Wes Corona
10-21-2015, 07:42 AM
Let me introduce myself to you. My name is Jack, Jack Diamond. I am a private detective. Jack Diamond isn’t my real name, of course. My actual given name was Sarah Lee Brown. My parents loved brownies (with those special ingredients), and they were real jokers. They even had the funny hats to prove it.
Now, you may be wondering why I use the name Jack Diamond. Well, I have my office in a fairly famous detective office building, called, The Detective Office Building. In our building Harry Heart and Charlie Club are on the first floor. Sam Spade has an office across from mine, so, as you can see, there was only one name I could have chosen.
One Saturday afternoon, I was sitting at my desk, catching up on the week’s paperwork, when the door burst open. She stood there, a tall redhead, dressed to the nines, with a pair of 38’s staring me in the face. I noticed, in her hand, she had a gun.
I said, “Hi Dollface,” because I didn’t yet know her name, and her face was made of porcelain, “What brings you here?”
She replied, “The trains in Spain, run mainly……………………….on the track.”
On the surface, I knew this to be true, but, somehow, it didn’t sound quite right.
“Did I understand you correctly?” I retorted.
“Yes, you did. The Orient Express is missing. It disappeared in Madrid.”
Just then, my partner, Max O Patrick walked in. Before becoming a detective, Max had been a leader in a fringe faction of the IRSOC (Irish Republican Short Order Cooks). This group had single handedly infiltrated and overtaken the Diner Industry, and were now in complete control of bacon and eggs, and were also gaining strength in cornering the market on ham on rye. When I first met Max, I asked him what the O in his name stood for. He told me it was just part of his Irish heritage, but I secretly knew different. The O stood for Oscar. Max’s dad was a wild guy named Oscar.
“Maxie”, I said, “this beautiful doll has just started to tell me her story when you came in.” “Dollface, you never did tell me your name.”
“My name is Mandy Lemons.”
“Hmm, you look more like you come from the Mellons” Max chimed in.
“No, the Mellons moved to Pittsburg and are financing some retail establishments. I think they are in the Five and Dime business.” Mandy answered,
“So, Miss Lemons, you say the Orient Express has disappeared?” How did you come across this information,” I continued to question her.
“Well, I was on holiday with Lionel, a fellow I met in Hampton, and he had purchased the Orient from Woolwerths.”
“Wait a minute, isn’t Woolworths a Five and Dime?” Max interrupted.
“Why yes, but Woolwerths is a local hobby shop that sells electric trains for children.” Mandy answered.
“So, what you are telling me is that a toy train called the Orient Express is missing, and it disappeared in Spain?”
“Why no, it disappeared in Madrid, New York, not Madrid, Spain.”
“Then what was that remark about the trains in Spain?” I queried.
“That was just for effect, to see if you were paying attention to my story, and not my individual attributes.” she countered.
“Okay, okay, so it disappeared in Madrid, New York. Give me some details.”
“Well, Lionel and I went into a restaurant and had just ordered some duck soup. The soup was delivered to our table by three Marxist waiters, really strange fellows. That is when I discovered that the package containing the train was no longer by my side.”
“Three Marxist waiters, that is strange for Madrid, New York. I had thought those guys were in Hollywood. What did you do then?”
“Well, Lionel said we should call the police and report the crime. But, I had heard of you and Max, and you guys had a good reputation in these matters, so I decided to look you up.”
She said this while staring up the pantleg of my crossed legs. I had never before felt so violated, or excited at the same moment. “And, what’s the gun for?” I asked carefully.
“A girl can never be too careful when roaming the halls of such a famous building. So, will you take the case, and help me find the missing train?”
“Normally, I wouldn’t, but there is something about your eyes, the way they both roll from side to side when you tilt your head. Something in your eyes tells me I should help you out. Max and I will begin our investigations tomorrow, tomorrow, we will begin tomorrow."
Chapter 2
Max and I discussed the case at length that evening. We decided to get a fresh start on our investigation in the morning. We would start at the restaurant where Mandy and Lionel had last seen the Orient.
In the morning, Max went out and fired up the old Ford and waited while I made us both some Joe, for the road. Max took his black, while I liked mine with a spritz or two of JTS Brown, just for a quick starter.
We motored over to Ricks Restaurant, a place not unfamiliar to me. In my youth, my parents often frequented Ricks. They both liked the brownies, baked by a lady named Alice. They always said Alice put something extra in the brownies, and they felt larger than life after eating a couple.
When we arrived at Ricks, we were greeted by the doorman, a mousey looking guy who kept muttering something about keeping one’s head. I wasn’t able to figure out then what he was talking about.
The doorman ushered us in, and we next met the maitre d’, a big fat man, known as Peter Pyemon. We explained to Pyemon that we were investigating the disappearance of the Orient two nights previous, and that the owners, Mandy and Lionel had thought perhaps the Marxist waiters had something to do with it.
