They don't make them like "Aces" Wallenstein anymore. It was "Aces" who taught me everything I know about being a detective. As sure as babies cry, rivers flow and restaurants never cut the bread all the way through, I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for "Aces " Wallenstein. And I wouldn't have met Wilma. My name is Henway, I'm a Dick. Head of the best P.I. outfit in town. On a cold rainy night that was just made for mass murder, "Aces" and I stopped by an all-night coffee shop just a knifes throw from the Embarcadero. "Coffee", said "Aces", blowing a raindrop off his nose, "can save a man's soul on a night like this". The man was a genius. Through the half fogged-up windows of the cafe I could see a young woman with dark hair styled into two massive braids that framed her face like thick rope. We slipped inside and sat at the counter. "Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Wilma, I'll be your waitress this evening. Our special of the day is a hot roast beef sandwich, sliced wafer thin just the way you like it, either au or sans jus, with mashed potatoes and carrots. How can I serve you"? Her two hemp-like braids tossed gaily as she recited her dietary litany. It caused my young heart to murmur a silent prayer. "Oh, yeah, we got one piece of German chocolate cake left too." "Just two coffees, Dollface", said "Aces". "Two coffees", I echoed, trying not to let the sound of my exploding soul escape my lips. While we drank the four cups of coffee that the goddess Wilma had poured "Aces slipped into a silence like the soft underbelly of a great city. He did this often and when he did, no sane man would dare intrude. "So, what's new and exciting?", I said. The man in the soiled trenchcoat and low-slung .45 tossed me a look over the steaming edge of his cup. In his gaze I saw a biography in the making and the scars of too many late night slapouts. "What's new and exciting? I'll tell you kid. I've got a case and it's got me. I'm stumped. I'm trying to locate a guy who jumped bail three years ago and at every turn I come up dry. It's like the Earth opened up and he just flew away." "Have you checked the phone book?", I asked. "Aces" looked at me with a look that said, "Huh?" I figured I'd better switch the subject before it said something else I couldn't spell without help. "So, how come you never got married, 'Aces'? He knew where I was leading, even if I didn't. He looked at me again over the edge of his steaming cup with his two too gray eyes and said, " Kid, the life of a dick is hard, lonely and dangerous. You can't afford attachments. They have a way of ending up dead...or worse. I was married, once. She couldn't take the long nights alone, not knowing if I was alive, dead, or somewhere in between making "Tickety-boo" with some dockside doxie with a heart of gold. At first she hated seeing me come back home bruised and bleeding. Then I think she got to like it. The more I began to look like a piece of porterhouse the more she began to insist I work overtime." "Oh", I said, shaking my head like I do sometimes. "What happened?" "Well, I came home one morning after an all-night stake-out over on Sutter St. at "Red's House of Elective Surgery", you know the place. I'd had a nose job, two tummy tucks and an implant I couldn't explain. I was there, she wasn't. She'd left me a note saying that she was tired of it all and was leaving me to pursue her lifelong dream of being a movie star. So, she was moving to Ohio to acquire some humble beginnings." And then he laughed the laugh of a man who'd learned how to laugh when life laughed. The Goddess Wilma must have heard him because the braided beauty came running. Her braids bounced up past eye level as she trotted behind the counter. All at once her eyes grew wide as her left foot hit a pat of butter that had fallen to the floor. "Look out!", she yelled to herself, too late. First she went up and then quickly down as her "Hi! I'm Wilma" name tag flew through the air and landed on the brim of my imported fedora. Before I could get up to offer assistance, she bounced back into view with a smile on her face and an "ITS BETTER WITH BUTTER" wax paper square on her forehead. "Now, how about a little dessert?", she said, with a smile on her face and her eyes beginning to settle back into their proper alignment. She was fine. Apparently she was used to these late night flights and knew how to land. I wondered if "Aces" had ever learned how to land? I asked him. He looked at me with a look that said, "Yes". Then he got up from his stool and said he had to see a man about a walrus. He walked slowly toward the red door marked "Guys", at the back of the cafe. He walked the walk of the man who sees other men about walruses. He glanced over at the pay phone and scratched his chin. I turned and faced the culinary cutie standing before me. "Wilma", I said shyly, in the first blush of love, "What time do you get off work?" She looked back at me, smiling, one braid curled up under her nose like a macrame mustache. She truly had the overall look of the Teutonic beauty I'd been seeking ever since the lonely Mrs. Gerhard Putsch moved out of the neighborhood. "I get off at 6:30 am. What about you, Dollface?" She picked her name tag off my hat. Ours was to be a great love and I think we both thought we knew that. |
The Henway Chronicles - Part One |
The "Henway Chronicles" is an ongoing collection of short short stories detailing the misadventures of "Dick Henway - I'm a Dick. Head of the best PI oufit in town." These were written to be presented as a part of an evening's entertainment in a now defunct comedy club in San Francisco. I have a total of six or seven "Henways" tucked away. They will appear here as the mood strikes |
