Charlie Danger, Private Detective! - BillSamsel
Charlie Danger, Private Detective!
Charlie Danger,
Private Detective
written by
W. T. Samsel.
Part One
It was a cold, wintery day outside as I sat behind my desk in my tiny office waiting for a phone to ring that lately, never seemed to. I sat staring blankly at the wall listening to the sultry sound of the sax player down the hall practicing for his next weekend’s gig. I was trying to decide if I should get up and fix myself another drink.
Suddenly, the door burst open and in strolled a beautiful blonde bombshell in a fancy evening dress that fit just right in just the right places. She stood there in her spiked heels looking utterly gorgeous and at the same time…dangerous.
I say dangerous because in her pretty little hand was a great big shiny .38 and the business end was pointing right in my face.
“Are you Charlie Danger?”
“That all depends baby.” I said. “What’s up with all the firepower?”
She looked at me with great, big, blue-green eyes.
“It’s a precaution Mr. Danger.”
Her voice was low and sexy.
“I’m extra precautious lately.” She said.
I gestured toward a chair. “Sit yourself down beautiful and maybe we could talk about it.”
Making sure to keep the barrel of the .38 pointed right in my face, she slowly seated herself down, crossing her legs. Those were some legs too, shaped just right and wrapped in nylon.
“I need your help Mr. Danger.” She purred. “But first I need to know if I can trust you.”
“Well, you can put away that pea-shooter baby.” I said as I lit up a cigarette. “And then you can start by givin’ me something to go on.”
She finally put the gun away in her purse and then switched her legs around.
“I’m talking extortion, high crimes, blackmail, slavery, treason and murder Mr. Danger. Are you up to it?”
“Look, I’m gonna level with you baby.” I said. “I’m just an out of work songwriter masquerading as a private dick but if you tell me what you got, I’ll help you if I can.”
“Look Danger, it has to do with Big Brother and secret government and a plot to bring down the entire
She took a cigarette from a silver case, placed it in a long ebony cigarette holder and looked at me expectantly. I got up, came around the desk, struck a match and held it out to her as she lit up and puffed out a blue cloud of smoke that just sort of lingered in the air.
“You just said a mouthful baby, but you need to be a little more specific.” I said.
Her smile disappeared
“Sure thing Danger.” She said. “Have you tried driving anywhere lately?”
I looked at her quizzically.
“I’d like to baby but I can’t afford the extra gas.”
A blush of anger spread over her face.
“That’s just it Danger!”
She pointed a perfectly manicured forefinger at me. “You’re being ripped off. We’re all being ripped off. You an’ me and every other dumb sucker in this country!”
“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know already baby.” I said.
“Have you noticed how you really can’t afford a god-damned thing anymore Danger? Ever wonder why you just keep busting your ass all the time and you wind up getting nowhere?”
I snuffed out my cigarette in one of them cheap, aluminum ashtrays I pick up from the local dives. “Look baby, why don’t you level with me?” I said.
Suddenly all the anger and emotion she’d been holding back seemed to burst out of her in one big gush.
“What’s the matter Danger? Don’t you get it? It’s all a part of the plan to bring us down! You, me and all of the little people . . . all of the decent, good, honest people out there Mr. Danger! Why? Because a bunch of dirty rotten rats can’t get enough and want it all!”
“Stop it baby, you’re breakin’ my heart.” I said as I sat back down in my chair and put my feet up on the desk. “Just how do I figure into the picture?”
She sat there lookin’ at me with those big blue bedroom eyes and smiled. “Word on the street has it that you’re an OK guy Danger. I hear you’re the kind of guy that won’t sit still for that kind of crap.”
There was something about her that I couldn’t quite put my finger on . . . at least not from where I sat.
“OK baby.” I replied. “You win. I get seventy five bucks a day plus expenses.”
She reached into her purse, pulled out three crisp one hundred dollar bills and dropped ‘em on my desk.
