The Abu Wahab Caper

by Ross H. Spencer

  We traveled in tight-lipped silence with the scenery ripping past like a green fog.

  We topped a hill and Brandy said my God Purdue hang on!

  She down-shifted while standing on the brake-pedal.

  The old Ferris wheel loomed dead ahead and it was turning very slowly.

  Clamped tightly between two of its glossy black wire cages was a badly battered bronze Driefach-Shrecken supercharged twelve-cylinder sports coupé.

  Brandy wheeled the Porsche to a fish-tailing stop as the Ferris wheel busted through a cornfield fence and capsized with an awesome crash.

  48

  …oncet I knowed a feller what got arrested for unusual driving…they caught him without a CB radio…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  Phineas T. Singletree looked over the parapet of his rolltop desk.

  He said all right Junior let’s hear the charges.

  Junior Jones hit the brass cuspidor with pinpoint accuracy.

  He cleared his throat.

  He said drunken driving of a Ferris wheel down Route 16 at two hunnert and fifty miles a hour and tearing up about two acres of Lacey Skinch’s cornfield.

  Phineas shook his head.

  He said Lacey Skinch ain’t gonna like this no-how.

  He said Lacey had a new hybrid in that field.

  He said how could you tell they was drunk?

  Junior said hell Phineas neither one of ’em could stand up for ten minutes.

  Phineas looked at the prisoners.

  He said which of you was driving this here aforesaid Ferris wheel?

  Gregoria Rippoff said driving it my ass.

  She said the goddam thing ran over us.

  Phineas nodded.

  He said a likely story.

  He browsed carefully through his big black book.

  He ran a clawlike finger up and down a page.

  He said ah-ha.

  He said drunken driving of a Ferris wheel and messing up a cornfield.

  He said that will be six months in the old slammeroo.

  He smiled broadly.

  He said I heard that old slammeroo on television.

  He said it means jail.

  He banged the flat of his gnarled hand on his rolltop desk.

  He said court’s hereby adjourned.

  Gregoria Rippoff said adjourned my ass.

  She said where’s the jury?

  Phineas said young lady you is looking right at him.

  Sheik Ali-Ben Hazzar snarled.

  He said nikapauca.

  Phineas T. Singletree’s eyes bulged.

  He walloped his desk with his fist.

  He said court’s hereby back in session.

  He said make it nine months in the old slammeroo.

  He gave Sheik Ali-Ben Hazzar a long cold steady look.

  He said you want to try for eighty years?

  49

  …a motel is where you end up when you can’t go to her house and she can’t come to your house and your wife knocks on the door ten minutes after you get there…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  Brandy drove the Porsche south into the Wisconsin twilight.

  The stereo radio purred soothing music.

  I fell asleep.

  I was awakened by the sound of gravel under the tires.

  We were parked by the office of the Three Oaks Motel in Shewonshebog Wisconsin.

  I watched Brandy come out of the office with a key.

  She whipped the Porsche over to room 18.

  I got out and looked around.

  I said I don’t see three oaks.

  Brandy said don’t worry about it.

  I said I don’t even see two oaks.

  Brandy said Purdue it isn’t important.

  I said hell there ain’t even one oak.

  Brandy sighed.

  I said that’s false advertising.

  Brandy pushed me toward the door of room 18.

  She said shewonshebog Purdue.

  I said is that Winnebago?

  Brandy said no it’s Blackhawk.

  She said it means get in there and take your pants off.

  50

  …oncet a woman sat on my lap and told me she was volatile…when I suggested penicillin she blowed up…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  Brandy lit a pair of cigarettes and passed one to me.

  As always.

  She said well Purdue it was a very near thing.

  I shrugged.

  I said I’m in no position to say.

  I said I don’t even know what the hell happened.

  Brandy said the DADA organization called the plays and Ali-Ben Hazzar and his Russian mistress damn near scored.

  She said their first move was to kidnap Spice Dugan.

  She said then Gregoria Rippoff changed identities and drew us into the case while the real Spice Dugan was shuttled under guard back and forth between St. Charles and an apartment on Kedzie Avenue.

  I said why the hell would DADA intentionally drag you into this mess?

  I said or me?

  I said they could have snatched that satchel any old time.

  Brandy said Purdue this was to be a grand-slam operation.

  She said DADA wanted the satchel and Chance Purdue and Brandy Alexander all in one shot.

  She said you and I have stuck it to DADA twice in the last six months.

  She said the Kremlin has enjoyed as much of that as it can stand.

  She said when Bet-A-Bunch Dugan bought a camel and headed for Waupuwukee Downs he unwittingly set the stage to perfection.

  She said can you imagine a finer setting for double murder than the creepy darkness of a moldly old racetrack in rural Wisconsin?

  I said where does the sword of Abu Wahab come in?

  Brandy said it doesn’t.

  She said the Desert Sands didn’t really want Bet-A-Bunch Dugan’s rusty old blade.

  She said E. E. Dugan bought a counterfeit sword in the first place.

