Based on an e-mail exchange recently, we have created a new character for the website named Robert Steele. Robert is a ficticious character that I cooked up years ago when I started journal writing. Yes, he is a private-I, but with a twist. The world he lives in is one of deception in the cafe, fast women, sleazy baristas and, well, you get the picture. We hope to have an installment every couple of weeks. Enjoy chapter 1!

It was a regular Friday in the coffee-police HQ when the phone rang. I grabbed the handset out of the cradle, a telephone cradle big, black and plastic like the color and texture of my heart. Cold and shapeless - that is me. It is the job I do. I am... a private dick with the coffee police.

Judging by the sound of the broad on the other end of the blower, I knew I had a hot one on the line. She spat her words out like a pro-wrestler on a Saturday afternoon, which was odd. It was Friday. Friday, high noon.

It seems one of her favorite cafe's had just dumped their quality beans for some johnny-come-lately discount brew and, don't tell me let me guess, the drinks are the same price. Yea, this was a clear case of brew and gouge. I hate it when that happens. I hate it when the phone rings and there is a blubbering babe on the other end of the chatter-box. I hate stomach aches and this scene meant I was going to be cooking up a doosey.

After she stopped sobbing I managed to have a meaningful conversation with the doll..

"So let's take it from the top shall we?"

Diane, we will call her D, works as a legal assistant with the District attorneys office and D's no slouch. She knows a bad fish when she smells one so she knew who to call..

D: "Ah, Mister Steele, is this you?"

"Ma'am, I said...It sure is. What seems to be your beef, Baby?"

D: "I was down at the Matrix today, you know the cafe down on 4th and Spring?"

"Yes, Ma'am... the one between Jimmy's Pawn and Leo's Bar n Grill?"

D: "Yea, that's the one... I go there, like, every day without fail and..."

"Stick to the facts D.. just the facts.."

D: "well, you know how it is. They get you all jazzed up on supreme bean, all tasty and perfect, and..."

"Please continue..."

D: "Well, I was in for my usual double-americano and... well and... well and...."

Just then D broke down into paroxysms of sobs. I could almost picture her white shoulders quivering under a delicate brocade. I was touched.

"Baby. Get a grip of yourself... Shake it off honey.."

I was furious. I snubbed out a virtual Marlboro into an imaginary ash-tray next to my Olivetti.

"Here's the way it is sister. There are two kinds of people out there - The good people: that's you and the men and women in your office that you know and trust.
And then there are the coffee people: the bad people, looking for every opportunity to screw with the general public. That is where I come in.

When my phone rings, it is like the sound of a crying baby. And lately, I have been getting a crib full."

My job never ends. Coffee cop. It is a thankless one and the pay is crap. But sometimes on a sunny day, when the wind is blowing in the right direction and things are going my way, I can sit in the corner cafe and everything is okay. The brew is hot and the chicks are cool.

Cool, until the phone rings...

D: "Mr. Steele, ah... Mr. Steele....?"

I snapped out of my narcissistic reverie long enough to realise that I was still on the phone...

D: "Their americanos were just so perfect.. crema like butterscotch churned by angels.. and now.. and now..

"Go on, Miss D.. and don't let me interupt..."

D: "Their coffee is like a double-double Tim Horton's that has been forgotten in the back-seat of a '56 chev, left overnight in the strip mall and allowed to bake in the heat of the day..."

"Baby, I get your vibe, and it pains me to know that every day in this sleepy little town, there is yet one more coffee crime going down...Now you relax and don't sweat that pretty little face of yours and let Mr. Steele look after things from here on in..."

As she hung up the phone and I tapped another Marlboro out of my near-empty deck of smokes, I realised one thing -

Damn, I need a coffee!