Radio Play #1

The Bicycle Thief

            [overvoice]

It’s my day off from the precinct in Tutterton, New Jersey. A gloriously clear, sunny day, not a cloud in the sky until I turn a corner and one abruptly appears overhead and rains on my perfect afternoon. I know the voice before I see Benny Garfield standing in front of Leonard Vlamos’s bicycle shop arguing loudly with the owner. Benny’s got his hands on the handlebars of a blue Schwinn, jerking on the chain to which it’s tethered to the rack. He’s on his tiptoes, all but sky borne, in what appears to be an effort to lift the bike and throw it through the shop window. The chain is long and the bike’s reaching the shop window is a real possibility. I’m amazed at the little guy’s strength, but hasten my steps to get there before he does some damage to the bike, the man or himself.

            “What’s going on?”

            [overvoice]

I place my hand on Benny’s shoulder. He turns, squints up at me and lowers the bike, letting it fall diagonally against the bike next to it, but he doesn’t take his hands off the handlebars. He’s not a day over twelve, but every inch is scrappy muscle pulled tight for action.

            “Crazy old coot. He stole my bike’s what he’s done, and now he’s gettin’ ready ta sell it ta somebody. I’m not allowing it, ya hear? I’m not.”

“Step away from there, ya little punk ‘fore I knock some sense into your head.”

            [overvoice] 

Lenny Vlamos lifts the broom in his hands and swings it just past the kid’s head, as I step between them. Vlamos’s broom hits my shoulder and almost throws me off balance. I grab it by its bristles and pull it out of Lenny’s hands before he can resist, slinging it to the sidewalk.

            “You better tell me what this is about.”

            “He’s stole my bike, I tell ya, Officer Weir. He took it and now he’s…”

            “I haven’t stole nothing, ya dumb little brat. I paid for the bike like all the others I get for sale, and I got the billasale to prove it.”

            [overvoice]

He turns to go into his shop, I’m guessing to get the invoice when I stop him.

            “Just hold up a minute, will ya, Mr. Vlamos. Let’s try to settle this without entreaties to proofs and such.”

[overvoice]

Vlamos faces me, his greasy apron still on as though he’s running a diner. But it’s easy enough to see the grease isn’t from a grill. It’s dark and muddy from bicycle repairs.

“The boy seems to be pretty certain about this being his bike. Why are you so sure, Benny?”

            “’Cause it’s got a dent in the back fender, right here, from when I fell against the curb at Freddie Pruitt’s a snow day from school last winter. You can…”

            “See here. He’s the bicycle thief, Crandall Weir, and you and the department and the whole town knows about how he steals. It’s one of them cases of propulsion, when you accuse the one who doesn’t do it to throw suspicion off yourself who does. You know how it works. You’ve had him at the station, more’n once I suspect.”

            [overvoice]

            The thing I’ve noticed in altercations of this kind is that both sides take extreme positions which make negotiations very unlikely. It’s the point, I suppose, but it makes it difficult for the negotiator, which was the position I now found myself in. I first turned to Leonard Vlamos.

“It’s Officer Weir, despite the fact that we occasionally sit together by chance in the Main Street Diner and share a chat over a cuppa joe, okay? And it’s projection, not propulsion, Mr. Vlamos. But putting aside the grammar lesson, you need to turn the heat down on the discussion.”

            “I’s telling you, Officer Weir, Lenny’s known for being more’n a sour puss, he’s a gouger is what he is. He sets his prices so as guys like me can’t…”

            “And as for you, Benny, Mr. Vlamos—and it’s Mr. Vlamos to you too—he is correct in his reminder that you’ve had your bump-ins with the law, have you not?”

            “Yes, but I…”

            “Have you not?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “There, that’s better. Now, Benny, many bicycles have dents of this kind.”

            “Exactly what I tried to tell him, Officer Weir.”

            “I’m going to ignore your sarcasm for the time being, Leonard Vlamos, as I would like to ascertain as quickly and accurately as possible why you two lugheads are at loggerheads over this bike.”

            “Officer Weir, I knows it’s my bike. It’s been missing from my yard since Wednesday afternoon. I looked ever’where for it, not seeing it around, and today walking ‘cross central park, I sees it through the trees. I knows it right away ‘cause of its color, its bright blue with white on the gas tank, see’s, right here, and it’s got this same bell. It’s had the spinner knob on the handle what’s been taken off, you can see the scrape where it was so long. It comes loose since I use it so much, and the scrape’s left where I’ve tightened it agin. I know me Schwinn, sir.”

