Aachoo Voo, Private Eye Episode Four BIG d And Mr Sorryman

https://aachoovooprivateeye2024.blogspot.com/2024/07/aachoo-voo-private-eye-episode-three.html           link to Episode 3

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye 
Episode Four

BIG d and Mr Sorryman

I made an appointment to go see Big david. I wanted

my money. I needed my money. The rent was due on

the apartment and the cat needed a new pair of shoes. Of

course, to get in to see Big david, you had to contact

Big Tony who had to contact Big Louie who had to call

Big david's secretary, Candy, who then put in a request

to Big david's bodyguard, Little Guido, who, if he felt 

like it, maybe mentioned it to Big david when he found

him in a mellow mood. Then depending upon whether

or not he was in the frame of mind to see a real live 

human, maybe the message was passed back down 

the grapevine to the lucky (or not so lucky) seeker of

favors. It took two days but I had evidently found favor

with the notorious gangster.

"Hey there, doll." Big david said, looking up from his plate 

of ravioli. "Sit down, take a load off. How you been? Some

Chianti?" And I shook my head and slid into the booth 

opposite him at Sterling's Silver Palace Saloon and Restaurant.

I'd heard there were gambling tables in the back and call

girls and moonshine stills, maybe even movie stars and organ 

grinders and I was a bit nervous. I didn't want to be caught

dead or alive there if the place got raided. My mother would

kill me. My grandmother would laugh but my mother would

kill me.

"Everything alright, Big david?" the owner of the joint 

asked anxiously, leaning on the back of my booth. "More

wine? Ravioli? Some dessert,  perhaps? What can I get 

for your friend here?" Indicating me. Big david swallowed

a huge forkful and said, "I'm fine. Tell the man what you 

want, Sweetheart. It's on me." I turned to look at John 

Sterling. He was very attractive, with a scar that

ran from his right eyebrow down to the bottom of his 

cheek. It didn't ruin his looks like you might think it would

but made him even more attractive. There was a palatable

fear in his eyes though, an anxiousness to please that led

me to suspect that Big david might have had something to

do with that scar. "Black coffee, thanks," I said, meeting his

eyes, "With two sugars." "Coming right up." he smiled and

hurried away.

I turned back to my host. "Now, about my money.." But he 

waved his hand and said, "Not while I'm eating ravioli. I

never discuss business while eating ravioli." So I waited

as he ate and when the coffee had been served, I sipped

it quietly and observed the patrons of the establishment.

It was an elegant place in a mildly gaudy way. Almost full

even at three in the afternoon. Ladies sipped tea, some, 

beer and wine. Some were eating pasta and laughing at one

another in that semi-high-society piety that I so detested. A

few of them glared at me as my eyes swept the room while

their male companions looked me up and down and nodded

their approval. One idiot held up a wine glass and toasted me

just before being struck with a heavy alligator purse. I was

amused and also relieved that it wasn't me getting slugged 

this time.

Several tables away, I caught the eye of a dark haired 

handsome waiter and he turned pale and rushed off into the 

kitchen like he'd seen a ghost. Then I realized that he was a 

guy I had dated a couple of years back. I think his name was

Mario. The relationship had not ended well, (very few of mine

did.) I seemed to recall accidentally knocking his car out of

gear as we sat atop Lover's Leap Hill snuggling then arm 

wrestling as he tried to get fresh. Somehow, the passenger

side door had flown open. I had probably kicked the door 

handle with my foot and I had fallen out backwards and 

righted myself and looked up just in time to see the car 

going over the side of the cliff, Mario's eyes wide as saucers

and his sensuous mouth forming a gigantic O. 

"I forgot just what a gorgeous dame you are." Big david 

said, trying to get my attention. He had finished eating

and pushed the plate away from his sizable belly. He was

a huge man, tanned and tall and muscular. He had short 

dark hair and eyes the color of bones. Eyes you couldn't 

look into or you'd die of fright. He was wearing an expensive

suit and a unique ring on his right ring finger. It had some 

sort of odd crest on it. I found myself staring at it and trying to

see what it was. He cleared his throat and covered his hand

with the other. "Like I say, you sure are a good looking broad.

Have you ever thought of going into show business? I have

contacts in Hollywood and on Broadway. I could make a few 

calls.....call in a few favors......"

He paused to see if I was biting the bait and I shook my

head and said, "No thanks. I appreciate it but I'm not very 

talented I'm afraid." Silently in the back of my mind, I was

thinking, Lord knows that's the last thing I need:  To go out

to Hollywood and run Jimmy Stewart down with my car!

