Cry Yadda!
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, & 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 Yovites 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 “The picture’s five years out of date,” I muttered, thrusting the paper back at him.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 to life because I had shown such 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,” I said, “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 Yo bucks now.” “I traded my left leg for it. Who’s the girl we’re meeting?” “Wife of a friend.” “Sounds like a dirty trick. I’m in.” “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.”
She looked shocked. “You’re going to try to open up the whole thing again?” “I’m going to turn it inside out.” “That sounds like more trouble.” “What more can happen to us? We’ve had 5 years yanked outta our lives. That’s a long time when you break it up into hours.”
“Fix us that drink, Sam. It’s in the cupboard.” “Alright, but you stop worrying.” I poured, she worried. We had that drink & dinner; a simple meal made wonderful by the company. I lit an Itsaboy, she had tea. I reminisced. We’d been a couple once; Hammy, my friend.
“Remember when I introduced you to Hammy? I was so proud of my girl I had to show her off.” “That was a long time ago.” “Another century… You both deserve better than having this hang over your heads.” Frannie looked at her dessert, changed the subject.
“Sam, you never told me how you felt, after we had that quarrel, I & Hammy went & got married.” “You know how I felt,” I looked over the city; 7 neighbors online, 2 messages. “I crawled away & died for a few weeks.” “Only a few? It was longer for me.” She drew near.
Over-looking Y Town, the trashy trailers, the dump, the abandoned Sweets Factory, the lights of Alton Towers... the moon glistened over Zynga Bay. I remembered us. Drifting out of the dark drifted Gregg’s ukulele & self-pitying lyrics. I wished it was dark & stormy.
“You wouldn’t change it now,” I said. “No, but sometimes, I wonder…” She pulled me close. All that was unsaid was said unsaid. “Don’t,” I whispered, “not even sometimes.” “Sam, let’s just forget everything that’s happened The prison, the hold up...”
“FORGET!!” “Even if you are innocent…” “EVEN IF I’m innocent!?” “I didn’t mean it that way.” “Course you did.” “I just mean it wouldnt make any difference even if you & Hammy were involved.” “We weren’t!” “I know! Sam, you’re twisting everything I say.”
I didn’t know what to make of her doubts. She had to know I didn’t do the hold up. “I’m sorry, Frannie…” CRASH!!! Delong’s Spanish lowrider had flattened trash cans into Gregg’s building. The one legged marine staggered from the tangled mess to our trailer.
“Looks like Lassie’s home. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” In the decaying trailer we found Delong pouring a drink. He eyed the blond with me. “You’d be Frannie.” “Yes.” “You’re outta bounds.” “Am I?” “According to my underworld friend here.” He raised his glass.
I smiled. “Where’s Tops?” “I’m disappointed in Tops. She turned out to be a part time model & a full time pickpocket. We may very well have visitors.” He waved a gun; I took it. “What happened?” “We had a great many drinks at a bar, a place she knew: Vinny’s.”
“When she thought I was tight enough she went for my bankroll. I slapped her wrist. Bartender didn’t like that. I let him have it over the head with a peanut machine. He’s... resting… In the emergency hospital.” “Oh swell. Better go Frannie, he’s right about visitors.”
“But what about you, if the police come?” “We’re old friends. We can always find something to talk about.” “Oh Sam…” “See you tomorrow.” “All right. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.” The door closed, I turned to Delong, sizing him up. Is he sober enough to handle cops?
“Have you read that book? ‘What To Do Until The Police Come’?” “I know all the answers,” he said. “The bartender gave me a drink that tasted funny; don’t remember anything after that.” “Gimme your car keys & $10.” “You burglars always work at night.” He handed it over.
“You want me to go along?” “No thanks.” “If you run into Tops, tell her all is forgiven.” I eyed the bottle on the table. “You get into that bottle a lot. You don’t sometimes say things you shouldn’t, do you?” “What milk is to a baby that is to me.” I put his gun in my waistband.
“I’ll see you later.” I left Delong filling a soon to be empty glass. Outside Gregg was talking to cops, trying to look helpful, motioning to our trailer with his ukulele. He led them over. I stopped them. “You looking for a fella name of Delong?” “Yeah. You know him?”
“Friend of mine. Ex-marine. Wants to file a complaint with you boys,” I told the cop. “He wants to file!” “Bartender in some gin joint got him tight. Tried to roll him. Works w a dame called Tops.” “That’s not how we heard it,” he said, scratching his head, looking at his partner.
“The bartender, Vinny, says Delong got fresh.” “Of course he did; why’d he tell the truth?” Gregg butted in. “Tops’s a good kid. She wouldn’t lie.” Delong’s carrying quite a roll. Anybody’d who’d rob a one legged marine hero is 3 times a crumb, wouldn’t you think?”
“Well how do we know?” asked copper #2. “Well go talk to him.” “The barkeep’s getting off easy. You should pick up his license for running a clip joint.” “Where’s hero boy?” “Inside.” The 3 went in, I got into Delong’s car, flies buzzed in formation over trash cans.
Yoville’s soundtrack got dramatic as I cruised dark streets. I pulled up at a bar I knew, a shoe shine doubling as a valet ran up. “35 cents Mr.” “A man’s following me; he’ll wanna know where I am. Tell him Spade’s inside.” I gave him a $1 Yocash. “Keep the change.”
Flickering neon proclaimed the pungent dive the ‘Los Amigos’, serving ‘Big Dog’ on tap. An irritatingly cheerful ragtime played. It was dark, as dark as its nefarious owner pulling underworld strings from an oversized desk in an undersized office: Badd Bart.
“Evenin’ Cindy. Got bourbon?” Trouble turned. Eyes that could melt a bank vault & a dress that made my teeth sweat, 2 items in her arsenal. “Oh Sam, so good to see you,” Cindy Loo Who purred. She wiggled over. This story has too many blondes I thought.
Cindy Loo Who leaned further than needed, poured generously. “Haven’t seen you lately.” “Don’t tell me you can’t read.” “Just being delicate, Sweety.” I put 5 on the bar. “Buy yourself a drink,” “Not many tips like this.” “Here’s another: plant your corn early this year.”
I nodded at the $5. “I want to surprise Bart. Forget how to use that phone when I go upstairs.” “Sure, Sam.” “I might buy us another round on the way out.” “Thanks for the dough, but Bart’s expecting you.” Cindy Loo dimpled, batted her eyes, & poured herself a drink.
“You didn’t have to tip me. If you need anything, ANYTHING, let me know.” 5 years in the joint could prompt mistakes. “That’s alright, Cindy. It was worth it just for the view.” I turned and went through the curtain, started upstairs to where a fat snake waited.
Shouldn’t have taken long to climb the stairs. Time slowed. Yoville’s new theme made the servers e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y slow. Apparently everyone wanted the new FS Y Town landfill w dozers, garbage trucks, seagulls & flies (20 cosigners & 20k coins). I refreshed.
