Intrigue at the Cuckoo Clock Café

by John H. Dromey

About the Author: John H. Dromey was born in northeast Missouri. He enjoys reading—mysteries in particular—and writing in a variety of genres. He’s had short fiction published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Crimson Streets, Flame Tree Fiction Newsletter, Gumshoe Review, Mystery Magazine, Thriller Magazine, Woman’s World, and elsewhere.

Excerpt

Even a lone wolf has to eat. Because of an economic turndown (personal, not global), I was working—temporarily, I hoped—part time at a private detective agency.

I was not there by accident. Recently, in a remarkably short period of time, my pool of potential clients went from superfluously abundant to woefully inadequate. Through it all, the validity of my private investigator’s license was never in any doubt. When I made a series of discreet inquiries, I determined a number of good prospects were lured away by offers of superior investigative services at a reduced price. Others stuck with me until enticement turned to intimidation.

I could only conclude somebody, somewhere, wanted to put me out of business. I didn’t know who, I didn’t know why, and I didn’t know for how long.

Then, out of the blue, I received an offer of lucrative employment with a bigshot agency. The timing was sufficiently fishy to make me deduce someone high up in that firm was the mysterious who directly responsible for my loss of income. Maybe—if I took the job—I could figure out the why.

In exchange for surrendering a major portion of my independence, I acquired some perks of questionable value.

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