by F. M. Purdum
I could hear Bing Crosby crowing as I entered the office. Ruth was away with the fairies, sitting at her desk making some kind of origami thingamabob. She was so enthralled with her project she didn’t notice me.
“Ruth?” I quietly asked.
She jumped. “Coffee?”
“No, thank you.” I hung my hat and coat up on the hook next to the door.
“Oh, my. What happened to you? Is that blood?”
“I tripped,” I explained and cleaned myself up a bit in the washroom. There wasn’t much to do except wipe off the extra blood. I took a wad of toilet paper and held it to my head. “I’m alright. Now, I would like you to take some notes down for me about this vandalism case.”
“You mean our only case?”
“Hmmm. What are you making there?” I asked and pointed at her project. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t losing her marbles.
“An origami star. I got this book from the library today. It shows you how to make 1000 origami pieces. Look at these! Aren’t they the cat’s whiskers?” She started turning pages in the book and pointing at the images of folded paper. Some kind of lion, flowers. I didn’t care.
“Write this down, please. Kate Crumdumb hired us because someone vandalized her car. Kate suspects she is being targeted specifically and wants to know why. She noticed her keys were missing on Saturday. I inspected Kate’s car, and the tires were indeed slashed. The day of the slashing, according to her, was on Monday. Inside the car, I found an apron full of cash and a few canned goods. Kate spoke of a missing apron and I can only assume that she either lied and hid it—or simply misplaced it in her own car. Kate originally had lied and said that Sandy, another waitress, had quit—but actually, Carl gave her the ax. This leads me to think that Sandy’s claims were correct. The food and cash in Kate’s car were her implements to set up Sandy’s demise.”
“Huh, uh huh,“ Ruth mumbled and jotted into her notebook.
“You get all of that?” I wondered if she was just doodling.
“Yes,” she said and pointed at sections in her notebook. “So, Sandy slashed the tires out of spite since Kate got her fired.”
“Ah, to the untrained eye that would seem to be the logical conclusion.” I sat down and moved my chair closer to Ruth, happy she was paying attention. I raised a hand and pointed to the air to express my point more clearly. “However, Sandy claims to have been at school that day and evening. She could have lied, but my gut says she’s telling the truth.”
“Oh? She’s pretty then?” she smirked.
“I beg your pardon, Ruth. It was simply in her conviction that I believe her. I do not need your hooey and—”
“Never mind. So who did the deed then?”
“That is the question, isn’t it?” I nodded and touched my chin.
“That’s been the only question,” Ruth said and rolled her eyes. “A real stumper.”
“Ruth! What’s gotten into you lately? I think you’ve been folding too many paper air—”
The telephone interrupted me, and Ruth grabbed the it. We had only had it installed for about a week before we time traveled, and I was impressed and annoyed with Ruth’s comfort with it. I was personally suspicious of the damn thing and who wouldn’t be? With all the rumors of Hoover listening in.
“Flint Locke Investigations,” Ruth answered the contraption with enthusiasm.
I could hear a shrill tinny voice loud enough to escape the earpiece.
“I need to speak with Mr. Locke…immediately!”
“Yes, ma’am. Who’s calling?” Ruth was playing operator and I reached out to grab the horn from her. This was no time for fooling around. Ruth pushed her rolling chair away from me, keeping the candlestick phone out of arm’s reach. She smiled at me and continued to roll around the desk as I followed.
“Kate!” I could hear the voice respond.
“Kate who?”
I’d had about enough of Ruth’s little games and I lunged over the desk to yank the stupid thing away from her. She leaned backward dramatically to escape my efforts.
“Kate Crumdumb,” Kate angrily spit out.
“Kate is on the phone, sir,” Ruth said and handed me the phone right as I reached her.
“Hello? Ms. Crumdumb? This is Flint Locke.” I pursed my lips and shook my fist at Ruth. I was mad as a wet hen, but my client was upset and needed my undivided attention.
“It’s crazy! There’s threats now! Oh, my God…it’s awful!” Kate yelled through the phone.
