Chappy MacGuire and the Case of the Missing Rice Pilaf

by Hanna Buechi

She knocked hard and fast – I like that in a woman. Shows she’s got guts and a firm hand on top of that. I opened my mouth to call her in but she had taken the liberty of throwing open the door before the words had left my mouth. She stood in the door, hip cocked to one side. She was tall – I’d say about 5’10’’, give or take. She had legs for miles that she played up with a short skirt tight as a sausage-skin. And damn, she used it. Her dark chocolate tresses cascaded in curl past her shoulders, and her left arm was planted on her hip. Tucked under her right arm was the biggest, ugliest rat I had ever seen. Wait. No. It was a dog. Its hideous face snarled at me and a long tendril of saliva dripped onto the floor. My eyes followed it to the floor, and then appreciated her 4-inch, rhinestone embellished purple stilettos. This chick was loaded.

Before I go any further, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Chappy MacGuire, P.I. My ma calls me Charles, but ever since I socked that guy in Borneo, I’ve gone by Chappy. But that’s a story for another day. Anyway, I pry, meddle, and snoop for a living. I’ve been in this business for a good twenty years and oh man, do I know what I’m doing. Bring anything from a murder to a missing banana, and I can solve it. There’s nobody in the Tri-City area like me.

My downfall comes in the form of a good woman or a hard drink. This woman standing in my doorway was bringing that out, but I was a professional. Time to pull myself together. I had a job to do.

“Well, babe, what can I do for you?”

She smiled tightly. “I hev a case for you,” she hissed. I half expected to see a forked tongue flicker out between those teeth as straight as a white picket fence.

“Yes. I was assuming you didn’t come here for tea and biscuits.”

She forced a laugh. “Oh you are so cleever. No. I….misplaced somfing and I need it to be found. Ze sooner ze better.”

“Well then darling you came to the right place. I’m your man.”

I puffed on my cigar and gestured to the seat on the other side of my desk. She stalked up to my desk like a female praying mantis intent on eating her pray after sex. Her eyes bore into mine like jackhammers. I tapped my cigar out on the underside of my desk and leaned forward, giving her eyes – give or take about 8 inches south – my full attention.

“Now Meester Mekgueere. My name ees Aneeta Benaclofa. An item of mine thet ees of most important to me went meesing. I want you too find eet, and I am preparing to pay you most greatly for your services.”

My services indeed! She just needed to keep speaking in that delicious, buttery voice and I would jump through a ring of fire after soaking my boxers in lighter fluid for her.

“Babe, anything for you and that’s a promise. I always like helping a woman in need. Now what will this entail?” I said coolly, getting up and walking over to pull down the blinds. The light was getting to me. I’m not much of a sunlight person. I do my best work when the rest of the world is playing catch-up.

She swiveled in the wooden chair to follow me. “You must not git cases liking to thees one very often, Meester Mekgueere. You see, eet’s my rice peelaf.”

Rice pilaf. Did she just say rice pilaf?? I jammed my finger in my ear to see if something had gotten stuck. Maybe a mouse had taken up residence and was playing whack with my hearing.

“I had made a beautiful rice peelaf…”

There it was again. Rice pilaf. Or did she say mice pilaf? I swirled my finger around once more, and knocked the side of my head to try to get the little squatter out.

“…and ven I cem back, the rice peelaf was gone!”

And again. She said it. It was for real. This woman had come to me because she had lost her rice pilaf. Amazing. Never, ever, EVER, in my 30 years of covertly patrolling the streets had I ever been hired for something like this. But in this economy, you can’t be picky.

“I’m sorry. But you’re going to have to repeat that. A rice pilaf?”

“Yees. Eet all heppened thees morning. I hed made a rice peelaf, for my uncle Ivano who vas supposed to come over thees afternoon. I left it out on my keetchen counter ven I vent to take a long, hot, steemy beth. Ven I cem back downstairs, it vas gone! There vas no trace! Eet vas like the rice peelaf hed just gotten up and left!”

“Now, now, rice pilaf’s don’t go walkin’ round like you and me, sugar. Can you tell me who would have had access to it?”

Honestly, I figured old Uncle Ivano had probably just come by early and scarfed the whole thing down. Uncles tend to pull tricks like that. But there was no point in saying that right off the bat. This chick was prepared to lay out a whole truckload of dough, and I wanted to keep her around as long as possible. Such pretty eyes…

“There vas Dr. Geeshner, my dentist. He vas over…for tea, in de morning.”

Mr. Puggles glared at me. “Okay. Now what about the rice pilaf itself? I need to know what I’m looking for here, darling. Size, shape, smell, utensils. Give me anything.”

She paused, her pretty head searching for answers.

“About this big,” she gestured about the size of a basketball in the air. “Vild rice, organic, vith parsley and cherry tomatos. And flecks of bacon. Uncle Ivano won’t eat anything vithout bacon.”

A man on the same life path as me – early death, from premature cardiac failure due to bacon overdose. But why would the godly stuff exist if not to eat with every meal?

“If you don’t mind, I’ll probably stop by sometime this afternoon to check out your place. If you could just put your address down here, doll,” I slid a piece of paper, embossed with “MACGUIRE,” across my desk to her. The overgrown rat snarled as my hand neared its mistress, flicking chunky white saliva on my desk. I grimaced and gingerly wiped it off the front page of the Tri-City Times – the headline read “Recession Forces Precious Stone Dealers Underground.”

Maybe this Geshner guy would do a job on the canine as well.

She scribbled something in big, loopy letters.

564 North Hampfordshireton-on-Avonlea Way

Her street was as flashy as the 40-karats hanging off her ears.

