Please keep in mind the rules of the contest dictated the format. A mystery had to be established and solved in no more than 2500 words. I have never written a short story before so it was really a unique experience for me. It will end up being a chapter in the book and since it won't have to follow a contest guideline it will probably be longer but still - have a quick read and tell me what you think. Any resemblence to any living person is purely coincidence.
(I respectfully ask that just like art work my work is mine with copyrights intended or acquired.) Here goes - enjoy.
Manny Garcia - Private Eye
It was midmorning in Santa Rosa when Manny Garcia
lumbered up the alley looking like an old pull toy that leaned way to the left
and then way to the right as he shuffled his feet. He waddled down a rut
stopping only to pet stray dogs or peer into the dumpsters he passed. Occasionally spotting something he thought he
could use; he would retrieve the new found treasure and stuff it into the ratty
brown shopping bag he carried.
Rose Padilla and her neighbor Lucie Hernandez stood
in their back yards discussing the damage their gardens sustained in last
night’s hail storm. Rose was first to
spot Manny making his way toward them, leaning closer to Lucie she whispered.
“Oh no, it’s too early for to put up with his foolishness, I’m going inside.”
Lucie wasn’t quick enough to escape. Manny smiled and waved as he called out her
name. “Good Morning Mrs. Hernandez. How are you today?”
Lucie sighed deeply.
“I’m doing better than my tomatoes.
The hail ruined them but that’s nothing compared to what it did to my
husband’s new truck.”
“That’s terrible, but you got insurance don’t you?”
Manny removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeved arm. “How much did that truck cost you?” And then
without waiting for an answer he continued, “How much insurance you got? Enough?”
Lucie knew that the questions weren’t meant to be
rude. They were Manny’s way of showing
concern and, as everyone in town knew, Manny was just Manny. “We’re okay – will
get the truck fixed.”
“That’s good.” He said as he placed his hat back on
his head and saying farewell be set out once again for town.
He was only a block from the downtown area when he
stopped to sift through the dumpster located behind the home of the town’s bank
president, Sam Weller. As a general rule
there was almost always something worth pulling out of this dumpster, however
lately there had only been kitchen refuse.
Manny used a stick to stir the trash around but his effort only yielded
the empty containers of a variety of generic store brand commodities. With his head tucked under the dumpster lid he
didn’t notice Mrs. Weller making her way to the backyard gate.
“Mr. Garcia?”
She whispered.
Startled, Manny bumped his head knocking his hat off
and into the dumpster. He retrieved his
hat and rubbed his sore head. “Good Morning Mrs. Weller.”
Mrs. Weller looked up and down the alley. When she was satisfied that no one was
watching her she continued. “Do you have
time to come inside? I’d like to talk to
you about something.”
Manny followed her inside and sat down at the
kitchen table. Eagerly accepting her offer
of coffee and a slice of German Chocolate cake, he listened as she sputtered
off to a hesitant start. “Mr. Garcia,”
she began, “Are you really a detective?”
“Yes ma’am, I got my license right here.” He reached
into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.
Mrs. Weller couldn’t help but notice that the old worn wallet was
completely empty with the exception of the wrinkled paper card declaring that
the bearer was an official private detective as recognized by the Security
Services Institute of America. Not that
Manny had attended the institute; as a matter of fact he had trouble filling
out the form in the back of the magazine. In reality it merely signified that
his check for $19.99 had cleared the bank.
Mrs. Weller read the card which offered her no
reassurance. Manny could sense her lack
of confidence in his ability as a professional.
“You know I was the one who helped Father Lohan find his missing rosary
and I have solved lots of other cases as well.”
She did know.
She and every other citizen knew that Father Lohan had intentionally
left his rosary at the coffee shop and then walked across the street to the
plaza. Waking Manny from his nap on the
bench where he slept most afternoons he retained
Manny to find his lost possession.
It was assumed that the old priest had done this as an act of kindness
but he had done it to end the daily visits from Manny who complained that no
one would give him any business. When Father Lohan praised Manny’s skill the
following Sunday at mass it resulted in several new cases, mostly lost pets,
lost rings or watches and the occasional stolen lawn ornament. Much to everyone’s surprise Manny was fairly
successful in retuning the lost items to their owners.
