The Reggis Arms Caper Read online

  He yelled not that goddam door.

  He yelled this goddam door.

  I heard a lot of banging and crashing.

  I saw Harry Jennings begin to extricate himself from a pile of mops and buckets and brooms.

  I hadn’t seen Harry since we were discharged at Camp Atterbury.

  Harry was exactly as I remembered him.

  Drunk.

  I went out and helped him to his feet.

  Harry retrieved a stuffed panda and put it under his arm.

  He said some lucking frounge.

  He said that skinny gray-haired broad is rougher than a cob.

  25

  …oncet I mistook a feller for Abraham Lincoln…he was highly annoyed…said he’d thank me to get his identity straight…said he was King Richard the Lion-Hearted…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  The lounge was nearly deserted.

  It was dimly lighted.

  Scarlet drapes hung ceiling to floor on the walls.

  The barstools were done in red leatherette.

  The floor had white tile.

  It was a pleasing combination.

  Better than blue and beige I thought.

  The bar was a large formica-topped horseshoe capable of accommodating fifty or more.

  I helped Harry Jennings onto the stool next to mine.

  The grizzled old bartender approached.

  Harry Jennings said I wish rejisur complain bout servus in lounge cross hall.

  He said very unhosbittelpull.

  The grizzled old bartender shook his head.

  He said oh why does it always happen to me?

  He said why do I always get the loonies?

  He said I used to be desk sergeant at Shakespeare Avenue.

  He said every crackpot in Cook County showed up in my police station.

  He said some of ’em more than once.

  He peered at me and said say ain’t I seen you before?

  I shrugged.

  I said maybe.

  I said I drink all over.

  The grizzled old bartender brought our drinks.

  He said there was one maniac what was always beating up on the same two guys.

  He said he was in the station so often people thought he was the night janitor or something.

  He said I got so used to seeing him I actually missed the sonofabitch when they stopped bringing him in.

  He looked at me closely.

  He said you look a lot like him.

  I shrugged.

  I said maybe he got married or something.

  The grizzled old bartender said it’d serve him right.

  I turned to Harry Jennings.

  I said where do you live now Harry?

  Harry said still Senn Loose.

  I said where?

  Harry said Senn Loose.

  He said you never hear of Senn Loose Carnals?

  A husky guy entered the lounge.

  When he saw me he stopped short.

  He grinned and said well goddam.

  He came over and walloped me on the back.

  While I was regaining my breath he messed up my crew cut and crushed my hand.

  He said well Jesus Christ it’s sure good to see you.

  I said well it would sure be good to see you if I was Jesus Christ.

  He said ain’t you Steve Dawson?

  I shrugged.

  I said not that I know of.

  He left.

  It was one of the reunion’s very finest moments.

  26

  …I gave my mother-in-law a broom and the dang fool used it to sweep the floor…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  A woman in a plain brown dress towered at my elbow.

  She must have been six feet ten.

  She had jerky hazel eyes and the jaw of a piranha-devouring piranha.

  She sat beside me and gave me a complex.

  Her voice boomed down into my crew cut.

  She said how do you do?

  I shrugged.

  I said well up until now I was breaking even.

  She said I’m with the CIA.

  I said Brandy?

  She said why the hell not?

  She said as long as you’re buying make it a double.

  She flashed a saber-toothed smile.

  I broke out in the coldest sweat in history.

  She said baby this hotel is my oyster.

  She said the whole show revolves around me.

  I said sort of what you might call Operation Maypole.

  My sudden falsetto had a fetching little tremolo.

  I cleared my throat.

  I said any sign of the quarry?

  She said no but sooner or later his ass is mine.

  I said his?

  I said whose?

  She said the rotten sonofabitch who’s been screwing up my broom closet.

  She said he busted my best broom.

  She said the CIA don’t take kindly to that sort of carrying on.

  She said I’m assistant vice-president.

  I said of the CIA?

  She said no Local 702.

  She said the Cleaning Institute of America got national headquarters in Cleveland.

  She said we ain’t no bush league outfit.

  She said I bet we do half the hotels in Illinois.

  She said I’m Nellie Callahan.

  She downed her drink in a gulp.

  She put her hand on my knee.

  She said I’m off at midnight.

  It wasn’t difficult to associate Nellie Callahan with brooms and midnight.

  I said I’m booked on an eleven o’clock flight to Bolivia.

  Nellie looked at her watch.

  She said I’m on a half-hour break now.

  She said what the hell how long can it take?

  I shrugged.

  I said I don’t know.

  I said sometimes they land in Tampa.

  27

  …there is more Italian restaurants than there is Italians…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  Harry Jennings had vanished.

  That was a step in the right direction.

  I hoisted my suitcase.