            “Okay, okay, Benny. Well, Mr. Vlamos, Benny’s had his say. Now it’s your turn. How did you come by this particular bike?”

            “I purchased it fair and square as I tried to tell ya. I’ve proof of purchase.”

            “Just tell me from whom you acquired it.”

            “My supplier’s who. He gets them from Roundup Wheels in Wellington and brings me a half a dozen at a time when my rack gets low. The kids like ‘em used, if you can believe that.”

            “Okay, I’ll take a look at that bill of sale, if you don’t mind.”

            “Sure ‘nough. Got it right here.”

            [footsteps leaving]

            “But Officer Weir, that don’t tell ya nothin’. He could make this billasale up or his wife’s more like it, so it’s not in his hand. One a them at-home secretaries.”

            “Now, Benny…”

            “And anyway, who’s to say that he don’t keep stolen bikes stashed away in the back somewhere, hidden, you see, and then brings ‘em out as soon as he’s got the bills made out like real?”

            “Don’t you think that’s stretching it a bit, even for you, Benny? It would take some time and ingenuity to drive around at night, grab the bikes from yards or sheds all over town and lock them up in back while he manufactures the invoice.”

            “His wife could do it, and nobody’d know.”

            “His wife?” [laughs] “I think you might be listening to The Whistler and Boston Blackie too much, lad.”

            “Oh no, sir. It’s Richard Diamond for me.”

            “Sunday nights I’ll know where to find you, then?”

            “Ah, you know how good they is then, right?”

            “Hmmm…”

[footsteps coming back]

            “Here you are, sir.”

            [overvoice]

            He hands me the invoice, and I catch the sarcasm in his eyes when he gives me the ‘sir’ address. I read the invoice carefully and notice that down the list of bicycle merchandise he has listed a “blue Schwinn with bubble tires, bell and knob.” A big red “Paid in Full” is rubber stamped at the bottom with some signature it would take a cryptographer from the military to make out. I hand it back and shake my head at Benny.  

“Looks like everything’s in order, Benny. He’s purchased the bicycle all right.”

            “But, sir, it can’t be right. This bike is mine, and I don’t know how he done it, but he stole it from me one way or another. It may not look like it ‘cause the knob’s…”

            “I think what Mr. Vlamos is most concerned about is that you attempted, without consulting him, to take the bike from the rack, isn’t that right, Mr. Vlamos?”

            “Yes, it is true.”

            “But…”

“I tell you what, Benny, why don’t we let Mr.Vlamos get back to his work while you and me go over to the Main Street Diner and grab a soda. It’ll give me time to explain how this works within the jurisdiction of the law. Thank you, Mr. Vlamos and good day to you, sir.”

[overvoice]

I put emphasis on the "sir" business, took the boy by the shoulders and began walking him toward the drugstore.

[soft footsteps as they talk]

“He’s getting away scot-free, I tell ya, Officer Weir. It ain’t right and law or no law  I ain’t happy about it, not t‘all.”

“You can’t let your impatience get the better of you, young man. Sometimes the law simply doesn’t give you results as soon as you like, but usually, though not always, it comes out on your side in the end.”

“Are you telling me ya believe me, sir?”

“I’m telling you to have patience long enough for me to see.”

“Ah, that’s no good. That’s what I heard from Pa, over and over, and in the end he left us over not finding the job Ma and me was supposed to have patience enough for him to find. Patience be hanged.”

[opening and closing of door]

[overvoice]

Inside it was cool as a fan whipped a light breeze across our sweating faces. I took off my straw hat and set it on the table as we slid into a booth. Benny’s eyes immediately darted around the room, finally settling on a waitress who brought us two menus.

“Hungry, Benny?”

“Sure. Could I have a malt, I’d like a chocolate malt if I could.”

“You can have that and a burger and fries, if you’d like. It’s lunchtime.”

“I can? Oh boy, oh boy. Thanks for sure. I would indeed!”

[waitress laughs]

“Give me what the boy’s having and make the malts thick with extra ice cream. I’m having my burger medium well. How about you, Benny?”

“I’ll have the same, sure ‘nough.”

[waitress laughs lightly again]

“You want your malteds with spoons, I take it? Before or with your lunch?”