“What’s happened?”
“Someone...has been in my apartment! And wrote graffiti on the wall! Awful things! Threatening my life! In my home!” Kate’s voice heightened and squeaked. This seemed quite serious.
“Are you safe? Are you alone?”
“No one is here. I checked already. I called the police but I don’t think they’re going to come. I need your help!”
“I’ll be right over. Tell me the address.”
It was a little after 9 p.m. and the streets had changed shifts. The busy bodies of the day had checked out and were replaced by a mix of energetic youth — clustered groups shouting over each other, interrupted by flashes of light.
I rushed to Kate’s apartment with the details of the case fresh in my mind and surprising concern for Kate’s well-being. I found her apartment easily and knocked rapidly on the door. “Kate, it’s me, Flint Locke.”
Kate opened the door and seemed relieved. “Oh, thank you for coming so quickly. The police won’t be here for hours—if they come at all. I’m freaking the fuck out! Whoever has my keys…they want to kill me!” Kate’s hands were shaking. It didn’t seem like she was making this up. I walked inside and assessed the situation.
The apartment was a mess.
“Looks like they did a number on the place.”
“What?” she asked and followed my eyes judging the joint. “Oh, no. I’ve just been working so much. Sorry, don’t mind the mess.”
“Hmmm.” I wasn’t one to get out of sorts about germs but this place gave me the heebie-jeebies.
“I know! It’s horrible! It’s spray paint! It won’t come off!”
“Die Bitch” had been painted across the entire living room wall. Someone did not like Kate Crumdumb. Not. At. All. And from the disgusting state the place was in I wondered how anyone had managed to stay long enough to vandalize it. That was pure hatred. There were piles of dirty clothes, dirty dishes mixed in, and cigarette butts in overfilled ashtrays.
I wondered about the “spray paint.” I guess in the future people needed to project their paint onto things? I couldn’t fathom why that was necessary but it wasn’t the first I’d wonder about these type of things this month.
“I’m going to have a look around to see if the culprit left anything else incriminating,” I told her. Even this dirty skirt didn’t deserve an unwanted home remodel, much less a death threat. I wanted to get to the bottom of this.
“Okay, whatever. I’m going to keep trying to scrub this crap off. This is so fucked up!”
I left Kate to her scrubbing and peeked into the bedroom, which was equally a mess. It had an odor of dead rat and I felt comfortable not investigating further. The kitchen had piles of food-encrusted plates and a sticky floor. A half-eaten steak was still on the stove. Interesting. I peeked into the refrigerator and found a few soda bottles and ten or so wrapped meat packages. By unwrapping one, I concluded that these were likely the stolen steaks from the restaurant.
“How’s it going in there? Find anything?”
I decided to keep the meat of the matter to myself and rejoined Kate in the living room. “As far as I can tell the culprit was only in this room. Probably wanted to get in and out fast.”
“Who the hell is doing this to me?” Kate asked with an exasperated wail. She was clearly frustrated and I felt a bit responsible, not having found her vandal yet.
I looked at the spray painted threat once again and noticed an average-sized handprint of paint on the wall.
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Kate noticed my inspection and asked, “Can we get fingerprints?”
“We could. But, I don’t see how that would help.”
“Or get some DNA? He’s probably in the system!”
“That’s an idea,” I said without any idea of what she was talking about. “But, I think the best plan is to continue my investigation—”
“Do you have any leads yet? Who did this?” She stared at me, waving her sponge.
“I know this is frustrating, Kate. But, believe me, I am very close to solving this.” I was lying through my teeth.
Kate nodded at me and said, “Okay. But, this shit has to stop!”
I checked the windows to make sure they were secure. There wasn’t much else I could do. “I suggest that you stay with a friend until you change the locks.”
“I still have to wait to make a police report. If they ever fucking show.”
“Do you want me to…wait with you?” I asked slowly. I could think of a thousand other places I’d rather be. “Or, you could stay at my office for the night.”
“No, I think I’m okay. Your place is kinda sketchy, sorry. I’m just going to put a bookcase in front of the door when you leave.”
