Actually it was mid afternoon. Notice no one had their head lights on, the street lamps were off, and shop lights were not lit. In fact it wasn't even thundering. Those were gunshots we heard. There had been a steady drizzle and skys were grey causing the illusion of a much later time. These are always the weather conditions in a detective story so don't mess it up! Right now the whereabouts of that sexy barmaid Candy are of great concern. There have been some classless moranic alto playing saxophone band members snooping around! One is supposedly a friend of a shady caracture named Pat that has also been hanging around staring at Candy. Here sister Fannie stopped in but said nothing about her missing little sis. I'm gonna have another Woodford on the rocks and think this over.
A couple of local thugs stopped by Moe's to see what trouble they could stir up. I recognized the tall one with the pockmarked face - we called him Moonbeam, due to his face having a remarkable resemblance to the dark side of the Moon. The little bastard with him was a local heavy and driver that no one seemed to know the name of. He was usually in a Dodge two-door wagon with a 331 Chrysler Hemi in it. Harder than hell for the local constabulary to catch, especially since they're stuck with Shoebox Fords with six-bangers in them. The driver pulled out a Smith and Wesson .380 and started firing at the crowd. Moonbeam had a sawed-off Mossberg 12-gauge pump that he felt the need to pepper the room with, and the fight was on! Marty always came to a gig packing, as did his band. The music stopped, then the REAL music started, as the band kicked it up a notch or two and taking Moonbeam and the driver by complete surprise! They surely didn't expect resistance in their strong-arm robbery of Moe's! In the melee', I hopped over the bar to shield the always-lovely Candy from harm, and let my trusty 1911 US Army-issue .45 auto let loose on the intruders. What I didn't expect was the fact that Candy was packing heat, too! She raised her arms over the bar, armed with her Beretta that Moe picked up as a war souvenir in Italy. She handled that like a pro - I was both amped up on adenaline from the gunfight and incredibly turned-on by her expertise handling that Beretta! I was ready to take her right behind the bar! She looked over at me as I was reloading, and gave me that look...you know, THAT look, the one where you know that the night might just end up in a night of outrageously pleasurable carnal knowledge! What seemed like an hour of intense gunfire in Moe's, was actually about three minutes. The smell of cordite hung heavy in the air with the blend of wonderful Cuban cigars that Moe's sold, and the smell of whiskey and sweat. Sirens were heard in the distance. The usual crowd - those that were not injured, anyway - hightailed it out of the bar; while the two barmaids went to work on the men shot during the robbery attempt. Moonbeam lay dead, with the right half of his face blown clean off with a well-placed hollow-point from Marty's .44 Magnum. Marty was bleeding from a shotgun blast to his right thigh. His three band members were all injured as well, but less seriously. His sound man lay dead near the stage. And...where the hell did Candy go? She was right here five flippin' seconds ago! Moe and his bouncer Tiny came bolting through the front door, just seconds before the first uniforms appeared. Detective O'Sullivan was right behind. "Everybody stay right where you are until I say otherwise!", he yelled. Most ignored his order, as there was a lot of blood, and a lot of victims that needed tending to. Where the hell are the ambulances??? Where did that damn driver disappear to? Where the hell is Candy? S#*t, this is going to be a long, long night
It was 5 o'clock Yep that's just the way I saw it. I'd just left Bill's bar on the rumor Candy was back at Moes. I was worried about the safety of that young lady. As the first shots were fired I hightailed it behind the bar and huddled down behind Candy.......... What a view! That Beretta was a piece of work any gun collector would desire. After the fuzz showed up I took a seat and grabbed an unfinished drink left by Moonbeam. He wasn't going to be needing it. I noticed by the old clock on the wall it was straight up 5 o'clock. Still three hours of daylight left. Plenty of time to solve this new case. But where was Candy? That little lady was fast. Again she was gone. I stepped out on the sidewalk staring at that Dodge two-door wagon with a 331 Chrysler Hemi. What a wagon. Never saw one like that where I was from.
Film Noir You guys got me interested in that genera of b&w movies so I just watched "Don't Bother To Knock". Great flick and written as well as most your inspirations here. Sin City is another such current film... albeit on steroids. Wonder what I can find on Netflix.....
I need to watch some old movies. We don't even have TV so I can't remember much about the old shows. I just go by the mental pictures I get from the picture. As for guns and ammo all I had was a Gene Autrey cap gun!