“We’ll just call this a retainer.” She said.
She got up and headed for the door. She paused and smiled back at me seductively.
“You play your cards right mister and you might get a whole lot more.” She cooed. “I’ll be seein’ you.”
With that said, she walked out, the door slamming shut behind her. She was gone just like that. Still . . . the scent of her perfume lingered in the room.
And then all of a sudden, all hell broke loose!
Three bullets came slashing through the window behind me. I felt them buzz right past my head. One took out my desk lamp, the other two buried themselves in the wall.
And then, as if that weren’t enough, three more came whizzing through the glass of my office door and buried themselves in the front of my desk!
It seemed like things were starting off with a bang. Three from behind, three from the front. Two shooters. When the smoke and dust settled, I threw on my hat and coat and cautiously made my way to the street and my second-hand Nash convertible.
I made my way to the Flamingo Bar and Grill over on
I parked the Nash and went inside where it was dark an’ smoky an’ full of fowl smells and lonely, down an’ out people buryin’ their sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. I stepped up to the bar and was greeted by the man himself.
“Hey Mr. Danger, you keepin’ ya dick wet?”
He was standin’ there polishing glasses with a filthy old towel.
“Sure thing Joe.”
“You want the usual Mr. Danger?”
“Yeah sure Joe.” I replied as I slid a ten spot on the bar in front of him. “Tell me Joe, what’s the word out on the street?”
He looked around to make sure nobody could overhear him and said, “Word is, Mr. Danger, that we’re all screwed. You, me and all the rest of them dupes out there! We’re screwed, blued and tattooed . . . and most of them dumb suckers don’t even know it!”
I took a sip of the scotch he handed me.
“That’s what I figured.” I replied.
“What’s it all about Mr. Danger?”
I pulled out a cigarette. Joe struck a match and held it out for me. I lit up.
“The usual bullshit Joe.” I said. “I just got a visit from a sexy dame packin’ a .38 an’ talking murder and mayhem. No sooner does she walk out the door than bullets start flyin’ through my office, all of ‘em lookin’ for me!”
“Was she a sexy looking blonde bombshell in a fancy evening dress with spiked heels and wavin’ around a long cigarette holder?”
“Bingo.” I said.
Joe smiled. “I can tell ya she’s with the People’s Revolutionary Underground. Word has it there’s a big price on her head. Homeland Security wants her bad.”
”This just keeps getting curiouser an’ curiouser.” I replied. I finished off my drink and slapped another ten bucks down on the bar. “Looks like it’s gonna get real interesting real fast.”
“You be careful Mr. Danger.” said the bartender. “This is the big leagues an’ these guys play for keeps.”
“Danger is my name.” I said.
Then I turned and walked out of the joint.
I got in my car and started heading down
And then all of a sudden I heard that familiar, low, sexy voice coming from the back seat of my Nash.
“Don’t look now Mr. Danger, but we’re being followed.”
It was the sexy blonde bombshell in the fancy evening dress with the spiked heels and the long, cigarette holder.
“Fancy meetin’ you here baby.” I said casually. “Any idea who’s tailin’ us?”
She struck a match, lit up a cigarette and said, “It’s a car-load of fat, traitorous bankers and corporate CEO’s lookin’ to sell out this country.”
“You want I should lose ‘em?” I asked.
“No Mr. Danger. You just keep on driving the car. I’ll handle these scum-bags.”
Before I could say or do anything, there was a deafening roar as she fired the bazooka that she’d pulled from her purse. The shell took out my rear window, filling the car with smoke. It flew through the air, penetrated the other cars windshield and exploded, turning the vehicle into a blazing inferno!
“Serves the dirty bastards right.” She sighed as she stuffed the bazooka back into her purse. “Sorry about your window Mr. Danger. Just add it to your expenses.”
“It’s getting’ awful hot on this trail baby.” I said over my shoulder to her. “How about tellin’ me what gives?”