Drawing in a long breath Mrs. Weller decided she had
nothing to lose. “About a week ago I was
doing some cleaning in the living room when I accidently bumped our Ernest L.
Blumenschein painting and it fell off the wall and crashed to the floor. Are
you familiar with his work?”
Manny shook his head so she continued. “He’s a founding member of the Taos art
colony. Sam and I purchased
Blumenshein’s Oak Creek Canyon ten years ago to mark our twenty fifth wedding
anniversary.” Then with a little
embarrassment she added “at that time we paid around forty thousand dollars.”
Manny choked on his cake. “For a picture?”
“For an original Blumenshein” she corrected. “The
painting itself wasn’t damaged but the frame broke. My husband was out of town so I took the
painting back to the gallery in Santa Fe where we purchased it to see if the
frame could be repaired. To my surprise
they called me the next day to inform me that the painting I brought in wasn’t
the same one they sold us.” There was a
sudden hitch in her voice. “They said…they said it was a forgery.”
“That’s terrible,” Manny said as he helped himself
to a second piece of cake. “What did you husband say about it?”
“When he got home yesterday from his business trip I
told him what I found out and suggested we contact the police but he was
against that. He said that he didn’t
want the police brought into it because he didn’t want anyone to know what kind
of money we had in our art and collectibles.” She poured Manny a second cup of
coffee. “I pointed out that we had paid
a small fortune for the painting and that a report should be made for insurance
purposes but Sam was firm and said that I should forget about it for now and
then he left me sitting here while he went off to the bank to work. He was gone most of the night and before he
left this morning he said he didn’t want to talk about the painting anymore. I just don’t know what to do?”
Manny finished his cake and coffee and then checked
the clock on the wall. “I better get
going; it’s almost time for lunch. But I
tell you what; I’ll start working on your case right away.” She watched him go
through the back gate and head up the alley toward town. Sighing heavily, she couldn’t escape the
feeling that she had just wasted a good hour of her time and two slices of cake
on a hopeless case.
Making his way into the plaza Manny decided to
bypass his regular bench located under the shade of a towering cottonwood tree
and chose a bench on the south side of the square, the one across the street
from the bank. He sat down and surveyed
the bank with is parking lot sandwiched next to the drug store. The smooth, shiny, burgundy Cadillac parked
in the first available space, the one marked Reserved for Bank President,
belonged to Sam Weller. The rest of the lot was occupied with employee
vehicles. The bank policy emphasized
leaving the parking spaces in front of the bank strictly for customers.
Gloria
Alderidge, the bank secretary, came bouncing out of the bank and made her way
to the parking lot. It crossed Manny’s mind that her skirt seemed short even
for a girl in her twenties but he enjoyed looking at her legs anyway. As she
slid into her Mustang Convertible she let out a yelp as her skin touched the
hot leather upholstery. Manny couldn’t
help but notice that last night’s hail storm had done quite a bit of damage to
her car as well. As she sped out of the
parking lot the big clock on the bank chimed twelve.
Sitting in the sun Manny thought about the case of
the forged painting. He thought so hard
that before he knew it his heavy eyes closed and he was fast asleep. He might have slept there all afternoon had
he not been woken by the sound of Gloria’s Mustang screeching to a stop in a parking
spot in front of the bank where it would be shaded by a large tree. As she made her way to entrance she was
intercepted by Sam Weller. Manny watched
as the two had a brief conversation before she went through the front door and
Mr. Weller continued down the sidewalk to the drug store.
Manny’s
stomach growled. Looking up at the bank
clock he was surprised to see that it was a quarter to two and he had slept
through lunch. The drugstore had a lunch
counter so Manny pulled himself up from the bench and headed across the street. As he pushed the door open he saw Sam Weller
standing at the front checkout counter paying for his purchase, an unmistakable
black and gold box of Rogaine.
“What’s new with you Manny?” said the waitress as
she sat down his egg salad sandwich.
“I’m working on a case, can’t talk about it but it’s
a big one.”
