credibility - my currency as a cop as it were - smelling like crepe?

Any way, let's continue with our story. A dick's life can be hard. Um, no pun intended.

Take this case I'm on, please. Ha, every cop likes to impersonate Henny Youngman. But seriously, folks, I had few leads into the deaths of the 3 Amigos and my snitch Bird. And Chief Silver was breathing down my neck.

Which is why I was hanging out in the hinterland - the seedy part of town where all the mother rapers, father stabbers, father rapers, mean and nasty and ugly and horrible crime-type guys hung out. No litterers, though. Gee, I'm hungry all of a sudden. I want to go somewhere I can get anything I want.

And where better to pick up hints about a crime than in the hinterland, huh, huh, huh?

And it paid off. Paid off big time.

According to my source a man called 'Horse', so named because of his drug connections not his movie character, was looking to horn into the drug trade the Amigos were running and what better way to do that than to off your competition. Oddly enough the Amigos had done the very same thing - horned in on someone else's turf.

My snitch wanted compensation for his information and leaned close into my ear and whispered "hint, hint".

I quickly brushed my suit coat thinking he said "lint, lint" as I'd gone out without my hearing aids again.

I needed to find out who this Horse fella was and I figured I'd have to go under cover to do it. But that was okay. I'd been under cover with Jhurigo and that worked out just great.

Ah, that concludes the first week of our adventures of Inspector Jack, a pretty gouda cop. Tune in tomorrow for our next instalment. Until then check out the links at We Work For Cheese and see what the rest of those blogger folk are doing with today's prompt.