TALBOTT ON THE TRAIL: A Clem MacDougall Adventure, Take I

I. AT THE FOX & HOUNDS

"Ye know, Auld Sopster, I'm nae the chap tae cry over spilt milk ..." Despite the protest, Clem MacDougall sounded as if he were indeed ready to start weeping.

"... but I've never had sic a time of it in a courtroom. It was as if a witch had put a curse on me, I tell ye."

He and Soppy Doyle sat in their usual places at the polished black marble bar of the Fox & Hounds Tavern. MacDougall took a heroic pull from his pint of MacEwan's Export Ale, and chased it down with a double jigger of Tobermory. The traditional medicine was working, but slowly, slowly . . .

"Ah, Mac, whisky on beer, nothing to fear, eh?" Soppy Doyle's bugged-out blue eyes twinkled as he dug vigorously in his left ear with a swizzle stick, pulling out enough wax to make a year's supply of altar candles for the Cathedral of Saint Brendan the Navigator in Excelsior City . "So Dame Justice finally kicked you out of bed, did she?"

"I'm no seein' the humor in it, Laddie."

"Not yet, you're not. All things in good time. Life goes on."

MacDougall signaled the bartender for another round: whisky and beer, whisky and beer. Tobermory and MacEwan's; Old Bushmill's and Harp. The liquor was beginning to dull the edge of his pain.

"Back in the Auld Countrie, when anyone had a bad run o' luck, me auld grannie Gordon (on me mither's side, ye ken) wad blame it on witches an' warlocks."

"Where my folks came from, it was banshees and fairies and wee people."

"That last session wi' the judge was the worst of it. Tak' a woman wi' bloody hell in her soul, dress her up in a black robe and set her doon on a bench in a courtroom, and ye might as well open the main gate tae Pandemonium. I'm sure the only reason I'm still wearin' me jupe an' me breeks is that damned woman didn't think tae tak' 'em off me."

"A woman in a black robe, Mac? ? Sounds like a witch right out of a black-arts textbook to me. That's what you need, old boy: a black-arts textbook." Soppy Doyle scratched up a blizzard of dandruff and blew his nose into his cocktail napkin. "Now, look here: maybe we should probe your intuition a bit . . ."

There came a thump and a commotion in the darkness at the back of the barroom. MacDougall turned on his stool and saw Gorilla The Bouncer emerge from the shadows, hauling an angry Sly Talbott by the scruff of his neck. Gorilla marched Talbott up to the bartender, who was also the owner, Fox N. Huntzberger.

"This goofball was tryin' to get in here again. He's high as a kite, just like before. I threw his ass outta here last week for runnin' a crooked three-card monte. In the ladies' lounge, for God's sake." The bouncer released his hold on Talbott's collar and Talbott crumpled to the floor like a stringless marionette.

"Well, throw his ass out again." Huntzberger spoke as if he was dismissing a pesky tradesman as he continued polishing a tray of beer mugs.

"Hold on, there, Foxy." MacDougall turned a bleary eye on the proceedings and took another pull at his pint. "This Talbott chap happens tae be a trusted...ah...business associate o' mine. I asked him tae meet me here, tae discuss some...ah...business. In private, if ye please."

Huntzberger nodded and waved off Gorilla The Bouncer. "All right, Mac. But I'm holding you responsible if anything happens."

Sly Talbott looked like a weasel whose business was teaching young weasels adult weasel behavior. His beady little eyes avoided all other eyes, but scanned the landscape like missile radars seeking targets; his long, greasy black hair was combed straight back over a deformed, parsnip-shaped skull. His nose was like a hatchet, and a long upper lip covered yellow rodent teeth. He pulled himself up from the floor, using an empty bar stool for a crutch.

"Here I am, Mr. MacDougall," he whined. "Just like ya said, Mr. MacDougall. Got some dirty tricks for me, have ya, Mr. MacDougall? I'm yer man, Mr. MacDougall. Ya know that, don't ya, Mr. MacDougall?" He rubbed his hands together and half-bowed obsequiously from the waist.

"Wheesht, man. I told ye it was confidential, blast ye. Now hush up an' follow Dr. Doyle an' me. Ye do know Dr. Elwood Doyle, don't ye?" MacDougall gestured by way of introduction. "Dr. Doyle, Mr. Talbott; Mr. Talbott, Dr. Doyle."

"Oh, yeah. Dr. Doyle, the perfesser from the U. Yeah, I know Dr. Doyle, all right. One of yer old girlfriends hired me to tail ya for a coupla weeks back a couple years. But ya shook me off. She fired me." more to come