Badd Bart looked up from papers on the desk. He looked a cross between Orson Wells & Jabba the Hutt, with a mustache. He didn’t need a black cowboy hat to look like a bad guy. “Good to see you, Sam,” he smiled an oily smile. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re all a tingle.”
Bart moved his chair back. It might have been to stand and greet me warmly, as business associates who hadn’t seen each other in 5 years. Or it might have been to make it easier to open his desk drawer. I pulled my jacket aside, revealing Delong’s pistol in my belt.
“Yeah,” Badd Bart said, “always nice to see an old friend.” His smile faded when I ordered him to a chair across the room. I sat at his desk, pulled his revolver out of the drawer. “Been reading so many detective novels I’m just naturally suspicious.” “Don’t blame ya.”
A halo appeared over Badd’s head, a corny fashion item from the Good V. Evil line. I didn’t buy it. Didn’t even bid on it. He planned that heist, tried to get me in it, and when someone was killed, had me to take the fall. I fell for 5 years. I’m back. He’s gonna pay.
“I guess you’re kinda sore, eh Sam? “Naw. I was planning on taking you to dinner.” “That’s quite a break for ya, that marine showing with your alibi.” “Not for you. When I went up I was making 20k Yo cash a year. 5 years, that’s 100k. I’ll settle for half now.” “Why should I?”
“Why? That was the deal when YOU dreamed up the job. I drive the car, get 50k.” “But you didn’t take the job.” “Everybody pretended I did, the cops, the judge, & a lot of prison guards.” “You told that story to the jury. Didn’t stick then, why would it now?” He smiled.
“I don’t have to make it stick; not w you. We know different. Besides, I’m not out to prove anything, just collecting some money.” “I only got half. You want all my share?” “Cheaper than dying.” “Would you kill me Sam?” “Wouldn’t you?” Bart poured a drink. “Tell ya what…”
I opened his revolver, started pulling bullets, ignoring Bart’s attempts to deal. “I can set you up w a new book” “I want 10k a year for 5 years of my life.” “Can I reach in my pocket?” “Go ahead.” “Here’s $500” “That’s 1%.” “Put it on a horse: Anita Drink. Pays 8 to 1.”
“That’ll make 4k for you.” “The other 46? A fixed bet doesn’t square.” “You know, I’m 60% legit now; I deal in rares & Yo cash items, big man in town, almost respectable.” “Good. Then you wont miss the Yo cash. Get me the green.” “Big men don’t scare,” he blustered.
“Big men must get popped off regularly,” I said, snapping the empty revolver closed. He looked uncomfortable. I liked that. Folks think I’m a pushover. I sighted his gun just off his left ear. “I’ve been looking forward to this chat for a long time. I’m calling the shots.”
“Listen carefully ‘big man’. I spent 5 years scratching days on a wall. You didn’t testify, but you pinned that heist on me and you are going to compensate me as if I had driven that car.” I picked up the dough. “This is a down payment. I will collect the rest, 60% legit or not.”
“So, Big Badd Bart, where do I bet on this horse, Anita Drink?” “Call in the morning.” “Big man like you, still playing w loaded guns.” I tossed the bullets on the desk, the gun in the chair, took a cigar from the humidor. “Nice having me back, eh Bart?” I sauntered out.
I parted the curtain, took in the ambiance of Los Amigos. “Drink, Sam?” Cindy Loo Who was draped across the bar, perhaps for the support, perhaps as reminder of why they call us mammals. She smiled slowly, shifting. The majesty of breaching whales.
She looked me over. Some blondes are dizzy, built for laughs. some blondes are tough, built for swedish massage. Some blondes are all curves, some blondes are made for libraries and others for calendars. She wasn't any of those.
I’d a couple of bucks left, laid them on the counter. “Some other time, Doll. Have one on me.” “Thanks, Sam!” Two dames of Bart’s, Claudia “The C” & Molls, came thru, avoided eye contact, left. They carried violin cases and an air of all business.
“I gotta run, Sweetheart.” C was glancing through the window as she hurried toward a black 4 door. “I was little worried for you when you went upstairs, Sam. Badd was waiting for you.” “No need to worry Doll. I’m sure to stay on the safe side of any gat. Good night.”
Cindy Loo gave me a hug on the way out. “Come back & see me,” she breathed into my neck. “I’ll show you what being free is all about.” “Maybe I will, after I take care of some business.” I walked out, pretending I didn’t recognize Det. Gus Cobb in a dark corner.
I waited for the good detective while the shoe shine worked. Gus stepped past to the corner, peered down the streets. “Want a shine, Det.?” Startled & embarrassed, he sat down, placed his feet on the pedestals. He removed his hat, scratched his head, smiled ruefully.
“You didn’t want to recognize me in there, huh?” Cobb asked. “I got a bad reputation. I’ve got to be careful who I’m seen with.” “You went to a lot a trouble to make sure I knew where you were. Why?” “I want to make it easy for you.” “I don’t want it too easy.”
“You got business with Badd Bart?” the copper asked. “Yeah. He & I are going to open an ice cream parlor.” “Look, I’m tailing you myself & I want some sleep. What are your plans for the rest of the night?” “Bed & a meeting with the sand man.” “Don’t cross me Sam.”
Gus’s patter was as dry and stale as last week’s croutons. I could see the cop was trying to figure me out. “You wont believe it, Gus, but I want you with me wherever I go.” “I’ll try oblige.” The shoe shine snapped his rag one last time. “Sleep tight detective.”
“I always sleep good,” Gus said. “Comes from making an honest living. You oughta try it. Meanwhile, you’re my job, and I’ll be watching you real close, Sam.” “Good. That’s how I want it. Oh, and pay for my shine too, will ya? I’m fresh out of hot money.”
I walked off leaving Detective Cobbs pondering. He shook his head, reached for his wallet. Delong’s Spanish Lowrider was where the shoe shine/valet said it was. Parked across the street from a black 4 door sedan. Fog was rolling in off Zynga Bay. Perfect.
I pulled up to the trailer. 1st time in 5 years I’m up after lights out. As I walked in a shot a ricochet’d off the trailer,a real hokey sound FX. I pulled out Delong’s pistol, peered into darkness. Shadows against trailers. I chased a noise… a cat. Whoever took the shot was gone.
Gregg came out of the office. I slipped behind him, placed the gun beside his face, he froze. “What are you doing up?” “I thought I heard a shot.” “Smell it.” “Huh?” “Smell the gun. If it’s been fired it will smell.” “Nuthin’.” “Mention that when you talk to the cops.”
Delong was examining the bullet mark on the trailer. “Such people you run with.” We went in. I lay down, he fixed a sandwich, poured a glass of milk. Then he threw the sandwich in the trash, poured the milk back in the bottle, poured three fingers of bourbon, drank.
Delong crawled into the lower bunk: “Can’t sleep? I can’t sleep either when people shoot at me. Where’d you go?” “Took a walk, saw some people.” “They must have liked you ‘cause they followed you home. You must be getting close to the $.” “Go to sleep.”
