Tuesday, July 7, 2015

darkness, my home town - part 4

by fred flynn

illustrated by roy dismas

originally appeared in the june 1949 issue of frontiers of space magazine

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

to begin at the beginning, click here

click here for previous episode





jerry murphy has returned to chicago from a hitch in deep space, to discover that his uncle stan has been framed for murder - and is headed for the chair!

now jerry has to dig something up to save him - fast!

he grabs a cab to the east side, hoping to find something before it is too late...

***

the cab sped on down the boulevard.

there were no other cars in sight, but they started to pass some buildings again. like the ones they had passed earlier, they all looked empty or closed.

“you know, ” terry said, “i could probably find another flower shop for you between here and the east side.”

“that’s all right, ” jerry told her. “i know about this one, so let’s just go there.”

“you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure.”

“suit yourself.”


they passed a man wearing a sombrero sitting on the sidewalk. a little further on, a little boy bouncing a basketball.

other than that, no signs of life. jerry wondered where the other flower shops would be, because he did not see any shops of any kind that looked open. but he did not say anything.

“does this take us all the way to the east side?” jerry finally asked.

“it sure does. why, did you want a more scenic route?”

“no, i was just asking.”


“don’t worry, we are almost there.”

“good.”

they passed a long building that seemed to go on for blocks. there were no lights on in it.

“do you know what’s in that building?’ jerry asked.

“it’s probably empty.”

“what was in it before it was empty? there must have been something.”

“something secret. something they didn’t want you to know about.”


“oh. that explains that.”

“why, do you want to know about stuff they don’t want you to know about?”

“not me. say, can i ask you something?”

“my pleasure.”

“where is everybody?”

“where is everybody? where do you think they are?”

“i don’t know, that’s why i’m asking.”

“i guess you really have been away.”


“yes, i’ve been away. so where is everybody?”

“it’s fight night. it’s the big fight.”

jerry didn’t know what to say to that.

“everybody’s watching the big fight,” terry continued.

“watching it where?”

“well, mostly on their televisions - or some in bars - ones who couldn’t get tickets.”

something stirred in jerry’s brain. a big fight. wouldn’t packy miller - or red fuller or whoever else had been in packy’s gang - be likely to be at such an event?


“must be a really big fight,” he finally said. “i remember fights, i don’t remember any fight that everybody watched.”

terry laughed. “you really don’t know, do you ? i know you been away but - i would have thought you would know wherever you was - especially being an old chicago boy and all.”

jerry was getting a little tired of this, but he wanted to know if red fuller might be at the fight, so he just said, “but i don’t know.”

“chicago jimmy kelly is fighting the chihuahua kid!”


“oh. uh - i guess chicago jimmy kelly is a local boy.”

“ha ha! wow, that is perspicacity at its most audacious! yes, he’s a local boy, and he is undefeated.”

“bully for him.”

“but that isn’t all.”

“what is all?” jerry asked.

“he is just about the prettiest boy in the whole world. not a mark on him after twenty-two fights, twenty won by knockouts. every dame in the universe between 8 and 108 would fight alligators to get at him.”

“sounds like he’s got the world in his pocket. and the chihuahua kid - he’s not so pretty?”


“the chihuahua kid looks like he crawled out of the bottom of satan’s own barbecue pit. but that ain’t the worst thing he got going against him.”

“but what is?”

“he’s managed by mac blackbird!”

the name sounded vaguely familiar to jerry. “so who is the favorite? in the betting, i mean.”

“now that’s a good question,” terry answered. “naturally everybody in chicago likes jimmy. but last i heard it was even money.”


they had finally turned off the boulevard and on to a narrow street of bars, pawn shops, pool halls, and drug stores. some of the bars and a couple of the pawn shops looked open.

jerry did not know what street they were on - he had hardly ever ventured on to the east side, before he joined the space corps.

no sign of a flower shop. they stopped at a red light.

“so,” he asked terry. “if everybody in the city is watching the fight, how come you are not? especially as you seem so enthusiastic.”