My mother would never forgive me. She idolized Jimmy

Stewart. Kept trying to fix me up with Jimmy look-a-likes.

It never worked out. I was a 'Robert Mitchum/ Marlon

Brando' kind of girl. I liked 'em big and bad with not much

to say but a whole lot to do. (Like fix things.)  (Cause I broke

things. A Lot.)

Big david was getting antsy. "Let's take a walk." he said,

trying to get to his feet. "Go down by the waterfront and 

catch some rats." I tried not to look dismayed so I

powdered my nose and said, "Well, as tempting as that

offer sounds.....I think I'll have to take a rain check. I 

have an appointment at four-thirty and besides, I already

have a pet mouse named Manny. He and the cat play war

games constantly and keep me busy cleaning up. So, I guess I'll

just have to say no thanks and run. So....if you could write

me out a check....." Big david leaned back in the booth and

gave me a strange look. (I assumed concerning my pet

mouse.) Then he said, "You turning Big david down, doll?

You shouldn't oughta turn Big david down. Big david don't

like no rejection, you know?" I swallowed hard and put a 

fake smile on my face and reached out and touched the 

mobster's hand, much to my distaste. 

"No, no, nothing like that. I just...I just need my money....

to pay the rent. I did a good job for your sister, didn't I? 

I found her husband, didn't I? By the way, whatever 

happened to those two?" I really didn't want to know but

I wanted to distract this romeo from his lame-brained ideas.

His face lit up. "Oh, yeah, yeah, you did a good thing, there.

We was really, you know, appreciative of all your good work,

me and Prudence. You know I don't deal with checks, right? 

But yeah, I got your money, honey. Maybe I just held off 

paying you so's I could get a look at that sweet puss of yours

again, you know?" Oh, geez! I smiled wider, pretending to be

flattered by this revelation. "But what happened to the...to the

husband and the girlfriend?" I drank the dregs of my coffee

and looked around to see if anyone was close enough to over-

hear our  morbid conversation.

"Well, let's just say that those two guys took themselves a 

permanent vacation!" Big david grinned proudly. "They 

bought themselves some beach front property down in 

old Mexico!" I gulped and reached in my purse for some 

gum. "Gee, that's nice." I said, feeling horrible that I had

had something to do with that real estate transaction. I 

had hoped for a messy divorce or something along those

lines, not this. But I had been just fooling myself. This is

the way mobsters solved their problems. It always involved

real estate.

 
Suddenly, Big david pulled out a huge wad of hundred 

dollar bills and threw them on the table. "Here, doll, help

yourself to whatever you think you deserve!" I almost 

fainted. What was I going to do? If I took too many, he'd

probably kill me. If I took too few, he'd be insulted. Rats!

I couldn't fail this test. It could be hazardous to my health

and career. I leaned over and took $2,000 and put it in my 

purse before I changed my mind.

I looked up into the gray eyes and a small smile flickered

across the big man's face. "You're quite a dame, you know 

that?" I shrugged. Then he took three more thousand out of

the pile and put them in my trembling hands and closed 

them around the money. "Here's a tip from Big david. You're

a good girl. I like you. I might need to ask another favor of 

you sometime. Now you run on to your appointment and 

don't worry. Me and you'll go walking down on the water-

front some other time." And he got up, grabbing the rest of

the cash, left a hundred dollar bill on the table and signaled 

to three of his henchmen seated at other tables. Aware of the

attention he was drawing, he tipped his hat and walked out

with a swagger in his step.

I sat there trying to get myself together as other patrons 

stared and whispered behind their hands and menus. I

heard the term gun moll several times as well as several

"Do you think Big Sophia knows?" Oh, good Lord! I 

looked around for the restrooms and spotting the arched

doorway to the back, hurried in retreat from spying eyes.

I touched up my face, combed my hair and washed my 

hands then made my way down the dark hallway past the

phone booths on the left. Something caught my eye. I 

looked sharply, then slid into the phone booth next to the

one in question and left the door cracked.

Pretending to use the phone, I inserted coins and rang 

my own apartment. The man in the next phone booth 

was dialing frantically with his left hand and tapping a

black cane on the floor outside he booth. He was wearing

a long black coat, an ugly scarf, had very long wildish hair

and I couldn't see his eyes but I was pretty sure they'd be

bleary and red. I turned a little bit, nonchalantly, you know,

and saw what appeared to be a black bag or satchel on the

floor at his feet.

