Seriously?

by Duane Lindsay

  “It’s a hassle to have to get out and open that, is all I’m saying. Somebody ought to invent a machine that opens the garage door automatically.”

  Cassidy pats his arm. “Sure, dear. And how would that work?”

  “I dunno. Like, you’d have a button in the car and when you push it, the door would open.”

  “The button’s like a switch? You’d have to have wires running from the car, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeah; I guess.” He opens the door and she goes in first. “Maybe a button on a post. You could reach out the window.”

  “What would stop crooks from just pushing the button and stealing your car?” This conversation’s taken them through the kitchen and dining room into the bedroom, the lights are still off and they’re moving by the light of the streetlamps and the full moon. Cassidy’s got her shirt off and is reaching behind to unsnap the bra and Lou’s watching with typical interest.

  He’s forgotten the garage door opener idea and moved on. “You know what’d be good?”

  “What?” The bra slips from her shoulders.

  “A bra that opens in front.”

  Cassidy considers, pursing her lips as she thinks. “Ooh, that would be good.” She’s paused in the warm moon glow, bare breasted and gorgeous and Lou feels again that sense of wonder. How the hell can this woman be with me? He’s not usually one for introspection but it’s hard not to compare. Even Monk, with all his Cary Grant startling good looks isn’t in Cassidy’s league.

  Monk. Lou, still watching as Cassidy undresses, has a momentary thought about his friend.

  “Hey,” he says. She turns toward him, hairbrush held high, eyebrows arched. “When’s the last time you saw Monk?”

  “I don’t know... Monday? Yeah; I took him to work Monday. Not since then. Why?”

  “Just wondering. He’s been so gloomy lately and I miss him, I guess.”

  “Well, he’s a big boy, Lou. He can take care of himself.”

  “He can? Really?” Naked, she slips into bed and Lou shucks out of his clothes and joins her. As he pulls up the sheet he adds, “Do you even know him?”

  “Goodnight Lou.”

  “Yeah,” he says, still feeling a little uneasy. “G’night.”

  Bonnie says, “What the hell, Monk?”

  They’re back in the barn, cuffed to the rails of separate horse stalls.

  As expected, Aldo took his time punching at Monk’s body like he was a heavy bag at a gym. The blows were intended to hurt—and they did—and now Monk’s tied to the stall, aching in more places than he wants to consider. Still, he was beaten worse a year ago and got through it...

  The light filtering in from the spaces between the outer walls makes ghostly beams. Bits of straw and dust float in the dim light. Aldo, the guard, rightly figuring the handcuffs will hold them, has gone back in the house.

  “You have a problem?”

  “Damn right I have a problem! You’re chatting up that German Bastard like he’s your best pal. You’re drinking beer and smoking and talking about rape and torture—of me! —like it’s never occurred to you that he’s a Nazi!” Her voice is shrill and starting to get loud.

  “Shh...”

  “Don’t shush me. How can you do this? He thinks you’re Lou but he wants the real Lou so he can kill him and you’re playing along.” Bonnie’s tone is both angry and mocking and Monk’s beginning to lose his patience. He’s normally reserved around women, except for Cassidy—some would say awkward and stiff—and he likes Bonnie, which is making it even harder to talk to her. But, considering the situation...

  “Bonnie, be quiet. Let me explain my thinking.”

  “I will not be quiet. You can’t treat me like I’m just some frail woman. I’ve got...”

  “Let me tell you what...”

  “Listening to the two of you...”

  “Shut the hell up!”

  Shocked, she does.

  “Bonnie, I know what I’m doing.” Monk twists his arm in the handcuff so he can lean closer to the slats of the stall between them. He’s in the dark and she’s just a vague shadow on the other side and that helps him with his shyness around women. Talk to the shape, he thinks; not to the person.

  “I’m sorry I got you into this, I really am. But I’m going to get us out of it.”

  “How? By talking to him?”

  “Well, yes. It’s what I do. I can think quite well and I can talk. That’s the only weapon we have right now and I’m telling you; I’m very good at it.”

  Motion from the other side of the wall, like she’s turning to listen. Softer now, she says, “Ok, I’m listening. What are you trying to do?”

