“Does sycophantic Chang want to lose his job and have to make noodles for a living?” It’s important to be firm with one’s chauffeur.
“Chang is very sorry.” He bowed again. Chang bowed pretty often. Unavoidable when a kid hears Confucius in the nursery.
“I’m taking the day off, Chang.”
Chang looked at me as if I were the one that talked goofy all the time.
“Are you certain Mister Plush, there is a lot to be done, there is especially the matter of…”
I didn’t even wanna think about it.
“It can wait. He’ll wait.”
Chang laughed. “I do not think I would take getting shot as lightly as you have.”
“I don’t take it lightly, Chang. I got no leads, and I’m burnt out, so scram!”
Chang shrugged, got in the limo and drove off.
This left me alone. I called Jean and invited her to dinner. She said seven. I said not to wear the suit. She said I could go to Hell. I asked if she had any messages for her mother. She asked about the mess in her kitchen. I said I’d see her at seven and hung up, taking my phone off the hook afterwards. Within five minutes, I started pouring myself drinks. I was bored to tears.
There was a knock on the door. Chang was starting to make me real angry. How could people with so much opium in their country be so utterly against relaxation? I opened my door, wishing the chinaman had made me two cups of coffee. I wouldn’t drink the second one either. But it wasn’t Chang at the door. It was a pony wearing a police cap. There was a whistle and a badge around his neck. It seemed like the sort of thing that would be a bad omen. What did my granny from the old country say about a pony on your doorstep? Made me wish I hadn’t given up my memories during the transfer so I’d know things like that, like if I had a granny or where the hell the old country was.
“Sorry, pal,” I said to the pony, “this ain’t a stable and I’m closed for the day.”
“Listen, Plush,” the pony shot back in a voice that reminded me a little of Gary Cooper, “you don’t like me and I don’t like you, but I’ve got a problem. I’m gonna set aside my prejudices so we can make this town a little less awful.”
“Not interested. Go find yourself some oats and leave me alone, Seabiscuit.”
The pony got in my face.
“I don’t think you understand. I’ve got three dead city councilmen and a dead socialite. Think about it, four prospective kidnap victims. If they keep bumping off these people, there will be nobody to kidnap and murder’s one per customer, Plush. How long do you think a shameless shamus like yourself’s gonna last in a city where all the victims are already dead?”
He had a point. If I was going to maintain this lifestyle, I couldn’t have somebody icing every client that could pay me. Maybe I didn’t want to maintain this lifestyle, but when you’re a teddy bear with a bad reputation and nothing going for you but a chauffeur and office with “Jimmy Plush, Detective” on the door and a custom teddy bear handgun there usually ain’t many career paths open for you.
“Okay, horsey, you’ve got my attention. Now give me the details. Come on in.”
But before he could, three shots rang out and he was good as glue. If a pony on my doorstep was a bad omen (and I couldn’t really tell if it was), then a dead pony on my doorstep was an awful one and a dead pony on my doorstep that had a badge was a disaster. I had to sort this out and I needed to do it fast.
Lucky for me, Chang had not really taken off, but had instead parked the limo in an alley nearby and waited for me to change my mind. He pulled up to the curb, got out and gave me a bow. Even though I needed him now, I was not happy about this.
“I guess they don’t have days off in China either, huh?”
Chang smiled.
“And yet, I’m not the one with a dead policeman on my doorstep.”
“Who is he? He knew the real Plush and hated him. Must have been a pretty good egg. For a pony.”
Chang’s smile turned into a frown.
“He was. His name was Horskowitz. He was an honest cop, not into the same things the others are. He tried to put some of them away for corruption, so they beat him up, transferred him into the body of a pony. He didn’t quit. He felt that only showed how much he was needed. In my opinion, he was right.”
I could only think of one man that could be behind this.
“Chang, take me to J.L Wong’s.”