“I will be in contact with you tomorrow.” I opened the door to leave. “Keep your chin up. Sleep well.”
“Yeah, right.”
Back at the office, I couldn’t sleep. It was late now, around midnight. My mind was racing with the pieces of this puzzle. Also distracting was the overbearing fact that I was out of my element. So many things were foreign to me in this time, but I felt the solution to this case was right there. I paced a bit in the late hour while Ruth was asleep in the main room of the office.
Kate was clearly a liar and got Sandy fired for personal reasons. She probably thought that Sandy was out to get her, but couldn’t come clean about it to me in case it exposed her. It seemed she was pointing me to Sandy’s direction, with all clues pointing to someone close to the restaurant. Maybe Kate hoped that, with some evidence that Sandy vandalized her car, she could get Sandy arrested. The spray paint in the apartment had escalated the situation pretty intensely, though. If it wasn’t Sandy, it had to be someone that was somewhat close to Kate.
I pulled out the cushions from the closet and placed them onto the floor in my usual corner. I laid down and felt an uncomfortable bulk in my pocket. I pulled out Kate’s money and regretted forgetting to give it to her. I tossed it across the room and tried to get some sleep. My thoughts drifted into my financial issues. Insomnia, great.
I became overwhelmed with wondering how much Kate had in that bundle and decided to check. I got up, picked up the dough and started counting. Fifty-six dollars. Not bad. While I was counting, something on the floor where the money had landed caught my eye. The wood beams looked different just against the wall. I got down on my knees and inspected. It looked like the wood had a one-eighth inch burn into it. I dragged my finger along it and saw a gray dust that shimmered slightly. Odd. I followed the burn trail around the room, moving the furniture away from the walls as I went. The burned groove continued into the other room, and I kept going. In my excitement, I forgot about Ruth sleeping as I moved her cot away from the wall to continue my inspection.
Ruth awoke in a panic and yelled out, “Ahh! What’s happening?”
I didn’t know how to answer. I felt like a madman but this seemed important.
“Are you feeling all right, Flint? You’re acting bananas. ”
I stood up and attempted to explain, “I found this — Ahhh!” Ruth’s face, covered in lady goop, startled me. I recovered and continued, “There’s a groove in the floorboards. Looks like against every single wall.”
I rolled her cot farther away, with her clutching the sheet for modesty, and moved the phonograph and radio away from the wall. “See there! It just keeps going.” I pointed excitedly, grabbed an envelope, and scraped some of the dust into it. I should get this tested somehow. “It completely surrounds the office!”
“Is that bad? Or…good?”
“I…I don’t know.”
The next day I got to Dinah’s Diner early. I was on my fifth cup of coffee and still felt dog-tired from a sleepless night. I was wearing big glasses and a mustache as a disguise to observe the behaviors of the restaurant workers and customers. Though I felt like I knew who the players were in this caper, I wanted to be absolutely sure before I exposed them.
Officer Webb walked in and headed to the counter. I lifted up the paper, pretended to read, and hoped he wouldn’t recognize me.
“Can I get a coffee to go?” Officer Webb asked the room. He strutted around for a minute like a horny peacock and made a beeline towards me. I lifted the paper higher but he stuck an invading finger out and pushed the paper down.
“Ahh. The little dick himself. What brings you here? A mustard package go missing?” The officer laughed. “That’s quite the fake mustache you got there.”
“And yet, it still looks better than yours,” I said under my breath. “If you don’t mind, I’m deep in a case.” My lack of sleep made me feel particularly impatient with this buffoon.
“Deep in something. So, what are you really doing here?” He leaned in and whispered, “Got a crush on the waitress?”
I could feel my face become hot. Officer Webb sat down across from me and looked smug. At that moment, Paul, the cook, began writing on the eighty-six sold-out board, adding “Biscuits.”
“I’m about to solve a case,” I replied.
Kate came over and filled my coffee cup again. “Hey, Chip. Haven’t seen you around here lately,” she said flatly. “Rumor was that you went off to the academy. Guess it worked out for you.”