Pyemon remembered Mandy and Lionel; they had given him a sawbuck to get a good table. He made sure that their table was a good one indeed. He inspected it himself and had even propped up the short leg to make sure it didn’t rock around while they were eating dinner.
Pyemon said the Marxist waiters hadn’t been around since the disappearance of the Orient. He had heard, through the Local Grapevine (a rival restaurant across town), that the Marxist waiters had joined a traveling circus and were headed for Blue Balls, Pennsylvania. Pyemon also told us we should speak to Alice, and pointed us off to the bakery at Ricks.
We walked into the bakery at Ricks and met Alice. She seemed like a nice sort of person, although she seemed a bit small at the time. I explained to Alice that we were investigating a supposed theft.
To my amazement, Alice immediately broke down and told us her tale of woe. It seems that she had spent two days preparing dozens of tarts for an upcoming wedding of a local queen. And the tarts had been stolen along with a five-gallon container of strawberry ice cream. All the while she was telling us her story, she kept rolling these three ball bearings around in her very small hands.
“And, to top things off,” Alice continued, “when I got home, my pet white rabbit was gone from his cage, and nowhere to be found. All that was left was his little pocket watch.”
This case was, indeed, fast becoming curiouser and curiouser.
Well, Max and I certainly had a lot to think about now. We immediately gassed up the old Ford and headed out for Blue Balls. While getting gas, I noticed a very large cat roaming around the station. I asked the attendant whose cat it was, but he didn’t know.
“It just showed up a couple of days ago, and has been hanging around since then. We don’t have to feed it. It seems to have a penchant for mice, and it keeps looking at the doorman over at Ricks Restaurant.”
After gassing up, Max and I headed down the road for Blue Balls. On the way, I notice the Ford was heating up and running rather poorly. “Maybe, we got some bad gas.” Max said rather off handedly.
“Yeah, could be, but the old Ford is gettin’ pretty tired lately. Did you put any new duct tape over the holes in the fenders? You know, in Pennsylvania, those Staties are pretty strict about rust buckets. We may have to go over to Ohio, and trade this car off pretty soon.”
By the time we got to Blue Balls, Max had begun to complain about his fireplace and the ache it was causing him. The Ford has continued to overheat, and got so hot, it couldn’t do no more. So we stopped at a service station, to get the Ford serviced. They found a clog in the radiator. It seems the cat from the other station had crawled up into the motor compartment and gotten stuck there when we left. They took out the cat and it ran off to parts unknown.
So we gassed up again and headed into town. Max said, “Hey, the old Ford is purring like a kitten.”
On the outskirts of town, we saw a flea market, and decided to check it out. I parked the Ford, turned off the motor, and Max said “do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“The purring sound. I still hear the purring sound.”
We both looked in the back seat at the same time, and saw four little purring kittens, a gift left to us by the stray cat from where we first bought gas that morning.
“What the heck are we going to do with four kittens? “ I wondered.
“Well, lets head over to the flea market and see what’s for sale. Maybe we’ll figure out what we can do with these cats.”
Max said okay, and we moseyed on over to the market. For a flea market, they had very few actual fleas for sale. Lots of used house-hold stuff, old tires, some Chinese folks selling boxes of imported cheap goods for a buck apiece, and one guy with a bunch of bugs.
We stopped by the bug guy and started to talk to him. It seems he was a professor at a big western university, but had lost his grant money and was now heading back east, but needed to get rid of his bugs before moving on. We looked over his selection, and since I was considering a future career in entomology, I offered him our four newly acquired cats. He agreed, and the trade was made. Max brought the cats over, and the ex professor, William Buggz (known to his friends as BillieBoyBuggzie) carried the bugs over to the Ford.
Buggzie remarked about the rather poor condition of the Ford, and I told him of my plan to trade it off in Ohio. “I think this car would do well in Ohio. They use a lot of salt over there in the winter, and they seem to tolerate cars with lots of body ventilation.”
We left the flea market, sans any fleas, but I had high hopes for the bugs. When we got into town, Max still complaining about his achey fireplace, we noticed that there was only one restaurant open at the time. We stopped in and asked about the three Marxist waiters. The folks at the restaurant hadn’t seen them, and said the traveling circus had only been in town for a few hours, and had moved on to Intercourse, Pennsylvania for their next show.
Max said Intercourse would be a good place to go. He knew someone over there who specialized in fireplaces, and he could get his ashes hauled while we were there.
We got back into the Ford, and headed off to Intercourse. Little did we know what stood in Store for us.
Chapter 3
It was late when we finally pulled into Intercourse. We cruised around and found a 24-hour diner. Max said it was a good one. He was always right. Remember, Max was a former member of the IRSOC, and he could spot the good diners from the bad in any town. So, we stopped in and I let Max do the ordering ‘cause he knew the diner lingo.
Max called the waitress over and said, “We’ll have two dots and a dash, kiss the pan, Idaho cakes in the alley, make ‘em all times two, draw two, muddy. * Thanks.”