My heart fluttered in my chest. No, it couldn't be! Could it? 

"Grandfather Sorryman, I've got it!" the strange man suddenly 

cried out upon reaching his party. "The book! I've got the book!

Our secret is safe! Wipe out the rest of those Arehtes and I'll

take care of this one and be on the next plane home! I've 

followed this creature halfway around the world and I'm tired 

and longing for the fires of Middle Earth!" (Middle What?!)

It was! It was him! The thief I was looking for! Oh, it couldn't be

that simple, could it? My cases weren't solved that easily. There 

was always bloodshed involved, usually mine. I hung up the

phone and walked back down the hallway. I waited until the 

crow-like man turned his  back to the door of the booth laughing

maniacally at something particularly funny (or heinous) that Old 

Grandfather Sorryman had said and then slipped by and caught

up the black bag, slung it on my shoulder and swiftly ran out of 

the door, across the restaurant and was almost at the exit when

there came a terrifying shout. "Stop, thief!"

  
I ran as fast as my high heels could carry me. The tall figure in

black tore out of the restaurant with a disbelieving look on his

ugly face. I looked back at him once and then crossed the street

in the middle of traffic, darting in and out ignoring curses and

wolf whistles. The man in black was not so fortunate. They didn't

think he was that cute. They tried to hit him. He shook the long 

cane at them and screamed in rage. The sky suddenly became 

darkened and a peal of thunder seemed to shake the ground 

beneath my feet. I was almost a block away when he appeared

practically behind me. "No way!" I thought and ran faster. 

There were six people between us. One of them was a cop. I

hurriedly slid my own purse inside the black bag and kept 

stepping. "Stop that woman!" the villain yelled at the policeman

as he gained on us. "She's a thief!"

The cop started running after me, the macabre figure close

behind him. Then the cop stopped and looked at him, startled.

"What did she steal....your purse?" The man stopped and 

composed himself "Y..y...yes." He said, pointing his nose in the

air. "Yes, she did." He sniffed like he couldn't believe he was 

being confronted by a mere mortal. I crossed the street again

and shouted back, "But I only stole back the purse that you had

first stolen!" And I ran like the wind. When I looked back, three

more cops had joined the first one and they had the figure in 

black down on his knees with his hands behind his back. He

was sobbing. "Noooooooooo!" Then he cried with that terrible

face looking in my direction. "Nooooooo! It cannot be!" And I 

laughed and held up the bag, "Oh, but it is!" And then I ran

into the side of a brick building and knocked myself unconscious.

TO BE CONTINUED........in Episode Five

                   *

david from Myspace...



                                                                                      Big david the mobster





       Boris Karloff as Sourun                                                                                      

Gary Cooper 
as John Sterling       

                                                                                                                                                         
John Sterling   

Manny the Mouse

To Be Continued in Episode Five

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye Episode Three Clapsaddles and Hairy Shoes

https://aachoovooprivateeye2024.blogspot.com/2024/07/aachoo-voo-private-eye-episode-two.html

link to Aachoo Voo Episode TWO⬆️

 

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye 

Episode Three

Clapsaddles and Hairy Shoes

I was sitting in my office filing my nails when there came a soft knock on the door. My office was on the first floor of my apartment building, situated between a cafe/sandwich shop/dirty old man hang out by the unique name of Clapsaddles and The (equally dangerous) Sit and Spin Automated  Laundry Mat and Lost Sock Depository and it was somewhat adjacent to the Alaskan Relief Charity foundation thing. (What kind of relief Alaska needed I wasn't quite up to par on yet (more blubber perhaps?) but I dropped the occasional quarter in the donations bucket shaped like an igloo out in front of their door. There was rarely anyone ever in the office as far as I could tell. (They were probably up in Alaska delivering the quarters no doubt.) But I believed in the sowing and reaping principle myself and only hoped that should the occasion ever arise, Alaska would be there for me.

Getting to my office was like running through a maze. Everything was at all angles.The elevator rarely worked, washing machines flooded the hallways on a regular basis, little old ladies got mugged bi-weekly for their dimes as they sat waiting for the dryers to stop, crossing their fingers that their flannel  gowns and undies didn't catch on fire. (In the dryers, I mean, not on their persons.) The wastrels that frequented Clapsaddles roamed around at all hours trying to catch some girl wandering in the maze looking for a way out. (And let's face it, it was usually me.) All that whistling and pinching and groping got to be pretty annoying after a while and I'd let out a good scream and the little old ladies would run out of the Sit and Spin and beat the hell outta them with their dime filled purses. I know those are some long run on sentences but yeah....these were long run on scenarios that would have filled the diary my mother had given me but since I knew she frequently snooped when my back was turned, I usually just made stuff up.