“Hello, Kate. I transferred back a little while ago,” Officer Webb answered without looking at her.
“What a shame.” Kate left to tend to other tables.
“Chip? That’s a child’s name.”
“It’s an old nickname. I grew up in this neighborhood,” he said and clenched his jaw. “And that’s Officer Webb to you. Don’t forget it.” He pointed his finger at me.
“Wait, did she say academy? So, you’re a rookie. Are you even technically an officer then? Explains a lot.” I eyed this sore in my side with a bit less respect.
“Yes, I am. An OFFICER. It’s called patrol training. I’m sorry, what sort of formal background do you have? Are you even licensed? Did you run out of quarters for the claw machine? I could report you, you know.” The peacock’s feathers were ruffled.
As I was gearing up with a smart retort the door dinged, and my heart skipped a beat as I watched Sandy enter the diner and approach my table. I had called her earlier to meet me here and was pleased with her promptness.
“Okay, Mr. Locke, I’m here. Now, what?” Sandy asked me with little enthusiasm. No doubt she was putting on a professional front for the situation. I admired that.
Kate flew in behind her and Sandy rolled her eyes. “Oh, hello, Kate.”
“What are YOU doing here?” Kate asked, steaming.
“Actually, I’m here to meet with Mr. Locke,” Sandy politely explained with a forced smile.
“I’m getting Carl.” Kate seethed and ran off.
“What the heck am I doing here?” Sandy asked. “To be honest, Mr. Locke, it’s super uncomfortable for me to be here right now.”
I knew right then it was the time of reckoning. “Well, Sandy...” I started to explain.
Kate came back with an agitated and bleary-eyed Carl. “What’s going on here? Sandy, you shouldn’t be here,” Carl pleaded.
I interjected, “Well, Carl, I was just about to explain to Sandy, who’s been enjoying your meat,” I paused and turned towards Kate, “and Kate, I know who slashed your tires. The vandal is in this establishment.“
“I knew it! You crazy bitch!” Kate yelled directly at Sandy.
Sandy yelled back, ”You’re the one who’s crazy!” Kate grabbed Sandy’s hair and Sandy shrieked, “Let go of me!”
Kate put Sandy in a headlock but Sandy managed to get a good slap to Kate’s face. Kate continued her hold and looked like a wild animal. Flailing and charging like a gorilla in a cage.
I jumped in and pulled Kate’s arm off Sandy and gave her a light push. “No, Kate, stop! Though Sandy has every reason for doing the deed after you set her up to be fired and she was left holding the bag.” I hoped that would be enough to stop this cat fight. “Maybe you should explain to Carl how his steaks ended up in your kitchen. You are a crumb, Kate Crumdumb. A grifter, see?”
“I didn’t do anything! It was her!” Kate yelled and attacked Sandy again. Sandy ducked successfully but the scag landed a solid punch to Sandy’s stomach and held tight on her arm. I lunged in between them.
“Oh, lay off, Kate. Your ticket’s been punched.”
The cook, Paul, had come out to help Carl restrain Kate while I held on to Sandy. Her skin was soft and her muscles strong.
“In fact, the tire slasher is the cook right there! Paul!” All eyes followed my finger pointing towards the cook. “He also painted your apartment! Stop him, Chip, he’s running!” Chip sprang into action. He toppled onto the cook and held him down on the floor while Kate and Sandy stopped fighting to watch the action unfold. Paul’s white cook’s jacket had unbuttoned and spread out like a ghost costume. I remembered Cathy’s words from last night, about seeing a running ghost, and it occurred to me that Paul was likely the person who cracked my head open in front of Sandy’s building. It seemed obvious in hindsight.
“I got him!” Chip sounded very proud of himself.
I walked over to help and accidentally kicked Paul hard in the back of his head while Chip struggled to keep him down. “Oops!” I leaned down and whispered in his ear, “No, you stay away from her.”
“Why did you do it? What did I do to you?” Kate asked Paul.