*two dots and a dash=2 fried eggs and a strip of bacon
kiss the pan= eggs over easy
idaho cakes in the alley=hash brown potatoes served as a side dish
make em all times two=two orders
draw two muddy= 2 cups of black coffee
The food was brought ‘round lickety split, and the way Max wolfed it down, I knew he had something else on his mind. Max got up from the counter, and said he’d see me in the morning, that he was going out for a banana split.
I told him I was going to look for the traveling circus. Max said to check the outskirts of town. If anything had anything remotely related to skirts, Max would know about it. I followed his advice.
I found the circus just where Max said it would be. I questioned the Ring Leader, or, I guess Ring Master, and he told me where the three guys I was looking for could be found.
They had a big warehouse over on Market Street, and it would be open in the morning. Well, it being Sunday night, and with nothing else to do, I stayed to watch the show before catching some shuteye.
Next morning, Max and I drove down to Market Street to find the three Marxist waiters. We saw the warehouse, a really big building, at the end of the block. Three shortish guys were carrying boxes into the warehouse through an overhead door. There were two more guys inside, receiving the goods.
I parked the Ford, and we got out. Walking up to the three fellows who surely the ones we had been looking for, I said “Good morning gentlemen.”
Turning around, the apparent leader replied in rather a grouchy manner, “Whoever said is was a good morning, or, even if yet was morning, for who actually determines whether it’s actually good, or bad, or just a normal morning or other time of day?
Hmmm, I thought to myself, a smart, smart-alec wise-cracker, this one. “Well, it was just a greeting, sort of an ice-breaker.” I answered.
“Well, okay then, just so we’re on the same page, don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, sort of keeping things on an even keel, since we’re speaking in metaphors.” he countered. “What is your business here abouts?”
“I’m a private investigator, and I have a client who enlisted me to find a missing children’s electric train.”
“And, who pray tell is your client?’
“My client is one Mandy Lemons, and her toy train disappeared from her possession after you and your fellow waiters served her some Duck Soup back in Madrid, New York a few days back.”
You mean Sandy Lemons, don’t you?” the grouchy one replied.
“No, her name is Mandy Lemons.”
“I’m afraid, my good man, and I use that term loosely, for I neither know fully well if you are, indeed good, or, in fact if you are a man at all, that you have been duped. The woman in question is named Sandy Lemons.”
“Then why would she tell me her name was Mandy Lemons?” I asked.
“That’s as plain and the nose on your face, and by the way, it’s a pretty plain nose at that. No one, and I truly mean no one, likes sandy lemons. That is why she changed it.”
“So, are you accusing me and my fellows of illegally gaining possession of this particular toy train?’
“No, I have no grounds to accuse you of anything as of this moment. I would like to take a look around in your warehouse although.”
“Well, it’s not an actual warehouse. We like to call it our store, and it’s really big.”
“Yes, I can see that, a truly Big Store indeed. Can I take a look around?”
“Certainly, come back on Monday. We’ll be open on Monday.”
“But today is Monday.” I answered.
“What do you mean, today is Monday?”
“Well, yesterday was Sunday, so today must be Monday.”
“Yesterday was not sun day, it was cloudy all day, therefore it could not have possibly been sun day.”
“It has nothing to do with the weather at all, it’s just the name of a day of the week. Sunday is followed by Monday, followed by Tuesday, and so on.”
“Weather, when did we start talking about the weather? Whether to talk about the weather or whether not to talk about the weather, that is the question for the moment.” he continued.
“Look, let’s drop the weather thing, can I get a look around in the Big Store, or not?”
“Sure, come back on Monday, we’ll be open on Monday.”
“MY GOD! TODAY IS MONDAY, DIDN’T I MAKE THAT CLEAR?”
“Are you still here? I told you to come back on Monday. You never left, therefore, it can’t be Monday yet, and since you didn’t actually leave, you couldn’t have come back yet. And you don’t even see the logic in that, do you, my good man, and I use that term loosely.”
Exasperated, I turned, walked around the corner, and came back. I approached my antagonist and said, “Hello, I’m Jack Diamond, a private investigator, and I’d like to look around in your store. Would that be possible?”
“Hmm, Jack Diamond, you say? I used to know a couple of one-eyed-Jacks, and then there was a fellow by the name of Legs Diamond. Any relations?”
“No, I have no relatives.”
“How is it that you came to be, a fellow with no relatives? It seems rather odd.”
“Look, and I’m afraid I don’t yet know your name, or the names of your friends either, can I get a look into your store, or not?”
“A look into the store, well certainly, I certainly won’t be able to sell anything, if I don’t let folks look around. Since it’s Monday, feel free to have a look around. As to our names, I am Jocko, the fellow over there with the fuzzy hair is Brillo, the guy standing by the overhead door, flicking the cigarette lighter is Zippo, the one eating the Mexican food is…………………..