The Second Picture The Second picture I needed some fresh air after seeing and breathing all the blood and guts inside Moe’s joint. I walked behind the bar, thru the kitchen, and out the service entrance into the alley. I’m usually not bothered about dark alleys, especially in small low crime towns. But this time a chill ran down my spine as I noticed movement in the shadows. I stepped back inside the kitchen and grabbed Mom, the chief cook and bottle washer. Mom was known for her great boiled crawdads and gumbo. Things this Midwestern boy weren’t used to. Yet I suddenly had a hankerin for some. Now I was thirsty and hungry! Her name is really Momique but everyone calls her Mom because she is so motherly with the other help and the clientele. Mom is a big girl, an ex-pro wrestler and former roller rink star. I always liked the tattoo on Mom’s bicep, a large red heart with the word “DAD”. Mom reminded me of Rosie the riveter who passed away last week. Besides Mom knows judo. No one messed with Mom! Also unbeknownst to me until we reached the clearing at the far end of the alley, Mom was packin heat. As Mom and me walked down the dark alley toward the other end we spotted some old Ford station wagon. I’m a Chevy guy so didn’t know or care what it really was. There were little notes scribbled on paper all over the windows. Most appeared illegible and been written by school kids. Mom ripped them off, mumbling something about everyone wants her 1971 Country Squire wagon and it ain’t fer sale. Mom told me she drives it everyday and parks in the exact same spot so it appears deserted. That answers questions brought up by other station wagon fanatics. Stop bothering Mom! Still I was puzzled. How could Mom be driving a 1971 Ford wagon when this was 1953? As we continued back up the alley to Moe’s Mom told me a little known secret. Her dearly departed husband had worked at the Ford design studio. Mom was driving a project wagon, ahead of it’s time in many ways. Yes, there’s always an answer to every puzzle. I jumped as I thought I heard a gunshot. I soiled my pants and Mom hugged me. I remember Mom saying what many mom's say. "I hope you are wearing clean shorts." I had been until then! Out of the corner of my good eye I saw a garbage can lid hit the pavement in the alley. Out of the can jumped a big black alley cat. It was then I found Mom had a gun in the waist band of her apron. Mom fired from the hip, killing that black cat instantly. She kicked it aside and laughed! Told ya Mom was tough. But she was neat. Mom tossed a fist full of tattered rain smeared notes into the garbage can and placed the lid back on it. In seconds the cook at the nearby Chinese restaurant grabbed the cat, smiled, and went back inside. By then my head was cleared and I was hungry. We turned around and headed back to Moes. On the way I asked Mom to fix me a big double order of her famous crawdads, gumbo, and grits. Yes I had quite an appetite by then. I hadn’t eaten since early morning. My cleaning lady had gone out for Happy Meals and she never returned with mine. Inside Moes' you'd never know there had been a mass muder and attempeted robbery. Several ambulance crews and a cleaning crew had removed the dead, wounded, and had Moe's looking sparkling clean again. The juke box in the corner was playing an old Hank Williams tune about prisons and trains. People were dancing. I sat at a table with another man across from me wearing a pin striped suit. I soon discovered as I talked to him that it was another mobster, dead, with several bullet wounds in his chest. That explains why he didn't return my questions. I grabbed his partially warm draft beer. It was doubtful he was gonna drink it! From out of nowhere Edna appeared to take my order. Edna and Moe were trying to get along so Edna was back at the bar helping out. Since she was separated from Moe Edna dressed the way she pleased, more seductive and flattering. Edna almost always had a frown on her face and I never saw Edna smile. But as I placed my double order of crawdads, grits, and gumbo I was sure I saw a smile on Edna's face. As she turned to walk toward the bar and kitchen order window it was then, after many years, I realized Edna was a well built woman. As my dearly departed daddy used to say Edna is built like the perverbial brick outhouse! Those new threads were working on Edna. What a view watching Edna in her short tight mini and 7" red stelletos weaving and shaking her booty as she walked away. I'd always set my sites on Candy. Candy was dandy! But as in the old country song, I'd overlooked an orchid while searching for a rose. Compared to Edna Candy was a faded rose. Candy wandered over, sitting next to the mobster. Candy had changed into a red form fitting low cut mini dress. Her small gold necklace, hanging between her well endowed bosom caught my eye. It was flipped backward and I was squinting to read the inscription on the back. "To my darlin Kandy Kane, love Big Mike". The fact I could read that tiny writting on the gold necklace in that dimly lit bar was amazing. But even more a amazing was how I barely noticed Kandy's store bought breasts oozing out of that dress. Okay I noticed! Equally amazing was that all these years we were calling her Candy when in reality her name was Kandy Kane. Still I had been given many clues and tips. My housekeeper had mentioned the use of Katsup rather than Catsup. She even made it clear she'd bought those Happy Meals at the McD's next to K-Mart, saying K-Mart quite clearly as she repeated it over the phone. Somehow this use of "K" had some connection to these murders and attemted robbery. Also I wondered how this connected to the one armed man on the street? And who was Bike Mike? Perhaps Momique had the answers! As I ate the crawdads, spitting the little claws on the table in front of me. Kandy reached for a crawdad. I grabbed her hand and told her these are mine. Get your own crawdads. Kandy gave me that look as she rubbed her nearly exposed breast and smiled. This was the look that melts a man's heart and weakens his spine. As I ordered a bottle of Merlot 1932 and two glasses, I told Kandy she could have a couple of my crawdads. Of course she smiled that sexy smile that only a young blonde bimbo could smile as she grabbed a fistful of hot crawdads. Kandy yelled as she burned her hands. Mom heard Kandy cry out and came running to help. This story kontinues as the Chinese restarant owner next door walked in asking Mom if she has any more kats! Mom grabbed the little man by the seat of his pants and threw him out the back door into that dark alley.