“hey, somebody’s got to mind the store. keep the wheels greased.”

“true.”

the light turned green, and they crossed the intersection. but instead of continuing down the street, terry pulled over beside a dark building.

jerry could barely make out a sign on the building - o’ brien’s funeral home.

terry turned and faced jerry directly.

“you really want to know why i ain’t watching the fight like everybody else?”

“sure. tell me.”


“you think i’m enthusiastic about him, do you? oh, no. because i know - i’m one of the three or four people in the world who knows - what chicago jimmy kelly is really like. what he’s like under that rosy cheeked baby face exterior.”

“and what is he like?”

“he’s nothing but a cheap punk and a mama’s boy. and a rat. you couldn’t trust him not to steal ice cubes at the north pole. and soft. scratch him and nothing would come out but vanilla seltzer water - and air.” terry glared at jerry as if daring him to contradict her. “i’d like nothing better than to bet my life savings on the chihuahua kid, but the fix might be in.”


“that’s all very interesting,” jerry replied. “but - uh - can we get to the flower shop? it’s getting late.”

“oh, yeah, sure.” terry turned back to the wheel. “it’s right around the corner.”

and sure enough it was around the corner. miller’s florist, with a big green sign, the only building on the block taking up taking up the space of two storefronts.

and looking very closed.

“it looks closed,” jerry said.


‘yeah, i could have told you that.” terry looked back at jerry with the hint of a smile. “but you never did ask.”

jerry took a deep breath. “tell me, do you think red fuller and his boys are at the fight?”

“where else would they be?”

“and where exactly is the fight? somewhere here in town?”

“no, it’s in stalingrad.”

“stalingrad,” jerry repeated.


“yeah, all the big fights are in stalingrad these days. or singapore or monte carlo. where the action is.”

jerry looked at the storefront. “so there’s not likely to be anybody inside?’

“oh no, there might be. george the gimp sleeps in the back. he’s always there. maybe he’s listening to the fight on the radio.” terry paused. “but i don’t hear anything. he’s probably asleep.”

“we could wake him up.”

“we could. you must want those flowers real bad.”

“let’s wake him up,” jerry told her.

“you sure? he might not take kindly to it. at all.”

“maybe he’s having a bad dream,” said jerry. “and he will be happy to be woke up.”

“all right then.”

they got out of the cab.


part 5





Tuesday, June 30, 2015

fun, part 20

by harold p sternhagen writing as "ralph desmond"

as originally appearing in the july-august 1951 issue of sinister destinies magazine

illustrated by konrad kraus

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

for previous episode of "fun" , click here

to begin "fun", click here





in our previous chapters, we met jerry and roselle winfield, socialites and slummers extraordinaire.

jerry suspects that roselle intends to kill him.

and he seeks to locate his old army buddy "whitey" wilson to help him avoid this fate, perhaps by murdering roselle.

stopping outside of syracuse with his new acquaintance pandora wilson on his way to meet whitey in rochester, he buys a newspaper with a sensational headline. a body identified as roselle's has been discovered in an alley in brooklyn.

earlier that evening roselle had been seen leaving her apartment with a mysterious stranger...

suspicious of the mysterious stranger's motives, roselle escapes from her and enters a dark bar, where she encounters "blackie" bascomb, who spins a tale of skullduggery on two continents...

*

because who do you think i should run into just last week on sixth avenue?’

“surely not the countess?”

“no - tomo.“


“oh?” roselle laughed. “and did you recognize each other right away? and stop and have a nice little chat?”

“no,” blackie replied slowly. “not exactly. for my part i just felt my memory jogged a little bit. truth be told i was six sheets to the wind - and you know that feeling when you crawl out of a dark bar - like this - into the noonday sun - “

“only too well, “ roselle agreed.

“ - and it is all you can do to keep your eyes open and not to black out with the shock, and you have to look really carefully at everything so as not to bump into anything - and everything just seems to jump into your face -“


“mmm”

“ - well it was just in that state that tomo’s nasty mug leapt into view - and i thought - looks familiar - no it’s just the drink. i stopped and took a deep breath, and do you know even then nothing might have come of it -“ blackie paused.

