The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 3: Red Reunion (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #3)

by Michael Panush

  “So you will shoot me with the boy’s gun?” Wagner tried to pull himself away, but one of his legs was busted open. He pulled himself along the stone floor, huddling in a shadowy corner.

  I walked over to him. I pulled the Ka-Bar from my boot. “Not for a long time,” I said. I leaned down and raised the knife. I got to work. It was bloody and it was slow. Wagner screamed until he couldn’t scream anymore and the knife was red to the hilt. Even then I didn’t stop. I lost track of time. Blood was thick on the floor of the church. And then finally, I decided I had enough. Wagner wasn’t coming back from that.

  I stood up. I put Weatherby’s pistol at what was left of his face. “If you come back again,” I told him. “I’ll be waiting.” I fired, and that was the end of the Viscount Wagner Stein.

  After he was gone, I finally realized just how beaten up I was. It felt like my bones were grinding themselves to splinters with my every movement. It felt like my heart was going to stop beating and explode. I headed out of the church and back to the road, and had to pause for breath on the way a few times. When I got to the road, I saw Tiny’s truck was waiting for us, next to the wreck of the Roadmaster. Tiny and the rest of my pals must have followed me. I was grateful. Walking back to town was a challenge I didn’t want.

  Evelyn and Weatherby stood together, talking quietly. Adam stood next to them, looking like part of the scenery. “He didn’t hurt you? Weatherby asked. “You’re quite certain?”

  “Not at all, Weatherby,” Evelyn smiled a little. “He said… awful things. I’ll never forget them. But that’s all he did.” Her smile grew. “And you saved me. I knew you would. I wasn’t frightened, because I told myself that you were too brave, too determined, and too kind to let me down. Thank you, Weatherby.” She leaned close and kissed him, quickly on the lips. Weatherby’s face glowed red.

  “You’re all right,” he said, like he was trying to reassure himself. “You’re fine.”

  I walked past them and looked at the truck. Tiny was behind the wheel, and Elkins sat next to him. “We’ve followed you over here, Sarge,” Tiny said. “Looks like we got here a little too late to help. You got the conjure-man then?”

  “That’s right,” I agreed. “Wagner Stein’s finished for good.”

  “I bet he is, Sarge.” Elkins looked down at me, Weatherby, and Evelyn. “But you fellows don’t look too far from the grave, if you don’t mind me saying. Come on in, and we’ll get you back to the hotel. Got a feeling you’re gonna need the rest.”

  I nodded. “Got that right, soldier.” I walked around the back of the truck and opened the door. Evelyn and Weatherby hurried inside, and Adam followed. “What’s the situation on the home front?”

  Elkins looked back. “Well, we got the old Doc to a fellow Tiny knew that’s mighty good with bullets. He patched him up just fine. He’s back in the rooms, and resting up. Except for being worried sick about his little girl, he’s just fine.” He smiled at Evelyn. “And when he sees you, missy, he’ll be even better. By the way, who’s the big guy? Is that the Adam fellow Miss Stein mentioned? Looks like he’s been wrestling elephants.”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “You’ll hear about it. We’ll have plenty of time.” I leaned back and closed my eyes. I could feel unconsciousness circling me, waiting to close in. I held it off for a little more. “And the cops? And Dutch?”

  “The city just wants the whole Midnight Products thing buried. They know bad things was going on there. Investigation ain’t gonna get too far,” Tiny explained. “I called a friend in the NYPD and he said we don’t got nothing to fear. And he got Dutch out of the morgue. We can bury him tomorrow. I don’t think he had much family.”

  “He had us,” Weatherby said. His smile vanished. He was thinking about Dutch, and all the suffering he had put his friends through. His eyes closed and he leaned down.

  It was Adam who acted. “Weatherby,” he said. “We did not fight for you because we were fools. We know that you will honor our sacrifices and our actions. We know that you will bring some good to the world.”

  Weatherby nodded wearily. “I’ll do my best,” he said, his voice shaking. “I just wish the costs weren’t so dear.”

  We rode along in silence. Weatherby fell asleep, his head leaning on Evelyn’s shoulder. She brushed his hair back and dabbed at his cuts with a handkerchief. They were perfect for each other. They were kind and gentle. I was neither of those things. What I had done to Wagner proved that. But Weatherby still saw me as a best friend, big brother and father, in spite of it all. And for that, I’d never let him down. I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me.

  Dutch’s funeral wasn’t too large. We had it the day after I killed Wagner and Dracula. There was a cemetery in New York, and it was as fine enough place as any to put him. Everybody came to see him off. Even those that hadn’t known him in the war stood there, dressed all in black. The Dearborns had never met Dutch before yesterday, but they knew that they owed him everything.