“Had a good time after the cops left. I had a drink w Frannie. You got a problem. She’s stuck on you. You’re stuck on her. But she married your best friend & she’s outta bounds. Yeah, you got a problem.” “Shut up & go to sleep.” I went to sleep. He had another drink.
I showered in the community head, putting up with Gregg’s ukulele. Delong watched Tops do what dames do well: her nails & complain. “Why you drinking so early?” she asked Delong. “Listen Doll,” he said, “when you drink as much as I do, you gotta start early.”
“You 2 make up?” I asked. “Tops is giving up pickpocketing to study forgery.” “I was only going to keep his $ for him until he sobered up.” “That’s like tying it up permanently. Say, can I borrow your car today?” “It’s just a stock model you know, no armor on it.”
Frannie poked her head out the window of the next trailer. “Want coffee, Sam?” “Be right in.” I turned to the love birds. “Having a little party tonight. Keep yourselves available.” “I like parties” said Delong. “That’s me, available,” said Tops. I picked up the paper.
“Want coffee cake?” Frannie handed me a cup of joe. “No thanks. Don’t you have to be at work?” “Not for half hour yet. Sam, what are you doing?” “Not sure yet. Just probing a few sore spots.” “And getting shot at.” “I think they were just trying to scare me off.”
“Where’d you go?” “I called on someone who might clear Hammy.” “Did you tell Hammy what you’re doing?” “I only had 5 minutes w him.” “And?” “Like you, he said leave well enuf alone.” “Why don’t you?” “He only got 1 to 10, I got life. Guess I’m that much madder.”
“Where you going today?” “See a witness from the trial: Bailey.” I finished the coffee. “Now get ready for work, I’ll drive you. And next time make my coffee stronger.” “Oh yes, I remember.” I went back to my rustic domicile, put on my suit and brought the car around.
Her secretary job was in Cityville. She turned the mirror to review her make up. I flinched. “You used to hate it when I did that,” my angel said. “Still do.” I checked the side mirrors, past the oil pumps & car lots to see if Cobb was keeping up. He was.
“I’m taking you to dinner tonight.” “What are you using for $?” “I’ve a horse, Anita Drink, in the 3rd at Zynga Meadows.” “Risky making dinner plans on a horse.” “Not this one.They’ve a picture of him finishing 1st before the race starts.” I parked where she pointed.
Frannie leaned toward me, her lips parting slightly. I leaned over… opened the passenger door. “Sam, please don’t do anything dangerous.” “Don’t worry about me. I had 5 years to think about what to do.” I patted her hand, she crossed the street.
While she crossed the street I wished I wasn’t in black & white. I’d guess her dress is black & her shoes are as red as the lipstick I think she wears. But, a 2D ex-con hasn’t the Zynga pull to upgrade. Just a black and white cartoon. At least I’m not chasin’ road runners.
Frannie turned & waved before going in, an angel I was determined to rescue. I adjusted the mirror. I could just make out Cobb’s car parked 2 blocks back. I pulled out, headed back to Baker Street, in the suburbs south of the Speedway, Cletus Bailey’s humble abode.
C. Bailey: apt. 221B, a violin played somewhere. I pushed buttons beside every name except his. The intercom squawked asking who’s there; someone buzzed me in. I went upstairs, down the shoddy rug, knocked. A blonde, the 4th in this sordid tale, opened the door.
The blonde with ample curves smiled, looked me up & down. “Bailey apt.?” I asked. “I don’t need any brushes, but come on in. Make yourself comfortable.” I tossed my hat on a chair, looked out the window to see where Detective Gus Cobb had parked.
“Mrs. Bailey?” “Yes.” “I’d like to see your husband.” “That’s not very flattering. Coffee?” “Sure.” She wiggled into the kitchen, her bottom looking like two puppies wrestling under a blanket; she seemed to be making sure they were having fun. I could tell she sold Avon.
I don’t know if she or her husband can help, but the jury pinned that armored car’s driver’s death on me because of his testimony. I’m far from perfect, but I don’t like picking up the tab for something I didn’t do. She returned. “Cream & sugar?” “Black please.”
“My name is Denise. Mind if I call you Sam?” “What?” “That’s your name, right? What do you want w my husband? Get him to admit he was wrong ID’ing you?” “Any guy could make a mistake. He’s had 5 years to think it over.” “I guess you don’t know.” “Know?”
She retrieved a clipping from the Y Town Herald. “Cletus is dead. Heart attack, 3 years ago.” “Heart attack?” “He was 16 years older than me.” “You seem all cut up about it.” “He’d have died of shock if he knew you were getting out. What’s it to you? You’re free now.”
“I’ve a good friend doing time on his ID. Did he ever say anything about maybe his being mistaken?” “Cletus didn’t talked much, certainly not about that.” “Come on. What difference can it make now?” “None. Especially since the Yo Cash is all gone.” “Yo cash?”
“Cletus came into a small inheritance about the time of your trial.” “How small?” “$5k” “Who left him the $?” “I never asked, he never told.” “Will you tell the cops this?” “I’d be charged as an accessory.” “I can have them check his bank account.” “It was cash, kept here.”
“I’ll deny this Sam.” “Why tell me then?” “You look like a nice man.” “If I promise not to involve U, will U tell the nice man who gave Cletus the dough?” “Drink your coffee.” I got up. “Don’t leave!” “Y not?” “We don’t have to talk about dead husbands & hold ups.”
“What else could we talk about?” “Me.” Denise batted her eyes, made dimples appear, wiggled over. “Maybe you don’t find that interesting?” I smiled. “Can I use your phone?” “Help yourself.” I picked up the phone, dialed a number, she leaned in for a kiss…
They answered, I turned from her. “This is Sam. Get me Badd Bart.” Denise whirled, eyes flashing anger. “Bart? It’s morning & I’m calling. Where do I place that bet?… Milano Hotel? Cigar stand? I’ll see you later.” I hung up, Denise handed me my hat.
I turned to Denise, smiled &pretended I didn’t understand. “OK, now where were we?” “You were on your way out.” “I thought we were going to sit around talking about you.” “Well we’re not. Get out.” “So my call to Bart didn’t set well.” “I said beat it.’
Denise was showing me out. The to Badd Bart’s was to see if she really knew nothing about her husband’s ‘inheritance.’ “Someday you & I are going to have a nice long talk.” “Go on, hit the road!” I lit a cigar, and strolled out to a too cheerful Yoville afternoon.
I drove to the Milano Hotel at the corner of Rong Way and Socio Path in downtown Yoville to place the bet. It wasn’t much. Outside stairs over a deli (smelled like cat food) led to a run down flop house hotel that would have been called seedy when it was new.
A girl was reading a beauty magazine at the counter. Since this is black & white I couldn’t tell if she had black hair or dark brunette. Fine w me, too many blondes in this story already. “Good morning, Doll. What’s your name?” I picked up a box of Itsaboy cigars.