“Working?” She laughed. “Manny you’ve been asleep over there all
day.”
“No really.” He said “I was working on a case and as
soon as I finish my lunch I’m gonna go solve it.”
With a smile and a wink the waitress slid his check
across the counter. “Well if anyone can
solve it you can, you probably see everything walking through the alleys all
day.”
True to his word Manny wiped the last of the egg
salad from his face and headed for the bank.
As he passed the parking lot he stopped to look closer at Sam Weller’s
pristine Cadillac sitting in its coveted spot.
Clean and waxed without a blemish on it Sam smiled and thought he might
like to have just such a car for himself one day if he ever learned to drive.
Sam Weller was busy going through some files when
Gloria tapped on his door to say that Mr. Garcia was here to see him. He was in the process of saying he was much
too busy for an unscheduled meeting with anyone when Manny pushed his way
through the door,
“I know you’re a busy man, this will only take a
minute. I’ve come about the painting.
Sam slowly closed the file and asked him to come in. Gloria began to excuse herself when Manny
stopped her. “No Miss Alderidrge, you
come in and sit down too” Gloria looked at Mr. Weller who shrugged so she
closed the door and sat down.
Manny removed his hat and sat down. “That was a bad
storm we had last night, lotta damage all over town, lotta damage.”
“I
thought you came to talk about the painting?”
Sam said flatly.
Manny nodded. “You know your wife is a wonderful
woman. I’ve known her all my life and
what a good cook. She makes the best
German Chocolate cake I ever tasted.” He
glanced at Gloria and then looked back at Sam. Anyway, she was telling me about your trouble
with the painting. Quite a mystery don’t
you agree?”
Mr. Weller sat silently and waited for Manny to get
to the point. “So many things are a
mystery to me like …” his voice trailed off like he was trying to think of an
example. Then suddenly it picked back
up. “Like why a man that everyone thinks
would have lots of money is buying Great Value vegetables and milk but, “ Manny gestured to the drugstore sack on the
desk. “wastes good money on hair fertilizer.” Suddenly sweat began to appear on
Sam’s head and bead up on the peach fuzz covering the bald spot
Manny went on.
“Or why Miss Alderidge takes a longer lunch than the other employees and
parks in front of the bank just to have her car in the shade. And about your
car,” Manny turned to face Gloria directly, “it such a shame that the hail
banged up your pretty new car like that.
You should have parked it in the garage of that new house you just moved
into. You know the one where they
delivered the new furniture to last week.
You must get paid pretty good here at the bank.”
Then returning his gaze at Mr. Weller he went on.. “And how nice for you that while you were
working last night your car didn’t get any hail damage. You’re a lucky man because that a very pretty
car. Yep you were lucky, either that or
you had your car parked in a garage. Op,
but there isn’t a garage here at the bank so it must be luck.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. He looked at Gloria and then back at
Manny. “What do you want?”
“Me? I want to find your nice wife her painting but”
Manny rubbed the back of his neck, “ I don’t think it’s around here anymore. I think someone switched it with a fake and
sold the real one for money.”
“For what reason?”
Mr. Weller managed.
Manny shrugged.
“I don’t know, maybe your living expenses have doubled.”
The pink in the banker’s cheeks drained. “Again, what do you want?”
“I want you to write a nice letter recommending that
Miss Alderidge gets the job at the school.”
Gloria’s cheeks, by comparison, were flushed with
anger. “I don’t want to change jobs?”
“Sure you do Miss Alderidge. You see when Mrs. Weller finds out about the
painting she will divorce Mr. Weller and take everything. The scandal will cause the bank to fire
him. With no job and no money he won’t
be able to pay for cars or furniture or even store bought hair. But you’ll
still have a job so you can pay.”
Gloria stood up and tugged her skirt hem down. “I’ll go clear out my desk.”
When she left the office Sam slumped back in his
chair. “Mr. Garcia, are you going to
tell my wife?”
“What for Mr. Weller? By the time I see her again
you will have already told her all about it yourself and after some time she
will forgive you.”
“You think
so?”
Manny smiled “I haven’t been wrong yet?”
