The Big Blast

by Lister, Michael

  “We’re gonna find her,” I said.

  I regretted saying it the moment it was out of my mouth.

  “I know. I can feel it. It’s gonna be all right.”

  I should’ve said I’m going to do everything I can to find her or something like it.

  “It’s gotta be,” he said. “Why else would I be spared, make it back home from hell—if not to be with her?”

  “What’s the third?” I said.

  “Orca,” he said. “He literally saved my life a half dozen times. This last time, he saved several of us. We were pinned down at the far end of Betio Pier. Jap shore batteries were blasting hell out everything. Orca, the big, fearless lug, kept defying death and the big blasts of the enemy bombardment to organize and lead all of us over the long, open pier to the beach beyond. Then the crazy bastard got a flamethrower and demolitions and started blasting hell out of them, taking out several hostile installations singlehandedly. Never seen anything like it. He’s gonna get the Congressional Medal of Honor. Mom is organizing a parade and a celebration for him here.”

  I nodded.

  “What? Should I get her to wait?”

  I shrugged. Thought about it. Then said, “No. Don’t have her wait. Let’s just help him out of this jam before the celebration takes place.”

  “Then we better hurry,” he said. “She’s planning it for next week.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  When I got back to the office, Clip had both Gary and Rita Thomas there with him.

  I was surprised, but not shocked. Nothing Clip could do would shock me.

  I was alone. Ernie had gone to keep an eye on Orson until the three of us met up later to follow up on some leads.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Just waitin’ on you so we can proceed,” he said. “Could I get you all to step into my office?”

  They nodded.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “May, I, ah, Judy too come?” Miki asked.

  “’Course,” he said. “You’s a big part of this, baby.”

  She beamed—an expression that always made her look even more Asian, an expression all the carefully applied makeup, the tilted-down hat, and large sunglasses were impotent against.

  When we were all situated in Clip’s mostly empty office, Gary said, “This seems highly irregular to me. What’s all this about?”

  He and Rita were seated next to each other in Clip’s client chairs, but weren’t touching, looking at each other, or interacting in any way.

  Besides the two client chairs, the only things left in Ray’s old office were an old empty filing cabinet, a desk, and the chair behind it, in which Clip was now seated.

  Miki and I were standing to the side.

  “Hold on,” Clip said. “Didn’t think this all the way through.”

  He pushed back from his desk, stood, and ushered Miki into his chair.

  She bowed and said, “Ariga—thank you.”

  “So,” Clip said, “I is broken the case wide open like I’s some Negro Sherlock Holmes.”

  I smiled—as I often did at Clip. I could tell by the way he was talkin’, the shift in his dialect, the attitude and tone of his bearing, that this was going to be entertaining if nothing else.

  “I Jap Watson doctor,” Miki said.

  I actually laughed out loud.

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Gary said, turning to look at me.

  “I is no joke,” Clip said.

  “He is no joke,” I said.

  “I’s a private eye with only one eye, but by God it’s a good eye. When Jimmy put me in charge of this case—”

  Something I wasn’t aware I had done.

  “—I pay close attention with this one eye. And Judy’s two good one’s a ’course. I know people. ’Specially women. And after just a little while of following Miss Rita here around––”

  “You’ve been following me?” Rita said, shock and outrage in her voice.

  “Your little mister there thought you’s cheatin’ on him.”

  “Me?” she said.

  “Exactly,” Clip said. “I could tell right away you’s not cheatin’ on nobody.”

  “I most certainly am not,” she said.

  “But to be absolutely certain,” he said, “I gave you the Clip test.”

  “The Clip test?” I said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I propositioned her. The Clip test. She able to resist me, she faithful as the day is long.”

  “Oh yeah?” Gary said. “Well, what about her nights? Her long nights when she’s not at home, when she leaves her friend, what about then?”

