The Stranger City Caper
A Chance Purdue Novel
Ross H. Spencer
Copyright
Diversion Books
A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1008
New York, NY 10016
www.DiversionBooks.com
Copyright © 1980 by Ross H. Spencer
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For more information, email [email protected]
First Diversion Books edition March 2015
ISBN: 978-1-62681-652-7
Also by Ross H. Spencer
Kirby’s Last Circus
Death Wore Gloves
The Chance Purdue Series
The Dada Caper
The Reggis Arms Caper
The Abu Wahab Caper
The Radish River Caper
The Lacey Lockington Series
The Fifth Script
The Devereaux File
The Fedorovich File
This book is dedicated to my daughter Dawn, the apple of mine fading eye.
…Somebody said that it couldn’t be done…But I gallantly took up the fight…I gave it my best…and I’m here to attest that the bastard what said that was right…
Monroe D. Underwood
1
…fog is like marriage…getting into it is easy…
Monroe D. Underwood
A rolling barrage of June fog churned westward from Lake Michigan.
The Belmont Avenue traffic light glowed feeble emerald and the Old Washensachs sign in Wallace’s window was barely visible as I drove south on Kimball.
I snailed the Olds through the gray murk and into the little parking lot behind Wallace’s tavern.
I went in the back way.
Wallace said that Zizzenfrass guy called a couple minutes ago.
I said well I happen to have exactly what he’s looking for.
I shoved a dollar bill at Wallace and got some telephone change.
I called Zizzenfrass.
I said can you talk freely?
Zizzenfrass said oh yes the cat’s away.
He said as you know of course.
I said certainly but tell me do you have another operative watching your wife?
Zizzenfrass said oh no Purdue just you.
He said have you encountered some sort of difficulty?
I said let me take it from scratch.
I said your wife left the house at eight sharp.
I said she’s a lovely young lady by the way.
Zizzenfrass chuckled a man-to-man chuckle.
He said well Purdue you see.
I said she drove directly to an apartment building in the sixty hundred block of North Kyle Boulevard.
Zizzenfrass said but Purdue.
I said she entered a garden apartment belonging to an R. Johannsen.
Zizzenfrass said Purdue as a matter of fact.
I said Mr. Zizzenfrass I have good reason to believe that a tall bony woman with a big nose is tailing your wife.
Zizzenfrass didn’t say anything.
I said I talked to this tall bony woman and I got the distinct impression she is acquainted with you.
Zizzenfrass didn’t say anything.
I said Mr. Zizzenfrass?
Zizzenfrass still didn’t say anything.
I said Mr. Zizzenfrass are you there?
Zizzenfrass said big nose did you say?
I said oh boy.
I said like a goddam prize zucchini squash.
Zizzenfrass didn’t say anything.
I said Mr. Zizzenfrass?
Zizzenfrass said Purdue why were you talking to this woman?
I said well it was sort of unavoidable.
I said she drove into the rear end of my automobile.
Zizzenfrass said how did the conversation go?
I said not too well.
I said she told me that I was a menace on the highways of America.
I said I explained that I wasn’t on the highways of America.
I said I explained that I was parked in the lot of an apartment building.
Zizzenfrass said parked?
I said for two minutes.
Zizzenfrass said shall we get right to the part where I was mentioned?
I said she just asked why I was following Zizzenfrass’s five-dollar whore.
Zizzenfrass made a strange gargling sound.
He said and what was your response?
I said oh I was very low key.
I said I simply pointed out that appearances are often deceiving and that Mrs. Zizzenfrass might very well be in there selling subscriptions to the Lutheran Journal.
I said I mentioned that the five-dollar whore is a thing of the past and that Mrs. Zizzenfrass was probably getting fifty if she was getting a dime.
I said I also told her that we should always say call girl not whore.
Zizzenfrass’s voice downshifted into monotone.
Like when you tell the warden you have no final words.
He said Purdue how the hell did you ever get into the field of private investigation?
He said you have followed a call girl named Ruth Johannsen from my home to her residence at 6030 North Kyle Boulevard.
He said my wife is supposedly in Vermont visiting a sick relative.
He said however my wife does not happen to be in Vermont visiting a sick relative.
He said my wife happens to be in our driveway getting out of her car.
He said there’s a brand-new dent in the right front fender by the way.
He said and just look at that nose.
He said like a goddam prize zucchini squash.
I heard a door open.
I heard Zizzenfrass say hello Ophelia my dear.
I heard a sharp spanging sound.
I heard a heavy thump.
I heard Zizzenfrass gasp Purdue you’re fired.