The scenery on the way to J.L Wong’s was pretty much the same tableau of heartbreak I was used to; Furries in species drag ranging from strap-on sporting mice to Murray the Monogram Unicorn waiting for clients against every lamppost, ugly hoods carrying violin cases, businessmen looking for a den where they could chase the dragon, a Chinatown that the Orientals were afraid to even go near. Same hell-on-earth where most of my cases ended up leading. Or was it? There was a giant black cloth tent covering the side of the street. Something huge was underneath, something the size of a few buildings or a gigantic warehouse. I hadn’t seen any construction or demolition going on last time I was here, and last time I was here was two days ago. Identical obese quintuplets in pink pinstripe suits stood outside guarding it. They were trying too hard to act natural.
“Chang, stop!” By the time I’d said it, he’d already stopped.
I got out since I had a sneaking suspicion that these five gentlemen might have had something to do with my case.
“Nice weather we’re havin’, huh?”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“So…gentlemen, what’s under the cloth?”
“A carnival,” they replied, again in unison.
“It’ll never work,” I told them as I walked back to the car to shake down the notorious proprietor of J.L Wong’s, “this town’s already too much fun.”
I returned to the limo.
“Did they tell you what was under the cloth?”
“They said it was a carnival.”
Chang shook his head.
“There is much to fear from men who do not need to try.”
“You shouldn’t be so cynical, Chang. What’s the matter? Don’t like cotton candy?”
We shared an uncomfortable laugh. I kept the shudder that followed to myself. A carnival doesn’t usually make heavy breathing sounds.
“Still going to J.L Wong’s then?”
“Wouldn’t want Vic to get lonely.”
Chang parked outside of J.L Wong’s. I would’ve thought that as often as I’d come to this place, I’d be used to the blinding glare of neon outside and the dinginess. In fact, it wasn’t just dingy, this place was dark as a panther’s asshole lit only by a tiny, swinging paper lantern over each table and the glint of golden dragons on the wall. You couldn’t even see the smiling face of the Buddha on the stage where a bleach blonde floozy butchered “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” every day. I sat down and waited to be served. A waitress in a crocodile suit blew me a kiss but didn’t come to take my order. I knew full well who would have that privilege.
The anvil headed man mountain known as Johnny Hideous and the human pencil Skinny Valentine approached the table.
“You were warned, Plush,” said Hideous, “seems like you don’t like keeping your stuffing on the inside.”
I yawned.
“So, out back, gentlemen?”
Skinny Valentine laughed.
“Boy, Plush, you sure are stupid. You’ve earned the biggest pounding you’ve ever gotten. We might just rip you apart at the seams, toss you in a garbage bag and make sure nobody puts you together.”
I got serious.
“The reason I ask, boys, is because I’m in a hurry. I got dinner at seven and a dead cop on my doorstep. I don’t have time to pencil in “shoot to wound”. So, I’d like for you gentlemen to take me to your boss.”
They whispered among themselves. As they did so, I drew my custom teddy bear .45.
“Well? I ain’t got all day.”
Johnny Hideous was starting to sweat.
; “Sure, Plush, we’ll let the Pale Peril decide what to do with you.”
So I was led in to Halperin’ s office. The place was too large for anyone to do business, there was practically a hallway between the door and his desk, which was a plank of wood set on top of a stuffed tiger. There was a gigantic gong at his back, engraved with the image of him making violent love to that very tiger. Halperin was himself dressed as gaudy as he tended to, though he’d added a few inches to his giant fake goatee and the makeup around his eyes to make ‘em look slanty was thicker than ever. Something real unsavory about a man that gets more oriental every time you see him.
“Ah, Mister Plush. It’s been a couple days. I should have known you’d come around sometime soon.”
“You killed a horse, Halperin. And this time I don’t think it was to make your chow mein.”
Halperin motioned for Skinny and Johnny to come closer. They whispered among themselves. Johnny and Skinny did a lot of shrugging. For some reason Skinny was using his hands to illustrate the size of something gigantic. Hideous shook his head. Halperin sent them away. Away from the room altogether.