“Wait a minute, let me guess, Taco.”
“No, It’s Jimmy Chonga”
“What about the guy chewing gum and blowing bubbles?” I asked.
“Well, that’s so obvious, I really won’t say it,” he came back.
“Follow me Jack Diamond, and we’ll have a look around the store. “
We walked in, and I was immediately amazed at the amount of merchandise laid out for display. “How did you acquire all this stuff?” I asked.
“It’s mostly stuff I picked up here and there.”
“Hmmm, picked up, huh?” What does that mean?”
“You know, procured, obtained, secured, like that.”
“I noticed that you never said that you actually purchased any of this merchandise.”
“Sir! Are you insinuating that I may have acquired this merchandise by ill-gotten methods? I AM AGHAST! To even think that any of this stuff is hot merchandise. Well, the exception might be that hot plate over there. But I assure you that none of these things are in the least way, purloined merchandise!”
“Okay, okay Jocko, let’s get down to brass tacks.”
“So, we’re back to metaphors again, I see.”
“You win, can I just look around?”
“Are you looking for anything specific?”
“Yes, I am looking for the Orient Express.”
“Well, I am pretty sure we don’t have anything that big around here.”
“No, it’s not the real thing, but just a toy train, new, in the box.”
“I am pretty sure we don’t have one of those. Is that what Sandy, errr, Mandy lost?”
“Yeah the very one.”
We looked and looked throughout the Big Store, but never found the Orient.
I finally decided that Jocko and his henchmen didn’t have anything to do with the heist of the train. I thanked Jocko for his help and bid him a good day.
This started the whole good day thing again, and I don’t want to rewrite all that again. During this time, Max had been casing the parking lot of the Big Store. We met up, discussed our findings and decided to search for other clues. Just as were about to get into the Ford, the car in front of the Ford backed up into it. Bump, nothing major.
The door to the car opened, and a gorgeous blue-eyed blond stepped out. “Hi, I Cherry.” she said. She was truly stunning, tall, all the right curves in all the right places, and, the ones on the left weren’t bad either.
I did notice, she was holding two very menacing six-inch stilettos pointed in my direction. “Cherry, is that your name, or a condition?” I asked.
“Why, it’s my name, of course, Cherry Laine.”
“What are those stilettos for?”
“I am going to put them on, I just hate to drive with heels on.”
“Well Miss Laine, we better have a closer look at the condition of our cars after this bump. You do know, that in Pennsylvania, you must exchange names, addresses and phone numbers after an auto accident.”
“No, I wasn’t aware of that particular requirement. I am just passing through, on my way to a new job, out west. I stopped here because I am looking for some very particular items that I need to start my new job. I just came from the Big Store, but they didn’t have what I need.”
“You said you’re going out west, to a new job? What will you be doing out there?”
“You see, I have just graduated from college, and I’m an entomologist, and I need a collection of bugs to start working on my new grant at a major university out west.
But, I have a problem, I really don’t have any money. I met a couple of traveling salesmen back in Philadelphia and I purchased something form them on a whim, and used all my cash reserves on it.”
“Who were these guys?” I queried.
“They were two of the strangest people I have ever met. One was named Butch Cabot and the other one was Luigi Othello.”
“Ahhh, Cabot and Othello, I know them.”
“Yeah, they talked fast, and never said very much. Butch said something about what I wore to my graduation. Then Othello, asked if I was in the war. Then Cabot told Othello that war had nothing to do with what I wore to the graduation. This went on and on until I thought I would blow my top. I was finally able to get them to stop, and asked them what they had for sale. It turned out to be a model of the Orient Express, a train used throughout Europe, and quite famous.”
“Well Miss Laine, today is going to be your lucky day. Just look what I have here in the trunk of the old Ford.”
I opened the trunk, and she stood there, mesmerized at the spectacle before her. “As you know, I have no money, do you think we could do a trade, perhaps the model Orient Express for the bugs?”
“Yes, Miss Laine, I think that would certainly be a deal we could live with.”
Max went over to her car to get the Orient, and Cherry and I started to remove the bug collection. “Why do you drive this old Ford” she asked quizzically.
“You know Cherry, I know it’s old, but when it’s raining, the car is a dream to drive.”
“How is that?”
“You see, when the rain is poring under the hood, I know it’s doing the motor good, and the old Ford runs like my ex-wife Mabel Jean. “
The deal done, I said to Cherry, “We still need to exchange the information for the accident.”
So, we exchanged names, addresses, and phone numbers. But, I knew she would never call, they never do. One small bump from one of these dames is all you can ever hope for.
We watched as she got back into her Chevy Nomad Wagon and drive away.
Max and I stood there for a moment, and Max finally said, “We better get the train back to Mandy.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Did you ever get your banana split last night?”
“No, but I did get a lead on a place, over in Latrobe, Pennsylvania that is supposed to have the place where the banana split was invented.”