  “Ah yes, the friend,” Clip said. “Or is she? Sweet, little, soft-spoken Betty Blackmon. I aks myself why you wandering around the city lookin’ for someone you never find. Hell, if you was meetin’ someone you’d a done met ’em by now. No, you’s out on a wild goose chase.”

  “I was out lookin’ for my husband,” she said.

  “And why?” Clip asked. “’Cause your good friend and neighbor Betty put you up to it. ’Cause she told you she’d seen Gary with another woman, right? Cause she told you some of the places he takes her and give you a supposed alibi while you goes and looks at them for Gary and this girl the bitch made up.”

  “Hey,” Gary said. “I’ll not have you talk about Betty that way.”

  “All the while she cozyin’ up to ol’ Gary, tellin’ him she’s seen you with another man, that she hears you talking to him at work, that she’s even seen him over at your house. She drivin’ him crazy with all this shit, all the while cozyin’ up to him, gettin’ ready to take your place.”

  A born entertainer, he paused for dramatic effect.

  “Aks me how I know all this,” Clip said.

  “How do you know all this?” I asked.

  “’Cause when my good eye saw what it saw, Negro Holmes and Jap Watson began to investigate sweet little Betty Blackmon. We follow her. We watch her. We read the notes she be leavin’ for these two and see—”

  “Through fake sweet,” Miki said.

  “So he’s not cheatin’ on me?” Rita asked me.

  “Ask Negro Holmes.”

  She looked at Clip.

  He shook his head. “No, he not.”

  “And she’s not cheatin’ on me?” Gary said.

  “No, she not,” Clip said.

  “And Betty is . . .”

  “The devil,” Miki said.

  “Case closed,” Clip said. “Marriage saved. Detective legend born.”

  “I’m sorry I thought you were . . .” Rita said to Gary.

  “Me too.”

  “Great work,” I said. “You two make a great team.”

  “It elementary,” Clip said. “All we do is . . .” He looked at Miki.

  “Cut through white bitch’s bullshit,” she said.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Early Evening.

  A plumb-colored horizon had faded to black and now lightning was flickering atop the pines.

  I was driving Lauren to the USO for her shift.

  On our way, I cut over to Jenks and we drove by Demetri’s place.

  David Howell was in the yard, watching as uniform cops and the coroner worked beneath the house. He stepped out into the road when we pulled up.

  As usual, he tried not to show any awkwardness in his movements, and, as usual, there were none—unless you knew what to look for.

  “House belonged to a little old lady,” he said. “Martha Westerton. Our boy slit her throat and threw her under the house.”

  “Oh no,” Lauren said. “Poor thing.”

  “So maybe the blood was hers,” I said.

  “Some of it at least, I’d say. He had stuff hidden in the walls, under the house. Gonna take a while to go through it all. Hell, we haven’t even found it all yet. There’s a shed out back we haven’t even started going through yet. But it looks like he might be a Nazi spy of some kind.”

  “Really?” Lauren said.

&
nbsp; “It’s at least a possibility,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “Where is Orson?” he asked. “Thought you weren’t going to let him out of your sight?”

  “Ernie’s with him now,” I said. “I’ll be with him in a little while. One of us will be with him at all times.”

  “That’s an awful lot of trust Folsom’s givin’ you,” he said.

  “I’ve earned it,” I said.

  “Never seen anything like it. Just be careful. I still like Orson for it. Make sure he doesn’t do it again.”

  “What if he didn’t do it before?” Lauren said.

  “I hope that’s the case, but . . . I just don’t think it is. I want to. I just don’t.”

  “I understand,” I said. “We should know one way or another soon. Please keep me posted on what you find here—and if there’s any sign of Joan Wynn.”

  “Only if you keep me posted on what happens with the big fella.”

  “It’s a deal,” I said, and we drove away.

  Orca and Ernie met me at the USO and the three of us met with a girl named Linda Sue Sanger out in back by the bay.

  Lightning continued to flicker in the distance but there was nothing in it. No rain. No thunder. Just a light show in the otherwise dark night sky.