“Plush,” said Halperin with a sigh, “I’m worried for you. As an oriental criminal supergenius, I need my archnemesis to be on his toes and you’ve come in here babbling about a horse that I didn’t even kill.”
This was getting interesting. Not that Halperin was starting to pity me, but that he clearly had no idea what I was talking about. I decided I would keep on him, though because maybe he would help lead me to somebody who did.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Vic. You know who killed Horskowitz.”
The Pale Peril got a little bit paler.
“Horskowitz? The cop?”
“No, Horskowitz the Wonder Dog. What do you think?”
“I think the last honest cop in this town is dead. Part of me wishes I’d done it myself, but part of me…”
I laughed and took a swig from the bottle of gin in my pocket.
“Lot of bigger fish in this town than you. Kewpie Doll Steve using you as his errand boy and now whoever paid for this hired gun could cut in on your territory.”
I walked to Halperin’ s desk, jumped up so I could set down the bottle of gin.
“I think you need this more than I do.”
I wish the gesture hadn’t been so exhausting and difficult. It would have been a lot more dramatic. I left, returning to the car empty-handed.
“Wasn’t Halperin.”
I had barely gotten into the limo before Chang said this.
“You could’ve told me before I wasted my time in that cut-rate chink cathouse. How’d you know?”
“Skinny Valentine and Johnny Hideous would have stayed to mess you up. If it were some of the muscle from Kewpie Doll Steve, then you’d have been able to see them making their escape. Furries can kill, but they don’t run so well.”
I sighed. Halperin didn’t need the gin more than I did.
“If you’re so smart, tell me how we can flush him out.”
“Well,” Chang replied, his voice oozing with confidence, “one surefire way is to run a Chinese man for mayor.”
The confidence oozed away.
“Uh oh.”
“To City Hall, Chang.”
“Most honored, Mr. Plush…”
“Sorry, Chang, I have to flush this guy out.”
Chang mumbled something in Chinese. I suspected it was derogatory, so noted to myself I would have to find another chance to scald Chang with hot coffee. Or maybe soup.
The lines in City Hall almost extended out the door. I didn’t have time for this, so I figured I’d trade on my bad reputation and do the sort of thing that would be expected of a dangerous heel like Jimmy Plush.
“I’m Jimmy Plush! I’m Jimmy Plush!” I screamed as I fired my gun at the ceiling. I only needed to do this for about ten seconds before I was at the front of the line and Chang was registered to run for mayor. Podiums were set up outside for a debate within five minutes. Since the existing mayor still had three and a half years in his term, only one other candidate had registered to run; a chronically incontinent Furry who had not changed his excrement stained giraffe suit for years. Still, I think Chang wouldn’t have had a shot in hell.
Luckily, I didn’t need Chang to have a shot, I needed him to get shot and sure enough, five seconds after he stepped up to the podium, he had to dodge a bullet flying at his head. He did so easily, expert at the fighting and dodging arts that he was. When the assassin took his second shot, I observed the angle he’d been shooting from and discerned that he had to be shooting from a nearby alley, taking cover behind some trashcans. Using a Chinese flying bat kick that Chang had taught me, I managed to leap off the podium and into the trashcans, kicking one of them over.
When the trashcan dropped, I noticed that there was not an assassin, but a gun floating in the air. Surely, this had to be an invisible man. This invisible man shot me in the gut, then took off running. I took aim and shot him in the back. The bullet went right through him. Damn. Intangible and invisible. At least that’s what I thought. He turned around.
“What the hell was that supposed to be?” said a tiny voice. It was coming from the gun.
“You tried to shoot my chauffeur so I shot you in the back.”
The gun let out a tiny sigh.
“And you thought I was an invisible man? Invisible criminals are a dime a dozen, but me? I’m so much better.”
He shot me again. I wasn’t fast enough to dodge bullets like Chang could, but I was quick enough to put out my shoulder so I wouldn’t take it in the head.