  I’d take it up to my room and come down for a few drinks and then I’d try to locate Brandy Alexander.

  I left the lounge.

  A guy with a bushy black moustache came barreling around a corner.

  He walked right into me.

  He rebounded and sat on the floor very hard.

  He looked up with hot beady eyes.

  Gino Scarletti.

  Gino had been with the Ammson Detective Agency for a time.

  He was thinner than when I saw him last.

  I picked him up.

  He was glaring at me.

  Then his eyes popped wide open.

  He said oh Jeeza Christ itsa Purdue.

  I said hi Gino.

  Gino said hey Purdue amma wanna no troubles.

  I said everything’s okay Gino.

  I said what are you doing these days?

  Gino said amma gotta gooda job.

  He said amma drive bigga longa blacka Cadillac for Coola Lipsa Chericola.

  I said I thought you lived with Mama Rosa at the grocery store.

  Gino said amma witha Mama Rosa sixxa weeks anna lose thirta-wunna pounds.

  He said amma gotta two choice.

  He said disappeara fast or disappeara slow.

  He said hey you see Mama Rosa you no say nothing.

  I said no problem Gino.

  Gino said Coola Lipsa Chericola gotta these lectures only I no allow inna lecture room.

  He said only Mafiosi bigga shots.

  He said Stiffa Socks Castellano anna Joe Broccolini anna Madda Dogga Rizzo anna like that.

  He said is bigga somethings going on.

  He said Coola Lipsa Chericola alla time carry briefcase with lotsa locks on.

  I said hey is maybe gooda secreta recipe forra ravioli.

 
Gino said Purdue whattsamatta you?

  He said you no Italiano.

  I shrugged.

  I said sorry Gino.

  I said amma forget.

  28

  …oncet I knowed a woman what took up jujitsu so’s she wouldn’t get raped…she was ninety-six years old and a virgin…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  Room 306 was unlocked.

  I went in.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  Lights were on and I heard water running.

  I eased my suitcase to the floor.

  I pulled my three-cell flashlight.

  I held it like a billy club.

  I advanced to the center of the room and looked around.

  The room turned upside down.

  Several times.

  I bounced off two walls.

  Or maybe it was the same wall twice.

  I hit the floor the way a side of beef hits the cutting block.

  I tried to get up.

  There was a foot on my throat.

  A bare foot.

  It belonged to a woman.

  She was dark-haired and lovely.

  She was as naked as a jaybird.

  She said what’s your name?

  I shrugged.

  I said Chance Purdue.

  I said I think.

  I said just a little humor there.

  The woman smiled.

  It was a wonderfully warm smile.

  She removed her foot from my Adam’s apple.

  She extended a hand and pulled me to my feet.

  She said hi there I’m Brandy Alexander.

  29

  …sacrifice is good for the soul…our preacher mentioned that last week…from the backseat of his brand-new chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  I tottered to the bed and sat down heavily.

  Brandy Alexander was lighting a pair of cigarettes with a little chromed lighter.

  One was for me.

  Brandy said sorry Purdue.

  I said that makes it unanimous.

  I said what the hell hit me?

  Brandy said well I suppose it would be best described as a cross between kung fu and karate.

  She said it’s a mandatory course at Langley.

  I said and you graduated magna cum laude.

  Brandy nodded.

  I said shouldn’t you put on some clothing?

  Brandy said I was taking a shower.

  She said you might have knocked you know.

  I said hindsight always did beat foresight.

  Brandy said didn’t Grogan give you our secret knock?

  She said it goes shave and a haircut two-bits.

  I said somehow it seems that the CIA could come up with a better knock than shave and a haircut two-bits.

  Brandy winked.

  She said the KGB is thinking the same way.

  She said that’s why we use shave and a haircut two-bits.

  I said perhaps you ought to dress.

  I said you just never know who’s liable to walk in.

  I said poor bastard.

  Brandy started to dress.

  Unconcernedly.

  She might have been thirty-three.

  She was probably five four and I put her at one-twenty give or take a few ounces.

  She had thick dark wavy hair and smoldering liquid brown eyes.

  She was built like a slender wedge with good shoulders tapering smoothly to what had to be a twenty-two waist.

  Her stomach was flat and unmarked and her legs were right out of a chorus line.

  She backed up to me and did an effortless deep knee bend.

  She said hook my brassiere please.

  She said it’s so tight it leaves welts.

  She said you’ll see.

  She stood and walked to the mirror.

  She moved like a puma.

  I said Brandy I’m married.

  In the mirror I saw Brandy’s liquid brown eyes roll.

  Exasperatedly.

  She turned with her hands on the hips of her white bikini panties.

  She said look Purdue this operation is for the benefit of the United States of America.

  She said we’re trying to do a job and we’re outnumbered in our own damn country.

