Looney

It was another miserable, rainy day in this miserable, rainy city. After running the beat for 12 years I'm actually upset when it isn't raining. 12 years. Every time I think of quitting the force, my good buddy Johnnie Walker calms me down. I take one last shot of whiskey before I grab my coat and head out the door. I was meeting Gomez over by ACME Tools. Phoned me earlier, something about a possible murder. Heh. In this city, there is no possible murder. Just murder.

I arrive in front of ACME Tools and the coats are already hauling the poor bastard off. Gomez is surveying the scene. He's always first to the scene.

"Glad you could join us, O'Malley. I was getting lonely." Always a smartass, too.

"Can it, Gomez. What've we got?"

"Well," he lights a cigarette, "seems like we got ourselves a classic case of wrong place at the wrong time."

 

I take in the area as Gomez continues. Directly in front of ACME Tools are the remains of a piano, presumably a piano that fell some distance. I look up to see the still dangling rope from where it snapped. "By wrong place you mean here, and wrong time you mean now?"

 

He stares blankly. "What the f- yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm getting at."

 

"I'm guessing this here piano crushed the man being hauled off right now. Any witnesses?"

 

"A few, still a little rattled. That dame over there gave me the rundown. At about 10:43 AM a one Mr. Wile E. Coyote enters ACME Tools. Owner says he was looking for a giant catapult to, and I quote, 'end that insufferable bird once and for all.'"

 

"Looks like the bird lives to fight another day," I say smugly. The only part of this job I don't hate is that I can be smug pretty much non-stop.

 

"Yeah. Well, owner tells Coyote that they don't sell catapults, so he ends up leaving the store somewhat irate. Witnesses say that right when he walked outside he barely dodged a runaway wedding cake on a cart by jumping right here," Gomez motions to where the piano lays. "He was heard saying 'boy, that was a close one,' seconds before this piano landed on him."

 

Looking up at the rope again I check for signs of foul play. After being distracted by a few clouds I stop checking for signs of foul play. "Where was the piano being moved to?"

 

"Third floor, ACME Music. Movers say the rope just snapped. Freak accident." It's my experience in this town that there are only freaks, no accidents. "Luckily, or unluckily, however you please, the piano didn't kill him. Witnesses say it just turned him into a giant accordion, his teeth replaced by piano keys for some reason."

 

"He had visible music notes swirling around his head, huh?" I know how this goes.

 

As does Gomez. He nods while lighting another cigarette, his first still burning in his left hand. "Yup. Coyote then stumbles around in a daze, mumbles something about forgetting to bring his sheet music, and heads south on Mulberry. That's when this safe fell on him." Gomez walks a little ways off to the opposite side of the building where, sure enough, a safe sits firmly rooted into the concrete.

 

"Being moved up to ACME Banking?"

 

"Being moved up to ACME Banking. Fourth floor." Looks like Life was selling sandwiches for a nickel and Coyote didn't even have a penny. "Somehow he managed to open the safe from the inside, and immediately vomited out gold coins and dollar bills. Why he ate them in the first place we'll never know."

 

I begin to think if this is mere coincidence, two foreign objects landing on one man mere seconds apart, or the endgame of a far more sinister plot. Thinking hurts my head. Knew I should've brought my whiskey. "So the musical notes floating around his head, still there?"

 

"Replaced by floating cash registers and dollar signs. That dame I told you about earlier was going to run over and check on him when she heard a Falling Whistle Sound Effect™. Stopped, looked up, and watched. This is what did the poor bastard in."

 

Gomez motions to just behind the safe as he lights a third cigarette, one for his mouth and each hand. I told him those things will kill him, and I think he mistook it for encouragement. As I look just past the safe, I feel stupid for not having seen this coming.

 

"The old fashioned skydiver-with-a-bag-filled-with-silverware-and-utensils-instead-of-a-parachute, huh? Eighth one this month." All of those jumpers had jumped out of planes owned by ACME Aviation. The mangled corpse of the skydiver was just now being attended to by paramedics. Spoons, forks, knives, and a few broken plates lay around his corpse. Of course, the only one eating fat after a snafu like this is Lady Death.

 

"When the skydiver, who we're still trying to ID, fell on Coyote they were both killed instantly. A real bloodbath, partner." Gomez shakes his head, hands on his hips. Not so much out of disbelief but relief. He knows that in this city, this accident could have been much worse. "Honestly we're lucky we know this much. Most witnesses only saw the piano bit but the dame over the way saw the whole thing. Said she was only here because she made a wrong turn at Albuquerque."

 

I stop dead in my tracks. It appears the plot has thickened.