“That all you got?” I was losing a lot of stuffing, but I knew how I could put this guy through a lot worse than I was going through.
“Ha!” the gun snorted, “I’m the deadliest man on earth! All I could do in life was to kill, so I had my psyche implanted in this gun. I’m the perfect murderer! I don’t have to sleep or eat, I have no biological urges but to shoot!”
“Yeah, well, you’ve only got three shots left to kill me.”
He fired again. I held out my hand and took it there. Four shots. He aimed for my head next. It caught me in the ear.
“Goddamn slippery little bear!”
“Only two shots left,” I gloated, “you’re gonna have to bring me down quick.”
He laughed.
“I’m not falling for that trick.”
“Who’s trying to trick you? I’m telling you, you have two shots left.”
“You think I’m pretty dumb, don’t ya?”
I did. I think most people are pretty dumb. Because they are. Especially when a man becomes nothing but an itchy trigger finger. The thing about weapons is that anybody can set them off. That had to get to a guy. A man gets a gun because he wants freedom, the freedom to wave it around, lording it over his fellow man, the freedom to give and take life with impunity. I inched toward him.
“All this time you didn’t realize that anybody could pick you up, point you in any direction and squeeze all the life out of your magazine?”
The gun trembled. He saw there was some truth in what I said. And he was off balance. Just where I wanted him.
“You stand back, bear! You move again and I’ll…”
I laughed. It hurt to laugh, but I needed the edge.
“You’ll what? You’ll fire off your last bullet to stop me from firing off your last bullet?”
The gun spun around in midair indecisively. It knew I had a point. It also knew I’d been trying to bluff it. I took another step closer.
“I’m warning you! Not another step! I don’t believe you! You’re trying to fool me! I’ll kill you!”
I came closer. Another step and I’d be an arm’s length away, and that meant getting my hands on it, and that meant an end to the freedom the brute had taken on this form to get. He wouldn’t let that happen.
“Stay back!” the gun screamed one last time. I didn’t. I took the step, I reached. It shot me in the gut. Almost point b
lank. Stuffing everywhere. Had a feeling I was close to dead. Knew the gun wasn’t as lucky. It wasn’t. It lay on the ground lifeless, empty, without purpose.
Hearing no more sounds of commotion, Chang came running to find the gun and I. He picked me up, draped me over his shoulder.
“Chang…” I said feebly, “get the gun.”
He put me in the car. Put the gun in the glove box. Looked at me with deep concern in his slanty little eyes.
“I know I should have brought the sewing kit! You’re almost dead!”
I shook my head.
“No, Chang. Dead is when you run out of ammo.”
So, I’m driving back to the office, chest riddled with bullets and all of a sudden, there’s a loud thud and the limo begins to shake. Chang stopped the car, got out and let out the sort of shriek you’d expect from a debutante who found a negro in her bushes. He jumped up and down, scurrying like a squirrel on hot coals. Naturally, I can’t help but check out what’s goin’ on. The Chinese are by nature a cowardly people, but Chang has an iron will most of the time. What the hell could this be about? I didn’t mind losing a little stuffing to investigate the scene.
We should’ve kept driving. The kid was already pretty dead, crushed by the limo and merged with bits of the bicycle he was riding. It was no use checking out the corpse and there’s nothing that can be done for a ten year old bicycle messenger hit by a speeding limousine. I didn’t believe this when it happened. I’m made of Plush and stuffing, not stone. I’m not a bad enough guy to have thought at the time of an accident that we should drive over a child’s corpse and keep going. I’m saying that now because I know what became of this particular car accident, I think it would have been better if we kept driving, or at least if we hadn’t read the note in the kid’s pocket.
But, I did read it. And I couldn’t believe it.
“Good god, Chang, does anybody else in this town get mail?”
Chang shrugged.
“We WERE on the way to your office. It almost stands to reason that somebody would be carrying a letter for you.”
“We should’ve kept going. I’ve got a date.”
Jimmy Plush, Teddy Bear Detective Page 3