The Case of the Predictably Probing Annoyingly Persistent Unbelievably Intrusive Aliens From Outer Space: A Gan Greene P.I. Mystery

By Timothy Lee

Gan Greene P.I., the world's greatest detective (a legend in his own mind) is back on the case. This time his client, Mrs. Moviestar (no relation to actor Clinton Moviestar) wants Gan and his assistant, Dong, to find and return her missing husband, Anson Moviestar. Unfortunately, her husband has allegedly been abducted by aliens from another planet, making the case a bit more difficult and a lot more ridiculous. Can Gan get aboard a flying saucer? And if so, will the aliens decide that there really is no intelligent life on planet Earth and never return? Join Gan and Dong in their second adventure together in The Case of the Predictably Probing Annoyingly Persistent Unbelievably Intrusive Aliens From Outer Space, A Gan Greene P.I. Mystery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Lee
• Release date: Aug 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311957375

Timothy Lee

Timothy Lee was born in Concord, California, and raised in South Lake Tahoe, California. Eventually he migrated northward and finally settled down in Olympia, Washington, where he now resides with his two cats, Kodora and Koji. Timothy takes his yearly vacation to the Disneyland Resort where he is allowed to wear silly mouse ears hats and act like a 10 year old.

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The Case of the Predictably Probing Annoyingly Persistent Unbelievably Intrusive Aliens from Outer Space

A Gan Greene P.I. Mystery

Timothy Lee

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Timothy Lee

Published by Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

About The Author

Other Titles

CHAPTER 1

This was not one of my better days. Then again, when was being crushed and drowned in a vat of cement supposed to be a walk in the park? Most people would find it objectionable being encased in concrete, but I am not most people. I am Gan Greene. I'm a private investigator and I do the impossible because I am the best at what I do. And yet, to see both me and my Asian assistant, Dong Hung Lo, tied up and laying back to back inside a large vat fashioned of aluminum siding awaiting the arrival of the cement truck, one might get the opposite idea of my abilities.

What was not evident, however, was the fact that my mind was reeling with ways of getting out of this predicament that, believe it or not, paled in comparison to other professional tight pinches that had been the result of my getting too close to the truth. Granted, with my wrists being restrained behind my back with nylon ties, not to mention the same impossible restraints holding my ankles together, this was not one of the easier escapes, but I had been known to pull many a rabbit out of my hat at the last minute so I was not overly-worried at this point.

Mr. Gleene, what we do? Dong not ready to die, my 26 year old assistant said in a somewhat panicky voice. He was also bound at the wrists and ankles and lay to my back on the cold metal flooring of the crude tub that was meant only to hold two things: us and a ton or two of concrete.

I'm working on it, I assured him as I struggled to free my hands from the tie that was beginning to cut off the circulation to my wrists. And I wish you would learn to say my name right. It's Greene, not Gleene.

But boss, Dong Asian. Dong not able say Greene. Me only able say Gleene.

I would have to forgive him his inabilities at some point, being the patient and understanding man that I am, but that would have to wait. Right now we were both in one hell of a pickle and the barrel was moments away from being filled with brine.

In my 45 years of life I had run across bastards many times, especially during my ten years in business as a private investigator, therefore I was not really all that surprised at the extreme and deadly reaction of the proprietor of the Mason Metalworks construction company: Mark Mason. After all, I had discovered his dirty little secret and now he was doing everything within his power to make sure that the dirty little secret remained a secret. Days before, his wife had hired me to gather some info on her husband's gambling addiction in which she suspected him of frittering away badly-needed funds from the company in which she was the major partner.

Through very little effort it actually took me no time to discover his addiction by following him to the bookie and seeing for myself exactly how much he was actually gambling away, but a little more digging found that he was putting his assets into more than just the horses. Mr. Mason had a virtual harem of women at his disposal: a different one for every day of the week, in fact, and these floozies were routinely stepping into his office daily at a quarter after three. This included Sundays when he would return to the office under the cover of catching up on paperwork. Personally, I did not see the attraction, but then again I was not a woman who would hang onto the arm of a wealthy benefactor. I was a self-made man. I didn't need anybody else.

I could feel Dong struggling behind me and this brought my attention back around to our plight. I'm going to roll over, and I want you to try to get my pocket knife out of my front pocket, I instructed.

Dong do whatever it take to get out, he said in a voice of desperation.

