It was a gray Tuesday morning when the chief stomped up to my desk. I recognized the look on his face right away.
"Dammit Steele, your caseload is backed up again! I had to give MacGregor extra this week since you aren't pulling your weight. I want that stack of folders closed and in the file by Friday! And get that damn BROCCOLI out of your NOSE!"
Oh sure, I thought to myself as he stalked away, as if it were that easy. As if I hadn't thought of that a thousand times, just yank the damn broccoli out and go on with my life. It sounded so easy, as if it would change that rainy night in Akron, the shots fired in rage, the blimp accident, and my darling Lilly trampled under the hooves of the Mongol horde.
No, I had to swallow my pain, accept the broccoli, and get on with my life. I had a job to do, solve the baffling murder of billionaire industrialist Rick Shaw. I needed some answers, and I needed them from the shady side of town.
I left the station, hailed a cab, and hopped in.
"Okay mac, where you hea- hey! Why the hell you got broccoli stuck in your nose? Get the hell out of my cab you weirdo!"
I decided the bus might be a better option. Today, like most days, I didn't have any trouble getting a seat, people even got up and moved. Puzzled, I sniffed my armpits with my good nostril, but I was fine. Could it be the broccoli? I shrugged it off, and got off at my stop, Bilgewater Towers, headquarters of Shaw Enterprises. I entered and returned the doorman's stare, heading for the elevators.
As was often the case, I soon had the elevator all to myself, since most of the other passengers suddenly seemed to remember errands on lower floors. But I knew what it was, of course, it was the broccoli. I guess today it was just too much for me, I snapped and hollered at their scurrying backs. "Hey! HEY! What the hell's the matter with you people? Too good to ride with a guy with a little broccoli stuffed up his nose, huh? What are you afraid of, think I might stuff some up YOURS?! HEY! COME BACK HERE!"
But I found myself alone, and, resigned, pushed the button for my floor again, and rode the rest of the way to the Shaw Suite. The doors popped open, and I approached the secretary at the front desk.
"Ma'am, I need to ask one of Mr. Shaw's associates some questions, there's been a-"
"Sir...why do you have broccoli stuck in your nose?" Her voice betrayed her nervousness.
"Never mind that, I've got some questions that need-"
She punched a button on the intercom by her desk. "Security to the Shaw Suite, there's a weirdo here."
Security arrived quickly, and no amount of persuasion seemed to convince them that I was a police detective. They hustled me back to the elevator, escorted through me through a back stairwell, and unceremoniously pitched me into the alley behind the building.
I rubbed a bruised elbow and picked the cigarette butts off my jacket. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and it sure wouldn't be the last. I decided I needed a little liquid refreshment, and I thought I'd head over to Asparagus Joe's, a little blues bar a few blocks down. They knew about rough lives, down there at Asparagus Joe's. They knew the pain of lost loves, hard times, and vegetables shoved in your sinuses. They understood me, Winston Steele...
...Police Detective with Broccoli Stuck in his Nose!