The Wildcat

Nobody writes songs about heading  east on 66. Those songs are only about heading west. 

1967 Wildcat image by 1970 Lincoln Continental via Flickr

The windshield and grill of Kent Pernell’s  ‘67 Buick Wildcat were splattered with bugs. Summer driving on Route 66.

Get out of your car at the filling station and you  smell rubber. You see heat radiating from the road.  

Kent Pernell always made good time on the highway.

You see all kinds on the road.  

Kent knew 66 well. Better than the people still heading west on the cracked asphalt two lane toward the Golden State. Kent often passed them in the Wildcat. Families. Parents looking for something better. Some would go back east , maybe. Or they would simply stop. Settle down in the sun.

But they didn’t write songs about their return trips.

These two men were different from those families.

These were vagrants. Kent saw them when he got out of the Wildcat at the rest area. 

You couldn’t say for sure if the pair of men were older or younger than Kent. They needed haircuts, shaves. They were dirty from being on the road.

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Pablo

They would keep out of sight for a while, then maybe book a Mexican cruise under assumed names.

Calvin spent some time thinking of a new name for himself.

Palapa by alvaro_qc via flickr

He kept coming back to the name Pablo, but he realized Pablo was a Mexican name. The name might imply he spoke Spanish and could lead to complications when it turned out he could not.

Better to stick with the name Bud. Grace was used to calling him Bud and Calvin liked the way the name sounded when she said it.

The apartment was okay. Nothing special, but okay.

It turned out Grace was a slob.

There were dishes everywhere. In and out of the kitchen.

Calvin was stuck with daytime television and what was left of the Thai stick.

From TRINITY and the HEISTERS

Coming soon.

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Subterranean Furnace Noises

“The chain of old mountains now known as the Appalachians in North America and the Caledonides in Scotland and Ireland were once considerably higher than their present elevation. They made up a large part of the great connected land mass now known as North America and Europe. Alluded to by both maps, legends, and common sense, the path has been hidden in plain sight for centuries.”

The Path to the Old World

Serge Conacher

(Unpublished)

From FERGUSON’S TRIP

Available on this website and on Amazon

Brodick Bay, Isle of Arran by Robert J. Heath via Flickr

The Lady from Shanghai

The luxury suite at the Western Way where Jackie Tyler was staying was called La Lomita.

Her room was equipped with a clock radio, a framed Ted DeGrazia print of a Mexican adobe, a safe for valuables, a servi-bar stocked with mini bottles of wine, spirits, and mixers, a valet stand upon which to hang clothing and jewelry, two luxurious queen beds and a color television with excellent local reception.

The suite was paid for by management and Jackie wasn’t touching the serve-bar.

Who would want to watch anything on television here? The view of the Catalina Mountains was a dream, and the pool was a step or two away.

Jackie Tyler got out of the shower, put on the terry cloth dressing robe, lay down on the left hand queen sized bed.

From TRINITY SPRINGS FORWARD

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Rita Hayworth in The Lady from Shanghai

Econoline

Bad Company had won the Econoline fair and square from an Okie shit-kicker at Slab City. What the hell was it about people made them so sure of themselves when it came to dice? 

Dice weren’t even one of Bad Company’s specialties, but he’d still been able to beat the shit-kicker out of all of his money.

The man insisted upon a chance to win his money back. They’d rolled for the van, and  Bad Company used his own dice. 

He’d won the van fair and square. Too bad if the guy didn’t like it.

Bad Company didn’t like losing any more than anyone else did. He understood the man’s feelings.             

The problem for the Okie shit-kicker was his mouth. He’d bragged all evening about the job he’d had in Laughlin. He had made no friends around the campfire. 

Then, it turned out the shit-kicker was a poor loser. 

Bitching and moaning while turning over the keys to Bad Company, the shit-kicker wrote out a poorly spelled title transfer to Bad Company by the campfire’s light. Bad Company had dated a legal secretary and knew the importance of a paper trail.

Bad Company had jumped in the van and taken off through the maze of school busses, tepees, motor homes and lean-tos, out into the clear desert. 

He’d stopped in Barstow and bought enough spray paint to change the van from white to a muted olive green, hoping the paint job would look military enough to get him into Arizona.

From TRINITY and the HEISTERS

Coming soon.

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Evan Hunter AKA Ed McBain

Let’s hear it for Ed McBain’s 

87th Precinct stories. 

Carella, Hawes, and all the rest.

The gang’s all here.

Wisecracking, bitching, they 

worked hard and

got the job done 

for fifty years in 

fabled Isola.