“Thank you, Anita. I’ll be by later this afternoon. I just have some other business to attend to.” I got up to show her to the door.

“Thenk you, Meester MecGueere. I em most eppreciating your help.”

I watched the pendulum of saliva swing from the diminutive beast’s mouth. God it was ugly, with that face that looked like it had met the business end of a fast-moving frying pan.

* * *

“MacGuire! We’re ready for you!”

I put Women’s Health and Fitness back down on the immaculate table – I swear I could eat a steak of it and lick up the juice. I walked past the receptionist who looked like she had doubled her dose of “happy” that morning. Her Botox-ed cheeks couldn’t possibly stretch anymore. I pushed through the door labeled

Dr. Michael Geshner, DDS

General and Cosmetic Dentistry

That writing looked awfully familiar.

“Chappy MacGuire, correct?” Dr. Geshner spat. I swear, his mouth was a geyser of saliva. He reminded me of the beast of a dog that had almost taken off my hand. If Anita Benaclova was somehow involved, as I had guessed, with this llama of a man – he even had the neck and the hair – well then I would throw away my gun right there. She was eons out of his league.

“Guilty as charged.”

“Well good morning.”

“Now I’m gonna apologize ahead of time, Doc. I didn’t come in here for a cleaning. I’ve got teeth like mother-o-pearls. I have some business with you, concerning a certain rice pilaf.”

He cocked his head and looked at me with beady black eyes. His single diamond earring, the size of an apricot pit, glinted in the light. “A rice pilaf? You came down here to question me about a rice pilaf?!”

“Hey buddy, I’m just doing my job. Name’s Chappy MacGuire, Private Eye Extraordinaire. I got a rather distressing visit this morning from a certain damsel in distress. I believe you know her. Anita Benaclova? I heard she serves delicious tea.”

He stiffened up like a bedpost. “Yes, I know her. A friend. Well, not quite. She’s a friend of a friend. A mere acquaintance really.”

“Pity. She seemed to think you were close like sardines. But it is like a woman to assume more to the relationship than there really is, right, Doc?”

He glared at me.

“Well, she’s lost her rice pilaf. Where were you this morning?”

“I came into the office early, around 6. Had to send in a copy of my key-note speech for the National Cosmetic Dentists Conference. It’s very prestigious appointment, you know.”

“Yes, I’m sure. But is there anyone who could confirm that?”

“Yes. Betsy, my receptionist, was here as well. She’ll confirm anything you want.”

“Thanks, Doc.” I snapped the dentist’s bib off my neck and stalked out into the hallway and back to the reception room. Betsy’s smile gleamed at me like a neon Vegas sign. No need to confirm anything with her. The counter in Doc Geshner’s office had been littered with used coffee cups and printer paper. He hadn’t been at tea with any Russian damsels that morning.

* * *

I pulled my rusting, brown Mustang, Bertie, up in front of 564 Hampfordshireton-on-Avonlea Way. The house was like a wedding cake – frothy white tiers stacked like pancakes with ivy garnishes swirling around. The thing must have cost a couple mil at least. Bertie looked like a shit out front.

I stalked up to the front door, walking in between rows of bushes cut like dominoes. Honestly, why can’t we just let bushes be bushes?

I knocked hard and fast, like I knew she might like, and the door squeaked open on its own – interpreted as an invitation by any private eye.

“Hello? Miss Benaclova? It’s Chappy MacGuire!”

“Oh yees! I em in de leeving room!”

I followed her voice into a bubbly, bejeweled, blue room. I was momentarily blinded by the glitz from the chandelier. She was lounging on a metallic blue chaise in a hot pink bikini. Hot damn.

I took a deep breath.

“I came by to check some stuff around your house. Detective stuff, for the case. I have some ideas about what happened to the pilaf but I’d like to confirm them.”

“Ufcourse! Do vatever you need! Eef you don’t mind, I vill be right here. I’m very sleepy.”

It takes quite a woman to sleep in a bathing suit like that. I could have stayed and watched the show, but instead I wandered through into the kitchen. On the counter was a silver vase embedded with diamonds the size of cherries. I ran my hand along the counter, feeling for anything – grains of rice, diamond shavings….

I pulled open the sliding door that led out onto the patio. Precious stones twinkled like constellations in the concrete. An Olympic-sized monstrosity of a pool glistened out on the lawn, and hideous statues of naked, overweight watched like creepy neighbors hanging over picket fences.

Past the pool, I saw what I was looking for. A trash container huddled in the corner like a garden gnome. I trudged across the immaculate grass. I lifted the top and saw my own diamonds sitting on top. Three round, pudgy bags sat there like toad stools. I carefully opened each one like one of those old ladies who saves the wrapping paper from Christmas presents. The smell was pungent, with a hint of parsley. Nestled in each dog excrement were tiny white grains.

YES! Just as I had thought. That dog – Mr. Huggies, or whatever the hell she called him – really was just a rat. He had gotten to the rice pilaf before anyone else. I smiled, feeling that rush of another case come and gone.

I picked a small twig off one of the domino bushes and poked one of rice grains. It was hard. Like a rock. No. Not a rock. Like…a diamond.

My mind flashed back to the newspaper my assistant had put on my desk that morning. The recession. Precious stones. The dealers in trouble. At this time, nobody’s in any sort of place to be buying diamonds. Business is down, and money is short. The federal taxes on importing diamonds from anywhere are miles high, if I’m not mistaken.

Well well well, Anita Benaclova and Dr. Michael Geshner, Diamond Smugglers Extraordinaire! I smiled to myself and followed my boot tracks through the grass, back to the house. Now they wouldn’t want this little juicy tidbit to slip to the papers. No, they both had reputations to maintain.

My paycheck was about to get a whole lot bigger.