by F. M. Purdum
“Yes, of course. Ms. Crumdumb, right? Let me take your coat. He’s expecting you. Go right in.”
“Okay, thanks. I just thought… This building looks abandoned.” Kate had the manners of an alley cat.
“Low profile, you understand.” Good girl, Ruth.
I sat quickly at my desk and tried to look busy. Kate stepped into the room as I greeted her, “Welcome, Kate. How do you do? Please have a—,” and began to dispel some sort of demon from her throat. She didn’t even try to cover her mouth. “Do you need a glass of water?” I asked her, stepping back.
“Whiskey,” she gasped and coughed out. “I’m allergic to dust.”
I quickly poured her a drink and Kate snatched the glass. She knocked back the belt in less than a New York minute and collapsed herself onto the chaise lounge. She picked up my Lektrolite cigarette lighter from my desk.
“I love how many antiques you have.” Kate coughed on the lighter. “I had no idea you were such a collector. This has to be at least fifty years old.”
“Older, actually. I’ll take that, thank you.” I grabbed my lighter and wiped it off on my sleeve. “Uh…let’s talk about your recent trouble. With your car?”
“Right,” she sighed. “Thanks for taking my case, by the way… That sounds so weird!” She laughed and then became somber, “I’ve never needed a private eye, but I don’t know what else to do. So, yeah, thank you.”
“Happy to help. Curious, did you go to the police?”
“Oh, yeah right. I called them and they put me on hold for an hour. They don’t care about stuff like that, in this neighborhood.” Kate waved her hand in the air and rolled her eyes. “My luck sucks lately. My boss thinks it’s bored teenagers, but what the hell? Who randomly slashes tires?”
“What do you mean, uh...bad luck?” I had found that typically trouble finds trouble. And luck was the same. If this dame had bad luck it was likely she knew the cause of it.
“Well, the tires were the worst of it. My house keys went missing recently and...I lost my apron with a day’s tips in it a few days ago.”
“And you believe these things are related?” I opened my desk to grab a scratch pad but couldn’t find one. I opened the other drawer and it was also empty.
“I know it sounds a little crazy. I just feel it in my gut, you know? The tires sealed it for me. I’m afraid it might escalate. Like…like someone has it out for me.”
No doubt Kate had the woman’s condition of being hyper but she didn’t seem like the type to get spooked easily. This case was milder than my typical assignments, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and my tin cup needed some pennies.
“When did you notice your tires were slashed?” I finally found a paper receipt tucked behind my booze bottle. I grabbed my fountain pen and started to write some notes on it. Of course, it was empty. Damn it.
“Well, I realized it when I was getting done with my shift last night. I got into my car to drive home and could feel it leaning. I hoped it was just a slow leak, but when I got out to check I saw that two tires had big slashes. I was pissed and had to leave it and walk home. In the middle of the night! And this morning wasn’t fun, either, walking in the rain.”
“I see. And your house keys? When did you realize they were missing?”
“A few days ago I know I had them when I left my apartment because I remember locking the door. Charlie, my neighbor, came over and asked to borrow some money. Going on and on about his sick mother while he had the shakes. He’s a real leech so I checked the knob to make sure it was locked. I went straight to the diner for my shift, worked about six hours, and afterwards went to O’Malleys for a drink. When I got home I couldn’t find them. Luckily the apartment manager was still awake and he gave me his copy.”
“So, your keys went missing on Saturday. Or Sunday, maybe?”
“That sounds about right…It was Saturday, actually. I remember that shift was hell on earth.”
“Could the keys have been in your apron that went missing?”
“No! I mean...it happened around the same time, so I guess it’s a possibility but…” Kate paused and held out her empty shot glass, clearly wanting another. I took the glass, placed it on the desk, and pretended to forget to fill it. She continued, “I never put my keys in my apron. They’re always in my purse. I have a clip for them so they won’t fall out.”
“Hmm. Do you have any…enemies you can think of? A forlorn suitor, perhaps?” I asked and immediately wondered what type of man could see past that face.
