Next were the college students down the way. Christmas lights choked their lawn, blinking in Morse code. I was rusty, but it looked like a recipe for apple pie. Bits of broken stuff glued into frames, looked like some kinda stained glass pictures hung outside. I figured it'd be a house full of slobs and dames, rich kids taking money from mommy and daddy.
Don't get me wrong, college is great if it helps you make more money than the rest of the slobs out there. Problem is all those dames with degrees in art history. You end up working at a flower nursery [Thankfully, I matriculated with a computer engineering degree. Otherwise, I might end up another “dame” to Trace. -Dara].
Some kid opened the door, dressed in all black, clothes 2 sizes too small, whiskers on his chin like a dead rat. Soon as he saw me, he slammed the door in my face. Knocked again, flashed my fake badge, showed him my PI license. He stepped outside, making sure not to open the door too wide.
Kid was just the right mix of nervous and careless and relaxed. Smelled like Pat chewed Lee [Patchouli. -Dara]. Thing is, you put the screws to rich kids, they give up everything real quick, or they clam up and you have some real fun. He started singing like the fat lady. Woulda started bawling if I hadn'ta slapped him and told him to man up.
I told him he could bring out everything didn't belong to him, and we could leave the cops to take their afternoon nap, call it a day. Or, we could see who his one phone call would be. I grabbed his shoulder, told him if there were any garden gnomes, he should get those first.
When he came back out, he shoved a giant cardboard box into my hands, then waited. I asked him where the gnome was, and he just stared at me, then looked at his hands like they were televisions. Inside the box, I coulda started a pharmacy, pills in there I didn't even recognize. Buncha college slobs and dames, probably couldn't organize to steal the gnome if they wanted to.
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