  She said we’re up against KGB agents and the American news media and the nation’s judicial system.

  She said now I’m not here to preach any sermons but if we’re going to get results we’ll need one hundred percent cooperation.

  She said all of us will have to sacrifice a bit.

  She said that goes for me and it goes for you and if need be it goes for your wife.

  I said yes I know but.

  Brandy said have any of your old Army buddies ever seen your wife?

  I said I hope not.

  Brandy said well so do I because you and I are registered as Mr. and Mrs. Chance Purdue.

  She smiled her wonderfully warm smile.

  Her lips were soft and red and her teeth were white and even.

  She wrinkled her perfect nose at me.

  She said you’re simply going to have to endure me.

  I shrugged.

  I said duty calls.

  Brandy said that’s the spirit.

  30

  …in 1927 I knowed a feller what bought a gun…took a shot at his wife and kilt his mother-in-law…the jury is still out…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  Brandy sat beside me on the bed.

  She said do you have a weapon?

  I said yeah I got my three-cell flashlight.

  Brandy said I mean a gun.

  I said no.

  I said Betsy had one but she lost track of it when we moved.

  Brandy frowned.

  She said that’s a nasty item to lose track of.

  She took her purse from the nightstand.

  She opened it and pressed a small pistol into my hand.

  She said carry this.

  She was businesslike but she retained her femininity.

  I’d have expected a woman in Brandy’s racket to look like a truck driver and talk like a mule skinner.

  I said but what about you?

  Brandy said I have one that’ll shoot rings around yours.

  I looked at the pistol.

  It was a rhapsody in blue steel.

  It gleamed softly.

  Like a forbidden jewel.

  I said how does it work?

  Brandy said my God are you serious?

  She said you aim it and pull the trigger.

  I said yes but where’s the safety?

  Brandy said it’s in the grip and it works on a squeeze-release.

  I dropped it into my pocket.

  Brandy said Purdue you’re very much in love with your wife aren’t you?

  I said sure.

  I said Betsy’s aces.

  Brandy said does her past disturb you?

  I said what about her past?

  Brandy said scarlet woman and that sort of thing.

  I shrugged.

  I said I haven’t lost much sleep over it.

  I said when you get right down to it it isn’t what you used to be that really matters.

  I said it’s what you are.

  I said I like what Betsy is.

  Brandy smiled.

  She said bravo.

  She said you’re realistic Purdue but we can’t always control our thoughts.

  She said it has to eat at you now and then.

  I shrugged.

  I said well there’s just one thing that bothers me.

  I said you see Betsy was what she was when I met her.

  I said but she was a different kind of what she was.

  I said she was a beautiful sweet kind patient understanding what she was.

  Brandy said well done.

  She said no woman likes to be called a whore.

  I said well anyway I knew she was a call girl so that didn’t exactly rattle
my back teeth.

  Brandy said what then?

  I said it’s the arithmetic that scares me.

  I said every damn time I divide fifty dollars into two hundred thousand dollars I get the same answer.

  Brandy nodded.

  She said four thousand men.

  I said it’s mind boggling.

  Brandy said no it isn’t.

  She said not at all.

  She said you just have it all out of perspective.

  She said look at it this way.

  She said the difference between zero and four thousand is four thousand.

  She said the difference between one and four thousand is zero.

  I said the hell it is.

  Brandy said the hell it isn’t.

  She said it all comes out to has she or hasn’t she?

  She said numbers aren’t important.

  She said Betsy has done it for money and I’ve done it for a variety of reasons and we’re both whores.

  I shrugged.

  Brandy said Betsy and I aren’t alone.

  She said Purdue all women are whores.

  I said Betsy told me that.

  Brandy said we do it and we justify it and we never fool anybody but ourselves.

  I said Betsy said something like that.

  Brandy said Betsy makes sense.

  She said have you ever asked why she became a call girl?

  She said it may have gone a lot deeper than just money.

  I said I figure it’s Betsy’s business.

  I said if she wanted me to know she’d have told me.

  Brandy said I don’t know Betsy but I like her.

  She stood and picked up her purse.

  She was a picture in her gauzy flare-skirted tan dress.

  She said shall we go down to the lounge?

  I shrugged.

  I could see right through her flared skirt.

  Brandy looked around her.

  She said I hope I haven’t forgotten anything.

  I said I’m afraid you have.

  Brandy said what?

  I said your half-slip.

  Brandy said Purdue half-slips went out with Packard convertibles.

  31

  …there is so many Communists in the news media you got to go to the Russian Embassy to get the baseball scores…

  Monroe D. Underwood

  There were twenty or more dark-complected men at the bar in the lounge.

  Their dress leaned heavily to powder-blue sharkskin suits with black shirts and white ties.