Column Chronicles: Nick Cretin, P.I.E.: No room for two

Nick Cretin, P.I.E.: No room for two

Frank Cotolo
November 18, 2021

Nick Cretin, P.I.E. (Private Investigator Extraordinaire) lived alone in a one-bedroom apartment that was also his kitchen and living room. He had a Murphy Bed, which rested in his wall, to be retrieved when needed. Nick did not complain because he liked everything he needed to be in close reach. Besides, he spent more time at his office than at his apartment.

One night, after heating a few bowls of chili from a can for dinner, there was a knock on the door. Nick looked through the door's peephole and saw the lovely face of Sandy Beach. He opened the door and invited the sweet and aggressive woman in, reminding her not to take too many steps when entering or she would hit the wall that housed the bed.

"I know," Sandy said. "If I hit the wall to hard the bed will spring out and slam to the floor."

"With you under it."

Sandy smiled and sat down on one of two wooden chairs Nick had beside a foldout metal table, where he ate his meals and did other things. He sat next to her and looked into her eyes with the usual adoration he felt for her.

"What brings you here, Sandy?"

"My legs. I walked."

"I meant why did you come to see me?"

Sandy paused and looked around the room. That did not take long because the room is small so she looked around for a second time. Nick looked at her looking around the room both times. He stayed silent and prepared to follow her looking around the room a third time, if that is what she decided. Sandy stopped looking around the room after looking around the room a second time, put her head down and cleared her throat.

"Nick," she said, "I've been walking around for hours. Well, actually, days. And nights. I've nowhere to go. I lost my apartment. My roommate threw me out with no reason. I mean other than I haven't paid my share of the rent for three months. I thought about coming here sooner but I walked around instead, because I am ashamed to ask you."

"Ask me what?"

"If you would let me live here with you."

Nick sat back in his chair. Sandy kept her head hanging down. Nick thought he saw a tear fall from her left eye and roll down her cheek. He was wrong; the bad lighting in the room was bad. He dragged his chair closer to Sandy’s chair and rested his elbows on the table top.

"Sandy, are you in trouble?"

"Well, yeah, I would call not having a place to live trouble."

"Were you followed here?"

"I don't think so. Why would anyone follow me around for days?"

"It's a sign of danger and danger is real trouble."

"I shouldn't have come here."

Nick leaned in closer to her. The fragrance from her walking-around-for-days body made him sit back again, to where he was sitting when she looked around the room twice. She stood up and took the two steps that would place her at the front door.

"Wait," Nick said, and then took a long pause.

"What?" Sandy said.

After a few beats, Nick said, "All right, you win. Go."

Sandy slithered out of the small room and closed the door. Nick could hear her sobbing as she walked to the stairs. He thought to himself odd things and supposed weird things, and after a few minutes of thinking odd and weird things, he went out of the room to visit the community bathroom three doors down.

Frank Cotolo can be found hosting the talk and interview programme Cotolo Chronicles. You can send him an e-mail at this address: frank@148.ca.