“Cry Yadda!!” by Sam Spade
Dames, Dough, & Death
A two dimensional tale of malice, mayhem, & murder
The clacking sounded like O’Malley, a sadistic flatfoot guard who rattled his nightstick against the bars of my cell block twice an hour every night for the last five years. This clacking was softer, a train leaving Zynga State Pen, and O’Malley’s smug mug, in the dust.
The train raced away from five years pushing a broom in a 8 by 12, 4-bit room, for a job I didn’t pull. If Zynga State Penitentiary was to make me penitent, it failed. All I got was my suit cleaned, a 5 year old cigar, 20 yo cash, and a smoldering desire to make someone pay.
We pulled into Yoville station. I slid the window down. A hot dry day in a hot dry city. I needed a drink, maybe 2. Maybe 3. On another track passengers filed onto the Yorient Express. Idlers seeking a murder mystery thrill. Real mysteries can include 5 years of boredom.
“Hey Sam!” It was a newsie, a weasley, nervous guy. “Here’s today’s paper! Got your picture in it!” Just below the fold: “Sam Spade Paroled”. “The picture’s five years out of date,” I muttered, thrusting the paper back at him. “Good seeing ya, Sam!” “Good to be seen.”
I straightened my tie, smoothed my jacket, & squared with the long lost sun. I pretended not to notice the newsie dropping a dime into the pay phone. A car pulled up, a door opened. “Get in.” It was Detective Gus Cobb, the Yoville gumshoe who put me away.
“No thanks, I’ll walk.” Det. Cobb frowned. “Aw, Sam, I’ll buy ya a drink. Here’s your ol’ friend Delong.” A wave from the back seat: “Sam! Good to see ya! Maybe you don’t remember?” I had never met him, but I played along. “Sure, sure I do. Nice to see you.”
I shook the hand coming from the back seat. “OK Gus, my ‘friend’ looks thirsty. I think I will have that drink.” I got in. The cop pulled away from the train station. It would take more than a drink to forget 5 years as a guest of the state. The cop had his motives, I had mine.
Delong had alibied me, so they let me skip 25 years because I had shown good behavior. Washed my clothes too. A drink sounded good. Detective Gus Cobb drove while Delong talked (too much). The cynical face of Yoville PD tried to imitate friendliness.
The bar was dark, my hosts shady, my bourbon warm & cheap. Det. Gus Cobb tried subtlety: “Well Sam, you’re out.” “Yeah,” I muttered, “what’s 5 years? You can do it just sitting around.” “You remember your buddy Delong?” he watched me. Delong watched his drink.
I looked Delong over: a military haircut, a missing leg, a lop-sided grin, the gleam in his eye when he raised his glass said his life goals were simple. “Yeah, I remember my buddy Delong,” I lied. Whoever the war hero was, I played along. “My friend the Marine.”
“Coulda been worse. A month ago you’re up for life.” Gus pretended we were having a conversation. “Your pal here shows up with your alibi, & you’re free. No hard feelings.” “Don’t bet any large amounts on it,” I muttered.“I gave you that alibi 5 years ago; you didn’t buy it.”
“It was a thin,” Det. Cobb smiled. You said you were out with some marines when the hold up took place. Only the marines never show up.” Delong poured what was clearly his favorite pickling juice between his teeth; he smiled, took my glass with a mock salute.
“We landed,” my new ‘old friend’ said. “Only 5 years too late. Sorry to keep you waiting, pal.” “That’s all right. I would have just wasted my time having fun.” “We got shipped out after that night. Guess you don’t remember the other boys.” “I didn’t remember any names.”
Delong was fishing, like the cop, sniffing for the missing $100K from the hold up. I’m the only one with bait. Bait that stinks. Like someone had snuck it in one of my bags and left me holding it, five years and one trial ago. When I didn’t offer to share that bait he continued.
“The other boys all bought it one way or other. I misplaced a leg & they sent me home. I heard about the mess you were in when I got back about a month ago. I went to the cops and they listened. Being a wounded war hero has its perks.” He nodded to the barkeep.
Gus smiled, enjoying Delong’s new memories. “How’d Hammy D feel about you getting out?” “How should he feel? It’s no resort there.” “Too bad he couldn’t dig up an alibi.” “Look guys, if this is a social visit, let’s skip it.” Cobb dropped the grin. It was hurting his face.
“I wanna know about the stick up.” I wondered when he’d get to that. I don’t mind dancing around a topic a little but this waltz was too slow. “You should read my pardon; I didn’t have anything to do with the hold up.” “$100K in Yo cash & not one yo coin shows up…”
“I figured you might know where...” “Figure anything you want. I’m a citizen again.” “I’m gonna keep a tail on you Sam, 24 hrs a day.” “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’m not going anywhere. Where do you think I’ll go?” “You’ll make a play for the dough. It’s easier than working.”