“Bring it all at the same time. The guy over there will down his before his burger arrives and then I might have to order him two!”

[laughter and footsteps leaving]

“Okay, Benny. I’ll be honest with you, if you’re honest with me, deal?”

“Absolutely, sir. I ain’t in the habit of lying to the law. Okay, I did that once, but it was because of Richie Hopkins, it was, just like I told ya then. I got snookered into it, and I ain’t never again. I promised, and I kept it clean since. ”

“Well, that’s good to hear, Benny. Richie’s a bad influence, and you’re right to stay clear from the likes of him and his crowd. What I want to talk to you about is that I believe the bicycle on the rack is yours.”

“You do? You believe me?”

“I do. And I’m pretty sure I can have proof of it. But I’m not at liberty to tell you what at this time. That’s what I mean by patience. There’s a difference between proof and evidence. Sometimes we use those words interchangeably, but according to the law, they are very different in this way. Evidence is the gathering of information, sometimes by obtaining actually material…”

“Like fingerprints and bullets!”

“Exactly like that. But also simple things that are part of the crime scene, such as a vase with blood on it or even finding the right object that’s been removed from the crime scene though not actually involved in it. It gets complicated, you see?”

“Okay. And what’s proof, then? You said there’s proof what’s different from the evidence.”

“Proof is the evidence when it is shown to be valid, that is, when it’s the right material evidence, uh…the right objects. You can gather evidence, but you have to prove it’s the absolutely true information or objects for the crime.”

“There’s lots a fingerprints on the scene, you’re saying, but they ain’t all the right ones, the ones of the killer.”

“That’s the idea, Benny. Yes, exactly like that. So I have to prove the information I gathered today is right, beyond doubt, for this situation.”

“So he took it, didn’t he?”

“That’s the part of my not being at liberty to tell you yet. But in order for police work to work, you have to keep your mouth shut and go about your business as though this thing has been settled, do you understand.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not going to be easy, especially you’re being the firebrand you are. But I’m the law, not you, and your accusations won’t stand up in court. I’m serious about this, Benny. It’s not a game. It’s the law.”

“I get it.”

“Good.”

[footsteps]

“Here you are, boys. Can’t get this order mixed up, now can I? Same on both sides of the table.”

“Thanks, Miss.”

“Well, aren’t you the polite one. Did I hear your name was Benny?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well, Benny, I appreciate your politeness. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thank you, Charmaine.”

“Anytime, Officer Weir.”

[footsteps leaving]

“She’s nice. She likes you.”

“Oh? I thought it was you she was giving all the attention to.”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Okay, hot shot. I’ll have to keep an eye on you and your skills of observation.”

[light sounds of eating, utensils clicking and such]

“So you’ll have to trust me on this one, Benny. I think I know a way to get your bicycle back, but you’ll have to give it some time.”

“But what if he sells my bike in the meantime?”

“Well, there is that possibility, and I can’t ask him to put it away until I have enough information to do that. He presented me with an invoice that has the bike clearly listed and a stamp, date and signature that indicates he paid for it. Now where he got your bike from and whether the invoice is valid, we will just have to see.”

“So you’re working my case?”

“I’m working your case, but it’s not within the perimeters of my job—the other cases I’m working at the precinct—so I’m gonna have to squeeze it in, but I’ll keep you updated as best I can. Now, what’s the magic word, and for criminy’s sakes, don’t say it’s ‘please.’”

“Oh, no, sir. It’s patience. I knowed that from the start.”

[overvoice]

When we got to the door to leave, after I’d paid the check, left the tip, and thanked Charmaine again, I decided Benny needed a clear reminder about staying away from Vlamos’s shop, so I gave it to him.

            “I’ll do it because you’re asking me to, but it ain’t gonna be easy.”

            “No, it won’t be, Benny, but it is necessary. If the policeman on the beat sees you there, it’s gonna be trouble for you, and you don’t want that again with the police, do you?”

            “No, sir. That’s for sure.”

            “Good lad. So squelch your desire to needle Vlamos and let me do my job.”

[footsteps leaving, then heavier footsteps rhythmically, softly, slowly with the overvoice]

The boy almost makes me want to have kids, well, almost because kids in my life would be a horribly wrong direction for me to take, more like a detour.  I shudder to picture Benny on the bike using the knob on the handlebars like he’s at the steering wheel of a car. It’s those kinds of tricks with kids that make them so dangerous in your life. No, I’ll not have kids, at least not for now, but…[sighs] if not now, when? Aw, it’s a question greatly weighing on the heat-oppressed brain.