I kept complaining to Harold who was the manager/cook and also the under the counter illegal bartender/pt time therapist/owner of the place but he just grinned and wiped his hands on an apron that had seen it's share of battlefields and did nothing. (Imagine my face when I was eventually told that he gave free buttered toast to the man that could make me scream the loudest.) They said he actually kept a graph. A graph!

The one small window my office boasted faced a lovely alleyway with a breath taking view of trash cans and cats of every size and description. In fact, that's where I had found, excuse me, rescued, my own crazy feline pet, Wiener. I had noticed a commotion one day while sitting at my desk doodling and moseyed over and discovered that a veritable gang of hoodlum-like kitty cats was mauling the stuffing out of this one skinny orange character and screaming like a pack of seagulls after a meal with gills. He was lying there holding onfor dear life to this long red frankfurter. Fur was flying, people were throwing pails of water down out of windows trying to shush the racket, trash cans were overturned, whistles were blowing, winos were halting in the middle of their hangovers to watch. I swear if they could have, those cats would have been wearing black leather jackets and carrying switchblades. They were just that darned mean.

"Shoo!" I yelled at the mob waving my arms and kicking at them with my high heels. "Stop it, you pack of rat eaters! Leave him alone!" And I swooped down and picked up the poor little guy and ran back to my office with him, wiener and all. And you know the rest of the story. (Don't you?)  I named him Wiener. Duh! But I digress, as usual..............
                                              

I was supposed to be working on my filing cabinet that day but I just couldn't get into alphabetizing and opening drawers and stuff. It seemed like too much work. So I had pulled out a nail file instead and began working on my long sharp nails. I was going for the scratch-your-eyes-out look. The knock came again. "Yes?" I said, perturbed at the interruption. "Come in." And in walked the strangest little man I had ever seen. He was barely three feet six if he was that. He had shaggy dark hair, big ears and enormous blue eyes. He was wearing short pants and a heavy coat and his huge feet were shod with the most bizarre furry sandals. At least, I thought they were sandals. I couldn't stop staring. I sat there in amazement, nail file suspended in the air, my mouth open. The little man was holding a brown bowler hat in his hands and his bottom lip quiverled with emotion. He looked at the floor and waited for me to get over my astonishment. (He seemed to be familiar with the reaction.)

"Hello. What may I do for you, Mr....Mr......" and I stopped. "Arehte," he said softly, "Mr. Bilbo Arehte." "Mr. Arehte!" I smiled, "What an unusual name! What kind of name is that?" "It's Elvish, ma'am." he answered and he looked up and his big blue eyes were brimming over with tears. "Elvis?" I asked, puzzled. "No, ma'am, Elvish." he replied ."Oh!" I said, "Of course. Elvish. R.r..right........" And I put down the nail file, clasped my hands together and sat up straighter in the swivel chair. "Please. Have a seat, Mr. Arehte." I offered, pointing to the tall, velvet chair to the left of my desk. "And then you can tell me how I may be of service." For some ten long minutes or so, I watched as the little man attempted to get up into the chair and seat himself. It was quite comical, at times alarming and finally, he gave it one more shot and jumped up and turned himself around and gave me a look that said, "A small triumph! And it is mine!" and then looked down at his feet in humility. I was strangely touched and ducked my head and pretended that I hadn't seen a thing.

"What seems to be the problem and why do you have need of a private investigator?" I asked as seriously as I could. "Because the police won't help." he said matter-of-factly. "I've begged them to and all they do is laugh at me and refer me to Children's Services!" Then he huffed. "Madam, I am muchly aged! I have been robbed and I mean to have my possession returned to me!" I tried not to widen my eyes but they did anyway and I cleared my throat and leaned forward in what I hoped was a compassionate pose. "And what was the item that was stolen from you, Mr. Arehte?"

He looked at the floor again and then at the ceiling and then again at the floor before finally meeting my eyes. Then he kind of whispered and I had to listen very closely to hear what he said. "It's an original unpublished J.R.R. Tolkien manuscript." And when I didn't respond, "It was his first book, written when he was a mere child in West Midlands. Way before The Book of Lost Tales. Long before Lord of the Rings! It's titled "Sorryman and the Coal Truck! And it's priceless!" And when I still didn't respond, he shouted in his high pitched little voice, "Don't you know who Tolkien is?!"