“No. No one I can think of. I thought maybe a disgruntled customer, but why would they? I’m a people person,” she enthused. “Nobody’s complained…more than usual. I thought maybe you could get some evidence that would get the police to finally listen to me. And, at least I would know if I was just being paranoid or not.”
“I see. Well, I’m confident that if someone is targeting you, I will find them. In the meantime, I suggest you change the locks at your home.” I mentally hammered in the details Kate shared.
“I’m hoping I just misplaced my keys. But, you’re probably right. I’ll call a locksmith tomorrow. Thanks again for helping me,” she sighed. “I feel better.” Kate stood up so I did as well.
Kate ran over, planted a kiss on my cheek, and hugged me intensely with her bosom unexpectedly visible. I tried to cast my gaze elsewhere and put some distance between me and her draping body. I could feel the stickiness of her lipstick on my cheek and felt a little sick to my stomach.
“Ruth will talk to you about our fee. I’ll be leaving to investigate your car,” I said and motioned her to the other room towards Ruth.
“That sounds great. I have to do some errands across town but I should be back in the neighborhood this evening if you need me.”
I walked towards Ruth’s desk. “Please sort out Ms. Crumdumb’s affairs and get her contact info. I’ll be back later.” I winked at Ruth, grabbed my hat and coat, and closed the door behind me. I pulled my handkerchief out of my back pocket and wiped the lipstick off my face while listening through the door. I wanted to make sure Kate paid something before I continued. Normally I was more trusting, but dire straits meant being more cautious.
I heard Ruth explain the fee and requiring the half up-front retainer.
“Oh, okay. That’s less than I expected, actually. Can you take a card?” Kate asked.
Silence. What was happening? It’s not her birthday! Pay the lady, damn it.
“I…I’m sorry we don’t take IOUs. We…we take cash.” Ruth sounded fairly unsure of herself, but recovered well enough.
“Oh. Okay, sure. Let me check. Yeah, I can cover it…Here.”
“Great. Let me get you a receipt.” She added, “Oh, I’ll add our contact information on the receipt. Apologies for the long telephone number. We just got a new one, and apparently, that’s all that was left.”
Feeling satisfied with their exchange, I took off back to Dinah’s.
The rain had stopped and my mood was light. I felt a little skip in my step as I made my way back to the diner. Maybe it was just the high of a new case, or just a case at all, but I was beginning to become a little more comfortable with my situation. I caught myself whistling when I arrived back at the restaurant and found Kate’s car around back.
At first glance, the car looked like something out of an H.G. Wells book. On closer inspection, it looked more like a dusty boiled egg. The paint was chipping off in more than a few places and rust was forming. It was clear from the tilt of the machine that someone had slashed the two right tires. The tin can was parked close to a fence, giving the slasher the ability to hide while he or she accomplished the crime. I noticed a pool of what appeared to be oil on the pavement underneath the car. The leak had splattered like a fat man wearing a tutu dropped from a plane without a parachute. In other words, it was huge. Clearly, this was Kate’s preferred spot to park. I examined the tires and noticed the incision was made by a very large knife. Clean cut, not serrated.
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br /> The doors were locked but the trunk appeared to be broken. I got in. The strange design of the car allowed me to wriggle towards the front. Under the back of the driver’s seat, I found a paper bag filled with canned goods. One can dropped onto the floor when I nudged it. I reached to grab it when I felt a wad of cloth stuffed underneath the seat. I pulled out a black apron full of money.
“Hey! Stop what you’re doing!” a man’s voice yelled out.
A copper was staring down at me with an aggressive pose. He was tapping his buzzer with one hand while the other rested on his bean shooter.
I realized I may have looked a little precarious and possibly criminal so I tried to be polite. “I beg your pardon?” I asked.
“Step out of the car slowly. Show me your hands,” the man in blue escalated.
He seemed bent out of shape to be in my business and I tried to get him out of it. “Don’t blow your wig. I know the young lady whose vehicle this is. She asked me to help her.”
“By ripping her off? Riiight… Drop the cash and keep your hands up. Don’t make any sudden moves.”
