Author: admin

The Protectors

Jonny was just cracking open the morning paper when Boris staggered out of the crime lab like a sailor off a week-long bender. The pug’s eyes were bloodshot from pulling an all-nighter with nothing but fluorescent lights and government-issue coffee to keep him company. The Feds had dumped a stack of anonymous death-threat letters on him—nasty business aimed at the newly announced Nobel Prize winners. Boris had worked the envelopes like a maestro, but the only thing he could pull from the saliva was the ghost of fast food: Big Macs and Filet-O-Fish fingerprints in biochemical form. He muttered something about cholesterol profiles and brand loyalty before face-planting onto the nearest chair.

Meanwhile, Jonny scanned the front page, brow furrowing at names he didn’t recognize—Barack Obama, Robert Fauci, and one Albert Einstine… Einsteen… some German egghead whose name looked like a winning Scrabble hand. But then his eyes snagged on a name he DID know, one that hit him like a thrown blackjack: Bro Joe, fresh winner of the Literature Prize for that book he’d written about the crackpots haunting the local Starbucks. Jonny shut the paper with a snap, marched to the old rolltop desk, and fished out a pair of dusty passports. He tossed one to Boris, who caught it like a man grabbing the last donut at a stakeout. “Pack your trench coat,” Jonny said. “We’re flying to Sweden. Those Nobel nerds don’t know it yet, but along with a certificate and a novelty-sized penny, they just won the two best bodyguards in the business.”

The Hair of My Chinny-Chin-Chin

Happy Decembeard! It’s an annual campaign where people grow beards (or fake beards) during December to raise money and awareness for bowel cancer, a serious but treatable disease, especially when caught early. Participants start clean-shaven on November 30th, grow their facial hair all December, and use it as a conversation starter to educate others about symptoms like changes in bowel habits and blood in stool.
Since those are Hack’s favorite topics of conversation throughout the year, it’s not a big deal to him, but we thought you’d like to know.

Murder in the Doritory

Before Boris could answer, there was a sharp rap on the dorm room door. He and Jonny quickly threw on their wigs and long nightgowns and gave each other the thumbs up that they could safely pass for their female alter egos “Jonna” and “Boreen’” The pug opened the door to find Chloé, the bespectacled brunette who had bonded with Jonna, shivering at the door wrapped in only a small bath towel.

“With all the murders going on in the dormitory,” she said to Boris, “I didn’t want to sleep alone tonight. Is it alright if I sleep with Jonna?” Then she turned to Jonny. “But I forgot to bring my nightie from the murder room, so I’ll have to cuddle up to you in the nude. Is that okay?”

Boris shot Jonny a concerned look. This would be crossing a serious ethical line, but by refusing her they might lose her hard-earned trust. But before the pug could say anything, his partner was already in bed, raising a corner of the blanket that beckoned the scantily clad beauty to join her confidante.

“Hop in,” said Jonna with a puzzling wolf-like grin.

Murder on the Greyhound Bus to Barstow

Jonny didn’t answer right away. He just struck a match on the toe of his shoe and lit a Lucky like he was auditioning for a cigarette ad. The smoke curled around his head like a noose waiting for the right neck. He looked out the window as the bus lurched forward, Van Nuys shrinking behind them like a bad alibi. But as Boris beheld the uncomfortable expression on the faces of the other passengers at their arrival, the little pug knew that the presence of a famous detective team wasn’t welcome. All of the travelers seemed out of place for the journey ahead: a sexy Hollywood movie star who brought six months’ worth of luggage for a three-hour bus tour, a washed-up pitcher in the majors who was trying to squeeze out one last season in the Barstow Winter Rookie League, a gorgeous heiress who every newspaper in the country was looking for since she disappeared to elope with the fortune hunter her billionaire father hated. Everyone on the bus had two things in common; a backstory which made their presence implausible and a noticeable shudder when they saw Jonny and Boris take their seats.

The only one who seemed happy that they were there was the obnoxious and mysterious bigshot that everyone on the bus had a grudge against. One look at him and it was Boris’ turn to shudder. He turned to Jonny and whispered, “there’s going to be a murder on this bus today…and they’re going to expect US to solve it.”