All this time-travel between 1953 and sometime in the late 1970s was wearing me out! Happy meals, mini-skirts, 1971 Country Squires...what the hell? I was just glad Candy..er, Kandy, was OK and looking fine. I need to figure out this damn time machine thing and get back to the moments before the shooting at Moe's! No one deserved to die, even that jackass Moonbeam. OK, he DID deserve to die, but several others went out with him that did not need to. I went back out to the alley to think. Kandy is a wonderful diversion, and Mom's food is the best in the city, but I needed to walk. Somehow, the answer to the time travel dilemma lay there somewhere. I lit up a Romeo y Julieta that I got from the humidor at Moe's and started some old-fashioned gumshoe work. The aroma of the cigar was simply amazing! Combine that with sex and George Dickel whiskey, and you've got your nose going crazy! About a half-block up on the right was the closed garage door and the barred walk-in door to Billy's Garage. Looking closer, I saw blood splatter on the walk-in door and two spent shell casings. From a .380. The wheelman. Billy? Can't be. Billy and I grew up together in the same neighborhood, and we've known each other since we were just three years old. Billy is a very friendly guy. I can't imagine him being mixed up with Moonbeam. Plus, the guy I saw shooting the .380 at Moe's is three inches shorter than Billy. One of Billy's employees? Or, maybe Billy has a mutant circus-freak brother that they kept in the basement for years, that no one knows about? My mind was racing! Looking closer, I noticed the lock was hanging on the hasp; so I removed it and opened the walk-in, ever so slowly. The door creaked and I halted, and looked inside. Two more bodies! The blood drops led to Archie, a tall red-headed young man and one of Billy's top wrenches. He was the boyfriend of a hot brunette named Veronica. Archie was by the icebox, slumped in a very awkward position, dead as hell. Billy lay lifeless under a '53 Cadillac Coupe deVille; he was headfirst under the car. Some evil bastard let the jack down on him, crushing his skull like a ripe grapefruit. Blood oozed from him like a glacier of wet molasses. Both of their bodies were still warm. Was the killer still here? Was I next?
Billys garage was next door and connected to Bill's Bar. There was a little known door from the garage to the back room of the bar most never knew about. Years ago Jughead had removed bricks between the walls and put up the secret door so they could gamble in the back room of the bar unknown by Johnny Law. After all gambling was illegal in small town USA. This guy Pat is a good investigator but sometimes confused about what day it was! We all know there's no such thing as a way back machine. Yes some west coast car collectors call their cars silly names like that and movies have been made of time machines. But this is real life. The only thing here from a different time zone is Momique's 1971 Country Squire. When Momique showed me the title it shows in reality it's a 1951 Ford. Kinda like Johnny Cash and his Caddy song the 71 looking wagon was put together in the early 50's one piece at a time. As detective O'Sullivan and his crew converged on the garage and Bill's Bar more shots rang out from inside. This sleepy little town was seeing more action than it had for years. There was blood splattered on the buildings along that once quiet pieceful alley. I sure wouldn't want to walk down it with my mommy!