“but ? - “ roselle prompted him.

“but for some reason i turned around. and there was tomo, four or five feet behind me, staring at me. like he knew i would turn around, like he had willed me to turn around. and he says, ‘ we meet again, captain bascomb’. and it all came back to me.”


“and this is where? somewhere on sixth avenue?”

“sixth avenue and 46th street! it couldn’t have been busier - floods of people! the whole city of new york going to lunch! but i felt as if i were a puppy on a desert island, trying to stare down a boa constrictor.”

“and did he swallow you? what did all the people going to lunch think of that?”

blackie continued his tale.

“i started to faint. tomo took me by the arm.


‘you look unwell, captain. here, let me help you.’

tomo signaled for a cab and one pulled over right away. the next thing i knew i was in the cab and it turned around and we were heading downtown…

i didn’t remember telling the driver where to go, so i started to open my mouth but then i realized that tomo was seated beside me.

‘where are you taking me?’ i cried.

‘taking you? we are just going for a drive, captain. isn’t that what americans do, go for drives? nice sunday drives?’


‘it’s tuesday.’

‘then we will go for a nice tuesday drive.’

‘are you taking me to see the countess?’ i asked.

he pretended not to hear me.

‘are you taking me to see the countess?’ i repeated. ‘what does she want with me? are you — are still in the countess’s service?’

‘the countess?’ he finally answered. ‘oh, yes, the countess. the countess was very grateful to you for the services you rendered - those services you were pleased to render. no doubt she wrote to you?’


i looked out the window. we were on seventh avenue and the traffic was slow. we were just crawling along. it was slow enough that i could just jump out of the cab, even in my condition. i tried the door.

it did not open.

“i feel fine,’ i managed to say, ‘i can make my own way.’

‘nonsense. it is a beautiful day for a drive. go down to the river, maxie, so that the captain can enjoy the lovely view.’


“maxie!” exclaimed roselle. “that was - “

“that was what?” blackie asked.

“that was the cab driver’s name?”

“yes, it was.”

roselle looked around. the bartender had not returned. there were still no other patrons, and the bar looked darker than ever.

“and the cab - what was the name of the cab company?”

“um - it was - “


“five city cab?”

“yes, it was, now that you mention it.”

roselle grabbed blackie’s arm. “we have to get out of here.” she tossed her cigarettes and lighter into her purse and stood up. “right now - let’s go.”

“but i just started my story.”

“you can finish it somewhere else.”

“you don’t want to hear my story,’” blackie whimpered.

“oh, i do, i do,” roselle assured him. “but not here. we have to get out of here.”


it was raining harder than ever when they stepped outside.

there was a cab parked in front of the door.

a five city cab.

two people with umbrellas over their heads were standing beside the cab.

tomo.

and agnes.

a shadowy figure could be made out in the back seat of the cab.

“you didn’t think you could get away that easy, did you?” agnes asked roselle.

tomo laughed.


part 21





Wednesday, June 24, 2015

darkness, my home town - part 3

by fred flynn

illustrated by roy dismas

originally appeared in the june 1949 issue of frontiers of space magazine

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

to begin at the beginning, click here

click here for previous episode





jerry murphy has returned to chicago from a hitch in deep space, to discover that his uncle stan has been framed for murder - and is headed for the chair!

now jerry has to dig something up to save him - fast!

***

his head whirling more than ever after his encounter with merry and delbert, jerry sat back down in the booth across from moe. he put the new pack of old golds down in front of him, and took a sip of the draft beer.

at least my hand is steady, he thought.

“o k, fill me in here.” jerry leaned across the booth. “what happened exactly with stan? and what am i supposed to be looking for when i get over to the east side?”

moe looked a little bewildered, but then he usually did. “well, kid, if i knew what you was going to find, i would already know it, wouldn’t i? that’s what i wanted you to do - find something.”


jerry shook his head. “all right, moe, start at the beginning. stan was accused of what - knocking off packy miller? that’s ridiculous - stan wasn’t in packy miller’s league. sure, stan was a bookie, but he just had his little patch. and he was as honest as a roast beef dinner on sunday afternoon. you won, he paid you. he never even had anybody working for him except maybe a couple of kids - like me.”

