Los Angeles. California. U.S.A. Simon’s Detective Agency.
Simon dragged his heavy boots into his agency’s office. Then he gave what he hoped was a drooling yet puppy eyed pleading look at the three young enticing and smartly dressed women seated in front of him.
“Hi, sweeties,” he said.
“Hi, patronizing bastard,” was their reply. “Hi, cheeky cunts. I’ve got a new case for you.”
Simon placed a briefcase onto his desk. The three women groaned.
“Which I know you’ll solve with your usual efficiency. Discretion please on this one. The client is erm, a friend of mine.” “Stop your vague ranting. What is it?” Sabrina asked, staring wide eyed, flicking back her straight brunette hair.
“The client is Madam Michelle. She owns a erm, well, brothel down the street,” Simon said.
“I know who Madam Michelle is. She’s your mother,” Cheryl said, nodding, pushing her fingers through wavy ginger hair. “I’m not proud. We’ve had a disagreement. Solving this case quickly will win me favour with her.”
“We understand your needs, Simon,” Cheryl said.
Simon cleared his throat. “Some of her clients are using her girls without paying.” “Do you want us undercover?” Tabatha asked, shaking her blonde ponytail. “Yes, please. All at once.”
“No chance. Stick with your mother,” Cheryl said.
“Undercover at Madam Michelle’s then.” “Great,” they said in unison.
“Some of her clients like that as well, but it leaves crumbs on the carpet.”
“We’ll put a stop to that as well, won’t we, girls?” Sabrina asked the others.
“We sure will,” Cheryl replied.
“I’ll confirm that,” Tabatha said.
There was a knock on the door. A big obese woman opened the door and entered the room.
“Hello. My name’s Nora Batty. I’m here for the receptionist interview.”
“Somehow I don’t think we’ll need to go undercover, Simon. I have an idea how we can use Nora, if you’ll recruit her,” said Sabrina.
Later that night, Nora Batty was at Madam Michelle’s, wearing a basque and stockings, on a bed with a client, holding on to him.
“I bet you won’t rush off now,” Nora said.
The client grabbed a violet coloured velvet wrapped metal bin from the carpet, then vomited into it.
“How dare you find me revolting? My husband finds me attractive. Or so he says. But by the state of that bin, I suspect you still won’t pay,” said Nora, tutting.
The next day, Simon and his girls were at the office’s pool.
“Good job, team. Case closed. My mother’s satisfied. Her and Nora are both the same size so fell in love,” Simon said.
“I think we need to change our industrial classification from investigation to match maker,” Sabrina said. “Plus you have your mother’s approval to date your favourite lady from there.”
He kissed his girlfriend on the stomach. “Cheers,” Simon said, toasting them all with his glass of champagne.
“Hear, hear,” they said.