Why this turd was bothering me was up for debate. What wasn’t up for debate? That I was stuck with him for the time being. I reached for the door and kept my hands up while exiting the car.
“Turn around and place your hands on the hood,” the officer barked. I complied. He pushed my head towards the car and patted me down.
“Look, mister. I was hired by the owner of this car to investigate who vandalized it,” I turned around and pleaded with him.
“Don’t fucking move. You hear me?” he asked me, though I doubted he’d like my answer.
The officer was a handsome fellow — a cross between Clark Gable and Popeye, if you were into that sort of thing. He began to talk to his shoulder. “Dispatch. This is Officer Webb. I’ve got a minor situation and need to get a phone number for a Ms. Kate Crumdumb.”
He sounded a bit insane at this point so I kept quiet and thought of an exit plan. I could throw the dough at his face and hightail it around the corner. I could start talking to my own shoulder, pretend to be his boss, and hope he’d respond. These plans weren’t good and I knew it.
I was a bit startled when his shoulder suddenly responded back with a voice, but I remained calm. After getting the phone number, the officer started talking to a tiny device in his hand. I’d witnessed quite a few people in the neighborhood using something similar. I assumed it was some sort of miniature recording or radio device.
“Kate Crumdumb? Yes, I’m down at Dinah’s Diner and have caught a fellow in your car. Says he was hired by you. Medium build. Wearing a funny hat.” He paused and motioned at me. “What is that? A fedora?” I didn’t respond and he continued. “Uh huh. Huh.…What’s your name, buddy?” he asked me.
“Flint Locke,” I announced like a schoolboy during roll call. Strange. Kate shouldn’t be home. How was this numbskull talking to her? Perhaps these devices were actually miniature telephones. This was quite mind boggling to imagine that people were constantly talking to each other. It then dawned on me that this officer had weird devices all over his body. What a world.
“Says, Flint Locke. Sounds made-up to me. Uh huh. Okay. You sure? Alright then.” He placed the miniature phone back into his pocket. The copper was quiet for a moment, breathed heavily, and puckered his lips while squinting at me. “So, you’re some kind of private dick, huh? Well, you got the outfit right.” He tilted his head and pushed his sunglasses closer to his face. “You look like Dick Tracy or something. Where’s your magnifying glass?” he laughed.
“Well, sir, I —”
“I’m responding to a vandalism report on this vehicle. And here you are…looking like a possible suspect.”
“Ms. Crumdumb indicated that the police had chosen not to be involved.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m involved now. I was actually on my way home and I live around here. Thought I’d check it out. I don’t like sketchy weirdos in my neighborhood.”
He gave me a look I did not care for. He crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels, a solid tower of a man, assessing me up and down. I took my hat off and extended a hand.
“Flint Locke, PI.”
He ignored my hand and nodded at me. “Yeah, I got all that…Well, congratulations, Mr. Private Eye—you ruined the crime scene so there’s nothing I can do here,” he scolded me. “Probably just some teenagers anyway. I don’t have time for this.” He waved his hand in the air and made a stink face, as though someone cut one. “Knock yourself out.”
I was relieved to see Officer Twit go, leaving me to my investigation. My history with the police had been less than complementary and I’d never found them to be of much help. I shoved the dough into my suit pocket to return to Kate later. I decided to go have a chat with the owner of Dinah’s Diner, presumably Dinah. My hope was that she could give me some insight about the neighborhood and possibly some details of the time frame in question. I headed inside.
“I’m looking for the owner, please,” I told the first grungy-looking staff member I found.
“In the back,” the uninterested worker pointed behind him.
I made my way to the back of the restaurant and spied a heavyset man at a lone table near the kitchen. “Excuse me, I was told Dinah was back here. I need to talk to the owner.”
“You found him. Who’s asking?”
The large man was playing solitaire and eating a sandwich. The table was cluttered and disorganized, stacked high with papers. It looked like he hadn’t read his mail in a year. He didn’t look up.
