Originally Posted by
DRayVan
CHAPTER 1 of 20
Wednesday, November 6, 1940
San Diego, California
Jack Stoner’s bank account was as empty as a castaway’s stomach, and he owed everybody something. The Stoner Detective Agency hadn’t had a case since Spring and was rapidly becoming the punchline of a worn-out joke. If things didn’t take a turn for the better soon, he’d have to get a job driving truck or sleep on a park bench.
He awoke early, and it was already warm and predicted to be another scorcher, one of those days when Stoner didn’t wanna get out of bed, let alone go to work. But somebody might get lost and stumble into his office, and he wanted to be there in case they needed directions.
After a light lunch, Stoner parked nearby and hiked to the intersection three doors from his office building. When he rounded the corner, two musclebound types that could’ve been escaped gorillas from the zoo paced by its entrance.
Stoner hid and watched them for a few minutes. He figured they were there to collect the wager he’d placed on a nag racing at Del Mar. The ponies weren’t his usual pastime, but the grapevine said the fix was in, so Stoner called a bookie, Sid Devar, and laid a C-note on Leading the Charge to win. But yesterday was one of the year’s hottest days, and as luck would have it, the horse and jockey stopped for a mint Julip on the far turn and came in dead last.
Stoner didn’t mind losing—losing came naturally to him, but he couldn’t cover his wager, and Sid never extended credit beyond twenty-four hours. So he left those apes baking in the hot sun, crossed the street, and ducked into a nearby alley.
Today’s luck was as bad as yesterday’s, and Stoner ran smack dab into Sid’s debt-collection goons. Theo and Leo were classic Neanderthals. Theo’s bloodshot eyes were deep-set, and his brow jutted far enough to shade his entire face. The bridge of his nose was as flat as a pancake, and his cauliflower ears were ready for harvest. His chiseled chin could chip granite, and you could use his one-o’clock shadow for sanding it smooth. Nature’s mistake was to make one of them, but then to make a carbon copy, his twin, Leo, was unbelievable!
Before Stoner could whimper a cry for help, Theo grabbed his lapels and slammed him against the building—his tiptoes floated inches above the pavement.
“Going somewhere, Stoner?”
Theo’s gruff voice would’ve scared Boris Karloff, and his breath reeked of cheap cigar and everything bagel—extra onion and garlic.
“Easy on the shirt, pal; it’s the only good one I’ve got,” Stoner said defiantly. “Besides, you got the wrong guy.”
“Says you, wiseguy,” Theo said, spraying spittle with every word.
He loosened his grip, and Stoner’s feet landed on solid ground.
“What’s this Stoner supposed ta look like, Leo?” he asked without taking his eyes off him. “This four-flusher says he ain’t the guy.”
Leo unfolded a crumpled slip of paper. “Medium, fifty-ish, graying hair, paunch, and—”
“Oh, yeah! Me and a thousand other guys, Jughead,” Stoner said with as much bravado as he could muster, “but that doesn’t make me the sadsack you’re looking for. So I’ll say it again, only slower this time. Maybe it’ll sink in: ‘You. Got. The. Wrong. Guy.’”
His plea fell on deaf ears.
“And a cross-shaped scar above his left eye,” Leo said, poking Stoner’s forehead with his hairy finger. “That’s him, all right.”
“The cross nailed it, chump,” Theo said. “Pay up, or we’ll pound every nickel out of yer hide.”
They usually went for the tender places where bruises didn’t show, and if you were lucky, they wouldn’t go for your face. But any way you cut it, a pounding didn’t sound good to Stoner.
“I ain’t got it,” Stoner said with a confident grin. But then, he felt his lower lip quiver.
“Says he ain’t got it,” Theo said, cocking his head toward Leo.
“The boss don’t like ta hear them words,” Leo said with a grin that grew until it stretched from ear to ear but quickly morphed into tight lips. His brow furrowed. “Lemme pop ‘im one.”
“Not this time, brother,” Theo said, wagging his head from side to side. “He’s all mine. Next time, he’s all yers.”
Theo made a fist the size of a football and let it fly. It came at Stoner like a runaway freight train. He couldn’t do anything but wait for the crash.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Theo landed a solid punch just below Stoner’s solar plexus that knocked the wind out of him. He saw stars when the pavement reached up and whacked his chin. Once he hit the ground, he curled up Roly-poly-wise, holding his gut.
“Looky ‘im, Theo,” Leo said laughingly. “All crumpled like a pile of dirty laundry. Hold ‘im up, so I can pop ‘im a good one, too.”
“Ya’ll get yer chance tomorrow.”
Leo smacked his palm with his fist, and a flock of birds roosting on the overhead phone lines took flight. Meanwhile, Stoner lay on the pavement, faking some, feeling most, and hoping this was over.
Theo bent close to Stoner’s left ear and showered him in onion and garlic-laced spittle. “Here’s the play, Stoner. Ya got a friendly reminder today. We’ll be back tomorrow, and Leo’ll give ya two more. The next day will be my turn fer three, and we keep coming back till ya pay up.”
Stoner lay still, not even blinking an eye.
“Get the picture, Stoner? Huh?”
Leo eyed him closely. “He’s too dumb ta figure it out.”
Stoner nodded to let those apes know he’d had enough.
“See, Leo, Stoner ain’t so dumb after all.”
But the big ape wasn’t buying Stoner’s act.
“Is too,” Leo said. “He’s fakin’.”
“He got the message, all right,” Theo said, wagging his head. “One look’d tell ya.”
“Don’t believe ‘im.” Leo stepped toward him. “Ya should’ve hit him harder. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
Theo signaled the gorillas by the office building. Stoner figured today’s beating was over, so he got to his hands and knees. But Leo’s walnut-sized brain must’ve decided he was faking and let Stoner have it with his size twelve, knocking him against the wall.
“Not in the face, Leo!” Theo said. “Aim for the gut... Like this.”
Theo’s size thirteen landed square in his mid-drift. There wasn’t any faking now: Stoner hurt from his head to his toes.
The gorillas arrived just in time to join the party.
“What we miss?” the first gorilla asked.
“Nuthin’ much,” Theo said. “Just showin’ Stoner how we collect our debts.”
After they had some yucky-yucks standing over him, Theo said, “Let’s blow befer we draw a crowd.”
“Yeah. Blow.” Leo bent close to his ear. “Be seeing ya tomorrow, Stoner.” He stood to leave. “And don’t have that C-note, if ya know what I mean,” he said, slamming his palm with a tight fist and cackling as he walked away.
The foursome hightailed it and left Stoner lying on the pavement.
Stoner clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth, and swore. But he was hopelessly outnumbered and out of his league. So he didn’t move and swallowed his pride, which was easy, considering he had no dignity left. He waited for the worst of his pain to subside. Then he dusted himself off and felt above his right eye. It was sticky.
He stumbled across the street to his office building and made a beeline for the washroom. After a few splashes to the face, Stoner felt better. But one glance in the mirror told the story: matching scars for sure.
End Chapter 1