Large eyes peeked over the magazine. She must have liked what she saw because she turned on the charm. “Hello there! You can call me Nicola.” “No thanks, I don’t have a sore throat.” “Cute. I said Nicola. What can I do for you, Handsome?” She looked willing.
“I want to see a man about a horse.” She sized me up, wondering if I was a cop. “What makes you think…” Nicola began. “I don’t think. Badd Bart sent me.” “You a friend of Bart’s?” “Let’s just say we’ve met. Maybe you’ve heard of me. 1st name is Sam.”
“I’ve seen your face in the papers.” “Yeah, in the society pages, right?” “Not exactly. The papers don’t do you justice,” Nicola said, stroking my arm slowly. “Yeah, justice ain’t always easy to find; besides, that picture is 5 years out of date.” I pulled out the $500.
Her eyes widened a little at the 500 Yo Cash Bart had given me. “Put that on Anita Drink to win in the 3rd at Zynga Meadows.” Nicola warmed to me after counting the 500 Yo Bucks, a lot of dough to a dame like that. “That’s a lot of money to put on a very long shot.”
“In case I win, what happens? I come see you?” “No. Go to the deli downstairs, ask for Boogerz.” “You have got to be kidding.” “No, but you can still see me again.” She smiled. Dimples like that should need a permit. I took the betting slip and out it in my pocket.
After placing the bet, Nicola batted those long eyelashes. “You can still see me again.” “Especially if I win?” She smiled warmly. “That doesn’t matter. I live upstairs in 301.” “Thanks,” I said, handing her back her magazine, “I’ll see what my nurse says.”
I took a seat in Badd Bart’s office, helped myself to a cigar, and put my feet up on his desk. Badd shuffled papers as if he was an important big shot at least 60% legit, pretending my feet didn’t bother him. The radio was tuned to Zynga Meadows...
“A-a-a-aaand they’re off!” the announcer shouted. “Garden Gait is first, Miss Behave is 2nd, Bridle of Frankenstein 3rd, Pure Bread is 4th, Rein Dance is 5th, Thigh Master is 6th, Gaits of Heaven is 7th with Anita Drink right behind.” Badd smiled a little, shrugged.
“…Miss Behave pulls ahead of Garden Gait, Thigh Master feels the burn as Rein Dance washes out… Anita Drink thirsts for for Gaits of Heaven & passes him and Rein Dance. Pure Bread rises, wakes from the dead, puts Bridle of Frankenstein in chains…”
They round the curve & Miss Behave is toast to Pure Bread, Anita Drink sings out last call to Garden Gait… Miss Behave leads by a proper neck & Bridle of Frankenstein is surrendering to angry villagers. Gaits of Heaven locks up, Anita Drink makes its move...
Anita Drink makes a sandwich out of Pure Bread… It’s Miss Behave and Anita Drink, it’s Anita Drink, Miss Behave… coming down the stretch… Miss Behave leads by a length, no, make that a neck, aaaand... it’s Anita Drink by a bulbous nose!!!
I took my feet off Badd’s desk, stood, buttoned my jacket. “$4k huh? OK. I’ll credit it to your account.” Bart said nothing, just picked up more ‘legit’ paperwork. I took 2 Itsaboy cigars from his humidor, put one in my jacket pocket, the other in my mouth, strolled out.
Cindy Loo Who was tending bar downstairs. Her neck line always makes her look short of breath and hoping to inspire the same. “Hi Sam! You look like you’re in a good mood? Buy me a drink?” I paused. “Sure, & pour me a double bourbon with a bourbon chaser.”
“Sam, are you still moping over that gal, what’s her name?” “I’ve never moped, and her name is Frannie.” “Right. Well big boy, there are ways to forget all sorts of trouble. I’m willing to help, though I ain’t saying we’ll grow old together.” “Glad you made that clear.”
“Thanks, but no thanks, Angel, I gotta go,” I told Cindy Loo Who. “Come back when you can spend more time and money, Sam.” “I’ll try to do that.” I stepped from the smokey gloom of Los Amigos into the smoggy glare of Yoville. I didn’t see the detective anywhere.
I went to the deli, like Nicola told me, tapped the clerk on the shoulder. “You Boogerz?” “No. Wait a sec. I’ll get her.” Boogerz the Bookie slithered in like Morticia, the neckline of her dress plunged to her navel. She had Betty Davis eyes. Maybe Peter Lorre’s.
“I bet I know why you’re here, Handsome. 8 to 1.” Boogerz took the racing form I got from Nicola upstairs. “Yup. That horse cost me a lot today. You won’t believe it if I told ya this is the biggest loss of my whole career. Biggest loss. Don’t bother you none, does it?”
I waited as Boogerz the Bookie wove her tale of woe. “ Never occurs to you I’ve got a dead beat husband & kids like other people.” She counted out $4k. “Well, there goes the 2 weeks of camp I promised the kids this summer. It doesn’t bother you though, ‘course not…”
She handed me the dough. “Not even a ‘Thank you very much’?” she huffed. “I can’t afford hot dogs or energy drinks… Does it bother you I have 47 Yoville houses to keep maintained? Noooooo...” Did I mention she was sporting an 09 Addams family dress & a 08 cigar?
I counted the dough. “What you gonna do with all that loot?” “Get an operation so I can play the violin again.” “Funny guy. Everything’s a joke, ain’t it?” I shrugged.“See you in the funnypapers, Doll.” I left. I’d shopping errands to run before returning to home sweet home.
I went to Vinny’s, Alton Tower’s black market, and the furniture store. A new line was out: armadillos & opossums. I didn’t like the car; the hair style, hideous, but the landscaping was cool. I got a few choice things for new friends, and one old one. Tonight we celebrate.
I got back to the trailer bearing gifts. “Santa Claus is here, soldier!” A bleary eye peeked from the bunk. “I was a marine, not a soldier.” Delong got up. “I thought you’d gone south w my car. Santa bring stuff?” “That he did.” I hand him a bottle of his favorite solvent.
I tossed Delong a booklet. Read this, it might improve your mind. He read the title: “‘Does Drinking Affect Your Social Life?,’ Funny guy.” “Here’s a corsage for Tops. Pull yourself together, we’re ha
ving a little fun tonight. I’ve waited 5 years for this.” “I love a party!”
I began counting out bills, & handed DeLong a wad. “This should keep Tops interested in you tonight.” He took it. “Looks like about a thousand bucks.” “It should.” “You must have found the guy who has the money.” “Naw. I had a horse working for me today.”
“Did the horse give you the $ to put down on himself?” I turned. “You’ve a right to know what I’m up to if you want.” “I don’t” I nodded. “Frannie’s after me to talk you out of whatever you’re doing.” “Yeah?” “Well, I’ve talked.” “Good. I’ve enjoyed our little chat.”