  I said that doesn’t say much for the Government of Ishaq.

  Brandy said the Government of Ishaq didn’t know it was selling a counterfeit.

  She said the Desert Sands had made a switch prior to the sale.

  She said oh boy.

  She said Purdue the King of Ishaq is certainly going to kick some ass.

  Brandy rolled over and ran her fingers through my crew cut.

  She said intermission’s almost over big guy.

  She said any questions?

  I shrugged.

  Brandy smiled impishly.

  She said not even one?

  I said okay I’ll bite.

  I said what was in the satchel?

  Brandy said Purdue I thought you’d never ask.

  Her face grew sober.

  She said that satchel contained the salvation of the United States of America.

  I said aw come on Brandy.

  I said it couldn’t possibly hold Billy Graham.

  Brandy said I’m talking about the greatest development since the discovery of the wheel.

  She said the utterly revolutionary internal combustion engine of E. E. Dugan.

  I said that’s absurd.

  I said you can’t carry an internal combustion engine in a satchel.

  Brandy winked at me.

  She said you can carry this one in a satchel.

  She said you might even carry it in your coat pocket.

  She said it’s the size of a loaf of bread and it weighs twenty-two pounds.

  She said it’s a V-16 with cylinders no larger than thimbles.

  She said it develops considerably in excess of eight hundred horsepower.

  She said it’s virtually silent and it runs absolutely pollution-free on horse urine.

  I said horsepower from horse piss?

  I said horsecrap.

  Brandy said Purdue I’m telling you the truth.

  She said in due time horse urine will be marketed at approximately one dollar a gal
lon.

  I said well that’s a step in the right direction.

  I said the Waupuwukee Downs refreshment stand is getting fifty cents a glass.

  Brandy said you haven’t heard the kicker.

  She said this engine will deliver more than one hundred miles to the gallon.

  I said on a bicycle?

  Brandy said how about a Mack tandem dump truck full of bricks?

  She said the average motorcar will do five times better than that.

  She propped herself up on an elbow.

  She said Purdue this country has just gone through a black crisis and emerged victorious.

  She said the Desert Sands were on the verge of dethroning the King of Ishaq.

  She said we were within days and perhaps hours of losing nearly half of our oil imports.

  She said the engine of E. E. Dugan figured to nullify that setback but if the Desert Sands could have whisked the only model out of the country we’d have found ourselves backed into the same corner occupied by Japan in the pre-Pearl Harbor days.

  She said with our oil reserves drying up we would have been faced with a simple choice of fighting or surrendering and we’d have had damned little time to consider our options.

  I said are we out of the woods now?

  Brandy said oh yes.

  She said thanks to E. E. Dugan’s miracle engine petroleum products will be reduced to little more than a lubricatory role.

  She said Purdue the fuel of tomorrow is horse urine.

  I said what about camel urine?

  Brandy laughed and shook her head.

  She said oh heavens no.

  She said it’s been tested over and over again.

  She said it lacks the necessary volatility.

  51

  …oncet I knowed a feller what bought a crystal ball…bowled 284 first time out…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  My Olds was parked at Hogan’s Oasis and Brandy dropped me there shortly after noon.

  She said bye-bye my dream man.

  She kissed me.

  It was a bell-ringer.

  Something over a minute.

  Brandy said Purdue there’ll always be a job for you at Confidential Investigations.

  She said just whistle.

  I said wait until I get my breath back.

  I waved to her and went into Hogan’s Oasis.

  Bet-A-Bunch Dugan was at the bar drinking a Hogan’s Horror.

  Oratory Rory McCrory had Hogan backed into a corner.

  Bet-A-Bunch said Chance I was nearly busted but I’m rich again.

  He said Grand National Motors just gave me a hundred million for my father’s engine.

  I said where is your father?

  I said or your camel.

  I said or whoever.

  I said or whatever.

  Bet-A-Bunch said my daughter come and took him to her place in St. Charles.

  He said I’m gonna get it fenced and build him a nice heated shed.

  He said he’ll be real comfortable in his old age.

  Opportunity O’Flynn came in.

  He draped an arm around Bet-A-Bunch’s shoulder.

  He said good buddy what a delight to see you again.

  He said since our hasty farewell it has been my extremely good fortune to make the acquaintance of a wondrously wise man.

  He said with the aid of a small crystal ball he is capable of seeing into the future.

  He said his name is Swami Salami and yesterday he picked eight winners at Erin Park.

  Bet-A-Bunch said before or after the races?

  Opportunity O’Flynn chuckled an indulgent chuckle.

  He said Swami Salami’s fee is modest and his advice is infallible and the resultant rewards could be nothing short of astronomical.

  Bet-A-Bunch shook his head.

  He said please be advised that I have fallen for my very last cock-and-bull story.

  Opportunity O’Flynn said Swami Salami’s residence is but a block distant.

  He said right above Casey’s Corned Beef and Cabbage Emporium.