Evan Hunter AKA Ed McBain was born Salvatore Albert Lombino

on October 15, 1926

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Another Job, Another Diner, Another Letter

Iris found another job in another diner and sent a letter to her brother about the car, promising she would pay for it eventually. She wasn’t surprised when she got a letter back from him. He was now a track vehicle mechanic at Fort Sill, Oklahoma and in his letter he said life was working out well for him and Iris didn’t need to worry about the car. It had been on its last legs anyway, and he was surprised the car had lasted this long.

He said he was glad he had her address. He might send her some money, but it would be a while before he could.

From LEFTY and the KILLERS

Coming Soon from Barnstork Press

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Elmore Leonard was born October 11, 1925 in New Orleans, Louisiana

To Elmore Leonard:

You said bring them out on stage, 

your characters. 

Have them audition in the early scenes.

Elmore Leonard. Image by John Levanen via Flickr

See if they start to talk. 

And boy, did they?

That’s just what you did, Dutch, with your pad of paper

back when you

wrote copy for Chevrolet.  

See the USA? 

Yuma, Hamtramck, Cape Girardeau.

Detroit and later.

But you remained invisible, and you left out the parts 

readers tend to 

skip.

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Richard Stark

I like the PARKER novels.

Donald Westlake used the name Richard Stark to write these very hard-edged heist novels which contrast with the lighter caper stories he wrote under his own name.

Parker’s first name is never mentioned, and he was played in the movies by, among others, Robert Duvall, Jim Brown, and Lee Marvin.

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North to Alaska

Trinity pushed the door open with his boot.

The music had already started.

In the glass corner cubicle, the blind disc jockey cranked up a Johnny Horton song about Alaska.

The lights were low and the volume was high

Inside, it could have been eleven at night as easily as eleven in the morning.

Morning meant country music. Music for lifers.

The only American was a wide load perched on a stool at the end of the bar.

Mr. Yee came in after Trinity.

From TRINITY and the SHORT-TIMER

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Street Scene outside Camp Humphreys 1978-1979 image by Bob via Flikr

Gyroscope

A Frida Kahlo print swam along the wall.

Page’s stomach lurched.

.gyroscope. by Misko via Flickr

No sudden moves, she thought. A gyroscope whirred smoothly at the top of her head, maintaining a delicate balance. Page knew that if she tilted her head, the gyroscope would clatter out of control and the wrecking ball would swing forward again.

If she could keep the gyroscope stable she would be fine.

She breathed in.

Out.

Success.

At this rate, she would be herself in a couple of years.

From TRINITY THINKS TWICE

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Star Spangled Watermelon

“Solid?” he said.

She laughed.

“Like the Rock of Gibraltar.”

Trinity thought about Lydia’s comment later as he approached his bungalow.

Trinity had been to Gibraltar. He’d gone to a NATO training with British counterparts. He had stayed at a small hotel which featured starched sheets. The British agents were fun-loving guys who wanted to talk about the states. They wanted to talk about Dallas and who shot J.R. Ewing. The one woman among them looked like Emma Peel. Trinity paid attention to her. Her name was Pamela Roscoe. During a free afternoon, Trinity and Pamela had taken a cable car, gone through the siege tunnels and enjoyed the sunshine. They overheard a guide who wore a Union Jack bowler describing the Pillars of Hercules. The rock itself had been impressive. After training that evening, Trinity and Pamela went to a place featuring an American-styled Dutch act called Star Spangled Watermelon. Predictably, the band played Lynyrd Skynyrd. Trinity remembered the dual lead guitars and a twenty minute version of Tuesday’s Gone. Trinity had played darts, but not too much. He remembered there had been a lot of monkeys on the northern side of the rock.

Lydia’s card was in his pocket.

LYDIA PARTRIDGE

MALIBU WATERBEDS

SPEEDWAY BOULEVARD

From TRINITY and the HEISTERS

Coming soon.
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Ape of Gibraltar by Matthias Forster via Flickr

A Hedge of Oleanders

A hedge of oleanders obscured Red’s stucco house.

Trinity stepped out of the Bronco onto the gravel curb. A green plastic gabage can lay on its side spilling out sun-heated coffee grounds and half flattened beer cans. A sheet of black plastic peeked through the greenish-gray decorative pebbles in the yard, unable to hold back the invasion of weeds coming from beneath. On the concrete slab of the porch, a faded sofa and the remains of a washing machine were bookends on either side of the loose screen door.

From TRINITY WORKS ALONE

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2618 1/2 Image by Brian Dunnette via Flickr

The Prince of Cool

Cleveland Stadium by Joel Dinda via Flickr

Still a few good seats available.