Delong went on, too much and too long as usual. “I don’t think Frannie’s as worried about you as she pretends to be.” “What you mean?” I took off my hat & tie. “I mean I think she is more worried about what you might stir up.” “You’re a pint ahead of schedule.”
Delong tried & failed to look philosophical “Only the blind can truly see.” “You’re only half blind.” “I’ll fix that!” He opened his XMas present. “You know, I’d a friend who also had trouble with that stuff. He found a way to get off it.” “How?” “He quit! Comb your hair.”
Soft jazz played as Detective Cobb entered the club. The maitre de intercepted him. “Good evening lieutenant. Social or business?” “Business.”He pointed to a table, the cop nodded. Paused to watch Frannie & me dancing. I pretended not to notice. In fact, I didn’t.
Tops & Delong held our table. “I don’t know why they ordered all this food; they’re still dancing,” she said. “Maybe they like cold steaks; or maybe they are just working up an appetite,” said DeLong. “I say they’re stuck on each other.” “What difference does it make?”
“Oh waiter! You better put these steaks back in the oven. And cancel that cheesecake. Bring me a double bourbon instead.” Tops looked on with a small smile. He turned to her. “I’ve got a bad tooth.” Tops giggled. Meanwhile, we danced, and the world disappeared.
“Mighty handsome present, this dress,” Frannie said as we swayed to the music. “Mighty handsome woman inside it,” said I. We danced cheek to cheek. “Just like old times, Frannie.” ”Except I could never get you to dance.” “Funny, I like it now. I must have mellowed.”
“Remember our time dancing?” “The beach.” “Yes. The summer I asked you to marry me 3 times.” “3 times! No wonder I lost out to the other guy.” “That horse must’ve had good odds.” “8 to 1.” “Delong tell you I’m worried?” “Oh Fran. You can’t have fun like that!”
Between songs a couple of long hairs in the corner raised lighters, yelling “Freebird!” Instead the band played “Stardust” which suited me fine. Kim wasn’t mine any more, but she once was, and what I felt then, I still felt deep down, though I would never betray a chum.
The band took a break, so we did. “Well, the marathon dancers are back! We went ahead without you, knew you wouldn’t mind,” Delong said. I pulled out Frannie’s chair for her. She glowed, I smiled. A shadow fell across the table. “Hello Sam.” “Hi Gus,” I said to the cop.
“Let’s talk a little. Want to step outside?” “Not particularly.” “Alright.” He pulled up a chair, sat, looked over my friends. “Where are my manners?!” I said. “Delong, ladies; this is the cop who helped put me away on a bum rap and wants to sponsor the same trip again.”
Det. Cobb pulled out a wad of bills. Delong raised his eyebrows. “If you are trying to bribe me, that will do it!” The yo cash landed on the table. “You spent $265 on clothes today, Sam.” “That illegal?” “With these bills it is. They’re from the heist. Where’d you get ‘em?”
Det. Gus Cobb was grilling me at dinner... “I got the dough betting on a horse.” “Got more?” I frowned, Delong looked nervous. I reached into my coat, pulled out my Yo cash. “Where’s the rest of it? Supposed to be 100k.” Cobb looked pleased. Me... Not so much.
“Told you, I bet on a horse. You followed me, you should have placed me at the cigar stand.” “I’m a busy man,” the cop said. “I didn’t wait for you to come out of Mrs. Fletcher’s. I coulda told you her husband was dead. How is she?” I frowned. Fran looked scared.
I frowned. “Give him yours,” I told Delong. He frowned. “Somebody’s loaded us up w hot money. It ain’t worth a fake nickel.” He reached into his coat, paused, slowly looked at Tops. “Alright Fingers, hand it over.” She did her best to look offended. “You kidding?”
“The man wants the money,” Delong punctuated each syllable by pointing at the copper. “Give it to him now.” Gus smiled. She pulled her wad of Yo cash from her tiny purse and tossed it in front of our local cop. “So, bet on a horse, eh? Where’d you get the $ to bet?”
“Badd Bart, 500 Yocash.” “OK Sam, who booked the bet?” “A girl at the cigar stand in the Milano Hotel at Kathy Court & Cookie Circle.” “OK, who paid you off?” “Gal name Boogerz at the deli, same building.” “Alright, let’s check. We’ll start with Boogerz & work back.”
I was leaving, reluctantly, with Detective Gus Cobb of the Yoville PD. I took Fran’s hand. “I’m sorry, Doll. You go on back w Tops & Delong, I’ll be there in an hour.” “Don’t be too sure,” Cobb said. I looked at Delong. “I said an hour.” The flatfoot took me to the Milano Hotel.
The clerk was stocking shelves. “Where’s Boogerz?” “Boogerz who? “The gal you dug out of the back room.” “You’re mistaken, pal. Ain’t no Boogerz, & ain’t no back room.” “Don’t gimme that.” I pulled the curtain aside, the better to see the poster on the new brick wall.
“Hey, wants going on here? Where’s the gal who paid me off?” “Paid you off?” said the noob. “The gal w the deadbeat husband & kids who wouldn’t stop talking!” I grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him close enough to smell the Brylcreem. “Take it easy,” said Cobb.
I tossed the clerk aside. “Come on,” said Det. Cobb. We left. I stopped at the curb, took off my hat, scratched my head. That didn’t help. Cobb sauntered up. “That wall wasn’t there.” “Yeah, yeah. That’s strike one. Milano Hotel?” “Yeah,” I muttered.
We went up the pungent stairs to the cigar stand, I snatched the magazine away from the girl behind the counter. A different girl. “Hey, where’s the girl who was here earlier here today?” ”Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “I’ve been˙ here all day.”
“I was in here & booked $500 on a horse.” “We don’t book no bets!” “There was a pretty girl, said she lived in 301.” “Let’s go,” Cobb said. We went up. I tried to ignore the corny Y Town sound track; Zynga’s idea of dramatic music is as bad as it’s shopping tunes.
A housewife answered. “Oh, sorry. I expected thecigar stand girl here.” She threw the door open, behind her a fat man in a T shirt was playing a sax. “Really! I’m back from out of town unexpectedly, so there won’t be any party tonight, so beat it!!!” Slammed the door.
“Strike 2,” said my copper. I stroked my chin. “You know Sam, I think we better go down to my office.” “Alright.” We left. The corny Zynga soundtrack swept up dramatically, so, do me a square will ya? Click on that speaker icon below there on the right, & switch it off!
A couple of noobs were sweating for calls from their attorneys in the YVPD lobby. “Anything for me?” Cobb asked. “Nothing, Lieutenant.” “OK, get Badd Bart on the phone for me.” “Yes sir.” We went in. “Sit down,” Cobb said. “This may take a little time. Maybe 20 years.”
“What a prize sucker I am.” I began pacing Cobb’s office. “Are you in on the frame too?” “All you wise guys are suckers, & I don’t have to be too bright to trip you up. All I have to do is watch & wait, and sometimes not so long either.” The phone buzzed, Bart on the line.