That is when we decided to mail the train back to Mandy.
I looked at Max and said, “Max, get in the Ford, I think we’re going out for ice cream.”
Now, you may be wondering why I use the name Jack Diamond. Well, I have my office in a fairly famous detective office building, called, The Detective Office Building. In our building Harry Heart and Charlie Club are on the first floor. Sam Spade has an office across from mine, so, as you can see, there was only one name I could have chosen.
One Saturday afternoon, I was sitting at my desk, catching up on the week’s paperwork, when the door burst open. She stood there, a tall redhead, dressed to the nines, with a pair of 38’s staring me in the face. I noticed, in her hand, she had a gun.
I said, “Hi Dollface,” because I didn’t yet know her name, and her face was made of porcelain, “What brings you here?”
She replied, “The trains in Spain, run mainly……………………….on the track.”
On the surface, I knew this to be true, but, somehow, it didn’t sound quite right.
“Did I understand you correctly?” I retorted.
“Yes, you did. The Orient Express is missing. It disappeared in Madrid.”
Just then, my partner, Max O Patrick walked in. Before becoming a detective, Max had been a leader in a fringe faction of the IRSOC (Irish Republican Short Order Cooks). This group had single handedly infiltrated and overtaken the Diner Industry, and were now in complete control of bacon and eggs, and were also gaining strength in cornering the market on ham on rye. When I first met Max, I asked him what the O in his name stood for. He told me it was just part of his Irish heritage, but I secretly knew different. The O stood for Oscar. Max’s dad was a wild guy named Oscar.
“Maxie”, I said, “this beautiful doll has just started to tell me her story when you came in.” “Dollface, you never did tell me your name.”
“My name is Mandy Lemons.”
“Hmm, you look more like you come from the Mellons” Max chimed in.
“No, the Mellons moved to Pittsburg and are financing some retail establishments. I think they are in the Five and Dime business.” Mandy answered,
“So, Miss Lemons, you say the Orient Express has disappeared?” How did you come across this information,” I continued to question her.
“Well, I was on holiday with Lionel, a fellow I met in Hampton, and he had purchased the Orient from Woolwerths.”
“Wait a minute, isn’t Woolworths a Five and Dime?” Max interrupted.
“Why yes, but Woolwerths is a local hobby shop that sells electric trains for children.” Mandy answered.
“So, what you are telling me is that a toy train called the Orient Express is missing, and it disappeared in Spain?”
“Why no, it disappeared in Madrid, New York, not Madrid, Spain.”
“Then what was that remark about the trains in Spain?” I queried.
“That was just for effect, to see if you were paying attention to my story, and not my individual attributes.” she countered.
“Okay, okay, so it disappeared in Madrid, New York. Give me some details.”
“Well, Lionel and I went into a restaurant and had just ordered some duck soup. The soup was delivered to our table by three Marxist waiters, really strange fellows. That is when I discovered that the package containing the train was no longer by my side.”
“Three Marxist waiters, that is strange for Madrid, New York. I had thought those guys were in Hollywood. What did you do then?”
“Well, Lionel said we should call the police and report the crime. But, I had heard of you and Max, and you guys had a good reputation in these matters, so I decided to look you up.”
She said this while staring up the pantleg of my crossed legs. I had never before felt so violated, or excited at the same moment. “And, what’s the gun for?” I asked carefully.
“A girl can never be too careful when roaming the halls of such a famous building. So, will you take the case, and help me find the missing train?”
“Normally, I wouldn’t, but there is something about your eyes, the way they both roll from side to side when you tilt your head. Something in your eyes tells me I should help you out. Max and I will begin our investigations tomorrow, tomorrow, we will begin tomorrow."
Chapter 2
Max and I discussed the case at length that evening. We decided to get a fresh start on our investigation in the morning. We would start at the restaurant where Mandy and Lionel had last seen the Orient.
In the morning, Max went out and fired up the old Ford and waited while I made us both some Joe, for the road. Max took his black, while I liked mine with a spritz or two of JTS Brown, just for a quick starter.
We motored over to Ricks Restaurant, a place not unfamiliar to me. In my youth, my parents often frequented Ricks. They both liked the brownies, baked by a lady named Alice. They always said Alice put something extra in the brownies, and they felt larger than life after eating a couple.
When we arrived at Ricks, we were greeted by the doorman, a mousey looking guy who kept muttering something about keeping one’s head. I wasn’t able to figure out then what he was talking about.
The doorman ushered us in, and we next met the maitre d’, a big fat man, known as Peter Pyemon. We explained to Pyemon that we were investigating the disappearance of the Orient two nights previous, and that the owners, Mandy and Lionel had thought perhaps the Marxist waiters had something to do with it.
Pyemon remembered Mandy and Lionel; they had given him a sawbuck to get a good table. He made sure that their table was a good one indeed. He inspected it himself and had even propped up the short leg to make sure it didn’t rock around while they were eating dinner.