[chuckling to self][pause]

But I’ve gotta follow through on this bike business. Something’s rotten in the state of Leonard Vlamos, and my gut tells me I better strike while the iron is hot.

[door bell jingling, door opening and closing, few footsteps]

“Hello, Vlamos.”

“You again?”

“’fraid so.”

“What can I do for you now? Where’s your sidekick?”

“Where’s the bike?”

“What bike?”

“You know what bike. I don’t have time for this, Vlamos. Where’s the kid’s bike.”

“Sold it.”

“Oh, you did, did you? I suggest you rethink that sale, because I can cause you a good deal of difficulty if you don’t cooperate. I’m talking about within the next couple of minutes.”

“You can’t come in here and threaten me just because you have a badge. I tell ya, it isn’t here. I sold it, Crandall.”

“Uh-huh. On a Saturday when the temperature is close to a hundred on a square where not even a bird is singing? We both know you didn’t sell it, but you could, you know?”

“I what?” [pause] And how’s that?”

“I’ll buy it.”

“[sarcastic laughter] Oh, I see. For the kid. Well, I can’t sell it to ya, because I don’t have it anymore.”

“Okay, I really don’t want to go to the back and look around for it myself, Lenny, but I will if I have to, since we’re on a first name basis and all.”

[footsteps]

“You can’t just come in here and search without probable cause.”

“Oh, I’ve got cause all right.”

“Stop. Okay, okay, I’ll sell it to you. I took it off the rack, because I knew it’d give the kid prov-o-cation. He’s quick-tempered, that kid, and he’s un-American besides.”

“What’re you talking about? He’s English. They saw as much of the war as we did, more actually, with the bombing of their country. The Garfields came here to be near her ailing sister and to try and start a better life, since they lost everything in London. You need to practice a little respect where Benny’s concerned, Vlamos.”

“Well, that’s a two-way street far as I’m concerned, and you saw how he acted. I don’t see much respect coming from his direction. And I don’t need the trouble, Weir. So I did take the bike to the back, like you said. But I wasn’t hiding it, nothing of the sort. I was just keeping it outta the kid’s sight until I could…”

“Unload it on your supplier so he could sell it somewhere else? I was surprised you put it on the rack, seeing how it came from the town.”

“It was like I said. It came to me, from where I can’t tell you. And who the hell knows if it’s the kid’s bike, like he claims? He’s such a…”

“Who’s your supplier?”

“I don’t have to tell you that. He’s my supplier’s all you need to know and has been for years, totally on the up and up, nothing to get yourself in a snit about. He brings me used bikes, I pay him a reasonable price for them, and he’s on his way.”

“The invoice didn’t have a name on it. That made me a bit suspicious, if you get what I mean.”

“He’s an independent supplier, keeps his taxes down.”

“Yeah, keeps his taxes so low they’re off the books, that it?”

“C’mon, Weir. I’ve a small business here. I make it because I keep things simple, otherwise I owe the IRS an arm and a leg…look, I pay my taxes legit. I got shop space, a telephone number, and a little square ad in the shopper part of the paper. It pays the bills.”

“Okay, here’s the deal, Vlamos. I’m going to take a walk to the front of this simple little shop of yours and look around at the other bikes you have here, like a potential customer would. And you’re going to ponder seriously about a potential sale that you’ve got stashed in the back of the store for just such a customer as me who might walk in here at any time. In other words, you’re thinking this is the bike of my dreams for my kid back home, because I’ve already expressed the opinion that I want a bike for my kid, but don’t wanna pay the price for a brand new one, you following me so far?”

“I think so.”

“Good. So let’s commence with this purchase then.”

“It’ll be a minute.”

“Thank you, Leonard.”

[footsteps, and the opening and closing of a door in the distance]

[overvoice in a whisper, during which are footsteps]

“Okay, he’s outta here, down the basement where I’m thinking he’s taken his latest load. I’ll just take a little walk to the back and see what might be...hmmm, a locked room. Uh-huh, just as I thought. Not a prayer he’s got the key off the ring he’s carrying. Wait. What’s this? Two towels hung on hooks high up, nearly outta sight. What would towels be doing up so high over a work bench?” [sounds of scraping, little groans] Higher reach than I thought, step ladder should do it. Aha. A coupla keys on hooks  behind the towels, just in case other members of the operation need them when Lenny isn’t around ‘s my guess.”

