The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 3: Red Reunion (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #3) (32 page)

“I never got to thank him,” Selena said. “For saving Weatherby from Castle Stein, in Europe. I always wanted to just take him aside, and thank him for saving my family, just like I had done with Morton. And with everything going on in the hotel and the attack, I never got the chance.”

Weatherby closed his eyes. “He… is another friend I have lost. Another friend, who perished for my s-sake…” He couldn’t say any more. One of his eyes was black and swollen, but the other closed when he talked. His lips were a thin line.

I looked down at Dutch. “He was a good soldier,” I said. “Hell, he was one of the best. He was reliable, a good shot, an ace with a wrench and he saved my behind nearly every day when we were storming across Germany.” I looked at Tiny and Elkins. “We got used to killing in the War. Or maybe we were always bad and the War just made us worse. But after we came back, we were different. Dutch told me so. He told me that even though the government and the world told him he wasn’t a soldier any more, he knew differently. But he fought for a good cause. He saved the life of a good boy and girl. He saved the whole country too, come to think of it. In the end, maybe that’s all we can hope for.”

The coffin rested six feet down. The gravediggers started filling it in. We stayed with them, watching the dirt grow. Soon enough, it was finished. Selena had brought flowers, and Evelyn too. They set them down on the dirt. We had said everything we could. We said goodbye to Dutch.

And as soon as the funeral finished, we headed to the hospital to see Henry Wallace. Reverend Sharp was anxious to return to his congregation. “I’m gonna try snake handling,” he told me, as we took a taxi across town. “It may look hard, but I think I can handle a serpent, and it will really impress the folks that watch!”

Adam wanted to return to Los Angeles. He was already getting anxious. And Elkins and Tiny had their own careers too. They were planning on leaving later in the day, and I didn’t ask them to stay. They had done enough.

I was thinking of taking a break from detective work for a few days myself. I had a couple of cases in the mail, but they could wait. Relaxing with Weatherby, Chad and Selena long enough for our wounds to heal sounded okay to me. Weatherby even suggested going on a little vacation with Selena, to the new country of Israel of all places.

“Our mother was of the Hebraic faith,” Selena explained. “But she never dwelled on it, and I have little personal experience with that side of me and Weatherby. My professor suggested studying some archaeological sites in Israel, and I think Weatherby might like to come along.”

“Could I, Mort?” he asked, like there was a chance I’d say no.

“Sure, kiddo. You’re your own man. That’s something you’ve taught me very well.” I grinned at him as the Taxi turned the corner to the hospital. “You go with your sister and have a nice time. I’ll be here resting up and when you get back, we can go back to work. We’ve got to make up for all the dough we spent on this little venture. And I know you’re still sending cash to Selena.”

“We’re real grateful for the help, little man.” Chad reached over and patted Weatherby’s shoulder. “We’re still getting on our feet, and we appreciate every penny.”

“Just make sure you don’t spend it all on bop records and poetry books, boy,” I said. Weatherby wouldn’t scold his sister’s boyfriend, so that was my job. But then again, I didn’t think I needed to. Despite Chad’s hipster affectations, I knew that Selena had found herself a good man. He had stood by us through the whole bloody case and the funeral. He’s stand by us no matter what.

But it wasn’t only the dead we had time for. The taxi cab stopped in front of the hospital where Henry Wallace was healing up. We got out, all of us going in to check up on him, some to say goodbye before they departed. We filed through the main doors and into the waiting room. That’s when I got a glimpse of a bright red Hawaiian shirt against the white cement of the building. The Company spook had tailed us here.

“Go on and stay with Henry Wallace,” I told Weatherby. “I’ll deal with him.”

The rest of my friends went inside, while Bobby Belasco approached me. We stood in the doorway to the hospital. He gave me a grin. “I heard about what went down in the Knight Building, Morton,” he said. “It was all over Langley. My end of it too.”

“Did they like that?” I asked.

“Not really. They’re reassigning me to some Latin American hellhole where the cities are jungles and white men sweat themselves to death. I don’t care. I can stand the heat.” He held out his hand. “So I just want to thank you. I trusted you, and it worked out.”

I shook his hand. “You ought to try it more often.”

“Hmmm. I don’t know. My trust only goes so far.” Belasco turned away from me. He started down the road, already reaching for a cigar. “Take care of yourself, Morton!” he called back to me. “It’s a great big dangerous world out there! And it’s only gonna get worse!”