All I know for certain is that today is November 25, 1955. Some whacked-out gray-haired man was talking to some kid wearing a life vest, about a car and 88 miles per hour, whatever the hell they meant by that! Neither looked like the wheelman I was looking for, but I'll bet they know something. I need to keep an eye on those boys. The only cars I know around here that can do that are the Cadillacs, Lincolns, big Hemi Chryslers, Hudsons...and the wheelman's Hemi Dodge wagon. Are those two involved, as well? I've been out of the Army Air Corps since 1946. I'd been shot at so much by Jerry that I'm surprised I didn't come home with shrapnel souvenirs in my ass. Started out as a volunteer, flying for the Brits in '40. Later, I flew in North Africa, Italy, and finally back in England in P-51s. Had the opportunity to go back Stateside a couple of times, but killing Adolph's boys was proving to be my forte'...I liked it. After the war, I had nothing to do, so I went home and became a beat cop. One year later, I got shot by this punk-assed kid that was looking to join up with a hood named Smitty. I go through the whole damn war without so much as a flippin' hangnail, and I get shot at home. Our pal Moonbeam was working security for the whorehouses and poppy dens for Smitty. The punk-assed kid was the very same guy who is now the wheelman. And I never can find out this little SOB's name! Nine years later, this little cockroach gets away with shooting a cop, and always eludes the law. I have more than a little motivation to cap this freak. Revenge for my getting shot, endangering Kandy's life, and ruining a perfectly good evening!
Another twist to this continuing saga. An exflyboy retired cop out for revenge is not a good thing in any city. Especially here in small town USA. He didn't realize it but Kandy is able to handle herself in most any situation. I was just hoping he didn't get hurt himself. I kinda liked the old fart. Besides guys like him kept America free for guys like me. Now that I was becoming more friendly with Edna Kandy no longer interested me. Still my involvement with Kandy wasn't over. As she returned from the kitchen with bandages on both hands from the boiled crawdad burns Kandy again sat next to me and the dead gangster. For some reason everyone mistook Moonbeam for being alive. In life he looked more dead than alive. Perhaps this was why the fuzz and paramedics left his cold stiff body propped up in that chair at the table. I'd closed up his vest and suit jacket to hide those ugly bullet holes and blood. I didn't mind Moonbeam being there. It gave me someone to talk to as I ate the rest of my crawfish and grits. Kandy held the Beretta between her bandaged hands telling me to take it since she couldn't pull the trigger now. I'm not good with firearms and didn't realize the Beretta has a hair trigger. It fired twice. The first shell hit Moonbeam right between the eyes. The second knocked the cucko bird from the cucko clock on the far wall. We hadn't known but detective O'Sullivan had been in the kitchen questioning Mom and Edna. At the sound of gun shots he returned to the dining area. O'Sullivan pulled his rod, pointed it at me, and yelled for me to drop the Beretta. I dropped it right in my bowl of gumbo and it fired another round knocking a hole in the bottom of the bowl. The bullet went thru the table and my hot gumbo dripped out on the floor below all over Kandy's new high heals and nylons. The material melted all over Kandy's feet. Again she screamed. Again Mom came running out to check. Poor little Kandy now had two burned feet! Detective O'Sullivan told me to put my hands up, "you're under arrest for murder!" But I refused. I looked over at Moonbeam then the detective. I smiled and said "you can't arrest me for the murder of a dead man!" O'Sullivan checked Moonbeams chest and verified the hood had been dead for several hours. "You dirty rat, I'll get you before I retire, even if it's for jay walking", he said in a disappointed sounding voice." I finished my crawdaddies and finished off sharing the Merlot with Kandy who had to use a straw. Mom and Edna had helped Kandy return to the table. Now her hands and feet were heavily bandaged from the burns she received. Outside in the street sirens were blairing and police cars and emergency vehicles lined the curbs on both sides. I looked out the back door and the alley was also full of police cars of all kinds. The'd converged on Billys garage and Bills Bar down the street.
