They call me Dave Hedgehog because I sort my way through the dirt of this city. People come to me when they are in trouble and they have no one else to turn too. My philosophy is that if you were to take the frontages off the luxury apartments you will find swine. Swine wallowing joyful in the excrement of others less fortunate then them. Every now and again a dame from those high and mighty towers will cross my threshold usually faced with the consequences of thinking it is still 1999 and the smart phone hasn’t been invented.
It was earlier this afternoon while I was entertaining my friends Mr Daniels and Dr Smirnoff when this dark haired girl entered my office. I call her Little Miss 5×5 as she is as wide as she is tall.
“Are you Dave Hedgehog?” The dame asked rhetorically. “I want you to help me find my sister.” She slammed a photo of a smiling blonde on my desk. I recognised her from photos at the local cop shop, I have a contact there who feeds me tidbits in exchange for hanging out with me and my two pals. She’s been arrested but not charged for soliciting in a couple of bars. I guess Little Miss 5×5 doesn’t know this.
“Well I charge £40 a day plus expenses,” I said cheerfully.
She looked at me as if I was a spider a slice of cheesecake. She slammed down an envelope with £250. “That’s what you get now. If you find her soon I’ll give you the same again.”
“It’s a deal,” I said. This sounded like easy money. All I need do is talk to Sid and it’s all done. I was wrong. Very wrong.