If you know what’s going to happen, don’t be surprised when it does
![Private Eye with gun Private Eye with gun](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F5304d82e-509a-44cf-bc2e-602ecf1f40af.heic)
SOME WOULD CONSIDER ROCKY’S MOVE the classic resolution to a crime. Others cliché. Like the butler did it. Or the cheating spouse hoping to avoid divorce. But someone had murdered Lady Macbeth, and the crime had stumped the police. Everyone was suspect, and every suspect alibied.
As much as Captain Hardcase despised him, he’d no recourse but to bring in Rocky Rascal, private dick. (Although many called him a dick in public.) Rocky Rascal, the PI who recovered the famous Gibraltar Peregrine, who solved San Francisco’s Great Streetcar Robbery, who cracked the Velvet Dahlia murder case, exposed the violent Velvet Underground Cartel, and simultaneously solved both the thin man and the fat man murders then celebrated by devouring a dozen Hungry Man TV dinners washed down with a quart of Johnny Walker Blue.
Rocky scoured the streets of San Francisco. All uphill. He shook down mobsters, grifters, gamblers, gunsels, and crooked cops. He dodged a dozen bullets, downed two cases of Scotch, and smoked three dozen cartons of Camels while he uncovered the clues. And there were a lot of clues.
As much as Captain Hardcase despised him, he’d no recourse but to bring in Rocky Rascal, private dick. Rocky Rascal, the PI who recovered the famous Gibraltar Peregrine, and solved San Francisco’s Great Streetcar Robbery
The Lady Macbeth, he discovered, was no lady at all. She strung men along with promises to leave them her fortune once they married. Only she never married and she built her fortune from the gifts of the men she strung along. Nor were these men the shy retiring types willing to be pussy-whipped and then shuffle along in shame.
She scammed mob boss Cattivo Ragazzo, the man who orchestrated the St. Patrick’s Day massacre, Lucky Schifezze, the notorious gambler who hit seven on the craps table seven times seven times seven. She seduced Lucia Padrona, Ragazzo’s moll, promising to spirit her away to Mexico where the mobster would never find her. Then there was Juan Béisbol, the Giant’s third baseman, traded from the Braves after throwing the last game of the ’58 World Series, and the mobbed-up senator from Boston projected to win the White House in the next election.
Rascal assembled the crew in Lady Macbeth’s drawing room, a tried-and-true gambit or a cliché of clichés (like “tried and true”). The Senator, the crime boss, the moll, the gambler, the ballplayer. “You have no right to detain us,” challenged the Senator, his Boston accent as thick as clam chowder left out overnight to congeal.
“This better be worth my time, or my boys will have you whacked,” added Ragazzo, patting the .38 long-barreled revolver in the leather holster on his belt.
Rascal assembled the crew in Lady Macbeth’s drawing room, a tried-and-true gambit or a cliché of clichés. The Senator, the crime boss, the moll, the gambler, the ballplayer.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” Padrona complained. “Why would I kill a woman? You think I’m a dyke or something?”
Béisbol chimed in, “¿Por qué estoy aquí? No hablo inglés.”
Rocky poured a glass of Scotch from the bottle of Glenfiddich on Lady Macbeth’s bar. “Have you read the book Murder on the Orient Express?” And then, for Béisbol, “¿Has leído el libro Asesinato en el Orient Express?” Except for the Senator, who reportedly loved thrillers, they stared at Rocky with dead fish eyes. No surprise. He didn’t take this for a reading crowd. “You all conspired to kill her.”
They all protested. Everyone but the Senator drew down. But while they were arguing, someone threw the light switch.
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