A Word to the Wiseguy - Part 6 - A Craven Danger Mystery

When Craven Danger stepped onto the terrace of his hotel room he noticed his pants flying away.

Then he saw the bird.

The night before, he had laid his pants out to dry after his unexpected dip in the hotel‘s pool.

“Hey!” said Craven. “Doggone pigeon!”

Pulling out his .38, Craven let off a few rounds, missing the bird, but forever ruining the seat of his pants.

“If it ain’t pigeons messin’ with my shorts in New York,” said Craven. “It’s pigeons messin’ with my pants in Florida. It’s gotta be some sort a conspiracy!”

“That wasn’t a pigeon, sir,” said the the housekeeper. “That was a seagull. The pigeons ugly cousin.”

“Well, a dirty boid is a dirty boid," said Craven. “And it just committed a crime with my pants. And now my pants are layin’ in the parking lot. I better go down and get ‘em.”

By the time Craven got to his pants they were being run over by a yellow Mercedes convertible that seemed to be in a hurry.

“Hey!” said Craven. “Ya got tire marks all over my gaberdine britches!”

But the car was now well out of earshot, so Craven picked up his pants and started back to his room. Then he heard the police sirens and saw the police car pull into the parking lot.

“Which way did it go?" said the officer behind the wheel.

“It was headin’ out ta the ocean," said Craven.

“To the ocean?" said the officer. “Was he driving a car or a boat? I’m confused.”

“No," said Craven. “He was flying. But not ta worry. I got the pants back and I ain’t pressin’ charges against the boid."

“What in the name of Eleanor Roosevelt are you talking about?" said the officer. “I got a call about yellow Mercedes convertible."

“Well," said Craven, “one like it did run over my pants, but I don’t think they done it on purpose. I wouldn't be too hard on the driver."

“All I know is we got a call from a Betty Fletcher,” said the officer, “telling us that she believes a person by the name of Boris Jones was being tossed in the trunk of a yellow Mercedes convertible. Did you see any such thing? And would you mind putting on your pants? I’m not comfortable talking to a man in his underwear. And are those kissy lip prints on your shorts?”

Craven Danger felt a tropical breeze and suddenly realized he was standing there in his underwear.

“They was a gift from a secret admirer for Valentine’s Day,” said Craven.

“Oh,” said the officer. “Well, do me a favor and put your pants on. Save your kissy shorts for your admirer. Now which way did that car go?”

Craven pointed them in the right direction and put his pants on in time to see Sidney Green pull up in his taxi.

“What the heck are ya doin’ here?” said Craven.

“Just get in the car, Mr. Danger,” said Betty.

“And I’ll explain it to ya on the way.”