“that’s all very well, kid. you think his lawyer didn’t say all that and more? but red fuller and the rest of packy’s boys had him in a frame tighter than you could get at the louver in paris france.”


“wait a minute,” jerry interrupted moe. “red fuller? what has red fuller got to do with anything?”

“he’s taken over for packy. but everybody still calls it packy’s gang. you know, they make a big deal about missing packy and being sad he’s gone. as broken hearted as a kid who didn’t get no valentine.”

jerry shook his head. “red fuller? that cheap punk? what about freddie fitzgerald? manny the greek? are they taking orders from red fuller? that doesn’t sound right.”


“hey, what do i know? i’m just telling you what everybody is saying.”

“all right, it’s not important. so - how does stan get fingered for this in the first place? did you say packy got gunned down over on the east side? stan never went near the east side. he hardly ever moved from 65th street.”

“packy’s guys came up with a dozen witnesses that said he did.”

“but didn’t he have an alibi? “ jerry ripped open the pack of old golds. “he must have been at his own shop, or making his own rounds. didn’t twenty people see him?”

“not on that night he wasn’t.”

“no!” jerry had been lighting a cigarette but he almost dropped it in his lap. “what do you mean? where he would go? he never went anywhere!”

moe shrugged. “nobody knows.”

“but didn’t anybody ask him? didn’t you ask him?”


“sure, i did, but he wouldn’t tell anybody nothing. not even his lawyer.”

“that reminds me - who was his lawyer anyway?”

moe hesitated. “billy tompkins.”

“billy tompkins! are you kidding me? that old rumbunny - he couldn’t fix a parking ticket for the pope. stan couldn’t have got a worse lawyer.”

“billy was stan’s friend. you know how stan was - loyal.”

“yeah.” jerry looked down at his draft beer as if seeing it for the first time. he took a sip. “he was - wasn’t he?”


“you know what i think?” moe asked.

“no, moe, what do you think?”

but moe fell silent as he saw ruby the waitress returning with jerry’s sandwich.

ruby put the sandwich down in front of jerry. “sorry it took so long. you see, you might as well of ordered a burger. or a steak dinner.”

“not a problem,” jerry told her. “thank you, i’m glad to get anything.”

“so,” jerry continued, after ruby had left, “you were saying?”


“i was saying you know what i think?”

“and what do you think?”

“i think stan was covering for somebody.”

“you don’t say. “ jerry looked own at the ham sandwich. suddenly he wasn’t hungry any more. “any idea who?”

“i don’t know - maybe a dame. it’s always a dame, isn’t it?”

“yeah.” jerry pushed the sandwich away. “i better get going if i’m going to do anything. you want this sandwich? i’m not hungry anymore.”

“sure - if you insist.”

“i insist.”

*


the blue light taxi service was right where merry had said it would be, though jerry probably would not have noticed it if he had not been looking for it.

there was a dim light showing in the window of the dispatch office. a cab was parked in front of the office, and another across the street, but both were dark.

jerry tried the door of the office. it was locked. he started to look into the window.

he heard a voice behind him, a woman’s voice. “can i help you?”


he turned but did not see anybody. then he saw some movement in the front seat of the cab across the street.

he started to cross the street. as he got closer to the cab, he could make out the form of the driver, slumped behind the wheel.

it was merry! he almost jumped back.

“can i help you?” the girl asked again. “the office is closed.”

“uh - yeah,” jerry answered. what was the name merry had given him? terry - that was it. terry. sure - this girl must be her sister, maybe her twin.


“merry sent me.”

“oh.” the girl sat up straighter. jerry could see she looked just like merry, except that under her cabbie’s hat she had blonde hair. “you know merry?”