  Bet-A-Bunch finished his Hogan’s Horror in a gulp.

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  He said well I suppose it will do no harm to stroll over there and look around.

  He said purely for purposes of entertainment you understand.

  Opportunity O’Flynn smiled a mustard-streaked smile.

  He said good buddy I understand.

  Bet-A-Bunch slapped me on the shoulder.

  He said see you around Chance.

  I shrugged.

  I said sure.

  Bet-A-Bunch went out arm-in-arm with Opportunity O’Flynn.

  Oratory Rory was right on their heels.

  Hogan watched them go.

  He said I seen that Swami Salami feller over at Dinty McLoogan’s hamburger joint yesterday.

  He said he was wearing a long purple robe and a big white turban with some kind of jewel on the front.

  He said he reminded me a little bit of Quick Cash Kelly.

  He said of course it couldn’t of been Quick Cash Kelly on account of he is temporarily in Fort Thomas visiting his cousin Virgil.

  The door flew open.

  A giant of a man came in.

  He had wild black hair and glaring black eyes.

  Hogan said hello Catastrophe.

  He said sir.

  Catastrophe O’Cassidy said hey where does this Swami Salami guy live?

  52

  …oncet there was a headhunter what went to Washington D.C.…within five minutes he was Senate majority whip…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  I sat in Wallace’s Tavern nursing a bottle of Old Washensachs and listening to the jukebox play Alte Kameraden.

  Old Dad Underwood waved to Wallace.

  He said put a beer on my tab.

  He said then me and you can get down to discussing things.

  Wallace said what for instance?

  Old Dad Underwood said for instance whatever happens to be uppermost in your mind.

  Wallace said well for instance what happens to be uppermost in my mind is your tab.

  He said which is now ninety-four dollars and thirty cents.

  Old Dad Underwood said well holler when she hits a hunnert.

  Wallace looked at me.

  He said I am going to sell this joint and move to New Guinea where I will become a headhunter.

  Old Dad Underwood said well this time get one what got hair on.

  He said the old one keeps shining in my eyes.

  I phoned Betsy.

  Betsy said oh sweetheart are you back?

  I said somewhat.

  Betsy said did the horse win?

  I said he didn’t run.

  Betsy said why not?

  I said because he’s a camel.

  I said he’s also Bet-A-Bunch Dugan’s father.

  There was a very long pause.

  Betsy said baby why don’t you just come home right away?

  She said I’ll wear my sheer gown and we’ll have a matinee.

  I said okay.

  I said put an anchovy-stuffed olive in it.

  There was another very long pause.

  Betsy said Chance what sort of books have you been reading?

  I said didn’t you say martini?

  Betsy had hung up.

  I started to shrug.

  I thought better of it.

  53

  …air pollution is two forty-year-old fat broads with CB sets…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  When I opened the door Betsy was in the living room reading the newspaper.

  She threw the paper to the ceiling and ran to me.

  She hugged me.

  She said oh God how I’ve missed you.

  I said ditto kiddo.

  Betsy said I was just reading about the Waupuwukee grandstand burning down last night.

  She said it was insured for a million dollars.

>   I said that comes out to about two cents a termite.

  I tossed my suitcase into the closet.

  I sat on the couch and picked up a copy of Eagles magazine.

  I started to read “Black Fokker Nightmare.”

  By Arch Blockhouse.

  Betsy went into the kitchen and came back with my martini.

  There was an anchovy stuffed olive in it.

  She sat beside me.

  She said here’s to our matinee.

  We clinked glasses and drank.

  Betsy said how do you like my sheer gown?

  I said where is it?

  Betsy said I’m wearing it.

  I said oh.

  I said what’s been happening?

  Betsy said when you called I was so darned happy I nearly flipped out.

  She said a salesman came by and I bought something.

  She said I bought the most wonderful vacuum cleaner on earth.

  She said it’s a Duo-Dyna-Devil-Dragon one-hundred-horsepower model.

  She said the salesman told me it’s so powerful it will pull the nails right out of the floors.

  I said my God what a convenience.

  I said you use it twice and the goddam building falls down.

  Betsy said it plows snow and it makes corn fritters and it has a built-in CB radio.

  I said I wonder how we ever got along without one.

  I said who invented it?

  Betsy paged through a brightly colored brochure.

  She said my isn’t that a coincidence?

  I said hold it.

  I said don’t tell me.

  I said somebody named Dugan?

  Betsy nodded.

  She said it cost less than eleven hundred dollars.

  I said baby you must have been mighty darned happy.

  I said anything else?

  Betsy said nothing except you got a registered letter right after the vacuum cleaner salesman left.

  She said I was so darned happy I could barely sign for it.

  Betsy said it’s on the end table.

  I opened the envelope and studied its contents.

  I said Betsy you have just signed for a Cook County jury duty subpoena addressed to a Mr. Chance Purdue.

  Betsy said I had no idea I was that darned happy.

  I shook my head.

  Betsy said aw Chance I’m sorry.

  I gave Betsy a look.