  The black night was biting, especially the breeze blowing in off the bay, but it didn’t seem to bother anyone, including Linda Sue.

  “Gee mister,” she said, “I feel funny sayin’ stuff to you about her if she was your girl.”

  “If?” Ernie said. “You didn’t know she was my girl?”

  “See? Like that. No matter what I say you’ll be sore.”

  “We’ve got to have it,” I said. “No matter what it is. Finding her is all that matters. Not his feelings. He wants to hear the truth.”

  She looked at him.

  He nodded.

  The night was so dark, especially with the wartime blackout, that the only evidence of the bay beside us was the undulating waters and their rhythmic splash against pilings, cement seawalls, and boat hulls.

  “Why not just get it from the big fella?” she said, nodding to the enormous dark mass that was Orca.

  He had yet to utter a word, just stood quietly in the darkness—listening, I assumed. I couldn’t see his face.

  “I’ve told it all to him,” she said.

  “You have?” I said.

  “You have?” Orson said. “I don’t remember.”

  “When?” I asked.

  She shrugged—something I had an impression of rather than actually seeing. “A week ago,” she said. “Maybe a little more. Wasn’t long after she disappeared.”

  “I . . .” Orson started.

  “You’ve talked to her before?” Ernie said.

  “If I did I don’t remember.”

  “It was right inside there,” she said. “Told me you’s looking for her for your buddy. Said you had to find her and fast.”

  “I . . .” Orson said. “I . . . don’t . . . I can’t remember.”

  “Just tell us,” I said.

  “Every word of it,” Ernie added.

  “I didn’t mean she wasn’t your girl or nothin’, just that . . . well, Joan didn’t seem like anybody’s girl. No, that’s not it. She seemed like everybody’s girl. You know the type. Not in a bad way. I don’t mean it as a bad thing.”

  “She said that’s the role she was playing here,” Ernie said.

  “I’m sure it was,” she said. “She was quite the actress. Everything was a part for her. She was meant for the stage or screen. She was frustrated she wasn’t on either.”

  “We were gonna do something about that after I got home,” Ernie said.

  “See? She told me that. Said her fella was gonna make her a star.”

  “So why didn’t you think she was my girl?” Ernie said.

  “It’s nothin’ really. It’s just . . . she was always sayin’ stuff like that. That’s what made me suspicious about those other guys. The ones I told Lauren about. She said they were going to make her a star.”

  “How? What guys?” Ernie said.

  “I don’t know. If she said their names I forgot, but she probably didn’t ’cause she didn’t want any competition. I’d like to be in pictures too. You know? Who wouldn’t? She said one was a location scout and the other was a casting agent. Said they were real live Hollywood producers. Said they had worked on a picture shot in the Okefenokee Swamp near Waycross, Georgia a few years back. Said they discovered her as she was coming out of Walgreen’s and they were coming out of the Marie Hotel. I just had a hard time believing it. Discovered her from across the street? I don’t know . . . But I told Lauren and the big fella here because it was right about the time that she went missing.”

  “Did she say anything else?” I said. “Anything about them? What they looked like? Wore? The way they talked? Anything? Anything about the picture? The title? Director? What kind of film it was going to be?”

  “Let me think,” she said, raising her fingers to her mouth and chin. “What . . . else . . . did . . . she . . .”

  “Jimmy,” a voice out of the darkness yelled. “You down here?”

  It was Clip’s voice, disembodied in the darkness.

  “Clip,” I said toward the sound of his voice. “Smile so I can see you.”

  I heard Miki laugh, but I still couldn’t see either of them.

  “Howell just called the office,” Clip said. “They found all kind a spy shit and explosives in Demetri’s house and shed. He’s a part of the Nazi sabotage plot.”

  We began walking toward them and soon they emerged from the darkness in front of us.

  “They plan to blow up a train, some ships at the naval section base and Wainwright shipyard, some planes at Tyndall, the Dixie Sherman, and the USO when it’s full. He thinks it’s all gonna happen tonight.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Lauren’s in there,” I said.

