Into the Weird: The Collected Stories of James Palmer

by James Palmer

  “Repair shops will be a thing of the past,” he said, refilling the olives.

  Eldritch raised an eyebrow in feigned interest. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. People will stop getting things worked on. When a person’s radio or electric coffee pot or toaster breaks, they’ll just buy a new one. In fact, it will be cheaper for them to buy a new one than to get the old one fixed.”

  “That a fact?”

  “Yep. The companies that make all our radios and everything else will want it this way. They’ll even design things to break after a while. They’ll call it programmed obsolescence. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

  Eldritch shrugged. As Moe’s predictions went, this was actually pretty good, but as usual he couldn’t see how it helped anyone. “People break down and get replaced; why not radios?”

  Moe laughed. “That’s why I like you, Sam. You’re even more depressing to be around than I am.”

  Eldritch had a dark little chuckle at that himself.

  “What do you need with Vivian?” Moe asked a little later.

  “I’ve got a case, figured she might know something.”

  “Tread lightly. Caprisi’s on the warpath.”

  Eldritch nodded. The last thing he wanted was to step on a gangster’s coattails. Vincenzo Caprisi was the low-level thug who owned the Daffodil. The place had always had a checkered past. It had been a speakeasy during Prohibition, and Caprisi didn’t mind adding further anecdotes to the place’s storied history. Eldritch certainly had no intention of being added to the list of people greased while within its walls.

  Eldritch heard some commotion from the stage and swiveled on his bar stool to take a look.

  Sure enough, it was Vivian, stepping out for a sound check. She wore a white ball gown that must have cost Caprisi a small fortune, and the bluish spots shining down from the ceiling made her look like a sad, sequined ghost. A white baby grand hunkered to her right, glowing softly under the lights. Now she moved to the microphone, which rang with feedback when she touched it. “Testing, testing,” she said into it, making Eldritch jump slightly. The acoustics in the Daffodil were terrific.

  Then she sang, and Sam Eldritch understood why she had to be a mythical creature who once sang ships to their doom. For only an ethereal, otherworldly and deadly creature such as her could make jazz like that, a smoky and cold sound that worked its way into you and made you believe in miracles. Eldritch didn’t need his demon-given second sight to see that Vivian was something special, and he was damn sure Caprisi could see it in her too. That’s why he kept such tight reins on her. Hearing that song made Eldritch want to run up onto that stage, scoop Vivian in his arms and walk her out of that den of evil, though Hell and Vinnie Caprisi should bar the way. Her music cut through the weight of his hangover like an ax through glacial ice and told him the secrets of the universe.

  A large shadow appeared to Eldritch’s left, swelling and growing until it blocked the light coming in through the smoked porthole in the Daffodil’s front door. Eldritch didn’t need to look to know who it was: Caprisi’s man-mountain of a bodyguard, Big Tony.

  “The Boss wants ta see ya,” he said, breathing heavily. Big Tony was the only guy Eldritch knew who could get winded taking a nap.

  “Lucky me. “But I don’t want to see him.”

  “That’s too bad, Eldritch. Cause you’re gonna.” He stepped closer. Sam’s hangover started throbbing in time to his increased heart rate, adrenaline readying him to go to work on Big Tony’s bad right knee. But when it came down to it, he just wasn’t in the mood. Besides, the old thug might know something about the missing ring.

  “OK, let’s go.”

  Caprisi’s office was at the end of a filthy, narrow hallway that ran along behind the stage, a dark little hovel that made a medieval dungeon look like a ballroom at the Waldorf.

  Caprisi was hunkered behind his desk like a toad on a lily pad, silver hair lying stiffly across his scalp, thick jowls working the blackened stump of a cigar held hostage in his tight little mouth.

  “Hi ya, Eldritch,” he said, his beady brown eyes staring him down like a hungry shark sizing up a minnow. “Have a seat.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stand.”

  Caprisi shrugged. “Suit yerself. This won’t take long. I’m gonna cut to the chase here. I want to hire you.”

  Eldritch couldn’t help grinning. This day was just getting better and better. “What for?”