The flatfoot continued. “I’ll get you, Sam. And this time, the Army, the Navy, & the Marines (glancing @ Delong) won’t be able to help you.” “You buy nice drinks mister,” Delong mumbled, “but you talk too much.” “See ya,” said Cobb. “I’ll count the hours,” I muttered.
“Hey Mack!,” Delong called to the barkeep. “2 more!” We moved to a booth; Delong coaxed the juke box to play something sappy, limped over. “Well Pal, you’re a free man. Any questions?” “Just one,” I said, lighting up. “Shoot.” “Who are you and what do you want?”
“I figured you might be curious.” “You weren’t with the guys I was out w that night.” “I coulda been. I was a Marine. I was in town.” “But you weren’t one of them.” “No. It’s simple pal. I heard about your case. Checked the newspaper files, saw I fit your alibi. So, I alibied.”
I waited till the barkeep left. He was kind enough to leave two drinks behind. “Delong, why’d you do it?” He picked up his double shot of bourbon. “Occasionally I always drink too much.” He proved it by doing a magic trick with the liquid in the shot glass.
“Why’d you do it?” I pressed. “It wasn’t too much trouble. I wore all my decorations. I’ve got plenty.” “Why?” “You were up for life. There was a 100K Yo bucks kicking around. I figured you might be… grateful.” I smiled, chuckled. The decorated hero paused.
“I thought you were the criminal type,” Delong said. “Maybe I haven’t always been square with the law, but I don’t do stick ups where innocent folks get hurt.” “Yeah?,” Delong grinned, “well I’m betting you might be the long shot winner I’ve been waiting for.”
“You not only didn’t get the right horse, you didn’t even get the right track.” “Life’d be beautiful w $,” Delong said, reach’g for my drink. “Maybe you didn’t hear. I didn’t pull that stick up.” “You’d be a big disappointment if you didn’t.” “So I’m a big disappointment.”
Delong looked surprised. “You didn’t do it?!” “No. But I know who did.” Delong relaxed, smiled. “I feel better. You know… I think I’m just like that policeman. I figure I’ll stick around for a while, see what you’re up to.” “Come on. I want to introduce you to a pretty girl.”
Delong drove. “Nice car. I understand they cost $ now.” “I traded my left leg for it. Who’s the girl we’re meeting?” “Wife of a friend.” “Sounds like a dirty trick, but I’m for it.” “She’s Hammy’s wife; guy I went to jail with.” “She pretty?” He grinned. “She’s outta bounds.”
“She’s Hammy D’s wife.” “Glad I never met the guy.” “Hammy’s one of my favorite people.” “OK Sam. I never argue with the criminal type.” He swung the car past Alton Towers. There’s a trailer park, The YoYo Trailer & RV, next to the dump of the old Sweets Factory.
We pulled into a run down trailer park, the sort of place rats are embarrassed to be seen in. The dump of old ovens, mixers and burnt cakes from the Sweets Factory was more scenic. Y Town’s constant 73 degree weather only seemed to illuminate the decay here.
A blonde on a chaise lounge was brushing her hair. Delong looked hungry: “She has to be the wife of a friend.” “Run amok Junior. That’s the wrong girl.” “Hello fellas,” the blonde chirped. “Happy Mother’s Day to you,” he said. It isn’t just a missing leg that makes him lame.
“I’m Tops,” Blondie said. “I bet,” I said. “Where’s the manager?” “Gregg? Probably at the office.” I left Delong to practice pick up lines. The office was a rustic abode, the manager was singing sappy songs on a ukulele. “She ran away from me to meet another man…”
“I want to rent a trailer.” “When & for how long?,” Gregg sang. “Now & I don’t know.” “$2 a week.” “It’ll break our backs, but I think I can swing it.” “It’s this way.” Delong fell in as we walked thru the dump. “Sam, you serious about staying here? I’m prone to diseases.”
Space #11. With hard work, new fixtures, & old leaded paint the trailer might lift to the level of a disease and lice ridden death trap. I’m not particular. I straightened my tie & pretended I couldn’t smell. “Home beautiful,” Delong said, taking a swig of his favorite lubricant.
Gregg showed us around, the cupboard wouldn’t close, a single tap of cold water in an ancient sink, decomposing bedding. “Take it or leave it, $2 week.” “You’re a smooth salesman Mr. Gregg, you talked us into it.” I paid the man 2 Yo Cash.
Gregg took the dough. “Don’t spend it all in one place, it’s a gift from the taxpayers.” “Say, ain’t you Sam Spade?” “You could say that.” “Look Mr. Spade, I don’t want trouble.” “Then don’t start any.” “Ain’t any hot water. Suppose you want to shave?” “Then I’ll ring for you.”