I shrugged.
I hung up.
2
…oncet I knowed a mayor what got lost in a fog and ended up in Congress…
Monroe D. Underwood
The fog was a solid gray wall beyond the steady blue neon glow of Wallace’s Old Washensachs beer sign.
The traffic signals at Belmont and Kimball had been swallowed.
Headlights groped yellowly through the tentacled night and sirens wailed like lost souls.
There was plenty of atmosphere but it was worthless.
Foggy nights don’t matter much anymore.
It used to be you couldn’t have a foggy night without a whole bunch of vampires and werewolves piling out of old castles and caves and starting a class AAA diarrhea epidemic.
In those days a private detective couldn’t beat the customers off with a tire iron.
But that had been then and now it was now and now I had nothing better to do than sit in Wallace’s tavern and wait for Betsy to call and tell me to come home.
I lit an S-shaped Camel and listened to the jukebox play Alte Kameraden.
Wallace parked a bottle of Old Washensachs in front of me.
He said this one’s on the house.
I said I just blew the Zizzenfrass case.
Wallace said well there ain’t nobody never gonna accuse you of being inconsistent.
I shrugged.
Wallace said you’re a lead-pipe cinch to make the Private Detective Hall of Fame.
I said I didn’t know they had one.
Wallace said they don’t but you ain’t through yet.
I said don’t bet on it.
Wallace said well I don’t know about you but I am going to sell this roach ranch and go to Antarctica where I will run for mayor.
Old Dad Underwood said if you go to Antarctica you gonna be running for something besides mayor.
He said they already got a mayor.
Wallace said who?
Old Dad Underwood said a ten-foot-tall polar bear that’s who.
He said I read all about him in Better Homes and Gardens.
The phone rang.
Wallace answered it and blushed and handed it to me.
Betsy’s voice was brittle.
She said Chance just what did we sell the tavern back to Wallace for?
I said I think it was for five grand more than we paid him for it.
Betsy made an impatient clicking sound.
She said Chance I know that.
She said what I meant was we might as well have kept it if you’re going to take up residence there.
I said Betsy we couldn’t have kept it.
I said the beer cooler was clanking.
I said anyway this is my office now.
Betsy said oh yes I saw your sign over the third booth.
I said well you got to admit the rent ain’t bad.
Betsy said who did that sign?
I said Old Dad Underwood.
Betsy said well tell him there’s no z in investigations.
I said that’s not a z.
I said he just got his s backwards.
Betsy said I’ll just leave that one alone thank you.
I said cheer up kiddo.
I said I should get a client any minute now.
I said it’s a foggy night.
The line went dead.
3
…patriotism is same as the flu…everybody comes down with it but most manages to recover…
Monroe D. Underwood
I lit an L-shaped Camel and hunched over my bottle of Old Washensachs.
I watched the fog billow by.
I said Wallace how did that Decoration Day party turn out?
Wallace turned slowly.
He said my God you don’t remember?
I shrugged.
I said well not exactly.
Wallace said oh it was a darb.
He said you were at your patriotic peak.
He said you coldcocked a guy during the singing of “America the Beautiful.”
I said you mean the smart sonofabitch who was singing ach schon auf geraumig horizant or some goddam thing?
Wallace said Chance the poor bastard was doing his best.
He said he was a visitor from Germany.
I said I see.
Wallace said after that you sang “My Buddy” and you recited “Barbara Frietchie” and while you were doing the manual of arms with a broom you busted a fifth of Sunnybrook and Brightside Nelson’s false teeth.
He said Brightside Nelson bit you on the ankle.
I said well that just may explain that cracked upper plate I found in my shoe.
I said what was Brightside Nelson so pissed off about?
Wallace said it was his fifth of Sunnybrook.
I shrugged.
Wallace said you may have a client.
He said a guy just took a seat in your office.
4
…baseball is only a game but you ain’t never gonna get nobody to believe that…
Monroe D. Underwood
He sat in the third booth with his pearl-gray fedora pushed to the back of his head.
He was a sturdily built man with a pockmarked face and reptilian eyes and a mouth like a saber slash.
His black shirt was wrinkled and his white necktie was undone and his powder-blue suit was wilted.
He looked up at me and said hey kid thatta sonnabitcha fog justa like soup out there.
I sat across from Cool Lips Chericola.
Cool Lips Chericola was Chicago’s Mafia boss.
I said well there never was much I could do about fog.
I said sir.
Chericola put a match to a nine-dollar Havana cigar the size of a Genoa salami.
In a moment the cigar smoke was thicker than the fog.
