Who Killed Parnassus? - A Damp Dick Mystery

Dozens of hip students across campus were appalled to discover the desecrated corpse of Parnassus, killed in cold blood a week ago with a note sadistically pinned to it, suggesting these hepcats visit the District Market. What kind of sick bastard would do such a thing? I knew what I had to do. I thought I had gotten away from this life, I’d lost too many people I cared about. I thought this damned town had seen the last of yours truly, the rainy detective Damp Dick, but this? This was personal.

And just like that, the Damp Dick was back. My list of suspects was narrow, but it would be tough to get a confession out of these characters. I decided to pay a long overdue visit to Fat Tony. He told me his granddaughter was working at Parnassus, they were trying to ice the button man too. The best lead they had was the President of Foster’s Business school, Genevive Carnigie, or Ginny, back when we used to knock boots. The old gal knew I was coming. Her man Jimmy had a Marlboro and a book of matches extended to me, and who am I to refuse a ciggy? I walked in, and we bumped gums, doing our little song and dance. I got to the point. “Look Ginny, we both know why we’re here. Spill, I know you’re involved with the Parnassus case.” She threw her head back and let out a laugh, and laying a hand on my thigh she said, “Oh Dick, it’s the oldest trick in the book. I doped your puffer.” The room span as I hit the floor. 

My eyes fluttered open, “Rise and shine, Mr. Richard,” a man with an effeminate voice cooed. I yell, but the slippery bastard had blind-folded and gagged me. “You’re supposed to be the smartest bull in the pen, Dick, but wow, this is pathetic,” he said a sing-song voice. Ginny undid my blindfold. I looked up and see- oh god it couldn’t be. I watched him bite the linoleum years ago. It’s what made me give up the game. “Yes Dick, it’s me, your old sidekick… Dirk, but you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just called me…Pansy Danny!” I was flustered, my niece Bernadette had told me that it was wrong to say such a thing about a fella who likes fellas. I was saddened by the bigoted words I had used. Ginny ripped my gag off, there goes my introspection.

I asked Davis why he’s doing such a thing, faking his death, and killing an innocent cafe, just because I wasn’t always politically correct. “Oh, my. Such a narcissist this one, huh, Ginny?” She murmurs in agreement. “You see, my name isn’t just Dirk, it’s Dirk Bernard Housing and Food Services. Your little artsy fartsy charity cafe was in the way of my business empire. All that was left was Ginny, who knew where old Parnassus was, unlike literally everyone else. Now everyone will have to go to the District Market!!” 

“Well, tough toenails, toots. I knew old Ginny was dirty, even outside the sack, so I dropped a nickel on ya. Fat Tony’s entire crew is blowing through the building as we speak. You’ve been jobbed by the best of ‘em. How’s that for smart?” Sure enough, the dominoes fell into place, Dennis and Ginny were dead in a matter of seconds. After a dry glass of whiskey, I got down to brass tax with Tony. But even the don of the Ave mafia can’t stop the apathetic cruelty of capitalism. Parnassus was history the second the administration remembered she existed. Seattle’s a cold, rainy mistress. I’m hanging up my hat again, but who knows, the Damp Dick’s work is long, hard, and never finished.