“Bart,” Cobb snarled. “I got Spade down here. Says you told him to bet on a horse last night.” “Sam Spade? Is he in town?” “Yeah. He says you gave him $500 to bet on a race.” “He’s lying,” Bart lied. “He hasn’t been around.” “OK, just checkin’.” Cobb hung up.
“Strike 3,” I said.” “Ball 1,” said Cobb. “Bart was high and wise. Said he never saw ya.” “You can’t believe that! You saw me come from his office!” “I’m surprised at him slipping like that.” “That phony bookie was a plant to get hot $ on me. You gonna hold me?” “Naw...”
“No, I don’t think I will hold ya,” Cobb told me. “I’ve been waiting for 5 years for some of that dough to show up. I don’t know if you got it or if you scared it into circulation. Either way, go on, keep poking around. Let’s see what happens.” “Old clay pigeon me,” I muttered.
“Yeah, you’re expendable, Sam,” Gus said. “Hey, you got all my dough. How about some cab fare?” “Just click home!” “I ain’t got an account. I’m here as Sam Spade’s alter ego.” “What are you going to pay me back with? More of that hot $?” “Maybe all of it.”
Cobb gave me $20. “This is outta my own pocket. Remember I’m married and have a couple of kids.” “I haven’t met anyone lately who hasn’t.” I walked out, Cobb pulled out an 08 pipe, lit it. I hailed a cab. Someone’d placed a graveyard mist outside. Perfect...
Badd Bart entered his fancy Classic Hollywood home furnished with Yocash. A fat smiling buddha statuette descended swiftly. Bart fell asleep. I switched on the light. Water and pansies splashed his face. He spluttered. “Are you awake, or do you want more water?”
“Alright, don’t talk, but listen real hard or buddha here’s gonna make you one with the universe.” Badd tried to get up. I shoved his face, water trickled onto the 12 yocash rug. “Don’t know when to stop, do ya, Stupid?! I’m out one day & you try & fix it so I’m back in again!!!”
He didn’t say anything, so I slapped him. Felt good. “How big does the 50k look now?” “Can I get up?” “You can’t move one inch. I like to see a big legit man like you flat on your back. In case you’re wondering why I’m not locked up, you should know you slipped up.”
“Cobb followed me to your place last night, which makes that little lie you told him about not seeing me kinda curious. He’s beginning to wonder about a few things. The $ is beginning to tie right back to you.” “Why don’t you calm down?” “Because I don’t feel calm!”
Badd Bart was relaxing on a persian rug in a puddle of water & pansies. I was threatening him with a marble laughing buddha. “A woman told me about Mr. Fletcher. You bribed him to ID me. Clear enuf for you?” “Alright, you want the dough. Let’s make a deal.”
Badd was trying to deal. “Why, you got another horse for me?” “Let me get up!” I waved the rotund marble buddha. “I’ll put this right thru your skull if you get up before I tell you.” “I’ll get the $ for you.” “I don’t want 50k now. I want all of it.” “How can I? I only got half.”
“You use that furrowed little brain of yours to figure that out! Make one more cute move and see how long you live.” “I’ll have it all by morning.” “You sure will!” I slapped him again.”Now get up.” He did. I grabbed his shirt, pulled him close & knocked him down again.
I found a cab, went back to the quaint yet pungent trailer park. At the time I didn’t see two feminine shadows in the bushes watching the trailer. Inside Frannie’s trailer I told Delong to pay the 195 coin cab fare. “Here’s 200. Keep the change & try not to get too excited.”
Frannie looked somber, Tops, ditzy, Delong, drunk. “I guess it wasn’t much of a celebration.” “It doesn’t matter,” Fran said. “I didn’t expect to do what I’m doing without a little trouble,” I told her. “Just what are you trying to do? Get sent back to prison? Keep Hammy there?”
“Looks like we’re about to have a tense moment,” Delong quipped to Tops. “Look, it’s 1:30. We’ve just enuf time to get to a bar for a nightcap.” Blondie batted her Maybelline’s, scooped up her purse. “Time doesn’t matter, I know a bartender.” “Oh right, I forgot.”
Delong frowned, handed most of his cash to me. “Keep this for me, will ya, Pal?” He turned to Tops, tucking a few bills into her bra. “How about you carry this for me and we’ll see if I can take it from you.” He left with the ditzy blonde, leaving me with the smarter one.
Frannie locked the door. “Aren’t you risking a lot? I asked you not to, Hammy asked you not to.” “I’m getting close, Fran.” “Hammy’s coming up for parole. What you’re doing is making it much harder for him!” “It isn’t, believe me. I wouldn’t take a chance with that.”
“Don’t you think that should be up to him?” Frannie was trying to talk me out of what I was doing. “After all, you’re already out.” “I’m too close. I’m not quitting.” “Oh sure. Have it your way. You always do. Sam helps his friends, even if it kills them. I’m sick of it.”
“I’ve been living with this thing over my head for five years!!!” My blonde was having a fit. “I’m fixing it so it will be easier for you from now on! Prove you had nothing to do with it” “Well you’re not! You’re just messing everything up! You’re stubborn.” She stomped her foot.
Fran was ticked. “Stubborn!!! You make up your mind & no one can change it! Not even me!!!” “Look Frannie...” BANG BANG BANG!!! Shots rang out (as they tend to do). Tires squeeled. BANG! BANG!! BANG!!! BANG!!! CRASH!!!!!!! An engine revved, a car peeled out.
I rushed into darkness, saw taillights disappearing out the drive, and another set going down the hill beyond a splintered wood fence. I rushed to see Delong’s car at the bottom of the gully, lying on its top, Delong lying in the dirt nearby. “Call an ambulance!” Fran ran.
A man in a suit stood beside the car. “No need for this one. She’s dead. He alive?” “Yeah. Who are you?” “I’m a cop. I’m tailing you for Cobb.” “Well some job you did. Where’s the guy who did this? “Gals. 2 of ‘em in a black 4 door. My car was facing wrong, they got away.
Two dames shooting up a car that seemed to be carrying Frannie and me. It didn’t take an expert gaming engineer to know they were probably Claudia “The C” and Molls, Badd’s underthings. Now Tops was a deleted avatar and a one legged war hero lay bleeding.
Fran was back. I stood beside the unconscious Delong. “They thought that was you.” She looked at Tops dead inside the car. “And that would have been me.” “Frannie, they didn’t care who they got as long as they got me.” “Sam! They thought that was me!!!”
I calmed her down, without the usual film noir slap. Delong left in an ambulance, Tops, in the Coroner’s wagon. The manager Gregg was having a little meltdown with by his ukelele: “I ain’t nuthin’ but an animated Colorform baby, a piece of digital vinyl stuck on you...”
By morning I got into Yoville Mercy to see Delong. Cobb’s cop who’d been tailing me (but couldn’t catch the gals who shot up my friends) stood beside the door. Delong was hooked up to IVs, a tube ran in one nostril. He looked like he was wishing for his favorite solvent.
