After the unfortunate demise of his police detective father, Wendell Dankworth and his friend Jerome Weeble take up the roles of private investigators and begin a search for the criminals responsible.
Their inexperience and bumbling leads them into...
Max Shine wiped his broad forehead with his hanky, and swallowed the last of his drink, setting the glass on the work table next to model head. It was definitely his best work, and if the test run was a success, he was looking at big dollars for a long time. A whole month it had taken until he was satisfied, and now it was ready. The one fly in the ointment was the dead cop's son, and his Howdy Doody detective business.
The buzzer sounded from his security alarm, and he tapped an icon on his Ipad, bringing up the hidden camera image - Fletcher. He buzzed him in.
"I hope to God you have good news, Max. Hardy is ready to ship me out of the country disguised as dog food."
"Behold the next masterpiece, Gary." Max waved a proud hand at the mask on the table.
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"Jesús! That looks like a real head!"
"The whole idea, my friend. Your client puts this on and she can cross borders on her own - no escorts required."
"That's not gonna happen, but holy crap, that's amazing. And it will fit her okay - 'cause that's gonna be the difference between me and dog food."
"You never saw the others I sold, did you? They were used on planes, trains and automobiles," Max laughed, "and nobody twigged."
Max lifted the mask from the mould and held it for Fletcher to examine.
"It's special silicon that actually moulds to the face and moves realistically with the facial muscles. The holes for ears, mouth and nostrils become almost invisible with the wig and real makeup, which can be applied and removed with soap and water."
"But are you sure it will fit our client. It doesn't look anything like her."
"All those photographs and measurements you had taken were put into a 3d imaging programme and that mould was produced from that program on a 3d printer. I spent considerable time refining the details, but yes, it will fit, like a glove. And the breastplate eliminates the need for a collar. She can wear her shirt unbuttoned."
"So, it's ready to ship?"
"As soon as I receive payment, Gary."
"About that . . . Hardy thought you might be trying to rip him off . . ." Fletcher winced and shrugged.
Max placed the mask back on the mould and walked to the door.
"Tell Hardy to find another way to get his man out, or if he wants, I can sell him a generic mask for one-fifty, and he can try it himself."
"Hold it, hold it, Max, don't get all bent out of shape. He's like that. Nothing is just cut and dried. He always shoves a finger in and stirs."
"Yeah, well tell him where else he can shove his finger. The price is five grand, and that is final. And remind him, that when it works without any fuss, unlike that ridiculous car seat fiasco, he'll want a source that can provide a positive solution."