  “One of my guys has gone off the reservation,” he said, scowling. “I need to find out why.” He removed the cigar from his mouth and put it out of its misery in a silver ashtray on his desk.

  “Why don’t you ask him?” said Eldritch.

  “Because none of my guys can get near him. We had a falling out yesterday. Now he’s runnin’ around town like some kind of big shot. He’s got cars and money and men and we don’t know what’s going on.”

  “So a former employee is trying to one-up you? Move in on your turf?”

  “I think so. And this guy’s a freaking moron. He couldn’t clean my aquarium out front.”

  Eldritch nodded, grinning. The fifty gallon tank just inside the entrance was a relic from when the Daffodil had been a Chinese restaurant for about a week. It now housed a lone porcupine fish that bore a startling resemblance to Boss Caprisi. “Let me guess. Georgie?”

  Caprisi frowned, nodding. Eldritch knew George “Georgie Boy” Falcone. He wasn’t the brightest bulb in the ceiling. He was surprised Caprisi hadn’t offed him or sent him back to his folks in Poughkeepsie long before now.

  “The kid’s dumber than a bag of bricks, so I know however he’s getting his connections it has to be . . . magical.” The way he hesitated, and the deafening silence that followed, told Eldritch that Caprisi was having real trouble with the concept. But it was also the first time someone not With It, as Eldritch called the magical people in his weird new life, had openly broached the subject with him.

  “Magical, huh?” Eldritch said.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just tail him. Find out where he’s getting his juice. Then tell me how I can put him out of my misery.”

  Eldritch could tell Caprisi was scared, and the man didn’t scare easy. He was enjoying it very much.

  “I dunno. I’m already working this big case.”

  “Look. Don’t put yerself out. I’ll pay you. Can you do me this solid, or not?”

  Eldritch almost dared a smile. This was as close to begging as Vinnie Caprisi was ever likely to get.

  “All right,” Eldritch said after a long moment. “My usual fee.”

  “Done.” Caprisi stood and went to his wall safe, which was hidden behind a painting of Vivian looking her most seductive, and started turning the combination.

  Eldritch pretended to be very interested in a stain on the wall while the gangster got the money and handed it to him.

  Eldritch flipped through the bills, astonished. Caprisi, a man so tight he still had the first fifty dollar bill his grandfather stole, had paid him his entire fee in advance. He folded the roll of crisp hundred dollar bills and shoved them in his pocket. Between this and Maraud's huge advance, he just might stay flush this month.

  “Now, tell me what happened between you and Georgie Boy, and where I can find him.”

  *

  Georgie Falcone stood admiring himself in the mirror, enjoying the feel of the fine Italian suit that now adorned his heavyset body. No more Georgie Boy or Georgie Porgy, he thought. From now on he was Imporant, a High Roller. A Player. A big man like Boss Caprisi. No, bigger. The person looking back at him wasn’t a small-time hood. He was a businessman. A person who could make things happen. If this person snapped his fingers on First Avenue, Georgie thought proudly, three people would get whacked on the Lower East Side. Things were going to be very different now. And soon the whole city was going to know it.

  All because of the ring in his pocket. The ring
he had stolen off that scumbag Arab.

  “It looks very good on you,” said the tailor. “Very nice. Shall I box it up for you?”

  “No, I’ll wear it out,” said Georgie, admiring the polish on the patent leather loafers he bought to go with his new wardrobe.

  “What about the clothes you came in wearing?”

  “Burn ‘em,” said Georgie Falcone, taking a large ring from his pocket and slipping it on his finger. He kissed it before walking out the door, five crisp, new one hundred dollar bills falling to the floor as he exited the little clothing shop.

  Two men waited next to a long black Rolls. Georgie Falcone snapped his fingers and one of the men opened the rear door for him. Georgie smiled. He was beginning to like this new life of his very much. He climbed inside, the door was closed, and the two men got in front and the car started off.

  “Where to, boss?” said the driver. It was the only thing either of them had ever said to Georgie since he had wished them into existence.