”I do Mr. Danger.” She purred in my ear. “And rather well I might add.”
That kind of talk started my temperature rising.
“Pull over here Mr. Danger, now!” she said with urgency.
I slammed on the brakes and ground the Nash to a halt. No sooner had I thrown the brake and killed the engine than I heard the back door slam.
She was gone.
It wasn’t quite what I expected.
So there I sat; on the side of the road, alone in my Nash with the rear window blown out. Her scent still lingered in the car as I sat there with no smokes and no leads. At that point I figured the best thing I could do was head back to my office.
When I got there I walked through my bullet-riddled door and stepped over the bloody corpse in the middle of the floor before I realized that it hadn’t been there when I left.
I knelt down and turned over the body. This wasn’t just any old corpse. It was the bullet-riddled body of Thomas Jefferson and clutched in his cold, dead hand was the burned and tattered remains of the Constitution of the
I froze there, stunned by what lay before me. Should I call the cops? No, that would just complicate things. There was only one thing to do. I gathered up some old newspapers and a roll of duct tape.
An hour later I had the body wrapped and secured so that I could lug it down the hall and out to the car. Accomplishing that without too much difficulty, I stuffed the body into the trunk. What little was left of the Constitution was hidden safely away in my office. I got in the car and headed off towards the nearest garbage dump.
Later on that night, I was back at the Flamingo Bar and Grill standing at the bar talking to Joe.
“Back again so soon Mr. Danger?”
“Yeah Joe. Have you seen or heard anything of the mystery woman?” I asked as he poured me another scotch.
“You mean the sexy lookin’ blonde bombshell with the fancy evening dress, spiked heels and a long cigarette holder?”
“That’s the one.” I said. “I’ve got to find her.”
He placed the drink on the bar in front of me.
“Are you sure you wanna get involved Mr. Danger?”
“I’m already in it up to my neck.” I said. “What gives?”
The man looked a little nervous to me. Sweat was breakin’ out on his forehead. He busied himself wiping the same spot on the bar over an’ over, like it’d never come clean.
“You know . . . I been doin’ some thinkin’ about it.” He said. “What if she’s the one that tried to gun you down in your office? Who was it in that car that she blew to smithereens? And how do you know it wasn’t her that whacked
The look of surprise on my face stuck out like a flag on a pole. “How the hell do you know all that?”
“Let us just say that I’m psychic.” He whispered, “Ain’t that why you shamuses all come to me with your questions?”
“Well I don’t like it Joe.” I said, “Somethin’ stinks.”
By the time I left the Flamingo, it was dark and cold and I was fallin’ down drunk. I made my way to my car and was about to slip the key into the lock when I heard a noise behind me and suddenly something smashed me in the head and my lights went out.
I don’t know how long I was out. When I came to, I found myself enveloped within something soft and warm and moist. It turned out that I was tied and gagged and wrapped in a body-bag. Suddenly a knife appeared right before my eyes.
“Don’t worry Mr. Danger.” said a familiar, sexy voice. “I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy.”
The mystery lady was cutting me free from my wrappings. As far as I could tell, we were both in a garbage dumpster behind Lee’s Happy China Restaurant.
“How did you find me here?” I asked.
“Let’s just say I can smell trouble Mr. Danger.” she said, “And it looks like you got yourself in quite a fix.”
When we had finally extricated ourselves from the dumpster, we made our way over to her shiny new
“Do you think you can stay out of trouble for the rest of the night Mr. Danger?” she said as she got in the car.
“Trouble is my business.” I told her.
Without another word, she took off and left me standin’ there all alone. I made my way back to my Nash and drove home to my rented Airstream on a vacant lot on 45th street. One thing was sure. . . I needed another drink.
Once at my place, I poured the drink, splashed some cold water in my face and had a change of clothes. I rooted around in the refrigerator and found a ham sandwich that didn’t have too much mold on it. I turned on the television set and sat down in my armchair.