“My name is Flint Locke. If you’d spare me a few moments — I’m here inquiring about the vehicle with the slashed tires on your property. Are…you…Dinah?”
“My name’s Carl,” he chuckled. “My friends convinced me to name the place after a chick, to be more…enticing, I guess. I wanted to call this place Carl’s Cannoli, but nobody liked it.” He lit a cigar, pushed back his chair, and put his feet up on the table. “So, what do you want? I’m a little busy here.”
“Your employee, Kate Crumdumb, hired me to investigate the vandalism of her car. Can you think of anything out of the ordinary yesterday — or this week? Any angry customers or strangers hanging about?”
“Really? A P.I.? Geez.”
“Kate is really spooked about it. She thinks someone might have it out for her.” I said.
“Phhhtt. I don’t know about that. Seems crazy, but…” Carl sighed and shrugged. “What do I know — this world is something, ain’t it?” He nodded at me as though we shared a bond of sorts.
“It’s different. That’s for sure. So, back to my question. Did you notice anything this week? Out of the ordinary?”
“I wasn’t here yesterday, but I heard Kate talked to everybody about it. I was visiting the wife’s family for a couple days. Just got back late last night. Never doing that again. Bunch of liberal wackjobs. They think everyone deserves a handout. Seriously?” Carl paused and reflected, seeming to forget I was there. He looked up at me and continued, “The neighborhood’s been getting worse. They keep raising our taxes—what do they think’s gonna happen? Homeless coming in and locals moving out. Brings in the crime. Working people can’t get on at this rate!” Carl was clearly getting heated and took a deep breath. “But, most folks who come here are still regulars. Good people, ya know?”
“I happen to be one of those regulars and concur. There’s something very neighborly about this place.” I tried greasing the wheel.
“That’s what we’re aiming for. I wish the staff would get the memo,” he said and shook his head at the kitchen staff.
I followed his gaze to the kitchen and saw a flame shoot up from the grill to the ceiling.
“Jesus Christ,” Carl mumbled. “Guys! Can we not burn the place down today? That would be great.” The kitchen staff didn’t respond and Carl sighed.
“Speaking of the staff—I was curious to hear of Sandy’s leaving.”
“Yeah, that was
a shame for sure. I really liked that girl…So did the customers. But, you can’t employ thieves if you want to make a living.” Carl blew out a big puff of cigar smoke in my direction.
“Sandy? A thief?” I couldn’t fathom it.
“We had proof, unfortunately. I didn’t want to believe it myself, but there were multiple occasions. It was hard to let her go.”
“Multiple occasions? What happened?”
“Well, the long and short of it is…Kate had her tips stolen… Food was stolen...some cans. And for weeks I’ve been noticing the number of steaks were off. They ain’t cheap.” Carl rubbed his thumb and forefinger together at me.
“Of course. You stated that you had proof. What kind of proof? Any witnesses?”
“Oh...Kate has been a godsend… She shared her concerns about Sandy weeks ago but I dismissed it. I think I just didn’t want to see it—if you know what I mean. Anyway, after the food was taken I talked to all of my employees and got nothing. Then Kate’s tips went missing a few days ago. Kate thought that Sandy had done it out of revenge for telling on her. It sounded like typical waitress bullshit drama, to be honest. I decided to talk to Sandy about it, just to cover my ass. So, after her shift I confronted Sandy and she denied it absolutely. But, while she was leaving, her bag fell on the floor and a steak fell out. I had no choice but to let her go on the spot.”
So there was a beef with some steak and Carl decided to cut the fat. I guess I was now on a steak-out.
“I’ll need to talk to Sandy about her relationship with Ms. Crumdumb. Can you tell me where I can find her? Where she lives?” I asked.
“Hmmm. I can’t help you there, no. No way. You’ll need a warrant to get that type of personal information about our employees or ex-employees.”
I stared at him for a moment and weighed my odds of success with this man. I had to try. “Oh, I completely understand, Carl. But, this matter is important to your current employee. I don’t want to have to tell her that her employer refused to do his part in helping her out…with such a serious matter.”
