Pop Smellers and the Spine of the Earth - Part 2

Pop Smellers and the Spine of the Earth
Part 2

I caught the train into town and got off near Flotsam Port Road; I’d often worked around here before I’d gotten into the ‘dick’ business, so I headed down a piss soaked back alley to avoid the crowds and tourists in their retarded, yet expensive, plastic macs. It had stated to rain whilst I was on the train but now it was pissing down. I pulled my collar up and hunched my shoulders against the downward driven rain. It really was quite ineffective but it put me in my detective frame of mind so that was good. Split rubbish bags spewed forth a medley of old food packets, vegetable peelings and rags across my path, and I danced nimbly between week old puddles of vomit. My nose was assailed by a multitude of foul stenches and when I looked up, I could see dirty rain water pouring from the overflows of the buildings on either side of me. These facades were the rear entrances to the clubs and restaurants on the main drag, they were used mainly for deliveries and for smuggling in B Grade celebrities who felt violated by the crowds. Like people, these buildings were all neon and glitter on the public side but the rear told a different story. It is for this exact reason that I took up the fine art of ‘Ass-Studies’ – a practice not dissimilar to phrenology but it substitutes asses for skulls. There’s no scientific basis in it, but it is another way to get my jollies. Having worked in a number of restaurants, I can tell you that what you see up front is nothing like what is going on out back. Anyway, I digress. The alley abruptly ended, and I emerged from the gloom onto a quiet side street, ducking across the road and dodging traffic, until I entered through the glass doors, and found myself in the reception area of Zagley & Chepstowe, Quality Purveyors Inc.
I shook myself off, leaving pools of water on the salmon pink marble floor, and I removed my dripping overcoat whilst casting my eye around the offices. Soft lighting accentuated the small palms and potted plants that were strategically placed around the foyer. Huge leather chairs were geometrically positioned around a squat glass table, which had several general interest magazines and catalogues upon it. It seemed as if the decorator had used a global positioning system on everything, for nothing was out of place. A deep red carpet led up a small flight of wide steps leading to the lift area. It was all so typical, like every other office block in the surrounding streets. Looking back through the plate glass windows I could see that the weather had continued its downward spiral and now it was really pissing it down. The sky had turned a furious black colour and passing cars had switched their headlights on. Actually, this was not strictly true; the drivers of the said cars had done this, not the vehicles themselves but you can see what I’m getting at.
Rain slicked the pavement and if I hadn’t known that it was only two o’clock, I would have sworn that it was coming on for at least five. My appointment with Mr Zagley wasn’t for another fifteen minutes so I took a seat and picked up a selection of reading material; Steak Lovers Monthly caught my eye and I began to peruse a very interesting article on the pros and cons of grain feeding versus cattle spine and brain compound ground up and fed back to other cows. Amazing. Apparently grain is better for cows than cows all minced up and fed back to other cows. Who would have believed it?! I happened to glance up at a clock near the elevators just as one arrived at the ground. Its doors hissed open in near silence; apart from the slightest squeak of rubber and a subdued ‘ping’ from a bell hidden somewhere. It was just before ten past two.