  It was a cold day when we buried him. The funeral was in the morning, and we all stood by the side of the grave as they lowered him down in a pine box. Everyone wore black. Even Adam went to some specialty store and had a great black suit made for him. Weatherby stood near Selena and Chad. The beatnik wore a dark suit and tie to go with Selena’s black dress, and I had to admit, it didn’t look bad on him.

  Reverend Sharp did the service. Dutch was Roman Catholic, but he never cared about God, and I figured he would have preferred an ally crowing over him than some New York priest he never met. Sharp finished reciting scripture and we looked at the coffin.

  “I never got to thank him,” Selena said. “For saving Weatherby from Castle Stein, in Europe. I always wanted to just take him aside, and thank him for saving my family, just like I had done with Morton. And with everything going on in the hotel and the attack, I never got the chance.”

  Weatherby closed his eyes. “He… is another friend I have lost. Another friend, who perished for my s-sake…” He couldn’t say any more. One of his eyes was black and swollen, but the other closed when he talked. His lips were a thin line.

  I looked down at Dutch. “He was a good soldier,” I said. “Hell, he was one of the best. He was reliable, a good shot, an ace with a wrench and he saved my behind nearly every day when we were storming across Germany.” I looked at Tiny and Elkins. “We got used to killing in the War. Or maybe we were always bad and the War just made us worse. But after we came back, we were different. Dutch told me so. He told me that even though the government and the world told him he wasn’t a soldier any more, he knew differently. But he fought for a good cause. He saved the life of a good boy and girl. He saved the whole country too, come to think of it. In the end, maybe that’s all we can hope for.”

  The coffin rested six feet down. The gravediggers started filling it in. We stayed with them, watching the dirt grow. Soon enough, it was finished. Selena had brought flowers, and Evelyn too. They set them down on the dirt. We had said everything we could. We said goodbye to Dutch.

  And as soon as the funeral finished, we headed to the hospital to see Henry Wallace. Reverend Sharp was anxious to return to his congregation. “I’m gonna try snake handling,” he told me, as we took a taxi across town. “It may look hard, but I think I can handle a serpent, and it will really impress the folks that watch!”

  Adam wanted to return to Los Angeles. He was already getting anxious. And Elkins and Tiny had their own careers too. They were planning on leaving later in the day, and I didn’t ask them to stay. They had done enough.

  I was thinking of taking a break from detective work for a few days myself. I had a couple of cases in the mail, but they could wait. Relaxing with Weatherby, Chad and Selena long enough for our wounds to heal sounded okay to me. Weatherby even suggested going on a little vacation with Selena, to the new country of Israel of all places.

  “Our mother was of the Hebraic faith,” Selena explained. “But she never dwelled on it, and I have litt
le personal experience with that side of me and Weatherby. My professor suggested studying some archaeological sites in Israel, and I think Weatherby might like to come along.”

  “Could I, Mort?” he asked, like there was a chance I’d say no.

  “Sure, kiddo. You’re your own man. That’s something you’ve taught me very well.” I grinned at him as the Taxi turned the corner to the hospital. “You go with your sister and have a nice time. I’ll be here resting up and when you get back, we can go back to work. We’ve got to make up for all the dough we spent on this little venture. And I know you’re still sending cash to Selena.”

  “We’re real grateful for the help, little man.” Chad reached over and patted Weatherby’s shoulder. “We’re still getting on our feet, and we appreciate every penny.”

  “Just make sure you don’t spend it all on bop records and poetry books, boy,” I said. Weatherby wouldn’t scold his sister’s boyfriend, so that was my job. But then again, I didn’t think I needed to. Despite Chad’s hipster affectations, I knew that Selena had found herself a good man. He had stood by us through the whole bloody case and the funeral. He’s stand by us no matter what.

  But it wasn’t only the dead we had time for. The taxi cab stopped in front of the hospital where Henry Wallace was healing up. We got out, all of us going in to check up on him, some to say goodbye before they departed. We filed through the main doors and into the waiting room. That’s when I got a glimpse of a bright red Hawaiian shirt against the white cement of the building. The Company spook had tailed us here.

  “Go on and stay with Henry Wallace,” I told Weatherby. “I’ll deal with him.”

  The rest of my friends went inside, while Bobby Belasco approached me. We stood in the doorway to the hospital. He gave me a grin. “I heard about what went down in the Knight Building, Morton,” he said. “It was all over Langley. My end of it too.”

  “Did they like that?” I asked.

  “Not really. They’re reassigning me to some Latin American hellhole where the cities are jungles and white men sweat themselves to death. I don’t care. I can stand the heat.” He held out his hand. “So I just want to thank you. I trusted you, and it worked out.”