I said I heard the feds had you over a barrel for shoplifting in a government arsenal.
Chericola flashed a smoke-shrouded Cheshire cat grin.
He said hey kid you gotta know the righta peoples.
He said you know the righta peoples is everything coming uppa roses.
I shrugged.
I said you’ll never prove it by me.
Chericola said hey kid lasta time seeing you is atta Reggis Arms Hotel.
I said yeah Pearl Harbor Day.
Chericola said who that sharpa broad you hanga round with then?
I shrugged.
I said she was some sort of detective.
I said we were looking for somebody who never got there.
Chericola said where she now?
I shrugged.
I fired up a J-shaped Camel.
I blew my smoke at Chericola’s smoke.
Like a guy with a carbine shooting it out with two battleships and a heavy cruiser.
I said why?
Chericola said is gotta gooda job for her.
He said checka up onna business venture.
I said you got anything against her?
Chericola threw back his head and laughed.
He said hey kid amma like thatta broad.
He said she’s hate them Communistics justa like me.
I shrugged.
I said I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything.
Chericola chuckled through a dragon-style cloud of cigar smoke.
He said thattsa my boy.
He said is gooda man whatta sticka by his friends.
He said hey kid her name Brandy Alexander and she’s own Confidential Investigations inna Loop.
He said she’s already tooka job and she’s recommenda you for reala nice assignment I’m givva you.
I said no thanks.
I said you see I got this allergy to getting stuffed into Pontiac trunks.
I said the same allergy Stiff Socks Castellano probably had.
Chericola said hey kid you patriotic no?
I shrugged.
I said I’ve had my moments.
Chericola said you know when Stiffa Socksa Castellano going all wrong?
I shrugged.
I said yeah when he got stuffed into that Pontiac trunk.
Chericola shook his head sadly.
He leaned through the smoke.
He lowered his voice.
He said hey kid Stiffa Socksa Castellano is forgetta words to “America the Beautiful.”
I said well hell that’s different.
I said you should have stuffed the sonofabitch into a Toyota glove compartment.
Chericola said thattsa my boy.
He said hey kid you liking baseball?
I shrugged.
I said it beats Russian roulette.
Chericola said you ever playa baseball?
I said sure I pitched American Legion ball until I hit our manager in the mouth during batting practice.
Chericola sniffed disdainfully.
He said is serva him right.
He said batta practice for players notta managers.
I shrugged.
I said well this particular manager was eating a candy bar in the dugout at the time.
I said I think it was a wild pitch.
Chericola said hey kid he’s forgetta firsta rule inna game.
He said keepa eye onna goddam ball.
I said how does baseball fit into the picture?
Chericola blew smoke like an overdue Twentieth Century Limited.
He said amma buy minor league baseball team inna southern Illinois.
I said how come you went cl
ear to southern Illinois?
I said you could have got one right here in Chicago.
Chericola said amma wanta you go down looka over team.
He said amma wanta report onna whole operation.
He said how sixxa hundred?
I said per month?
Chericola frowned.
He said hey kid you talking to not no cheapaskate.
He said per day.
I said I’m can’ta leave forra tenna minutes.
Chericola shrugged.
5
…never knowed nobody what wasn’t a stranger firstest time I met ’em…
Monroe D. Underwood
The fog was lifting and the cigar smoke was gone.
Wallace said who was that mean-looking gorilla?
I shrugged.
I said just a guy who gave me a job in some burg called Stranger City.
Wallace said well he had a Cadillac about forty feet long.
He said with a goddam chauffeur yet.
I said Wallace where the hell is Stranger City?
Wallace gave me a look of disbelief.
He said Chance do you mean to sit there and tell me you never heard of Stranger City?
I said why hell yes I mean to sit here and tell you I never heard of Stranger City.
I said what’s so goddam unusual about never hearing of a place nobody ever heard of?
Wallace said why a long time ago Stranger City was real big news.
I said so was Halley’s comet.
Wallace said I got the whole Stranger City story out of some book.
Old Dad Underwood said what was the name of it?
Wallace folded his arms across his chest.
He glared at Old Dad Underwood.
He said the name of it was The Whole Stranger City Story.
Old Dad Underwood said how many crayons you use up?
I said tell me what happened in Stranger City for Christ’s sake.
Wallace said well there was a dozen bad guys blowed in and they was going to take over the town only this here stranger showed up and wiped ’em out.
Old Dad Underwood said what was he packing some kind of death-ray?
Wallace said he wasn’t packing nothing but a pair of six-guns.
The Stranger City Caper Page 1