“not really, i came in on the bus and - .”

“oh yeah, sure. get in. get in the back,” she added, although jerry was already opening the back door.

terry started the cab up. “where to?” she asked as the headlights came on.

“uh - the east side.”


“just - the east side? the east side’s pretty big.”

“uh - “ jerry tried to think. didn’t packy miller have a flower shop? would his gang still be running it?

“a flower shop,” he told terry.

“a flower shop.” she swung the cab on to a wide boulevard jerry didn’t recognize, that must have been new. “just any old flower shop?”

“i think there’s a flower shop over on madison.”


“you mean packy miller’s flower shop?”

“that sounds as good as any.” jerry looked out the window. the boulevard was almost deserted. it was so wide he could hardly see the stores and other buildings along it. it didn’t look like the chicago he remembered.

“packy doesn’t run it any more,” terry told him. “a woman named mellow jackson runs it. you familiar with her?”

“no, i - uh - i’m not familiar with any of these people.”

“that’s good. because they are what you might call bad companions.”


“if you say so. thank you for the warning.”

“i bet your mother told you to stay away from bad companions.”

“yes, she did. and the nuns in school did too.”

“uh-huh. so you just want some flowers at this time of night, huh?”

the boulevard was getting darker. there seemed to be no more stores.

“yes, i just got back from deep space - “


“i noticed the uniform.”

“and i wanted to get some flowers for my girl, you know, to surprise her.”

“ha, ha - you weren’t enough of a surprise yourself, huh?”

“i guess not.”

“but really, that’s so sweet. so romantic. there isn’t enough romance in the world today. that’s my considered opinion.”

“mine too.”


part 4






Wednesday, June 17, 2015

darkness, my home town - part 2

by fred flynn

illustrated by roy dismas

originally appeared in the june 1949 issue of frontiers of space magazine

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

part two

click here for part one





in our previous episode,
jerry murphy has returned to chicago from a hitch in deep space, to discover that his uncle stan has been framed for murder - and is headed for the chair!

***

jerry stared up at the clock on the bus station wall. his mind was in a whirl.

he knew he had to say something. moe was looking up at him with his hound dog eyes, like a sinner looking up at a saint descended from heaven.

somebody bumped into jerry from behind. he hardly felt it.

it occurred to him he was in back in chicago, and he almost checked his pockets, then remembered he had everything, including his new papers and i d, safe in a money belt around his waist.


moe was tugging at his arm. “come on, let’s sit down somewhere. you look like you are going to faint.”

jerry wasn’t going to faint, but he did feel like sitting down.

he looked across the station. there was an old fashioned snack bar at the back wall, selling hot dogs and sandwiches and sodas. there was a girl behind the counter wearing a white paper hat.

looking at it brought back long ago memories of days at the ball park and the lake, of ferris wheels and cotton candy and shooting galleries - the first time he fired a shot at something and hit it - and the big ugly clown handing him a blue teddy bear for a prize...

“let’s go over there,” he told moe.


“no, i can’t sit on them stools, they make my back hurt.”

“all right.”

“there’s a place right outside, the dark and smoky bar. let’s go there.”

“can i get something to eat there? “

“sure, they’ll fix you something. especially if i ask them. i’m an old customer.”

“all right, let’s go, then.” jerry took a look around the bus station. as soon as i go out that door, he thought, i will really be back in chicago.

*


the dark and smoky bar seemed empty, but when jerry and moe took a booth near the door jerry thought he heard voices from a couple of the other booths in front of them.

there was no bartender in evidence. there was a big television screen - almost as big as the viewer on a space ship - but it was turned off.

a gray-haired waitress came over with a pencil and pad. she nodded at moe and said something jerry couldn’t make out.

moe pointed to jerry. “this is jerry. he’s just back from deep space.”


the waitress didn’t look impressed. “what will you have?

“think you can get jerry something from the kitchen? “

“sure,” the waitress looked at jerry. “what do you want?”

“whatever is quickest.”

“get you a ham sandwich. a burger or a cheeseburger if you want to wait.”