“It’s a no good mess. They were after me, got you. Sorry.” “It doesn’t matter. It was either this or an alcoholic ward. How’s Tops?” “As bad as she can get.” “That’s a shame. I was getting awful fond of that little pickpocket.” “Yeah, I know. She was a good kid.”
“Look Sam. this is getting rough,” said Delong. “You’ve got your neck out too far.” “Don’t worry about it.” “Let’s forget our deal, go fishing or something.” “You like fishing?” “Used to. It’s healthy.” The cop stepped up. “You sure you don’t know who did this?” “No!” We said.
“Tell Cobb I wanna talk,” Delong told the cop. “If it’s about your phony alibi, he knows.” “I figured. Not what I want to talk to him about. Tell him unless he wants me suing the city they’ get me a new wooden leg. See if it can be knotty pine to match my den.”
“Come on Spade,” the cop said. “Cobb wants to see you.” “Sam?” Delong asked. “Yeah?” “I know where we can pick up a couple of fishing poles... Listen, they made a mistake. Doesn’t mean they’re gonna stop trying.” I nodded, followed the cop out.
It all made me sick. Delong had helped me, was my friend. They’d pulled bullets out of him meant for me. And Tops... Dizzy Tops, lying on a table at the coroner’s. I got 5 years for nothing, and now others were getting hurt, getting killed. Made me sick. Made me mad.
Cobb, pacing, was grilling us. Me. Fran. Even Badd Bart. “Blazing guns, a black limo...” He stopped beside Bart. “Aren’t you indignant, or wanna call your attorney or something?” “He’s on his way.” “This is murder. Not just @ hot money, but a dead girl & a shot up soldier.”
“Sam, they were after you of course.” “Doesn’t take an IQ of 150 to figure that,” I said. “And you, Miss,” he said to Fran. “If it wasn’t for a mistake, you’d be lying on a slab in the morgue. Any idea why?” She looked scared, like she might faint. “No! I can’t imagine!”
Cobb was grilling Fran. “I’m not asking you to imagine. You’re alive on a rain check. They thought you were in that car. You better start remembering. Anything that might help. Where were you last night when someone took a shot at Sam?” “Asleep!” “R-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-ght...”
“And it didn’t even wake you?” “Lay off her Gus.” “Oh sure! What’s a little murder?!” He turned to Badd. “And you were drinking in your bar w friends.” “You can check.” “Of course. But you were home when Sam slapped you around a little.” I smiled. Good times...
“Why’d you go back to your bar after Sam’s little visit?” “I couldn’t sleep,” Bart said. “I can’t hold any of you, but I want you to know my fondest hope is that one of you bumps the other off so I can pick up who’s left.” “Are we thru?” Bart asked. “You are when I say so.”
I wouldn’t give a nickel for Hammy’s chances before the parole board w all this going on. And I wouldn’t give a nickel for Sam’s chances with those two femme fatales running around looking for him. And as for Bart here, I just wouldn’t give a nickel.”
“You 2 can go now.” We all started to leave. “Not you,” Cobb said to Badd Bart. “Oh, and Sam. I’m taking the tail off you.” “Swell time to do it.” “That’s what I figure.” Cobb smiled at Bart. “We’ll wait for your lawyer. I love to watch them operate.” Bart didn’t smile.
Frannie did little nervous movements in the taxi all the way back to the trailer park where we found Gregg strumming his ukulele: “...I thought my angel was a dame, but she’s just a broad playing her strange game...” We got out, ignoring the serenade.
“Wait for me driver,” I told the cabbie. I got Delong’s pistol from the trailer. “Sam, don’t go!” “I won’t be long.” “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.” “Nothing’s going to happen.” “If I told you, you mean everything to me...” “Don’t talk like that.”
“I can’t help it! I don’t care anymore!” Fran grabbed me. “Maybe I shouldn’t say it, but I’m going to.” “No, you’re not. You’re going to get some sleep.” “Sam! Please!” “I’ll be back!” I rushed away before she said things she shouldn’t. Before I did things I shouldn’t.
Badd Bart dismissed his lawyer as soon as he left YVPD, tossing his cigar butt onto the sidewalk. He was surprised to see a pistol pointing in his gut from the back seat of his car. Only the 1st of the little surprises I planned. “Get in. Let’s go to your place.”
“Don’t be a chump, Sam. This is exactly what Cobb wants you to do.” “Your place.” “It’s too early. There’s nobody there.” “That’s why we’re going to your place. Get in.” When we got into his office he relaxed. “Freeze!” his arms stiffened. No one in the next room.
I swept everything off Badd Bart’s desk, took his pistol out of the drawer. “Get up on your desk.” Bart looked confused. “Lie down!” “Lie down?” “Lie down! We seem to talk better when you’re flat on your back. Get on the desk!” He lay down. I stood by his head.
“No use kidding you Sam. I was out to get you.” I let him rattle on while I took the bullets out of his revolver, put one back. “I was a chump to fool around w this. Like I told you before, I’m 70% legit.” “It was 60%.” “You know, that cop hasn’t anything on us yet.”
“He’s trying to get us to fight before...” Bart stopped yapping when I spun the revolver’s chambers. “What are you doing?” “Ever hear of a game called Russian roulette? It’s supposed to show how much nerve you have. 6 chambers, 1 bullet.” I pulled back the hammer.
“Now, now, wait a minute Sam.” I pointed the gun between his eyes, pulled the trigger. CLICK! His eyes went wide. “Take it easy, Sam.” “Every time I spin this you’ve got a 5 to 1 chance. That’s better odds than you gave my friends last night!” Spin. CLICK!
“Look Sam! The $’s in a safe under this desk!” Spin. I pressed the barrel to his forehead. CLICK! “I’m not interested in the money now.” Spin. CLICK! “I’ll tell you where the rest of the $ is. It will be a cinch for you to pick it up!!!” Spin. CLICK! I wasn’t smiling, neither was he.
“It was a messy killing, Bart.” Spin. CLICK! Badd Bart’s eyes were as large as a sad clown’s painted on velvet. I spun the revolver slowly, he strained to watch the bullet whirling around in the dark recesses of the chambers. Spinnnnn... He couldn’t tell where the bullet was.
“A pretty little girl isn’t so pretty anymore. A one legged marine is all shot up just because someone thought he was me.” “You can have the $100K Sam! I’ll help you get out of the country!” “You don’t get it, do ya?!” Spin. CLICK! “WILL YOU CUT THAT OUT!!!” Spin...
“Look. If you drag me into this you’re going to ruin things for a couple of your best friends!” Spinnnn... “Like who?” “You should have figured it out. Hammy pulled that stick up with me. You turned me down, but he didn’t.” Spinnnn... “No, it’s the truth, Sam!!!”