“I’ll go see Tops,” Delong said. “Another man might walk by.” “Just a week, OK Sam? Gregg whined,” “Maybe. There a Frannie D here?” “Yeah, trailer 8.” “She home?” “Around 6 she makes a coin run.” “Thanks. Now beat it.” Gregg left. He made his ukulele sound forlorn.
I read Yo Yo Times while Delong & Tops flirted on chaise lounges. “Let’s get out of this hot sun into a nice cool bar,” my sobering alibi said. “In a few minutes Honey.” “So it’s ‘Honey’ already is it?” I asked. Delong smiled. “I call everyone ‘Honey,’ ” Tops cooed.
“Tops, what exactly do you do?” “Me? I’m a part time model.” “Of course you are.” “Say Sam,” the dizzy dame asked, “why you want to fool around with that Frannie D when I have lots of friends more cute and more fun?” “I may call on you for help later.”
Tops prattled on. “I’d like to see me with $100k hidden away and just getting outta the crank. Wow!” I gave Delong his due dirty look & he returned an apologetic one. “Say Doll, what about that saloon we were going to look up?” “In a minute Honey. Wow, all that dough.”
Tops wouldnt stop. “I guess you being her hubby’s friend helped a lot. I guess it’d be OK if you took her out, waddaya say?” “I say you talk too much.” “Hey, you going to let him talk to me like that?” “Nope. Let’s go to some nice dark quiet place where we can’t hear him.”
Blissfully, she went for it; I moved to her chaise lounge with my paper. The manager, Gregg, brought me an attitude. “I don’t like it, Mr. Spade,” he grunted, waving his dimunitive instrument (ukulele). “Well, sorry to hear that. Wish I knew what you were talking about.”
Gregg (mistaking my reading the paper for being interested) said: “There’s a fella been asking questions @ you.” “Irish guy? Looks like a saint, acts like a thug?” “That’s right. I think he’s a cop.” “I know he is.” “Well, I’ve been thinking...” “Don’t hurt yourself.”
Gregg continued (fortunately he didn’t play the ukulele): “...that Frannie D in #8, she’s the wife of that fella you pulled the stick up with, right?” “No she isn’t.” I stood. l looked him in the eye. “We didn’t pull any stick up. What’s bothering you?” “I don’t like snoopin’ cops.”
“Forget about the cops,” I growled, tossing the paper down and putting on my jacket. “They’re not interested in any 2 bit set up you got here.” “Well, I don’t want any trouble.” “Look, my rent paid?” “Yeah, but I dont want any trouble.” “Then don’t start any.”
“I still dont want any trouble,” Gregg whined. “Neither do I. Not from you or anybody else. Now stop botherin’…” “Sam!” I turned & there she was, the angel who flew away. I’d give anything to make Earth Heaven for her. But she’s married... to my friend. “Hello Frannie.”
“Catch me before my knees give way!” “Oh, I’m sorryI” I rushed to her. “I didn’t mean to surprise you this way!” For a moment it almost felt like I hadn’t been in lockup for 5 years. “That’s alright,” she said, “I knew you’d be here. Let me look at you!” She stepped back.
She gazed at me, I gazed her. “No change, same height, same weight.” “Oh you look fine. When did you get in?” “A few hours ago.” Gregg walked up. “I moved Mr. Spade in Miss DeAnn! Maybe we can get together for a talk.” I turned on him. “Goodbye Gregg.”
Gregg looked undecided; he wanted me to move out, though our business relationship was only a couple of hours old. He fingered his ukulele. I looked at it, looked at him, shook my head. He got the idea, wandered off while his “melody” maker was still intact.
“Hungry?” Frannie asked, thrusting groceries at me. “Always.” “You were lucky to get a trailer. Gregg likes couples.” “He got 1. I’m here with a guy name Delong.” “The marine? Invite him.” “He’s out bar hopping with a woman, name of, if you can believe it, ‘Tops.’ ”
Frannie laughed; a wonderful sound. “When the marines land Tops is always there for them.” We entered a well kept trailer. I began unpacking food. “What a break, Sam, you showing up after all this time.” “It’s more than a break, more like a miracle.”
“How is Hammy?” Frannie asked. “He’s as fine as anyone can be in the joint. He told me to have a drink with you for him.” “Is he really alright?” Nothing wrong with him that getting out wouldn’t fix.” She sighed. “Only 6 months.” “With luck,” I said with a small smile.
“Hammy is a good man,” she said. “He always tries to provide.” “Good friend, too” I added. “I think of him,” she sighed, “looking at the same moon as me… Moon over my Hammy…” I didn’t make the obvious comment, I just lit another Itsaboy cigar.
“Did he mind you getting out since he had to stay?” “I couldn’t do him any good there. Maybe I can here.” “Oh?” Frannie DeAnn looked troubled. “How?” “Well, Delong proved they were wrong about me, I’m going to prove the same thing about Hammy.”