Pyemon said the Marxist waiters hadn’t been around since the disappearance of the Orient. He had heard, through the Local Grapevine (a rival restaurant across town), that the Marxist waiters had joined a traveling circus and were headed for Blue Balls, Pennsylvania. Pyemon also told us we should speak to Alice, and pointed us off to the bakery at Ricks.
We walked into the bakery at Ricks and met Alice. She seemed like a nice sort of person, although she seemed a bit small at the time. I explained to Alice that we were investigating a supposed theft.
To my amazement, Alice immediately broke down and told us her tale of woe. It seems that she had spent two days preparing dozens of tarts for an upcoming wedding of a local queen. And the tarts had been stolen along with a five-gallon container of strawberry ice cream. All the while she was telling us her story, she kept rolling these three ball bearings around in her very small hands.
“And, to top things off,” Alice continued, “when I got home, my pet white rabbit was gone from his cage, and nowhere to be found. All that was left was his little pocket watch.”
This case was, indeed, fast becoming curiouser and curiouser.
Well, Max and I certainly had a lot to think about now. We immediately gassed up the old Ford and headed out for Blue Balls. While getting gas, I noticed a very large cat roaming around the station. I asked the attendant whose cat it was, but he didn’t know.
“It just showed up a couple of days ago, and has been hanging around since then. We don’t have to feed it. It seems to have a penchant for mice, and it keeps looking at the doorman over at Ricks Restaurant.”
After gassing up, Max and I headed down the road for Blue Balls. On the way, I notice the Ford was heating up and running rather poorly. “Maybe, we got some bad gas.” Max said rather off handedly.
“Yeah, could be, but the old Ford is gettin’ pretty tired lately. Did you put any new duct tape over the holes in the fenders? You know, in Pennsylvania, those Staties are pretty strict about rust buckets. We may have to go over to Ohio, and trade this car off pretty soon.”
By the time we got to Blue Balls, Max had begun to complain about his fireplace and the ache it was causing him. The Ford has continued to overheat, and got so hot, it couldn’t do no more. So we stopped at a service station, to get the Ford serviced. They found a clog in the radiator. It seems the cat from the other station had crawled up into the motor compartment and gotten stuck there when we left. They took out the cat and it ran off to parts unknown.
So we gassed up again and headed into town. Max said, “Hey, the old Ford is purring like a kitten.”
On the outskirts of town, we saw a flea market, and decided to check it out. I parked the Ford, turned off the motor, and Max said “do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“The purring sound. I still hear the purring sound.”
We both looked in the back seat at the same time, and saw four little purring kittens, a gift left to us by the stray cat from where we first bought gas that morning.
“What the heck are we going to do with four kittens? “ I wondered.
“Well, lets head over to the flea market and see what’s for sale. Maybe we’ll figure out what we can do with these cats.”
Max said okay, and we moseyed on over to the market. For a flea market, they had very few actual fleas for sale. Lots of used house-hold stuff, old tires, some Chinese folks selling boxes of imported cheap goods for a buck apiece, and one guy with a bunch of bugs.
We stopped by the bug guy and started to talk to him. It seems he was a professor at a big western university, but had lost his grant money and was now heading back east, but needed to get rid of his bugs before moving on. We looked over his selection, and since I was considering a future career in entomology, I offered him our four newly acquired cats. He agreed, and the trade was made. Max brought the cats over, and the ex professor, William Buggz (known to his friends as BillieBoyBuggzie) carried the bugs over to the Ford.
Buggzie remarked about the rather poor condition of the Ford, and I told him of my plan to trade it off in Ohio. “I think this car would do well in Ohio. They use a lot of salt over there in the winter, and they seem to tolerate cars with lots of body ventilation.”
We left the flea market, sans any fleas, but I had high hopes for the bugs. When we got into town, Max still complaining about his achey fireplace, we noticed that there was only one restaurant open at the time. We stopped in and asked about the three Marxist waiters. The folks at the restaurant hadn’t seen them, and said the traveling circus had only been in town for a few hours, and had moved on to Intercourse, Pennsylvania for their next show.
Max said Intercourse would be a good place to go. He knew someone over there who specialized in fireplaces, and he could get his ashes hauled while we were there.
We got back into the Ford, and headed off to Intercourse. Little did we know what stood in Store for us.
Chapter 3
It was late when we finally pulled into Intercourse. We cruised around and found a 24-hour diner. Max said it was a good one. He was always right. Remember, Max was a former member of the IRSOC, and he could spot the good diners from the bad in any town. So, we stopped in and I let Max do the ordering ‘cause he knew the diner lingo.
Max called the waitress over and said, “We’ll have two dots and a dash, kiss the pan, Idaho cakes in the alley, make ‘em all times two, draw two, muddy. * Thanks.”
