Killer Fools Inc.

Offices of Guy I. Malone, Private Investigator AKA Killer Fools Inc. operates out of old utility company offices, off the main street of town. It's all about that registration form at the city offices applying for the business license, when they asked for a business plan and a business model, he used an old shoe box and some sticky tack to make a desk, a plant, and a filing cabinet that he would have got for real if not for the sharp corners. He keeps all his files in cardboard boxes near the door. An extension cord is taped to the floor also indicates the path to walk around the desk. One end ends in a power bar under his desk, and the other is plugged into the wall behind the door. The cord is under the boxes so that if he needs to he can flip the desk, dump his professional operating system (POS) computer, and topple the boxes of pulp to barricade the door, or on top of whoever is standing in front of the desk. That was a nice business plan.

Those are the Fool Killer files. The first file was the case of the business plan. He had the idea for fool killer when he heard someone was trying to stop the state cheques. That's when he realized that someone was trying to kill fools. The business plan was another confirmation, when the nice lady at the offices didn't believe there was a need for anyone in the market to save fools. Clients rarely enter the office, mostly he lurks on Social Darwinist webpages, and looks for accidental or unexplained deaths in the newspaper, or obituaries.

A hand rolled marijuana cigarette burns in his ashtray. There's one framed picture on one of the three walls he never looks at. It's a particularly taunting cigarette ad that got the surgeon general's warning and the marketing scheme in an appreciable absurdity. He lifts a newspaper and sees that a garbage truck has backed into a crowd of people. He closes his eyes, and he sees a slender man in long dark coat staking his prey on a station platform. The slender man asks an excessively social young girl near the edge if she has seen the train. She looks at him and says no. Something about him worries her, and he walks away watching her. She sees him there far at the other end of the platform, and he makes a sudden lithe movement clearly indicating his watch and upturned palms. Annoyed and distracted she gestures excessively as if talking loudly over the distance, and cranes her neck while shrugging histrionically to indicate what she didn't know hit her.

He awakens with a stutter, pulling sweatily at his drawers; it's time .44 action.