It was then that I noticed the bullet-riddled corpse lying in a pool of blood on the floor in the middle of the trailer.
I knelt down and turned over the body. It wasn’t just any old bullet-riddled corpse. I couldn’t believe what lay there in front of me! The bloody corpse on the floor was none other than that of Paul Revere!
Somebody had taken a machine gun to him. There was a bloody note clasped tightly in his hand. I pried it loose and read it. It gave me the creeps.
“Mr. Danger . . .One if by economic collapse, two if by false-flag terrorism.”
He had obviously been trying to warn me of something. Who had murdered the man? How does
How was I going to get rid of the body?
I immediately started looking around for some old newspapers and duct tape. . .
Charlie Danger, Private Detective
Part Two . . .
After my second trip to the garbage dump, I headed back to my office. Maybe if I could fit together all the pieces of this puzzle, it just might begin making some kind of sense.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I managed to run over the guy that jumped from behind the bushes with a Thompson machine gun pointed at me. I swerved towards him and felt the double thump as he went under the tires but I don’t think it hurt the car.
I parked the Nash and got out. That’s when I felt the Bowie knife whiz past my head so close that I’m sure it took some hair with it. I swung around fast with my gun in hand but whoever had thrown the knife was gone.
I made it to the elevator without further incident. When the door opened, I stepped inside and pushed the button for the fifth floor. The elevator started to move and it was only then that I noticed the bloody, bullet-riddled body that lay crumpled and dead in the corner. I knelt down for a closer look. It wasn’t just any old corpse.
It was Betsy Ross!
She had obviously been tortured and bludgeoned to death before being shot multiple times with a high-powered automatic weapon.
She was not a pretty sight.
Just then, the elevator arrived at my floor. The little bell rang and the door opened. I had no choice but to leave her there. Somebody else would find her.
When I got to the office there was a surprise waiting for me. It was the blonde bombshell in the fancy evening dress with the spiked heels and a long cigarette holder.
“Just call me Kinky.” She said seductively. “It’ll save you a lot of writing.”
“OK baby.” I said as I seated myself at my desk. “Why don’t you start by explaining to me who you are and what you want? I’m up to my neck in dead bodies and I don’t like it. And besides that, somebody’s trying awful hard to bump me off and I don’t like that either. It’s time to come clean sister because my patience is startin’ to wear thin!”
She looked at me with those great big beautiful eyes that could melt a man’s heart like an ice cream bar in a blast furnace.
“Keep your pants on Danger.” She purred. “The whole thing is too complicated. You’re in over your head. Besides, I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“It’s never too late baby.”
The explosion came as a complete surprise. One moment I was sitting there conversing with my client, and then suddenly I was flying backwards through the air as my desk exploded into a million tiny pieces! Fire, flame, smoke and debris flew everywhere for that brief moment.
And then everything went black.
When I finally came to . . . I seemed to be floating somehow in what looked to be a white cloud. I turned around and saw a middle aged man with long hair and wire-rimmed spectacles.
“Who are you?” I asked through the mist.
The man looked at me and smiled.
“I am the walrus.” He replied.
There was a rush of wind and a voice whispered, ‘Mary’ and then the haze turned purple and a tall, thin black man appeared. He knelt before a flaming electric guitar.
Before I could do or say anything else, the smoke cleared away and I found myself lying on the floor, covered with debris, in what used to be my office.
Everything was completely destroyed. I was lucky to be alive. And Kinky was nowhere to be seen. Had she given me the slip again? Had she been blown to smithereens?
I couldn’t just lie around in the debris trying to figure it all out. I got up, dusted myself off and headed for my car.
To be continued . . .
Charlie Danger meets Shurelock Homes.
It was late at night when I finally got back to my rented Airstream on the vacant lot on
His dress was peculiar, he was smoking a pipe and when he spoke, I knew right off he was a Limey.