*two dots and a dash=2 fried eggs and a strip of bacon
kiss the pan= eggs over easy
idaho cakes in the alley=hash brown potatoes served as a side dish
make em all times two=two orders
draw two muddy= 2 cups of black coffee
The food was brought ‘round lickety split, and the way Max wolfed it down, I knew he had something else on his mind. Max got up from the counter, and said he’d see me in the morning, that he was going out for a banana split.
I told him I was going to look for the traveling circus. Max said to check the outskirts of town. If anything had anything remotely related to skirts, Max would know about it. I followed his advice.
I found the circus just where Max said it would be. I questioned the Ring Leader, or, I guess Ring Master, and he told me where the three guys I was looking for could be found.
They had a big warehouse over on Market Street, and it would be open in the morning. Well, it being Sunday night, and with nothing else to do, I stayed to watch the show before catching some shuteye.
Next morning, Max and I drove down to Market Street to find the three Marxist waiters. We saw the warehouse, a really big building, at the end of the block. Three shortish guys were carrying boxes into the warehouse through an overhead door. There were two more guys inside, receiving the goods.
I parked the Ford, and we got out. Walking up to the three fellows who surely the ones we had been looking for, I said “Good morning gentlemen.”
Turning around, the apparent leader replied in rather a grouchy manner, “Whoever said is was a good morning, or, even if yet was morning, for who actually determines whether it’s actually good, or bad, or just a normal morning or other time of day?
Hmmm, I thought to myself, a smart, smart-alec wise-cracker, this one. “Well, it was just a greeting, sort of an ice-breaker.” I answered.
“Well, okay then, just so we’re on the same page, don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, sort of keeping things on an even keel, since we’re speaking in metaphors.” he countered. “What is your business here abouts?”
“I’m a private investigator, and I have a client who enlisted me to find a missing children’s electric train.”
“And, who pray tell is your client?’
“My client is one Mandy Lemons, and her toy train disappeared from her possession after you and your fellow waiters served her some Duck Soup back in Madrid, New York a few days back.”
You mean Sandy Lemons, don’t you?” the grouchy one replied.
“No, her name is Mandy Lemons.”
“I’m afraid, my good man, and I use that term loosely, for I neither know fully well if you are, indeed good, or, in fact if you are a man at all, that you have been duped. The woman in question is named Sandy Lemons.”
“Then why would she tell me her name was Mandy Lemons?” I asked.
“That’s as plain and the nose on your face, and by the way, it’s a pretty plain nose at that. No one, and I truly mean no one, likes sandy lemons. That is why she changed it.”
“So, are you accusing me and my fellows of illegally gaining possession of this particular toy train?’
“No, I have no grounds to accuse you of anything as of this moment. I would like to take a look around in your warehouse although.”
“Well, it’s not an actual warehouse. We like to call it our store, and it’s really big.”
“Yes, I can see that, a truly Big Store indeed. Can I take a look around?”
“Certainly, come back on Monday. We’ll be open on Monday.”
“But today is Monday.” I answered.
“What do you mean, today is Monday?”
“Well, yesterday was Sunday, so today must be Monday.”
“Yesterday was not sun day, it was cloudy all day, therefore it could not have possibly been sun day.”
“It has nothing to do with the weather at all, it’s just the name of a day of the week. Sunday is followed by Monday, followed by Tuesday, and so on.”
“Weather, when did we start talking about the weather? Whether to talk about the weather or whether not to talk about the weather, that is the question for the moment.” he continued.
“Look, let’s drop the weather thing, can I get a look around in the Big Store, or not?”
“Sure, come back on Monday, we’ll be open on Monday.”
“MY GOD! TODAY IS MONDAY, DIDN’T I MAKE THAT CLEAR?”
“Are you still here? I told you to come back on Monday. You never left, therefore, it can’t be Monday yet, and since you didn’t actually leave, you couldn’t have come back yet. And you don’t even see the logic in that, do you, my good man, and I use that term loosely.”
Exasperated, I turned, walked around the corner, and came back. I approached my antagonist and said, “Hello, I’m Jack Diamond, a private investigator, and I’d like to look around in your store. Would that be possible?”
“Hmm, Jack Diamond, you say? I used to know a couple of one-eyed-Jacks, and then there was a fellow by the name of Legs Diamond. Any relations?”
“No, I have no relatives.”
“How is it that you came to be, a fellow with no relatives? It seems rather odd.”
“Look, and I’m afraid I don’t yet know your name, or the names of your friends either, can I get a look into your store, or not?”
“A look into the store, well certainly, I certainly won’t be able to sell anything, if I don’t let folks look around. Since it’s Monday, feel free to have a look around. As to our names, I am Jocko, the fellow over there with the fuzzy hair is Brillo, the guy standing by the overhead door, flicking the cigarette lighter is Zippo, the one eating the Mexican food is…………………..
“Wait a minute, let me guess, Taco.”
“No, It’s Jimmy Chonga”
“What about the guy chewing gum and blowing bubbles?” I asked.