  “First, the fact that he thinks I’m Lou’s boss is a good thing. Erich...”

  “Erich? You’re on a first name basis?”

  “Damn it Bonnie; what else am I supposed to call him? It’s his name.”

  “Sorry. Go on; I’ll be quiet.”

  “I hope so. Erich has a hard on for Lou since Lou’s beaten him twice. A guy like Erich can’t handle being outclassed by somebody who looks like Lou so he latches on to me. I look Aryan so, QED, I have to be the boss.”

  “All right. But how does that help us?”

  “If he thinks I can contact Lou, maybe lead him into a trap, he’s going to keep us alive. And that gives Lou a chance to find us.”

  “What?” Bonnie’s voice is a whisper in the dark. “Monk, we’re in a barn in... well; I don’t know where we are. And neither does your friend Lou. How’s he going to find us? And what can he do when he does? These are Nazis, remember?”

  “Lou’s a lot more capable than you can imagine, Bonnie. He fought these guys twice already and won them both. Last time it was against four at once.”

  “How is that even possible? The way you describe him I can’t imagine how he can help us.”

  “You’re making the same mistake they are. Lou can get us out once he finds us.”

  “Uh, Monk? I may be dense here, but how is your friend going to find us?”

  “Trust me,” says Monk. “I left him a trail.”

  Cassidy says, “He’s not upstairs.”

  She’s gone up the back-porch stairs to Monk’s second floor apartment, tapped on the door, rapped harder, then let herself in. The place is quiet. Back downstairs she watches Lou finish his eggs, wipe away the jelly with the napkins she puts out—both of her men would eat from pans over the sink if she wasn’t here—and takes a last sip of coffee as he gets up.

  “Maybe he went in to the office early?”

  “Must have. Did he take the car?”

  “Don’t know. If he hasn’t we will.” The Bel Air is sitting in the tiny dim garage where they left it last night and they’re feeling worried as they drive in through the usual traffic, park in the underground and take the elevator up.

  “Do you think he’s okay?” Asks Cassidy for the sixth time and Lou shrugs, like gotta be, right?

  But the office, when she uses her key to open the locked door, says otherwise. The typewriter is upside down against the wall, papers are scattered like somebody had a pillow fight with a paper shredder. The coat rack is broken in half and Monk’s hat’s been stepped on. Lou goes over and picks it up, gently straightening out the dents.

  “Lou; what do you think happened?”

  “I think...” He goes to the front receptionist’s counter, leans over and checks out the desk. Everything’s been knocked over or spilled to the floor. “I think there’s been a fight.”

  “Him,” says Cassidy.

  “Yeah,” says Lou. “Him.”

  Cassidy comes over to stand next to him. “There’s a bit of blood on the floor over there, Lou. Monk must have put up a fight.”

  “He would. Not a good one, but he’d go down fighting.” Lou’s eyes are scanning the room as he talks and he’s just on the edge of some thought. “There’s something wrong about the mess here.”

  Cassidy comes around the counter and collects the phone. “I’m call
ing Bonnie to see if she knows anything.” She spins the dial, listens, talks while Lou continues staring at the room. Something...

  “Thanks,” says Cassidy. “Bye.” She hangs up. “Lou, the service says she was assigned to come here all week. She was supposed to check in about her hours every evening but they say she hasn’t called at all. That’s how they get paid so they say nobody’s ever done that before. Lou, I think they took her.”

  “Yeah, and Monk, too.”

  “Where would they take them?”

  “I have no idea...” He’s walking around the room, seeing things from different angles, thinking it doesn’t look right. He stops at the door and imagines what might have happened. Erich comes in, probably with a couple of guys to back him. The secretary, what’s her name, greets them and calls Monk. Maybe she’s nervous, maybe not. Monk comes out. He only saw Erich for a few seconds at the bar and probably wouldn’t recognize him out of that gaudy uniform so it’s all friendly. They chat, shake hands. Maybe Erich says he’s a new client.

  But if that’s the case, they’d have gone into Monk’s office. Lou goes to the door and looks in. There’s no sign of a fight in there. He comes back out, returns to the door.