Maybe he was right. I didn’t care. Belasco wasn’t the only one who could stand the heat.

I went back into the hospital and headed to Henry Wallace’s room. The place was crowded with all of his friends. Evelyn had bought him a thick stack of comic books, Tiny had snuck in some candy bars, and Elkins gave him a model airplane kit.  Adam gave him a coonskin cap. I got the feeling that the big man had caught, killed, and skinned the critter himself.

Henry Wallace sat up in his bed, his arm and leg still in a cast and bandages on his forehead, but a smile on his face and brightness in the eyes behind his spectacles. He stared around in a mix of happiness and disbelief at all of his guests. Sly sat next to him. Since helping us slip past the cops and get into the Knight Building, Sly hadn’t left his son’s side.

“Thank you for coming to see me,” Henry Wallace said. “And for all the presents! I really don’t know if I deserve them, as I didn’t do a good job defending Miss Dearborn or anything…”

“Nonsense,” Evelyn said. She patted his head. “You were the sort of noble defender that every lady wishes for. And you are very welcome. My father and I will be departing for another expedition soon, but we could not leave without seeing you.”

Henry Wallace turned to Weatherby. The kid blamed himself for what had happened. He stood in the corner, looking like he was made of glass and would break if you poked him. “Weatherby?” Henry Wallace asked. “Are you okay?”

Weatherby couldn’t meet Henry Wallace’s eyes. “I’m fine, my young friend. I’ve never been better. But you were injured, when I should have done something to protect you.”

“No.” Henry Wallace leaned out of his hospital bed. He reached out and took Weatherby’s hand. He gave it a squeeze. “I’m your friend, Weatherby. You’ve helped me and my papa out tons of times, without us ever asking you to. And that’s what friends do. They help each other out, and protect each other.” Weatherby smiled and squeezed Henry Wallace’s hand. “And I’m happy, Weatherby, I’m very happy to have a friend like you.”

“And the gratitude I feel – to all of you—is beyond belief.” Weatherby looked up. He spoke to everyone, from his sister and Chad, to Reverend Sharp and Adam, to the Dearborns, to Tiny and Elkins, and to me. “Wagner was extremely wrong. Our friends are our strength. And I am fortunate to be very strong indeed.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself. I always thought that I was a loner. Even in the orphanage in Brooklyn when I was a kid, I didn’t have anybody I could really count on beside myself. In the War, I had my squad, and we were a family enough, but I figured that ended when Berlin fell. But now, standing next to Weatherby and with everyone else who had come to help us, I knew that wasn’t the case. Weatherby and I had pals.

And as long as we had them, there was nothing on earth that could stand against us.

Thank You For Reading.

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About the Author

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Twenty-Two years old,
Michael Panush
has distinguished himself as one of Sacramento’s most promising young writers. Michael has published numerous short stories in a variety of e-zines including: AuroraWolf, Demon Minds, Fantastic Horror, Dark Fire Fiction, Aphelion, Horrorbound, Fantasy Gazetteer, Demonic Tome, Tiny Globule, and Defenestration.

Michael began telling stories when he was only nine years old. He won first place in the Sacramento Storyteller’s Guild “Liar’s Contest” in 2002 and was a finalist in the National Youth Storytelling Olympics in in 2003. In 2005, Michael’s short story entitled, Adventures in Algebra, won first place in the annual MISFITS Writing Contest.

In 2007, Michael was selected as a California Art’s Scholar and attended the Innerspark Summer Writing Program at the CalArts Institute. He graduated from John F. Kennedy High School in 2008 and has recently graduated from UC Santa Cruz.

The Stein & Candle Detective Agency series launched in the Winter of 2012, with
Vol. 1: American Nightmares
being Michael's first title published under the banner of
Curiosity Quills Press
, with
Vol. 2: Cold Wars
coming soon after in early Summer, and 
Vol. 3: Red Reunion
rounding off the trilogy in the Fall of that year.  
Dinosaur Jazz
, Michael's foray into the "steampunk" subgenre offers a different side of pulp fiction (with a side of dinosaurs).

More exciting series will also be announced, including the
El Mosaico
and
Horrorwood, P.I.
series.

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© 2012 Michael Panush
http://www.clarkreeper.com

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ISBN: 978-1-62007-036-9 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-62007-037-6 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-62007-038-3 (hardcover)

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