And I had to be honest. I said, "Sorry, I've never heard of him. Is he a big band leader?" And he gave me a disgusted look and then fidgeted on the chair for a moment and then apologized and said in a controlled manner, "I'm sorry, ma'am, I  keep forgetting that humans cannot see into the future. "And I said, "What?!" And he jumped down from the chair and put his pudgy hands on the desk and looked me straight in the cleavage. "Are you going to help me or not?" and I kind of looked around helplessly for a moment, totally taken aback and stuttered, "Sure. I'll do my best. I mean, it's only a book, right?" And he gave a small groan and said, "Right! And the Taj is only a Mahal!!"

So I ran next door to Clapsaddle's and bought him some milk and a cookie and tried to calm him down as best I could. I was sure that I was interacting with one sick puppy in desperate need of medical attention.  (Of the shrinky kind.) But I was fascinated. He ate the cookie very politely and drank the milk slowly and deliberately like he was trying to decide how much to tell me. When he had finished he looked at me from where he had seated himself on a box of paint thinner that I had neglected to take home. The milk mustache was distracting but he wasn't aware of it and began giving me details concerning the case so quickly that I had trouble keeping up, barely able to jot them down in my notebook.

My shorthand was not very short but I was using my own personal scribble that no one but myself could decipher (and sometimes even I had to run upstairs and ask the parrot to help interpret the squiggles.) He waited patiently for me to finish writing and then asked again in a much softer voice, "So, Miss Voo, can you help me or not?" "I think I can, " I answered, "You've given me a lot of information which is always helpful. When did you say the theft occurred again?" "Day before yesterday at my hotel." he said as he got to his feet.

"I'm positive that it was Sorryman's grandson, Sour'un. He followed me from New Zealand when I booked passage on the ocean liner. I never saw him on board but I caught a glimpse of him as I checked into the hotel. My neighbors had seen a strange man in black with long wild hair and reddish eyes lurking about my garden back home and I knew then that they had somehow discovered my whereabouts. The Sorrymans, that is."

"You see, they own all the coal mines in my home land, have for centuries! They are very wealthy, very despicably evil people. J.R. had found them out and wrote about them in his book. Reuel, ( I called him Reuel) and I were very close as children. His family lived near mine, all the men in the village worked in the coal mines, you see, and eventually we began to notice that many of them would go to work and never come back. Reuel and I would sneak away and watch the coal trucks going to and fro, with all those strange letters on them and wondered why our friends' fathers seemed to be vanishing.. Well, Reuel found out why!"

"Why?" I asked breathlessly, hooked line and sinker now. The little man paced back and forth holding his hands behind him and told a story that was half fairy tale, half science fiction and half.....oh, wait, you can't have three halves, can you? Okay, let's make that a third fairy tale, a third science fiction and a third, uh...a third, um...... Oh, rats! Whatever it was, it made my heart pound and I almost half believed it. Apparently, the Sorryman empire was huge and their lavish but gloomy estate was laid out in the isolated countryside, yet not a great distance from the boys' humble lodgings in the village.

My client's description of the gigantic black castle with it's high towers and loud fearsome furnaces was quite terrifying even if it was fairy-tale-ish. (Actually, I found him a better story teller than The Shadow Knows play actor on the radio drama.) I found myself wishing I had some popcorn. "One day I heard the sad news that my friend and his family were moving away." Mr. Arehte continued. "His father had passed away in South Africa and my old dad and granddad had kind of taken him under their wings in a manner of speaking. We were all quite fond of him. He had such an imagination. I was very distraught to hear the news."

"The night before the family left, Reuel came knocking on my window at midnight and when I opened it he appeared very agitated and frightened. He produced a brown paper wrapped bundle out from under his coat tied with string, (the bundle, that is,) and handed it to me and told me to hide it where no one could ever find it until he got back to me. He said that the Sorrymans could never know about it and must never find out what he had discovered about their evil empire. Then he shook my hand and said to me, "Don't ever grow old, Bilbo." and fled into the night.