“a ham sandwich is good.”

“want anything on it?”


“mustard.”

“nothing else? most people eat healthy these days - lettuce, tomato?”

“just mustard.”

“get you some ketchup - that’s got some vitamins.”

“mustard - lots of it.”

“suit yourself.”

“and two dark drafts,” moe added.

jerry watched the waitress head to the back . “was her name ruby?”


“of course. what else would it be?”

jerry rubbed his eyes. “all right, tell me about stan. where he is now, in joliet?”

“nah, he’s in russia someplace. some part of russia - siberia or bulgaria or someplace. ”

“in russia? what’s he doing in russia?”

moe shrugged. “that’s the way it is these days. it’s one world. and they move people around, you know.”

jerry didn’t know but he just said, “so where is the governor - if you want to get him to stop the execution - still in springfield?”


“nah, in brazil someplace. that’s how they do it these days. spread everything around.” moe lowered his voice. “so that the workers and peasants can’t unite.”

jerry blinked. “brazil? so we have to get to brazil?”

“no, no, the governor is not the problem.” moe leaned forward. “the solution is right here, in chicago - over on the east side. we know packy miller’s boys framed stan - all we have to do is prove it.”

“in the next four hours.”

“exactly.” moe started to say more, but looked back over his shoulder at ruby the waitress approaching with the two drafts on a tray.


as ruby put the two glasses down, jerry asked her, “where can i get a pack of smokes?”

“there’s a machine beside the bar, over on the right, just before the back entrance.”

“is it still a quarter?”

ruby laughed. “a quarter? sonny, you have been in deep space. no, it’s forty cents.”

“forty cents!“ jerry had been warned that prices were up but had not really thought about it. he wondered how long his discharge pay would last.


“you’ll see a lot has changed, kid,” moe told him. “but don’t worry, i got these beers. and your sandwich.”

“yeah, thanks.” jerry stood up. “excuse me.” he headed for the back, because now he really needed a smoke.

as he passed one of the other booths he heard a voice behind him.

“are you following me, spaceboy?”

jerry turned.

staring at him through a whirl of cigarette smoke was the bus driver - the knockout dame from the bus from spaceport.


and sitting across from her and looking up at jerry was delbert - the little guy on the bus who had wanted to show jerry a good time.

jerry just gawked at the bus driver, who was still in her uniform - a uniform that showed off every curve on her lush body.

delbert broke the awkward silence. “the kid don’t mean nothing. after all, we are just outside the station.” he laughed. “don’t mind merry, kid. she thinks every guy in the world is following her. and you can see why, ha ha!”

“right,” jerry mumbled. he turned and headed for the cigarette machine.


his hand trembled slightly as he put his forty cents into the machine and heard the pack of old golds thunk into the tray at the bottom.

what am i shaky about, he thought. i wasn’t this nervous when i was stranded on a leaky patrol craft two million miles from betelgeuse.

he put the cigarettes in his pocket and headed back to the booths.

he stopped when he got to the booth delbert and merry were sitting in.

“can i ask you a question?” he asked merry.


“sure.”

“you’re a bus driver, right?”

“a brilliant observation.”

delbert laughed, but jerry ignored him.

“so you must know the bus routes around here.”

merry shrugged. “a little. i mostly have the spaceport route.”

“what’s the quickest way to the east side?”

“quickest way?” she blew smoke at him. “you in a hurry?”

“yeah, a little bit.”

“a hurry for a good time?” delbert asked.

“no, strictly business.”

“if you are in a hurry,” merry answered. “you don’t want to take the bus. there is a cab stand down the street, on the corner of 77th. blue light cab. ask for terry and tell them merry sent you. it won’t cost much more than the bus.”

“thank you, “ jerry told her. “thank you very much.”

“glad to oblige.”

“come back later,” delbert said, “if you want a good time.”

“after your serious business,” merry added. she blew a smoke ring.

“will you still be here?” jerry asked.

merry laughed. “he might be. me - probably not.”


part 3