  “Lou? What are you doing?”

  “Wait.” He looks at the typewriter, upside down next to the glass door, as if somebody threw it. If Erich brought guys—and he would have—he’d have no need to throw a typewriter, especially one so heavy. So, Monk threw it. At them? It’s by the door and the Nazis wouldn’t throw it that way. Dump it on the floor for dramatic effect maybe, but throw it?

  No. So Monk did. It’s a valuable piece of equipment and Monk’s cheap. He wouldn’t throw it unless he had a reason.

  Lou lights a cigarette and keeps trying to see the scene. Let’s say the guys have guns. Monk would go along quietly, knowing I’d come looking. But he’s got the new girl, what’s her name, and he’s worried about her. Would he go with them? Yes, he would, if only because he knows he’s smarter than they are and he’ll figure something later.

  So why the mess?

  Because he’s trying to tell me something. “He’s trying to tell us something,” he says.

  “Of course, I knew that. What else could this mess mean?”

  Lou gives her that look people do when somebody else gives the answer after you’ve just figured it out. You could have said something, says the look and Cassidy shrugs. “What, though? Cassidy; he’s going to want us to find him, he’d leave a clue. We just gotta figure it out.”

  They spend the next hour putting the front office back together. The typewriter—it is a heavy thing—goes back on the desk, papers are picked up and stacked and Cassidy says, “Hey, look at this.”

  This is a crumpled wad of paper that she’s straightened out before tossing it. There are two words scribbled on it: No Car.

  “What’s the note mean?” Lou asks, mostly to himself. The words are twisted, like they were written in a hurry, maybe while Monk was throwing things at the visitors. He meant them as a clue. But what? No Car. What was Monk trying to say?

  Another cigarette lit, smoke filling the room as Lou wanders around without seeing Cassidy trying to get his attention. No Car. Was he saying the we took the Bel Air? No; that didn’t make any sense. We use the car all the time. So what? He looks at the note some more.

  Cassidy says, “Listen,” but he waves a hand to silence her. Something... he’s almost got it.

  That’s it! “Cassidy; he’s trying to tell us that when the bar caught fire, everybody drove away. There wasn’t a car left in the lot. That means...”

  “It means that Erich would be there when the fire department and the police arrived,” says Cassidy. “Since they didn’t believe there were Nazis, they couldn’t have seen him in uniform. Lou; they’d have said if they found a naked guy, which means...”

  “It means that Erich snuck out through the woods. And that means...”

  “That he’s probably holed up someplace close by,” Cassidy finishes first. “I knew that.”

  “Sure,” says Lou. “We’ve been going about this all wrong. Erich’s got Monk and... and...”

  “Bonnie,” says Cassidy.

  “Right, her. And they’re someplace near the bar.”

  “What I said,” she says.

  “Let’s go out there and find them. And Cassidy?”

  “Yeah, Lou?”

  “Stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?” she asks innocently. But she’s grinning at him when she says it.

  It’s still dark when Aldo comes for them. They’re still groggy from a night without much sleep, a combination of worry and discomfort from the awkward position he shackled them in.

  He opens the door and is yelling as he approaches, He’s carrying a kerosene lantern and the glow makes them squint as Aldo drags Monk to his feet, twists the key in the handcuffs, goes into Bonnie’s stall and does the same. He clicks the empty handcuff closed and runs what looks like a clothesline through the two bracelets, essentially tying them together. He tugs on the rope and they follow across the yard, back to the house.

  This time there’s no hospitality. Erich is sitting at the table with a plate full of food. Eggs, bacon, sausage, even waffles are spread before him. Aldo ties the rope to the water heater in the corner of the mudroom at the edge of the kitchen and goes to the table. He sits down and fills a plate as Lou and Bonnie stand watching.

  They haven’t eaten in nearly three days, except for the beer Monk shared last night, and the smell of the rich food is an almost unbearable torture. Stomachs shrink and rumble and they both sway dizzily with weakness. Twice Bonnie sags against him and he holds her to keep her from falling.