[sounds of jangling keys and footsteps, turning of a key and the opening of a door]

“Well, whatyaknow. Bingo.”

“Turn around quiet. I want no trouble, Weir.”

“Gun always at the ready, Lenny? Nice little small-town shop owner like you? I’d say it’s more like a nice little fence you got going for yourself, Vlamos. And here I thought it might be bicycles, how small-minded of me. Stripping cars for cash, are you? Quite the side business, Vlamos. Bet there’s more of these all over the place—like in Wellington, Jefferson, Bitonville, Granger, on and on it goes, am I right?”

“Maybe. Don’t matter to you where you’re going.”

“And where’s that, Lenny? You gonna shoot me? How’s that gonna work?”

“Don’t turn around. I said don’t turn around. Now, you’re gonna walk outta here with me, to my car in back, and we’re taking a little ride to the country. You don’t wanna ride, it’s a bullet in the head right here. In case you’re wonderin’, it’s got a silencer.” 

“I did notice that, Lenny. One thing a detective knows is his guns. But, tell me, how’re you gonna explain a body twenty feet from locked rooms filled with stolen car parts?”

“I won’t have to, because tonight we’ll haul your corpse out to the dump where your buddies can play around with why it’s there.”

“Oh, Lenny, I thought you were smarter than this. They’re gonna talk to the kid. He’ll tell them the whole bike story. Maybe they’ll listen this time, because he’s been seen with me at the diner where the waitress overheard part of our conversation. You see, that’s the problem with crime like you’re in right now. The evidence just seems to mushroom—it’s the kid’s story, it’s the waitress’s story, it’s the bike’s that’s absent because it can’t be found associated with you, then it’s the blood pooling around on the floor where I fall, and the desperate over-bleached clean-up…”

“Just cut it out. Just stop. No, no, don’t you move. I gotta think…”

“Yes, I bet you do.”

[slow footsteps]

[sounds of chair scraping and Weir’s sitting]

“I told ya not to move. I mean it. I’ll kill you right here, I will, Weir.”

“Just wantin’ to sit down, if that’s all right. Chair by the desk, right here, if that okay? I’ll swivel around to face you, see. There. How’s this?”

“Get up, get up right now. You can’t sit down. We’re leaving.”

“How you gonna do that, Lenny? You have to close shop, lower the blind on the door, turn the lock, take off your apron, lots of maneuvering to do, not to mention the walk to your car and my willingness to cooperate.”

[bell jingling, door opening and closing] [pause]

“Hello. Anybody here?”

“A customer, Lenny. Now what’re you gonna do? You should’ve tied me up while you had the chance, you think?”

“I can knock you out, I can.” [scuffling noises, groans, and finally a heavy thud]

“Yeah, yeah, if you can. If you’re gonna be a criminal that stays outta jail, Lenny, you gotta be one that schemes past the crime to the all-pervasive cover-up.”

[overvoice]

It would take a good part of the evening and into the night for the crew to gather all the evidence on the scene, but after a couple of hours of processing everybody’s story down at the station, and Lenny’s confinement in a cell, Benny and I were able to leave. I insisted the boy call his mother, and with the sun sinking in the west, we made our way across the central park. Benny was spitting out questions faster than I could answer them, but I felt like he had a right to know. I urged him to walk with his bike between us to keep it from wandering away from him again. He thought that idea was funny and accepted my invitation to have our evening meal at the Main Street Diner.

Charmaine was her usual upbeat self, and I noticed she was as fine looking at the end of her shift as the beginning. After we ordered hot roast beef over biscuits with potatoes, carrots and peas on the side and were waiting for our food, Benny asked,

“So’s what tipped you off? You said you couldn’t tell me before. Can you tell me now?”

“Yes, yes. Well, I don’t see that it would hurt. It was a coupla things. The invoice was written in a feminine hand and on plain ledger paper without letterhead. You can buy a 'Paid in Full' stamp with the date at any office supply store. I’ve never seen a secretary at the shop. I’m guessing his was at home, just like you suspected.”

“His wife? So I helped solve the crime?”