Time flies, Hal thought. Smooth jazz played overhead. George Benson playing guitar. On Broadway.

George was about to go into the scat line where he sang along with the guitar.

Very classy, very nice, the Tender Trap.

The whole place reeked of the kind of style Hal wanted and felt he deserved.

When he was here, Hal felt like a prince.

He felt like the Prince of Cool.

Hal held the baseball in his left hand. The ball was his good luck charm, a fly ball hit down the right field foul line off the bat of Ray Fosse in an almost empty Cleveland Municipal Stadium.

The ball had dropped almost in front of Hal and bounced into his hands. Hal carried the red stitched baseball with him almost everywhere, practicing different grips with the ball, but mostly just tossing it.

Up and down, up and down, up and down.

From TRINITY’S FORCE OUT

Coming soon.

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Surf Band

Dallas couldn’t wait to leave Holbrook. He hoped to meet Dick Dale in Los Angeles. Dallas wanted to join Dale’s surf band. He’d packed his clothes in his suitcase, carefully folding the specially matched blue plaid blazer and pants outfit from Sears. With his white turtleneck and his mod sideburns, Dallas had been told he bore more than a slight resemblance to Glen Campbell.

Dallas intended to go directly to Los Angeles via the Greyhound Bus Line. Between Holbrook and Winslow, however, Dallas met James Locaster.

From DIM LIGHTS THICK SMOKE

Coming soon.

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Petrified Forest. Image by Mobilus in Mobili via Flickr.

Zorba

Tad put on the coffee in the Bunn machine then sat in the booth next to the jukebox.

He had Larry, the guy who serviced the jukebox add the Zorba theme.

Meet Zorba. Image by Peter Sigrist via Flickr

Mikis Theodorakas.

Tad played it sometimes late at night when he felt sentimental and he was drinking a couple of shots. Sometimes, like today, he played it in the morning to set a mood.

The guys were coming today.

These guys didn’t want Tad making a fuss over their visits. Besides Tad’s little brother Bobby, nobody knew about the two,

Gus and Mike would just take a coffee and maybe spend a couple minutes chatting, if that.

That was okay with Tad. The less song and dance the better.

Black Hawk Diner

Dog sled mail train in downtown Anchorage, Alaske. Image by simpleinsomnia via Flickr.

If Serge Conacher was the one leaving, he would have staged this as the scene of his great departure, giving farewell remarks before heading into the west. If Conacher were the one leaving he’d be wearing a full length beaver coat and driving a team of huskies. Ferguson just wanted to get done with it, especially with the crud on the road today and more snow on the way.

From FERGUSON’S TRIP

Available on this website and on Amazon.

Corcorans and Kools in the Quonset Hut

Quonset in the snow. '

Photo by J.R. Boyer via USAG- Humphreys via Flickr

Snow still dusted Gentle’s Corcoran boots and his field jacket, even though the furnace in the Quonset hut was going full blast.

Gentle almost felt hot.

He felt self-conscious with Kilkenny here. He pulled a pack of Kools from the pocket of the fatigue shirt he had tossed on his bunk and lighted one from the pack of AFEES matches he kept under the cigarette pack’s cellophane wrapper.

Kilkenny stood next to the refrigerator. Opened it and took one of the OBs. Gentle didn’t give a shit if Kilkenny took the whole case.

From TRINITY and the SHORT-TIMER

Available on this website and on Amazon.

Quintessential Tucson Car

Noel Brisbane walked toward his beat-up Volvo.

Fuzzy Glow. Cottonwood seeds caught in a mesquite tree.

Photo by Katja Schulz via Flickr

The Volvo was the quintessential Tucson car.

No rust, very few dents. There were probably several hundred cars just like it in Tucson. A legion of beige four-doors, baking under the desert sun.

The desert sky was pitch black. A mesquite branch caught Noel’s shirt and ripped the skin of his upper arm.

Noel reached for the thorn, covering his eyes as a flashlight glared into them.

From TRINITY THINKS TWICE

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Lone Ranger Meets the Fatal Bellman

Edison drove the red pickup north on Campbell Avenue.

How much did this Trinity know?

Edison wanted to get away from the dense city center and think things over.

The steep foothills of the Catalina Mountains marked the end of Campbell. Just past Ina Road, Edison pulled the truck over and parked it in the shade of a mesquite. He dug into the plastic bag next to him and pulled out a piece of jerky. He chewed on the strong meat and took a swig of water from his flannel covered canteen.

He could smell the creosote which always followed Tucson rain.

Two crows played in the updraft from the mountain face. Edison followed their flight.

From TRINITY WORKS ALONE

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Finger Rock by Airplane Journal via Flickr