  The only sound is the clink of the silverware on the plates, the chewing and occasional belching. Erich seems jovial, enjoying his meal. After a while he holds up his last sausage on his fork and studies it in the bright kitchen light.

  “Delicious,” he says. “Farm grown and slaughtered no doubt. They make them this way in the Homeland.” He looks over to them. “Would you like to have some food?”

  “Of course, we would,” says Monk. His voice is dry and rasps like an old rusty hinge.

  “Tell me where I can find your hired hand and I’ll happily fill the table again.”

  “Sure. And you’ll kill us as soon as you get him. No thanks, you, Nazi bastard.”

  Bonnie’s pulled away from him and she’s crying while looking at the sausage. “Monk, for God’s sake tell him!”

  Erich stops, sausage held like a pointer. “Monk? Why do you call him that? He is Lou Fleener, the private detective.”

  “He isn’t,” Bonnie’s sobbing now, she’s never been so hungry and the sight of the food is like a physical pain.

  “Bonnie, shut up!”

  “No, Bonnie,” says Erich. “Tell me. Why did you call him Monk?”

  “Because... because... that’s his name. He’s Dion Monkton. He runs the office you caught us in but it’s not a private eye business, It’s a financial one. The real office is somewhere else and Lou... whatever... is his friend, not his employee.”

  Monk’s gritting his teeth. “Dammit, Bonnie; I said be quiet.”

  “No,” says Erich, getting to his feet. The chair legs scraping against the floor sound like screams of his victims. “Tell me more, dear lady.”

  “He has his own office. It’s at...”

  “Bonnie!” Monk yells. Aldo jumps to his feet and slams a fist into Monk’s belly, knocking him to the floor. Monk doubles over, retching what little is in his stomach.

  Aldo unties Bonnie and takes her to the table, seating her next to Erich who snaps his fingers and points to the stove.

  “Bring food,” he tells Aldo, and to Bonnie, “You were saying...?”

  Close to an hour later they’re returned to the barn and re-shackled in the stalls. They’re both silent as Aldo checks the handcuffs, empties the buckets and brings them back. He shuts the stall doors and leaves the barn in dark
ness.

  Monk says, “Bonnie, you’ve killed us.” Between the beating and the near starvation, Monk’s feeling nearly as bad as the night Duke Braddock had him and Lou beaten and tossed in a garage. This time though, there’s the added pain of betrayal. Erich is going to send his goons to Lou and Cassidy’s place and shortly after they found them everybody is going to die horribly.

  Monk holds no illusions about Erich or the power of mercy. If the Nazi leader even knew the word he’d laugh at what it meant. “You should have trusted me.”

  “No.” Her voice is a gossamer thread in the dark. “You should trust me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about this. Hold out your hand. Through the slats.”

  Monk twists to get in position and slips his free hand through the old wood. He feels her hand touch his as she puts something greasy and cold in it.

  “What?”

  “It’s food, you idiot.” I slipped it in my pocket when they weren’t looking. It’s probably pretty rank but it’ll keep your strength up.”

  Monk pulls his hand back and touches his tongue to the food. It’s a sausage, one of the one’s Erich had been tempting her with. He doesn’t want to but he eats it anyway. It tastes of dust from her pocket and betrayal.

  “Get your strength up.”

  “Strength up for what?” he asks between bites.

  “So, you can get us out of here.” Her voice takes on a new strength. “I also took a knife.”

  Lou and Cassidy are in the Bel Air looking at a land survey map of the area. It’s spread across the wide front seat and Cassidy’s tracing a line with her bright red fingernail.

  “We’re... here,” she says, stopping at a line near the road. “This is the bar.”

  “I agree. And here are the only buildings anywhere around.” Lou follows lines that represent the forested area behind the bar and the straight lines that show how the land’s been divided into squares. There are five of them that abut the forested area.

  “The way I see it, when Erich woke up after the fire, he saw everybody gone and figured the police or fire people had to be coming.”

  “And, he was wearing his Nazi suit so he didn’t dare get caught or they’d probably accuse him of setting the fire himself and throw the book at him,” Cassidy says. “Is there more coffee?”