  “Let’s get her out,” Clip said. “Others too.”

  Linda Sue started to scream and run away. Orca meant to put his hand over her mouth but it covered her entire face. He held her in place with seemingly no effort at all.

  Miki said, “Calm down. Take breath.”

  She nodded and complied—perhaps moments before Miki was going to slap her.

  “We gotta get in there,” Orca said.

  “What if they’re watching? Ernie said.

  “We’ve got to be quiet about it,” I said.

  “Cops are scrambling to the other targets,” Clip said. “Howell asked us to see what we could do here. Sending backup when he can.”

  “We go in and get the civilians out,” Orson said. “Then we deal with the Nazi bastards.”

  “If it’s wired, we run the risk of triggering it or causing them to if we start a mass exit,” Ernie said. “We could also start a panic and get people hurt—maybe for nothing.”

  “Be suspicious if Clip or Miki go in,” I said. “Y’all take a careful and covert look around the outside while the three of us go in.”

  “How about panicky here?” Clip said.

  “Look at me,” I said to Linda Sue, my eyes locking on to hers. “You could get a lot of people killed if you don’t calm down and—”

  She mumbled something beneath Orca’s mitt. He slowly moved his hand.

  “I’m good now,” she said. “Sorry I . . . reacted like that. How can I help?”

  “She can stick with us,” Clip said. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “Just one?” Miki asked.

  “All I can spare,” he said, and he and Ernie both laughed at that.

  Orca turned and started running toward the front of the building.

  “Whoa, big fella,” Ernie said.

  Orca slowed.

  “Hey,” I said. “We have to walk in there like nothing unusual’s going on.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, matching our pace. “Sorry, I forgot.”

  “We’re just three pals out for
a good time,” Ernie said. “Talk to some pretty girls, eat some good food, take a twirl around the dance floor. Don’t forget. It’s important.”

  “Got it.”

  We slowly walked around to the front of the building, putting a hand on Orca occasionally to slow him down a little, all the while scanning the area for Demetri or anyone who looked suspicious.

  Inside, I searched for Lauren while they looked for Demetri.

  “Paper Doll” by the Mills Brothers was playing. The dance floor was full.

  I’m gonna buy a paper doll that I can call my own

  A doll that other fellows cannot steal

  Servicemen and junior hostesses sat at tables talking. Senior hostesses were restocking trays with cookies and bowls with punch.

  I’d rather have a paper doll to call my own

  Than have a fickle-minded real live girl

  I had always thought “Paper Doll” was sort of sad and pathetic. Johnny S. Black, a pianist who supplemented his income by boxing, had written it after being jilted by his girlfriend.

  I spotted Otis dancing with a thin redheaded junior hostess. Weaving in and out of the couples, I crossed the dance floor to him.

  “Hiya Jimmy. You cuttin’ in?”

  “You haven’t seen The Creeper, have you?”

  “NO,” he said a little too loudly. “You think he’s— He wouldn’t come back here, would he?”

  “What about anybody who’s not quite right?” I said. “Somebody like him?”

  “No, don’t think so. Want me to look around?”

  “Very discreetly,” I said. “You can’t be obvious about it. Can’t look like you’re doing it. Just dance and go get a drink or snack and casually, disinterestedly glance around. If you see The Creeper or anyone like him, don’t make eye contact. Just come get me.”

  “Got it.”

  “Have you seen Lauren?”

  “Try the kitchen or the storage closet. Think she was headed for one of them last time I saw her.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Remember. Be discreet.”

  After checking the kitchen and not finding Lauren, I went to the storage room.

  She was hunched over something, her back to me.

  “I’m so glad you’re not a paper doll,” I said.

  She slowly turned toward me. I could see that what she had been hunched over was three large crates of Nazi rail buster dynamite. The crates were filled with sticks and sticks of dynamite, each wooden box bearing the official symbol of the Nazi party, the black eagle above a swastika.