Turning over was going to be difficult because of the confined space. Me and my assistant were kind of wedged into the allotted area and for the first time in my life I knew what it felt to be a sardine. Nevertheless, the nylon ties binding us needed to be cut and this was our only escape. Propping my head against the side of our barrel prison and soon-to-be casket of cement, I pressed hard and managed to move some, although not enough to actually turn over.

It’s times like this that I would welcome being your size of 5' 2 instead of my own 6’ 1 height, I told him quietly as I struggled. You Asians are compact, that's for sure, and right now I would trade in my overwhelmingly handsome, large and fit body for that advantage - under the condition that I would be able to trade back after this ordeal was over, of course. After all, who wants to be a short Chinese guy, right?

Yes, boss, that right, he agreed, adding in an incomprehensible foreign tongue, But it's better to be a short Chinese guy than a bigoted asshole taking up more space on the planet than is necessary. The sad thing is that you don't even realize what a douche you really are, you stupid bitch.

Look, Dong, no matter how much you beg and plead it will not change the fact that I'm straight and I am not going to go to bed with you, I said under the assumption that he was propositioning me.

No boss, Dong not want sleep with you. Me say that you a wet dream for women, he said, then adding again in some extinct language, and a cum receptacle for all the men who fuck your brains out every week.

Although I did not understand his latter remark, the former about my being a woman's wet dream was probably true, but I did not have time to dwell on that probability right now. Through a series of unnatural maneuvers I began twisting and inching myself around and eventually managed to roll onto my back while Dong complained through it all that I was pinching him. That was the price of freedom, though, so I continued with each movement and grunt echoing about the abandoned warehouse in which we had been placed. Adrenaline pushed me forward as the eventuality of our being encased in cement for the remainder of all eternity drew ever nearer.

It seemed to take forever and I was pretty much exhausted by the time I had rolled over but I was finally facing Dong's back so this part of the plan was complete. Of course, once he fished the knife out of my pocket I was going to have to roll back over so that he would have access to the ties binding my wrists and I was not looking forward to more straining and struggling, but 'giving up' was not in my vocabulary.

Okay, try to reach into my right pocket and get my knife, I instructed. The pocket on top, I added for his sake, seeing as how I knew that Asians were notorious for not knowing their left from their right.

Immediately he began frantically feeling about my lower torso. That knife, boss? he asked, his fingers wrapping around my penis.

No, that not knife. That big white cock, I said sarcastically.

Not feel like big cock. Feel like small penknife, he said.

I'm a grower, not a shower, I said, deflecting the insult. The knife is higher. Find the pocket and then slip your tiny Asian fingers inside and pull the knife out.

At least my tiny Asian fingers are bigger than your big white cock. If that's all you got then I'd keep my pants on if I was you, bitch, he said in a language that was again obviously foreign to me as I could not understand a single word.

Dong, now is not a time to be praising me in some ancient dialect, I said under the assumption that he was thanking me for having come up with such a daring plan. I could feel his hands raising and grappling for the pocket of my jeans while he inched closer to me in order to allow himself more leverage. In so doing, his wrist continued to brush over my crotch and I could feel a familiar stirring, which was completely normal, even if he was a man. Ordinarily it would take the gentle caress of a woman to arouse me but to my genitals his dainty Asian hands probably reminded them of a female touch.

Boss, you narrate out loud again, Dong said. He then added (in no known language), And exactly when was the last time you felt a woman's touch? You've probably never had a woman touch you in your life because she couldn't break through the solid wall of men beating a path to your room at the Itchy Jock Gay Sex Club.

I don't know what you just said but I don't think I like the way you said it, I warned of the attitude that shown through his unintelligible rant.

Me say you manly man and all woman want you, he clarified.

Oh, well, all right then, I said, granting him leniency because I'm an understanding type of guy. Have you found the knife yet?

Me think me find pocket, Dong said.

I could feel his long skinny fingers gradually snaking their way down what I assumed to be the inside of my pocket. It would not be long now before he located and extracted the knife and the two of us were free.

Good, now find the knife, I instructed.

Boss, why you have toothpick in pocket? he asked.

I could feel myself frowning despite my desperation. That's not a toothpick and I'll thank you to stop playing with my penis.

Oh, Dong so sorry, boss. It so small it feel like toothpick.

Naturally, he was just jealous of my enormous size against his own pathetic Chinese noodle so I ignored him. He fumbled around a little bit longer before declaring that he had found the pocket knife. Unfortunately, with all the physical attention my little soldier was now standing at full attention and I could feel Dong brushing it aside so that he could make a clear path for the knife to be extracted.

