During these days after the rescue, I took advantage of slow time at the office (which, to be honest, was most of the year) to write a few holiday cards and do a little shopping. Joe the elevator man was going to get a bottle of cheap booze. That was easy. It was more difficult selecting a gift for Mom. But since she didn't like the can opener I had given her for Mother's Day, I was pretty sure that she would appreciate the new one I purchased at an upscale hardware store that had recently opened. After all, nothing's too good for good old Mom.
While my life was fairly humdrum now, big changes were affecting others. O'Meara and Bruttafaccia, I'm ever so pleased to say, were hauled up on charges of bribery and demoted. They're now walking beats somewhere in the worst section of the city. The Assburn was luckier. From what I understand, he faced even more serious charges but because of his connections in high places was allowed to retire on full pension. Any day I expect to receive an invitation to his retirement party.
And love is in the winter air here in our fair city. I got a call from Uneeda Baker, who said that he and Mona were going to get hitched. He wanted to tie the knot as soon as possible but said that she wanted to wait until the legacy from Uncle Ebeneezer was safely in the bank and earning interest. He said I could be sure that I'd receive an invitation to the wedding whenever it took place. I said that I wouldn't miss such a grand event for the world. And there goes another schlemiel, I told myself.
Love was also in the stagnant air of The Slippery Elbow. I went there one night and found Gardenia Gertie still with her arms around Hyman the Hebe. He looked happy as a you-know-what. I wished the two lovebirds well. They deserve to share a bit of the meager happiness that life doles out.
My pal Light Fingers Louie, on the other hand, was not enjoying the bliss of love or much of anything else, according to Gus, the watchful eye on the Elbow's guzzlers. Louie, he heard, had got involved in some scheme to disburden a safe of its contents and was now taking a vacation from town and his parole officer. Some cons kept clean noses. Louie's, I feared, would need a year's supply of Kleenex and still come up dripping.
Gus himself seemed in better spirits than usual, which wasn't saying much. The Elbow's dispenser of suds and assorted libations said that he was enjoying his stay on the sofa while his mother-in-law took his place in bed with his wife. This way, he said, he didn't have to hear the missus yelping and yakking when he was trying to get some sleep. The only trouble was now he had to look at two old bags instead of one in cold cream, curlers, and ratty bathrobes first thing in the morning. All but took his appetite for breakfast away, he complained. One look at Gus's paunch left considerable doubt that he had cut back on any meal. I also wondered how the missus and mother-in-law liked waking up to his grouchiness and less than Hollywood looks. But it was yuletide, and so I paid my tab and told him to have one on me. He said that he already had. That was the least a cheap shamus like me could do for him. And a Merry Christmas to you, too, I thought.
But I did wish my friend Sadie Plotz a genuinely happy holiday, in her case a Happy Hanukkah. I called to tell her about the Llama and Mr. Dough. She said that she was disappointed the former had escaped but pleased that I had nabbed the latter. She also said that we'd have to stop seeing one another, at least for a while. It seemed that she had just met a handsome rabbi, Gershom Gomorrah, and they had become an item. “Since when have you become religious?” I asked. She said that she wasn't religious but the rabbi was a mensch and he had “a great-looking tallith.” I didn't pursue the matter.
But I did pursue matters with Polish Phil and Louise, who had helped me get through one of the toughest spots in my life. I invited them to a semi-swank restaurant to celebrate and to thank them for their help and moral support in the Black Llama caper, and also because I saw them as my friends. They say you can't have enough friends in life. Me? I've had too few. Anyway, I learned that night that Louise, much to my surprise, was not Phil's woman, but his cousin, who had left behind an abusive husband in Chicago and had come to our city to think things out. Phil had suggested to Louise that she invite the lowlife here and that they could subsequently sit on the terrace and watch the bastard's body float down the river. Louise would have none of that, however. She decided that she would go back to the Windy City for one more try to patch up a marriage that never should have taken place. If it didn't work, she'd leave him for good. Maybe she'd return here, she said, since she adored her cousin Phil and, looking sweetly at me, very much liked one of his friends. I told her I hoped that she could salvage her marriage—I lied—but that part of me also hoped she would come back here to live. She reached across the table and pressed my hand. That was my early Christmas present, and about as nice a one as I could expect or deserve.
So here I am, a few days before Christmas, walking down the street toward my office and slightly on air, compliments of Louise. I still had to worry about the Llama and I had to make a big decision as to whether I should take a case that would send me to the West Coast for some time. Leave the only city that I have ever really known or wanted to know? And what if Louise came back and I wasn't here? I was in too good a mood to worry about anything at this point. Maybe the world wasn't such a bad place after all. I saw a Santa ringing his bell and wishing a Merry Christmas to one and all. I reached into my pocket and slipped him a buck. I thought of asking for some change back but didn't. I guess the Christmas spirit was with me. And maybe it was with my landlord as well. When I got to the office I saw that someone had been working on my door sign, which now read: “Dicks … Investigator.” I figured that the person would complete the job. Or maybe he wouldn't.
We hope you enjoyed reading The Black Llama Caper. If you have a moment, please leave us a review - even if it's a short one. We want to hear from you.
The story continues in The Hollywood Starlet Caper.
Want to get notified when one of Creativia's books is free to download? Join our spam-free newsletter at www.creativia.org.
Best regards,
Robert Muccigrosso and the Creativia Team
Books by the Author
Dick DeWitt Mysteries
The Black Llama Caper
The Hollywood Starlet Caper
The Spycatcher Caper
The Dudley Dilemmas
The Black Llama Caper Page 14