Honk Tonk Music, Milk and Cookies I had to agree with the old cop. 1955 was coming to an end quicker than I wanted it to and we needed to let others know crime doesn't pay. It was late as I left Bill’s Bar and headed down the now deserted street in the steady drizzle toward my nearly three year old 1953 Ford ranch wagon near the other corner. I was anxious to get away from all the cops and crime activity. I’d planned on going straight home to my wife and family. As I neared Moe’s bar the sounds of a honky tonk piano beckoned me to look thru the swingin doors. I wasn’t planning on going inside but the site of Liberace in that pink suit and fancy lacey white shirt was too much to resist. My grandparents always watched him on TV. I knew he was a little strange but had to admit he is a great entertainer. Liberace gave me his famous big grinned smile and waved. Ten fingers full of diamonds and gold glistened as brightly as his smile. Almost looked like he had a small piano in his mouth as he beconned me inside . I walked in, just for a few minutes, to listen to Liberace play. It was after taking a seat in the middle of the bar room I noticed on the opposite side of the bar another piano player really bangin the ivories. It was the one and only Jerry Lee Louis! Man I loved his style! Sitting on Jerry Lee’s piano was what appeared to be a teenaged scantily dressed girl, smiling at me smiling at her. For a kid she sure was built well! As a familiar looking waitress came to take my order I asked who the kid was. “Jerry’s niece or cousin,” was the reply. She seemed too young to be hangin around a honky tonk bar or a piano player. But that was none of my business. I had other questions. My barmaid was Margo, the cleaning lady at the office complex where I worked. Yes the same Margo that had been on the sidewalk carrying Happy Meals for her and I when the first shots were fired. “What are you doing tending bar in this lowlife joint Margo, I asked?” “Well a girls’ gotta make money somehow and that cleaning job ain’t enough to feed six kids and a lazy husband.” That’s when I noticed Margo also was a hot lookin chick. I’d only seen her in her full apron and a T-shirt up till now. It's amazing how a mini skirt and peasant's blouse changes a ladies looks. Not to mention the bright red lipstick and enough makeup to make Mi Mi and Cher jealous. I had already drank more than my limit for one evening and I had a long drive down a long narrow dark road home. “Gimmie a glass of milk and some sugar cookies,” I said. “Put it in a dark colored glass.” I knew others would think it strange and tease me for drinking milk and cookies in a low life back street bar. Margo smiled and walked that walk like Kandy, Edna, and the other working girls walk. The sort of walk that drives a grown man crazy, even a married man. I sat there way longer than I’d planned, drinking my milk and eating maybe a dozen sugar cookies. I surprised myself considering the double order of craw daddies, gumbo, and grits I had earlier. This detective work causes an appetite! A nearly new light blue 55 Chevy parked right outside in the no parking zone. First one I’d seen. Man I loved that car and swore someday I’d own one. Some call me a handy man. Maybe I'd buy a wagon since they were so handy for my line of work. In walked a young guy I’d never seen before. He told me his name was Lee or maybe Harvey and he was headed for Texas to work in some kind of book store. Seemed sort of nervous but this area was enough to make anyone nervous tonight. None of this mattered right then. I was listening to two great piano players taking turns and sometimes playing sort of dueling pianos. I’ll bet this would be something with banjos! I had another tall glass of milk, left Margo a nice tip, told her goodbye, and left. By then the street was quiet and I could see stars in the sky. What a day. I climbed in my 53 Ford ranch wagon and hit the road.:icon_drive: Just when this story was ending another chapter is written. I suppose I should start looking in the back seat or the way back. Not a mile out of town I was hearing muffled sounds. I pulled over to take a look. There way back near the tailgate was Kandy, hog tied and gagged, still covered in bandages on both hands and feet. A note was pinned to her very low top. Kandy's gold necklace was missing.
You'll shoot your eye out, kid. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YleZvTSDC6s Now which raincoat did I stash my Rosco in?
The Necklace. This is where I left off. I turned on the dome light in my 1953 Ford station wagon and read the note. Kandy was thrashing around and making muffled sounds. I needed answers and this small piece of paper with words scribbled on it might be what I was looking for. It was difficult reading in the dim light and being distracted with the rising and falling of Kandy’s ample nearly exposed bosom. These are the words I saw. (Meet me on the street in the stairwell where the one armed man was found. I saw everything and I fear for my life.) I was tired and my wife was expecting me. The person in the stairwell would have to wait. I slipped that Ford-O-Matic into drive and headed for home. The rain was coming down again. As I pulled up my wife opened the wooden garage doors so I could drive in. Her thin negligue clung to her hour glass figure like a fine Greek statue partially covered with a silk sheet. . As I opened the tailgate and began untying Kandy Kane my wife had a million questions. She knew the line of work I was in and knew strange things sometimes happened. I handed my wife the note and removed the gag from Kandy’s mouth. Kandy panted, moaned, cussed, and thanked me, all in one breath. Kandy explained that the murders at Sam’s garage, on the street, and at Moe’s place happened during an attempt to get Kandy’s necklace. The necklace held more clues, directions, and a secret code for a safety deposit box somewhere in the city. Where is the safety deposit box and what are the contents? Kandy told me that Margo was mugged because the man in the shadows thought she was Kandy. They do look alike in a dim light. The one armed man was shot because the man in the shadows was afraid he knew to much. The big Jehovah’s witness was now a prime suspect. But right now only the shadow knows. I was on my way to Rockford, Illinois to check my main files. Would those Rockford files hold another clue? I wondered if I should call the Defective detective or Columbo for back up, or should I stop back on Main Street and look for the man in the stair well? I needed to study the Main Street picture for more clues, or possibly that narrow alley with Mom's Ford wagon at the end.
