Dangly McDaniels' House of Whores, Shady St.
O' Halloran and Pip roll up to the curb and get out.
"Why'd we roll instead of drive? We had a car after all? Seems kinda...retarded"
"Thats just the way i roll, Baby".
"O...K...". Pip rolls his eyes - its a medical condition.
The front of Dangly McDaniels' House of Whores is a garish mess of neon signs. Words like SEX and PENIS PUMP and SHEEP plastered across its filthy windows and entrance.
A large fat bouncer patrols the door.
O' Halloran slips off his shades and approaches the guy.
"Is Dangly in?".
"What's it to you?"
O' Halloran flashes his badge - a shiny one with a picture of Davey Jones from The Monkees, circa 1965 - and the doorman immediately steps aside to let him through.
O' Halloran grins slyly.
"Works every time. Doormen can't resist the twinkly eyes of Davey boy".
If the outside was garish then it is tame by comparison with the interior. It's like the interior designer was a gay marshmallow: pastel hues of various pink shades cover every available surface.
"Jesus, O' Halloran. This place gives me the creeps".
"You get scared of the colour pink?". O' Halloran looks Pip up and down.
"Nah. Thats what you'd call an irrational fear of the colour red. They don't have a name for a fear of Pink".
"Maybe you're gay?"
Pip nods in partial agreement.
"Maybe. I am a 19th Century time traveler from Devon so anything's possible". Pip shrugs.
"Hmmmm". O' Halloran lets it rest for now.
They walk up to the reception area. It's pink - no surprises there. The lady behind the desk is short, squat and wrinkly. She's knitting.
"What can I do you for, hon?"
"We wanna see Dangly". O' Halloran's voice is strong and assured.
The woman reaches under her desk and preses a buzzer.
"You calling her?", O' Halloran enquires.
"Nope. Thats my vibrator seat control", she smiles sarcastically, but O' Halloran can detect a very distinct humming sound coming from beneath her chair - plus that wide smile across her face is a giveaway.
Within seconds there is the sound of soft footsteps descending the plush pink carpeted staircase.
Pip and O' Halloran gape open-mouthed at the vision before them: tall, thin, curvaceous, long blonde hair slicked back sexily, perfect pout, come-to-bed eyes - why, if it isn't Father Putrid, the Parish Priest of St. Massacre's Church.
"God bless you, my children. I was just giving the ladies their...Holy communion", he fibs. "They swallowed it"
He blesses O' Halloran and Pip with his hand and slinks out the door with a wide smile on his face and a bulge in his pants.
Following him down the stairs is a buxom elderly black woman dressed in a pink chemise.
"I'm Dangly. Someone lookin' for me?". Her voice is ragged and croaky like a woman who smokes 80 a day and gargles with rusty nails.
"O' Halloran. Homocide. We have a few questions we wanna ask you?"
Dangley seems nonplussed. "Shoot".
Pip pulls his firearm and discharges it in her general direction. All hell brakes loose and O' Halloran grabs the gun from his hands.
"She meant figuratively not literally, you fool", he snaps.
"...ooops...", Pip shrugs.
O' Halloran takes Dangly into a quiet pink corner.
"We've just come from a murder scene with two dead bodies and a wall plastered with Penny Black stamps. What do you know about it?".
O' Halloran is unimpressed.
"I know you're hidin' something. I can tell by your eyes".
"I don't have eyes. These are fake.". She pops out both eyeballs and drops them in his fat hands. "See?"
O' Halloran juggles them then hands them back to her.
"Come on, Dangly. Give me something to work with here."
She takes pity on him. "Ok. Well, there is this weird dude comes in here every so often. Likes the girls to lick him."
"Sounds naughty". O' Halloran smirks.
"Not when he's dressed like a giant stamp it aint". She rolls her head the way a black woman rolls her head when she's showing attitude.
"This guy, he got a name".
"And what is it?"
"Doctor Huckleberry Fudgecicle Stickybum Baboon IV"
O' Halloran gives her a raised eyebrow look.
"You're kiddin' me?".
"I only lie when I'm flat on my back being pumped hard by a large Denzel lookalike with a ten-inch penis, Detective, never about serious things like the names of people who pass through here - particularly men who dress like stamps".
O' Halloran writes down the name in his notepad - one of those kiddy ones with glitter and sprinkly fairy dust on the cover.
"Thank you, Dangly. You've been a real lady".
He motions towards the door and Pip heads towards the exit with him before Dangly calls out:
"Don't you wanna make sweet, erotic love to me, O' Halloran?", she purrs.
He stops in his tracks and tightens the knot of his neck tie before turning back to her.
"Sorry, baby. I've already wanked. Maybe another time".
With that, he and Pip walk confidently outside and get in their car.
"Jeez, O' Halloran, that was one hell of a hunch you had. She gave us a name and everything. But, say, why didn't you make sweet erotic love with her?".
O' Halloran combs his hair back and looks at his reflection in the mirror.
"I'm afraid of commitment, Pip. If I told her the truth - that I wanted to spread her on that pink mattress and screw her brains out - I'd then fall in love with her. And with my crazy private life that would only lead to one thing - death. Everybody I've ever fallen in love with has either been decapitated, tortured by aliens, flayed alive with a hedge-trimmers or sucked into a toilet. I can't let that happen again - so I wank, and each time I do I die a little inside...".
Pip shakes his head. "Boy-of-boy, O' Halloran. You sure have troubles".
O' Halloran shrugs.
"Well, thats enough pointless back story and sorrow for one chapter. We've got some investigating to do, Pip. We need to find this Doctor Huckleberry Fudgecicle Stickybum Baboon IV and question his ass - by that I mean him, not his bottom".
Continue to CHAPTER 3