The Exploding Detective Read Online Free

“Well it doesn’t matter anyway. Maybe he’s a super hero, maybe he’s
not. But either way, the public wants him. If we get him on our team and he
succeeds, we can take a lot of the credit. If he fails, he can take the heat
alone.”
    The Commissioner
looked at him with respect. Happy Safeton (Pernell Slyme) hadn’t made it all
the way to the Mayor’s Office on his good looks and charm.
    “That makes
sense,” he admitted.
    The Mayor noticed
I was very close to them now, pretending to wash the windows. “Should we be
talking in front of him?”
    Brenner
considered me for a moment, then nodded. “Sure. He probably doesn’t understand
most of what we’re saying anyway.”
    He was wrong
about that. I didn’t understand all of the multi-syllable words, of course. But
I got the gist of what they were saying. They were saying something about me.
Finally they finished their discussion and turned back to me.
    “All right,” said
the Mayor. “$1,500 a week, minus the usual 10% agent’s commission for Commissioner
Brenner and myself, of course.”
    This confused me.
“Are you guys agents too?”
    “We’re everything
that gets paid,” said Brenner.
    “Oh, I see.”
    The Mayor looked
around my office. “Where’s your super hero costume? You don’t fly around in a
suit and tie, do you?”
    “It’s at the
cleaners.”
    “Oh, I see. Well
then, I’ll hold off the press conference about you until next week. Will your
costume be back by then?”
    “Sure.”
    “Excellent!
Welcome aboard, Mr. Burly. Or should I say Mr. The Flying Detective! From now
on, Central City is entirely in your capable hands.”
    I shook their
hands. “When do I get a check?”
    “When you’ve done
some work,” said Brenner.
    “Fine.”
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    When people start
calling you a super hero, you don’t look at yourself in the mirror the same way
anymore. Now you look at yourself in the mirror and say: “Are super heroes
supposed to look like that?” And you’re not sure. But you don’t think so.
    I got a pile of
old comic books and started making notes about what super heroes were supposed
to look like - their costumes, hairstyles, any special crime-fighting gadgets
they might carry around with them, and so on.
    Their costumes, I
found, were pretty varied. Some super heroes wore red, some blue. Some had
capes, others cowls. They all had one thing in common, however. All of their
costumes looked like long underwear. I didn’t like this. I didn’t particularly
want to parade around the streets in my union suit, with kids and old women
giving me the horselaugh. But, in any kind of business, you’ve got to give the
public what it wants. And in the super hero business, the public wants
underpants.
    Borrowing design
elements from all of the super heroes, and adding a few personal touches of my
own, I designed a costume that, in my opinion, was as good as any of them. It
was bright orange, like an explosion, with a blue shield. In the center of the
shield were the initials “TFD” (The Flying Detective), along with the smaller
initials “TM” (trademark). I decided on a cape, like Superman’s, because it
drew attention away from the fact that I was practically naked. The whole thing
looked pretty damned impressive to me when I finished the design. A local
costume shop said they could have it made up for me in a couple of days, if I
was sure I really wanted it. So that was taken care of.
    As for the
crime-fighting gadgets I might need, once again the comic books were
indispensable. I sent away for a set of Junior Grappling Hooks, an Instant
Disguise Kit (“Just put face in box”), Disappearing Handcuffs, and X-Ray
Glasses, so I could see through criminal women’s clothes. I also sent away for
a 24 week course that would, once I had mastered the special techniques
involved, allow me to throw my voice through a steel door. Total cost for the
whole getup? Maybe ninety bucks. I could afford that now,