“That you did, Benny. That part of it, at least. At questioning, Vlamos pleaded that we not drag her into it, that she didn’t know anything, she just did what he told her to do, and she had no idea about anything being stolen. She’ll be brought in for questioning. The story he claims he told her was that he had a legitimate business in bicycles and car parts that he gleaned from salvage yards when he wasn’t at the shop.”

“So is she innocent like he says or part of the crime?”

“What do you think?”

“Well, I ain’t never seen her, so it’s hard to tell.”

“You think you can tell if somebody is engaged in criminal activity just by looking at them?”

“Well, not always, maybe. But you can see quite a bit by looking, yeah. You ever see those pictures of gangsters in detective magazines and mugshots they show in the newspapers when they’re caught. Ever’day people don’t look like that, not by a long shot. Anyway, you can tell a lot about a person by how they look, carry themselves.”

“Carry themselves?” [light laugh] “Maybe you have something there.”

“It’s what the comic books say, and I believe them.”

“Dubious source, my friend, but I hear you.”

“Don’t know that one, but I don’t care as long as you catch my drift.”

“Where in the world did you learn such language?”

“Likes what?”

“The likes of ‘carry themselves’ and ‘catch my drift’ for starters. Never mind. It’s in the comics.”

[laughing] “Your evidence’s more than just the invoice though, right?”

“Well, yes. I saw the scrape on the handlebars and knew you were telling the truth about the spinner knob. I was certain the bike was yours—I mean a man knows his vehicle—but I became curious about how Vlamos actually got it.”

“He took it. Bet he drives around looking for kid’s unlocked up bikes, is how. Then he puts them in his shop van, and when it’s dark, he brings them into his shop. He ever gets stopped by the cops…uh, the police, well, if they’s ta look and see what’s in his van, it makes sense ‘cause he owns a bike shop.”

“But kids can spot their bikes on his rack, Benny, the way you did. It doesn’t make sense. I think it’s more likely that somebody does the fetching and Mr. Vlamos is the fence. Maybe the fellah that does the stealing, drive around all over the county, state even, and picks up the goods, takes them to one holding place, and then they’re distributed from there, just like the cars, which are then stripped for their parts. Usually fences are very careful about where their goods are coming from for exactly the reason we’re talking about. They don’t want to get caught with recognizable property. Maybe somebody slipped up and inadvertently gave Vlamos your bike outta the stolen bunch they were distributing.” [pause] “The thing to keep in mind about criminals, Benny, is that they don’t usual operate in a direct line scheme—steal something and sell it where they steal it.”

“Good crime-busting tip, sir. I’ll remember it.”

“My biggest question is why would Vlamos try to sell stolen bicycles in the first  place? He isn’t the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but why put their whole operation in jeopardy like that? The bike shop was a cover, that’s obvious. But why steal bikes and draw possible suspicion on yourself? It’s a conundrum.”

“Don’t know what that is, sir, but he done it ‘cause of greed. Pure and simple. Greed’s the thing that catches criminals up every time.”

“But he had a great operation going for years, Benny. He was a big hub for distribution in the whole Tri-State area. Being in a little town, we didn’t suspect anything this big could be going on right under our noses. His basement ran underground for half a block. How did he not ever become suspect with all the coming and goings? I suppose it was done late at night and in small enough truck loads, but… well, Tutterton doesn’t have but half-dozen policeman patrolling at night. I’m sure that’s part of it as well.”

            “You never think little guys commit big crimes, sir.”

            “Well, about that, I’ll be having a change of mind. And I suppose you’re right. Everybody knows everybody in Tutterton. We just don’t think somebody like Leonard Vlamos is making a killing and still acting and looking like he does. You’ve taught me something, Benny. Maybe I should take a closer look at those comic books you’re reading these days. What ones are you into now?”

            “Dick Tracy and Captain Marvel.”

            “I should have known from your Tracy spinner knob. Glad we found it among the auto parts. Got it fastened on securely?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Dick Tracy and Captain Marvel, huh? Guess I’ll have to get a talking watch and a lightning bolt tattooed across my chest, you think?”

            [Benny laughing maniacally]

            [footsteps approaching and plates setting down on the table]

            “Here you are boys. You’re getting to be regulars. I like that. [pause] So what crimes are you pursuing this fine night in Tutterton? Any madmen running around in the dark streets we should know about?”

            “All locked up, Charmaine. You’re safe and sound.”

            “For the time being, Miss. But you never know what evil lurks in the hearts of men.”

            [laughter from all three][fade out]

***