“Well, that’s so obvious, I really won’t say it,” he came back.
“Follow me Jack Diamond, and we’ll have a look around the store. “
We walked in, and I was immediately amazed at the amount of merchandise laid out for display. “How did you acquire all this stuff?” I asked.
“It’s mostly stuff I picked up here and there.”
“Hmmm, picked up, huh?” What does that mean?”
“You know, procured, obtained, secured, like that.”
“I noticed that you never said that you actually purchased any of this merchandise.”
“Sir! Are you insinuating that I may have acquired this merchandise by ill-gotten methods? I AM AGHAST! To even think that any of this stuff is hot merchandise. Well, the exception might be that hot plate over there. But I assure you that none of these things are in the least way, purloined merchandise!”
“Okay, okay Jocko, let’s get down to brass tacks.”
“So, we’re back to metaphors again, I see.”
“You win, can I just look around?”
“Are you looking for anything specific?”
“Yes, I am looking for the Orient Express.”
“Well, I am pretty sure we don’t have anything that big around here.”
“No, it’s not the real thing, but just a toy train, new, in the box.”
“I am pretty sure we don’t have one of those. Is that what Sandy, errr, Mandy lost?”
“Yeah the very one.”
We looked and looked throughout the Big Store, but never found the Orient.
I finally decided that Jocko and his henchmen didn’t have anything to do with the heist of the train. I thanked Jocko for his help and bid him a good day.
This started the whole good day thing again, and I don’t want to rewrite all that again. During this time, Max had been casing the parking lot of the Big Store. We met up, discussed our findings and decided to search for other clues. Just as were about to get into the Ford, the car in front of the Ford backed up into it. Bump, nothing major.
The door to the car opened, and a gorgeous blue-eyed blond stepped out. “Hi, I Cherry.” she said. She was truly stunning, tall, all the right curves in all the right places, and, the ones on the left weren’t bad either.
I did notice, she was holding two very menacing six-inch stilettos pointed in my direction. “Cherry, is that your name, or a condition?” I asked.
“Why, it’s my name, of course, Cherry Laine.”
“What are those stilettos for?”
“I am going to put them on, I just hate to drive with heels on.”
“Well Miss Laine, we better have a closer look at the condition of our cars after this bump. You do know, that in Pennsylvania, you must exchange names, addresses and phone numbers after an auto accident.”
“No, I wasn’t aware of that particular requirement. I am just passing through, on my way to a new job, out west. I stopped here because I am looking for some very particular items that I need to start my new job. I just came from the Big Store, but they didn’t have what I need.”
“You said you’re going out west, to a new job? What will you be doing out there?”
“You see, I have just graduated from college, and I’m an entomologist, and I need a collection of bugs to start working on my new grant at a major university out west.
But, I have a problem, I really don’t have any money. I met a couple of traveling salesmen back in Philadelphia and I purchased something form them on a whim, and used all my cash reserves on it.”
“Who were these guys?” I queried.
“They were two of the strangest people I have ever met. One was named Butch Cabot and the other one was Luigi Othello.”
“Ahhh, Cabot and Othello, I know them.”
“Yeah, they talked fast, and never said very much. Butch said something about what I wore to my graduation. Then Othello, asked if I was in the war. Then Cabot told Othello that war had nothing to do with what I wore to the graduation. This went on and on until I thought I would blow my top. I was finally able to get them to stop, and asked them what they had for sale. It turned out to be a model of the Orient Express, a train used throughout Europe, and quite famous.”
“Well Miss Laine, today is going to be your lucky day. Just look what I have here in the trunk of the old Ford.”
I opened the trunk, and she stood there, mesmerized at the spectacle before her. “As you know, I have no money, do you think we could do a trade, perhaps the model Orient Express for the bugs?”
“Yes, Miss Laine, I think that would certainly be a deal we could live with.”
Max went over to her car to get the Orient, and Cherry and I started to remove the bug collection. “Why do you drive this old Ford” she asked quizzically.
“You know Cherry, I know it’s old, but when it’s raining, the car is a dream to drive.”
“How is that?”
“You see, when the rain is poring under the hood, I know it’s doing the motor good, and the old Ford runs like my ex-wife Mabel Jean. “
The deal done, I said to Cherry, “We still need to exchange the information for the accident.”
So, we exchanged names, addresses, and phone numbers. But, I knew she would never call, they never do. One small bump from one of these dames is all you can ever hope for.
We watched as she got back into her Chevy Nomad Wagon and drive away.
Max and I stood there for a moment, and Max finally said, “We better get the train back to Mandy.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Did you ever get your banana split last night?”
“No, but I did get a lead on a place, over in Latrobe, Pennsylvania that is supposed to have the place where the banana split was invented.”
That is when we decided to mail the train back to Mandy.
I looked at Max and said, “Max, get in the Ford, I think we’re going out for ice cream.”