"Uh-huh." I said enthralled and motioned for him to go on with my nail file. Unfortunately in the doing,  I poked myself in the eyebrow with it and then caught it in my hair. I tried to extract it gracefully and he tried to pretend he didn't notice but we both failed miserably in our attempts. Embarrassed, I dropped a pencil on the floor and dropped down behind my desk and fought valiantly to get the nail file out of my hair without making too much noise. Victorious at last, I popped back up holding nail file and pencil, plopped back down in my chair and clasped my hands under my chin and murmured softly "Do go on, Mr Arehte."

Moments later I glanced at the window, caught my reflection and to my horror saw that my usually neat and wavy hair now resembled a werewolf's in mid transformation!  I grabbed a comb out of the desk drawer and went to work frantically on my coiffure. Mr. Arehte had been busying himself inspecting the paint thinner box and my paperback detective novel collection, all the while hiding a tiny smile as best he could. Finally he turned and continued. "The package contained a manuscript. The one I now ask you to retrieve for me. It contains a complete expose' on the goings on in West Midlands and thereabouts. A complete history of our village and the townspeople. It's written in novel form but believe me, miss, it's really more of a biography about my family and our friends."

"I had no idea that Reuel was writing it in his spare time or that we had inspired him so. It's a wonderful book and one that probably gave birth to all his other books and stories but one that up until now...... was probably never meant to be published. At least, I've never thought that J.R.R. would want it published. I don't know. Maybe he's forgotten that it even exists. At any rate, I think the time has come to act. That's why I came to this city seeking a publisher and a journalist who could help me expose this corrupt family and all their heinous deeds. There is a young lady, an old family friend's relative, who works at one of your largest newspapers here and she's promised to help me. I was bringing the book to her to read. That's what....." And he stopped and let the tears fall down his face washing away his little white milk mustache and looking so forlorn that I wanted to put my arms around him and hug him but I was afraid I'd break him.

"I will help you, Mr. Arehte." I assured him, wondering if that were true. "I promise!" "Thank you for your kindness." he whispered and wiped his face with a small white handkerchief. "After losing my parents last year in the mountains, I've been at a loss as to what path my life should take. Now, I've just recently learned that my cousins and nephews back in the village have gone to work for the Sorryman Mining Company and several of them have gone missing....I must do something! I know what is happening to them and I have to stop it! I must!" "There, there." I comforted him in my most soothing voice as he stopped and stood before my desk in the late afternoon light.

"Tell me, what happened to your parents? Was it a mountain climbing accident?" He was silent for a long time and then turned thoughtfully to look out of the small window while standing on his tippy toes. "No. It was dragons." he said barely above a whisper. I shook my head twice. I could have sworn he'd said....dragons but that was ridiculous. "Did you say....?" I gulped but he combed at his mustache and gave me a sweet and curious smile. Then he handed me a sheaf of notes and papers out of his pockets and said, "This should help you find the fiendish Sour'un and get my manuscript back. And this is for your trouble."

He then withdrew a beautiful shiny object out of a small velvet bag and laid it on my desk. It was exquisite. A long silver chain with a pendant shaped like a vine and flower. In the center of the flower sparkled a jewel more brilliant than a diamond. I had never seen anything so beautiful. I took the object in my hand and electricity ran through me and light and joy and visions of riding through the forest on horseback with my long hair blowing in the breeze. The moon was full and shining and I was laughing at a man who rode a silver horse running in front of me. There was a stream and a bird and a........

"What did you say?" I asked pulling myself out of the fantasy. I suddenly felt very lightheaded. More so than usual. The little man was standing in the open doorway about to depart. He turned to look at me smiling that curious smile. "I said... thank you, Miss Voo for accepting this quest. I knew I had chosen wisely and I know you'll find my precious treasure and return it to me. You know where to reach me." And he put the little bowler hat on his head and said softly just before the door closed........ 

"Namaarie..... Amvanya heri nartyë." And he was gone.

TO BE CONTINUED in Episode Four...........

                  *

                  
           Mr Arehte   

         

Rodger "Arehte" Ashton-Smith

                                from Myspace and New Zealand

                         (Tolkien fanatic like myself)

 (my apologies to my beloved

 J.R.R.Tolkien...........smile)

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btw: Arehte is pronounced Ar-uh-tay which means.......uh......um.....something.
 psst!!!! Rodger??? What does it mean???

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 Points for those who find the reference and/or references to another of my online stories in this episode!!!! 

Special thanks for the use of specific names:

 CLAPSADDLE, Harold, Tolkien, Bilbo

and

Weiner

(you know who you are!!)

Tenna' ento lye omenta

(until next we meet in Elvish)

The Quest by David Arkenstone

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