Me got knife, boss, he finally declared.

Unfortunately, at that same moment I heard a door open and close. This was followed by the sound of approaching footsteps that echoed about the large room. I quietly instructed my assistant to conceal the knife in his hand, and craning my neck, I managed to look up and see Mr. Mason presenting his ugly mug over the top of the makeshift container in which me and Dong were imprisoned.

Well now, isn't this just too cozy, he said sarcastically, his voice grating against my eardrums like nails on a blackboard. The two lovers snuggling up together for one last farewell.

In your dreams, Mason, I shot back. Yeah, I mortally wounded him with that spicy retort, but probably not enough to cause him to weaken.

I just wanted you to know that I'm popping outside to bring the cement truck around. Any last words before you two end up becoming a footing for a new high rise?

Yeah, I said. How about you admitting to your wife what a sleaze ball you really are?

Mason laughed maniacally. I'm just a businessman who enjoys the perks of success.

Your wife doesn't see it that way.

What she doesn't know won't hurt her, and I intend to make sure that she doesn't find out, he replied with a big fat evil smile on his face.

Yeah, well, you're a jerk, I told him, cutting him even more deeply with my sharp words and quick wit. You're the type of man who gives honest businessmen a bad name, I added.

Show me one honest businessman and I'll show you a failure, he told me. I'd say you have less than a minute to live so now would be a good time to make peace with yourself.

I'll be at peace when your crooked ass is behind bars, I said.

Mason laughed and walked away, the thud of his hard soles on the concrete floor ending with the opening and closing of a door. After that, silence.

Okay, wait until I roll back over, then open the knife and cut the tie holding my wrists, I instructed my assistant and then began struggling to roll back over to my other side.

If Mason was correct about the timed arrival of the cement truck then we had only seconds to free ourselves, so I poured every ounce of strength that I had into my repositioning. I had just finished when I heard a large truck pull to a stop outside the warehouse. Time was up and we still had a long way to go before being free.

Open the knife and cut the tie, I told Dong frantically.

Me try, boss, he replied.

A moment later I felt a sharp prick on my wrist. Ow! Son of a bitch. Leave the skin and just cut the damned tie, I demanded.

Sorry, boss. Me not able to see behind back.

Feel for the tie with one hand and cut with the other, I said, knowing that this would have been an obvious course of action to anybody who was not Asian.

You're narrating out loud again, idiot. You're damned lucky I don't cut your hands off at the wrists, you racist douche, he said, this time speaking in what might have been Mapudungun.

Stop praising me in some foreign language and cut the tie.

The sound of the heavy warehouse doors beginning to open threw yet another wrench into the works, proving that our time was about up. I could feel Dong starting to tug at the tie binding my wrists and I felt a ray of hope that we might be spared a grizzly death. The movements behind my back felt as if to be a sawing motion so it was only a matter of moments before I would be free - and then it stopped and the pressure disappeared completely without my hands being released.

What's going on? Why'd you stop?

Dong sorry. Me drop knife, he explained in an apologetic voice.

My hope fell to a new low as I frantically instructed him to find the damned knife and cut me the hell loose!

From behind I felt his hands pressing against my ass while he searched for the item responsible for our freedom, while, at the same time, I could hear the truck's backup beeper begin signaling its approach. If ever there was a worse time to drop a knife this would be it. We needed freedom now - several minutes ago, in fact.

Again I felt slender Asian fingers probing my wrists right before the sawing motion resumed and this gave me a renewed hope, but that hope instantly diminished at the sight of the metal chute appearing and then stopping directly over us. At that moment I held very little hope for our escape and began to mentally relive my life as one of the greatest private investigators of our time, cut short by the fact that Mason had gotten the drop on us. Well, Mason and his gun.

All at once, I felt my wrists being freed and I quickly straightened up. Grabbing the knife from Dong's hand I rapidly cut the tie holding my ankles together, after which I then started sawing through my assistant's ties. To my horror I heard the mixer truck's engine revving up, indicating that the flow of concrete was imminently close. A miracle was needed now, but not one to believe in miracles I knew it was up to me to work my own miracle.

Once Dong's arms were free I quickly went to work on his legs just as I heard the undeniable sound of cold, hard, wet concrete scraping its way down the chute. My first instinct was to save myself and let Dong fend for himself, but I was not that kind of a man. I was better than that so I fought off the urge to flee and continued to saw at the tie until it finally broke loose. At that moment the first dollop of concrete landed at our feet and we both jumped up and leapt over the side of the wall,