  Georgie thought for a long time. Now that he had the clothes, he needed a...what was it called? A base of operations. Someplace nice, not like his rat hole in back of the Daffodil. A place not only to flop, but to conduct his business. With Italian marble floors and silk sheets on the bed.

  “I’d like to look at some real estate,” he said, rubbing the blood red jewel of the ring.

  *

  Eldritch took out a pad and pencil and wrote down everything Caprisi could tell him about good old Georgie Boy, whether he already knew it or not. Caprisi even gave him the details of his last job for him, a protection racket that had him roughing up a certain Arab trader Eldritch had already met. He pocketed the pad and pencil, thanked Caprisi, and let himself out.

  “Oh,” he said, turning. “One more thing. I need to talk to Vivian.”

  Caprisi’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “You want Georgie found or not?”

  Caprisi grumbled. “Fine. Whatever. But make it quick.”

  Eldritch nodded and left the gangster’s dank cave of an office, heading straight for Vivian’s dressing room.

  When he got there, Big Tony was already standing guard. Eldritch ignored him as he knocked.

  “It’s open.”

  Eldtrich entered. Vivian was wearing a long silk robe and smoking a cigarette. “Hi there, Sam,” she said. “Business or pleasure?”

  “This ain’t a social call, I’m sorry to say. What do you know about magic rings?”

  Vivian glanced self-consciously at the door, which Eldritch had closed. “I know I don’t own one right now,” she said. “Why the sudden interest?”

  “I think I’ve been hired to find one,” said Eldritch. “And I think your boss’s former employee has it.”

  Vivian blew a puff of smoke into the air. “Georgie? That would definitely explain a lot.”

  She stamped out the cigarette in a silver ashtray, shook another from a pack, put it in her mouth but didn’t light it.

  “Those things will kill you,” said the detective.

  Vivian laughed. “If only. You’re in over your head on this one, Sam. Want some advice? Let this one go.”

  “You know me, Viv. I’m like a dog with a bone.”

  The siren shrugged. “What can I do? Magic rings aren’t really my thing.”

  “I don’t know. I thought since you’d been around a while, you might know a thing or two about stuff like that.”

  Vivian looked at Eldritch, her deep blue-green eyes sparkling like the Aegean. In that moment, Sam Eldritch was in love. In that moment, he wanted to take her into his arms and get her out of this nest of scorpions. He’d shoot their way out if he had to. Vivian looked away; the moment passed.

  “You need to stop coming around here, Sam,” she said. “One of these days I might let you act on your impulses.”

  “I usually do. I barge in, guns blazing. Act first, think later. But now I find myself in need of some brains. I want to know what I’m getting into here. So can you help me, or not?”

  Vivian was silent.

  “Wanna see a magic trick?”

  Eldritch took the cig from Vivian’s lips and wrapped his fingers around the tip. Then he pretended to stick it up his left nostril, letting the cigarette slide down into his hand as he pushed against the tip of his nose. Then he put his fingers to his right ear and pretended to pull the cigarette out. He did this once more, but in reverse. When the cigarette returned to his mouth, it was lit.

  Vivian smiled. “That’s quite a trick. Where did you learn it?”

  “I learned the first half from my old man. That last part came from Chen.”

  “There have been many magic rings,” said Vivian. “They come from many different places, and can do many different things.”

  Eldritch pulled the cigarette from his mouth, blew a smoke ring, and returned it to Vivian. She took a long slow pull from it before continuing.

  “I saw the ring Georgie has, and if it contains what I think it does, we’re all in trouble.”

  “You were there for the fight?”

  “Yeah. It was right after Georgie came back from that protection job Caprisi gave him. Georgie came back just full of himself, said he wasn’t getting his dues, told Caprisi he quit. Big Tony and the others tried to put him in his place, but he threw them off like they were rag dolls. I’ve never seen anything like it. Then he drove off in a big black Rolls none of us had ever seen. Anyway, that ring contains a djinn.”

  “A what?”

  “A genie.”

  “Now I’ve heard everything.”

  “It’s true.”

  “No, I believe you. It’s just…”

  “How did you get into all this?”