“Hammy killed the guard.” Spinnnn... “It’s the truth! Some guy was going to ID him, but I paid him off to pin it on you so Hammy wouldn’t drag me in! Who do you think has the other half of the dough?” “Who?” “Frannie, his wife!” Spinnnn... “STOP!!!”
“How do you think I knew you were coming over the other night?! She called me. Told me you were coming over packing a gun!” “Go on.” “She’s been trying to keep your nose out of everything, but you won’t listen! She even took a shot at you, trying to scare you off.”
Yadda. Made sense. Even Cobb figured she might have more to say about the shot at me. But not me. Not dumb ol' Sam. Maybe Bart is full of yadda. Maybe Frannie is all I think she is. Maybe not. But, big 60% legit Bart, he's the treatment plant at the end of all the sewers.
“So you tried to kill her along with me.” “She was shooting her mouth off about Fletcher! You said so yourself!” “Alright stupid, pick up the phone & call Cobb!” “You’re nuts, Sam.” Spin. CLICK! “You wanna play some more?” I pointed the gun. Spin.CLICK! Spinn... “WAIT!!!”
“What am I supposed to tell him?” “To get over here, you’re gonna confess.” Bart sat up. “Take it easy with that thing. Look, Sam...” “You’re stretching your luck.” Bart picked up the phone, dialed. Someone answered. “Lieutenant Cobb, please. This is Badd Bart.”
I stood there while he pretended to talk to Gus. “Cobb? Badd Bart. Get over here, I want to make a confession... Yeah, that’s right... I’m here with Sam Spade. Thanks Lieutenant.” He hung up. “Now that I called Cobb, will you put that thing away?”
I threw his revolver away. “I don’t think we’re going to play w this anymore.” I pulled out Delong’s gun. “Now that you’ve called your 2 boys, let’s really call Cobb.” I picked up the phone. “Maybe he’d like to meet them. Do me a favor while I call him, just try to jump me!”
Bart’s Thugs, Claudia “The C” & Molls, tried the locked front door. “Yadda!” they cursed. Cops, some from Mafia I, some from Mafia II, some from various other themes, appeared from everywhere. They pulled tommies, began blazing in typical Mafia II style.
Someone must’ve been in edit mode as Mafia 1 bullet holes sprang across the building face. “Yadda!” C yelled. “Yadda this you yadda yadda coppers!” Molls lept into the street, spraying bullets at a cop hiding behind a patrol car. “YADDA!” she yelled as she fell.
“Let me get outta here, will ya?!” Bart yelled. “You shouldn’t be too anxious to go down there. Your boys might think you called them into a trap.” “Gimme a break will ya? We got a back door.” The sound of shots & shouts of “Yadda you yadda coppers” filtered up.
I smiled. “Your 1st 6 months in jail might be a little rough. Might not sleep much, wondering what your friends are planning.” “I won’t be alone. I’ll spill everything I know about Hammy and his girl.” “Course it won’t be so tough on you like it was on me. You belong there.”
The shooting stopped. The sound of steps. “Hear that Bart? The heavy foot of the law. Bit of advice. Get a good lawyer. If you’re lucky you’ll get off with life. I did.” I put the gun away, Cobb walked in. “The $ is in the safe under the desk. I didn’t lay a finger on him.”
“Take care of him,” Gus told a cop. “Wait a minute Sam!” He caught up with me, took Delong’s gun. “I don’t suppose you have a permit for this. How much of the $ is under the desk?” “His half.” “The rest?” “I don’t know.” He looked skeptical. “I said I didn’t know.” I left.
I went to Frannie’s. “Oh Sam, thank God! I’ve been so frightened! Where have you been?!” “Looking for Badd Bart.” “Find him?” “I went to his apartment, his office. He must be out somewhere, looking for me.” “You gotta get away. Go where he can’t find you.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” She grabbed me. “Take me with you!” “Take you?” “Yes Sam, please!” “Where would we go?” “Anywhere. We just have to get away.” “Well, that isn’t so easy.” “But I can’t be alone!” “Hammy’ll be out in 6 months; you can wait 6 months.”
“Sam?” “Yes, Frannie?” “I’m not waiting 6 months. If Hammy got out tomorrow I wouldn’t go with him. And you know why.” “No... Tell me why.” “You’re just afraid to admit it, but you know. Take me with you.” “I haven’t got the cab fare to get us to the Yoville city limits.”
“I’ve got money.” “Oh? You can’t be making much at that job.” “I’ve enough to take us as far as we want to go. The other end of the world. Away from Bart; away from everything.” “That’s a long way.” She hesitated, and then: “Not if you’ve got $50,000 Yo cash.”
I leaned forward. “No... Not if you’ve got $50,000.” “It’s in a suit case in Gregg’s basement!” “In the old house here?” I felt like I’d been slapped. “I couldn’t tell you before,” she went on. “I’m surprised you didn’t guess! Hammy was in on it. I’ve had the $ all the time!”
Frannie had kicked me in the gut, but she didn’t know it. Now she was going to rip my heart out. “5 years... The whole trial you never said anything.” “Sam, I couldn’t! Bart said I’d be arrested for having the money.” “You had the money & I went away for five years.”
“I didn’t want to see you go to prison, but I was afraid. Afraid of Badd Bart.” “Why didn’t you tell me when I got out, Frannie?” “I don’t know. But, we can forget all that. It’s all worked out now. You’re free & we’re back together again. That’s all that matters.”
She leaned close. I felt her breath on my cheek. I looked into her eyes, watched her lips part. “It’s always been you & me, Sam. You know that.” “Yeah, I know.” I patted her hand. “It’s always been you and me.” I stood up, tried to breathe. “What’s the matter, Sam?”
“You are still in love me, aren’t you?” she asked. “I still am.” “Then you’ll get me out of here?” “I’ll get you out.” “Can we leave right away?” “We’ll leave right away.” “Oh! I’ll get packed!” “Sure.” “You better get packed too!” “Sure.” She kissed me, long, hard.
She danced away, turned at the bedroom door, ran back, threw herself into my arms, whispered into my ear. “Darling, we’ll have such a wonderful life together!” She broke away, ran to her room, turned again. “Hurry!” I stepped outside into the bright Y Town sun.
Detective Cobb. stepped from the shade, adjusting his fedora. “Sam, I just came from Yoville Mercy. Delong’s gonna to be alright. He said something about just wanting to go fishing.” “Thanks.” I buttoned my jacket. The sun or the smog or something stung my eyes.
“You find the rest of the $?” “Yeah, it’s in a suitcase in the basement of the old house here. The only thing protecting it is some lousy songs from a ukulele.” “I knew it wasn’t in her trailer. I searched a dozen times.” An uncomfortable silence settled over us.
“You might as well pick her up. She’ll be packed.” “You feel pretty rotten about it, don’t you?” “How would you feel?” Cobb nodded, walked toward her trailer. I turned away and walked down the hill, toward the cold heart of this hot, black & white city. - THE END -