  I shook his hand. “You ought to try it more often.”

  “Hmmm. I don’t know. My trust only goes so far.” Belasco turned away from me. He started down the road, already reaching for a cigar. “Take care of yourself, Morton!” he called back to me. “It’s a great big dangerous world out there! And it’s only gonna get worse!”

  Maybe he was right. I didn’t care. Belasco wasn’t the only one who could stand the heat.

  I went back into the hospital and headed to Henry Wallace’s room. The place was crowded with all of his friends. Evelyn had bought him a thick stack of comic books, Tiny had snuck in some candy bars, and Elkins gave him a model airplane kit. Adam gave him a coonskin cap. I got the feeling that the big man had caught, killed, and skinned the critter himself.

  Henry Wallace sat up in his bed, his arm and leg still in a cast and bandages on his forehead, but a smile on his face and brightness in the eyes behind his spectacles. He stared around in a mix of happiness and disbelief at all of his guests. Sly sat next to him. Since helping us slip past the cops and get into the Knight Building, Sly hadn’t left his son’s side.

  “Thank you for coming to see me,” Henry Wallace said. “And for all the presents! I really don’t know if I deserve them, as I didn’t do a good job defending Miss Dearborn or anything…”

  “Nonsense,” Evelyn said. She patted his head. “You were the sort of noble defender that every lady wishes for. And you are very welcome. My father and I will be departing for another expedition soon, but we could not leave without seeing you.”

  Henry Wallace turned to Weatherby. The kid blamed himself for what had happened. He stood in the corner, looking like he was made of glass and would break if you poked him. “Weatherby?” Henry Wallace asked. “Are you okay?”

  Weatherby couldn’t meet Henry Wallace’s eyes. “I’m fine, my young friend. I’ve never been better. But you were injured, when I should have done something to protect you.”

  “No.” Henry Wallace leaned out of his hospital bed. He reached out and took Weatherby’s hand. He gave it a squeeze. “I’m your friend, Weatherby. You’ve helped me and my papa out tons of times, without us ever asking you to. And that’s what friends do. They help each other out, and protect each other.” Weatherby smiled and squeezed Henry Wallace’s hand. “And I’m happy, Weatherby, I’m very happy to have a friend like you.”

  “And the gratitude I feel – to all of you—is beyond belief.” Weatherby looked up. He spoke to everyone, from his sister and Chad, to Reverend Sharp and Adam, to the Dearborns, to Tiny and Elkins, and to me. “Wagner was extremely wrong. Our friends are our strength. And I am fortunate to be very strong indeed.”

  I couldn’t have said it better myself. I always thought that I was a loner. Even in the orphanage in Brooklyn when I was a kid, I didn’t have anybody I could really count on beside myself. In the War, I had my squad, and we were a family enough, but I figured that ended when Berlin fell. But now, standing next to Weatherby and with everyone else who had come to help us, I knew that wasn’t the case. Weatherby and I had pals.

  And as long as we had them, there was nothing on earth that could stand against us.

  Thank You For Reading.

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  About the Author

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  Twenty-Two years old, Michael Panush has distinguished himself as one of Sacramento’s most promising young writers. Michael has published numerous short stories in a variety of e-zines including: AuroraWolf, Demon Minds, Fantastic Horror, Dark Fire Fiction, Aphelion, Horrorbound, Fantasy Gazetteer, Demonic Tome, Tiny Globule, and Defenestration.

  Michael began telling stories when he was only nine years old. He won first place in the Sacramento Storyteller’s Guild “Liar’s Contest” in 2002 and was a finalist in the National Youth Storytelling Olympics in in 2003. In 2005, Michael’s short story entitled, Adventures in Algebra, won first place in the annual MISFITS Writing Contest.

  In 2007, Michael was selected as a California Art’s Scholar and attended the Innerspark Summer Writing Program at the CalArts Institute. He graduated from John F. Kennedy High School in 2008 and has recently graduated from UC Santa Cruz.

  The Stein & Candle Detective Agency series launched in the Winter of 2012, with Vol. 1: American Nightmares being Michael's first title published under the banner of Curiosity Quills Press, with Vol. 2: Cold Wars coming soon after in early Summer, and Vol. 3: Red Reunion rounding off the trilogy in the Fall of that year. Dinosaur Jazz, Michael's foray into the "steampunk" subgenre offers a different side of pulp fiction (with a side of dinosaurs).

  More exciting series will also be announced, including the El Mosaico and Horrorwood, P.I. series.

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  ISBN: 978-1-62007-036-9 (ebook)

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