  Sam nodded. “You didn’t tell Caprisi?”

  Vivian shook her head. “Let him figure it out on his own. He doesn’t want to know about that stuff anyway.”

  “Bet he does now.”

  Vivian finished her cigarette, crushing it into oblivion alongside the others. “Be careful, Sam.”

  *

  Sam left the Daffodil and hailed his favorite gypsy cab. At least now he knew what he was getting himself into, but that knowledge made him even more uneasy. Suddenly the fat wads of cash Maraud and Caprisi had given him didn't seem like enough.

  "Where to, Sam?" said Hollis Rogers, gypsy cab driver extraordinaire.

  Sam tossed a twenty into the front seat. "Just drive for a few minutes. Let me figure it out."

  “You're the boss,” said Hollis, and the gypsy cab swung out into late morning traffic.

  Sam realized he knew a lot about what Georgy had gotten into, but it didn't tell him where to find the big lout.

  “Say Hollis?”

  “Yeah”

  “If you had just come into some money, what would you do? Where would you go?”

  “The missus has always wanted to go to Acapulco,” said the gypsy cabbie. “Me? I dunno. Get some new threads, maybe. And a nice car and someone to drive me around for a change. No offense.”

  Eldritch smiled. “Hollis, you're a genius.”

  “You're so kind to notice,” said the cabbie.

  “Take me to Andrews.”

  “You win the lottery or somethin', boss?”

  “Just following a hunch.”

  Hollis swung the gypsy cab around, almost hitting a jaywalker, and changed direction.

  Andrews Fancy Dress was the best place to get a suite in this part of town, and since it was right in the middle of Vinnie Caprisi's territory, it was the perfect place for gangsters to get new duds.

  Eldritch thanked Hollis, asked him to stick around, tossed him another twenty and got out of the cab.

  A little bell hanging over the door tinkled at his arrival, and a thin apparition of a man floated out of the back and around the counter. “May I help you?” he said in a shaky voice.

  Eldritch could tell the guy was nervous about something. “Yeah. I'm looking for someone. A guy by the name of Georgie Falcone. One of Capr
isi's men. Have you seen him?”

  The man's eyes boggled as if they were going to pop out of his head and go rattling around the small room like ping pong balls.

  “Y-yes. He was here earlier today. He bought a new suit, paid cash. He had two men with him. I've never seen them before. They never spoke.”

  “Did Georgie have a ring on him? A big, ugly thing with a blood-colored stone?”

  Mr. Andrews nodded.

  “Any idea where he went?”

  “No. I’m just glad he’s gone. He scared my assistant half to death. I had to give her the rest of the day off. And he was belligerent with me. I hope he never comes back.”

  “What’s he wearing?” asked Eldritch.

  “A gray suit,” said Mr. Andrews, going to a rack of garments and pulling something down. “Like this. My best forty long. By the way…” He looked Eldritch over greedily. “You look like you could use a new suit. I’ll give you the law enforcement discount. What do you say?”

  Eldritch waived away the offer with his hand. “Not today. Thanks anyway.”

  Sam left the shop, the little bell tinkling again as he exited. He climbed back into the cab. He was at a dead end. Now he would have to wait until Georgie Porgy did something stupid with his newfound power.

  He just hoped the city could take it.

  Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. Strange things started happening in such profusion that it had to be Georgie. Sam simply followed the chaos.

  The first thing that happened was all the scraggly, dying dogwood trees on Euclid Avenue started sprouting crisp, new one hundred dollar bills. The police who were called out to control the traffic jam and rioting this caused chalked it up to an elaborate and expensive practical joke, but Sam new better, and he threaded his way cautiously around the once friendly people of Euclid Avenue as they beat their neighbors senseless to get at the precious cash.

  The next thing that happened was that a vacant lot on Flatbush suddenly had a brand new building that hadn’t been there yesterday. Eldritch had Hollis drop him off at the first phone booth they passed, then dialed the Daffodil. After being brushed off by a couple of Caprisi’s lower-level cronies he finally got the big man himself.