The Case of the Stolen Case by Carl Brookins and Chance to Get to Know Sean Sean, the Main Character. and PI Extraordinaire

 

I shut off my pager and sat down. The record I’d selected, an old piece by the original Brubeck trio, filled the room and suppressed the routine sounds of any barroom. The blend reminded me of the first time I’d heard “Take The A Train” by this jazz trio, in a smoky night club in Washington, D. C. But, that’s another story. 

I’d picked a table toward the rear of the place. There were lots of choices; only two others were occupied. “I’m meeting a friend,” I said to the dark-haired waitress. She was wearing faded jeans and an oversized gray sweatshirt that said Property of Michigan State University Athletic Department across the chest. “While I wait, I’ll have a Sam Adams ale if you stock it.” “No problem,” she said and turned away. I was tempted to ask her if the legend on her chest referred to her or the shirt, but thought better of it. Catherine wouldn’t have approved. When she brought me my beer I asked, “You have sandwiches here?” “Yeah, sure. Do you want a menu?” “No, thanks. I was just confirming something.” She smiled and walked away. The place was starting to fill up. 

Ten minutes later, Jerome Ford walked in, hesitated and found me. I ordered him a Sam Adams and waited while he loosened his tie. “Very obscure and very nice little bar you have here, J. I had to go around the block because I missed it the first time. No parking lot, either.” Jerry smiled. “That’s the way we like it. Finns has been in the same family for generations and they own the building outright. When I was starting out as a lawyer, I did a few legal errands for them. So,” he smiled after a long draught from his glass, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” I opened my mouth to reply and then paused to watch a tall woman in a business suit step to the juke box and punch in some coins. What came out, to my pleasure and surprise, was Peggy Lee singing “Hot Coffee.” 

I looked at Jerome. He smiled a little smile at me. “This place is a real anachronism, Jerry. I’m surprised you let me in on the secret.” “I figure you and Finn’s are compatible and you won’t be telling all your yuppie friends about it. What can I do for you?” “It appears to me there is a roving band of jolly scam artists running a pretty sophisticated operation. They’ve probably worked on both coasts. They run various scams, including some white-collar crime. I don’t know all the players yet, but I’m working on that.” 

“So far it sounds pretty ordinary. What’s your interest?” “This seems to be an organized group that’s been together a while. It looks like they haven’t been splitting the take. Instead, they’re stockpiling some of it to finance later deals.” Jerome’s eyebrows went up. He took a slug of Mr. Adams’ finest ale.  “Another thing they are doing. They find local investors, people who will pony up some money for a cut of the results. Then the out-of-towners move in and start churning the real estate market, buying and selling quickly to inflate their profits, mostly distressed properties or homes in less than affluent neighborhoods. They work with willing inspectors, real estate salespeople and an S&L or bank or two. They also do an occasional armed robbery and some petty stuff.” 

“What for? Walking around money?” “I guess. They appear to have run up against some local competition here. At least, that’s how I interpret what’s been going on.” Jerome nodded and I could see he was not unfamiliar with the situation. “That’s right,” he said. “There happen to be some people already operating a real estate scam., mainly in Hennepin County, but here in Ramsey County, too. They didn’t take kindly to out-of-town competition. In addition to which they figured, rightly it happens, that if things got too active, it’d call down the heat quicker.” I said, “The guy running the local deal is unknown to me, but I think I know the name of the head honcho for the outside gang. Armond Anderson. Other people involved with him appear to be the brothers Talbot, a new contractor operating in Bloomington named Jake Logan, and one or two other bad sorts. How’m I doing?” Ford smiled. “Very good so far, Sean. We have lots of suspicions but few facts. Yours tally with what we know. 

I assume the Jake Logan you’re mentioning is the same one who turned up at that Foundation fund-raiser and offered a big chunk of cash from Mr. Anderson. The one we met there. Am I right? It would be entirely too coincidental if there were two Jake Logans. I don’t get why Anderson did that, though” I nodded and swigged from my own beer. “Such a coincidence would never be possible in a detective novel. Of course, in real life things like that happen almost every day. Howsomever, it is indeed, the very same J. Logan. It sort of turns my stomach, but the money will be useful to the foundation. Maybe we should not take these people down until the pledge is fully paid.” Ford laughed. “You have an evil mind, Sean, a very evil mind. One of the factors that bothers us is this.” He paused to consider his words. “Some of these mutts have been in and out of town before. We have some intelligence--” “As different from facts,” I interrupted. “As different from verifiable facts,” Ford went on, “that this roving gang planned something here around six years ago. For unknown reasons, they never went ahead with it.” I thought about that. I wondered if Ford and his cohorts in the courthouse had a link from the money presumably in the aluminum case, to this Anderson. I owed Jerry Ford a lot and I both needed and wanted to keep him as a friend. At the same time, I wasn’t eager to reveal that I’d been suckered into retrieving the money stolen in the Grand Pharmacy murder case. Even if I was almost certain now that the money was tied to Armond Anderson and his gang. I thought I had the money and that Anderson would come after me. I was going to use the case as bait to try to extricate Catherine’s cousin Mordecai. If I could. 

You've got Spenser, Philip Marlowe, Father Martin, Mike Hammer, Nero Wolfe, Vi Warshawski, Sam Spade, Easy Rawlins, Hercule Poirot, and Sherlock Holmes as, perhaps, favorite PI characters...but do you recall, the most famous PI of all? 

Sean Sean...

What? You've never heard of him? Well, until recently I may have heard of him, but I never met him...in novels I'd read. And, Yes, I had read books with all of the other PIs listed above... so I've had a solid background upon which to judge Mr. Sean, don't you think? 

I still miss Robert B. Parker and Spenser. Spenser was not only a top PI, I loved the writing of Parker, even more... In fact, early in my work with authors, I would often refer beginning authors to Parker to get a handle on how to write without lots of superfluous... words... 

On the other hand, those PIs that I enjoyed most were ones that were flaunting the past custom of writing in the third person and never speaking to the reader... For me, Sean Sean has become the best in this area. Sean only appears in a small number of books...too small in my opinion. Sure, the author could have tired of writing him and went on to other horizons... But, really, I, an avid reader of PI books, wish I had many more to binge on! I've now picked up all of the available books. Today's book is not the first,  and I've already started another, but I want to go back to the first and continue on so that my knowledge of this intriguing character is expanded as much as possible. All of the books are free-standing, meaning, the case(s) is solved in each book. What does expand, of course, is the readers' knowledge of the main and other characters and how they interact routinely... It's kind of like meeting the family of your boyfriend, don't you think?

One of the major things I like about Sean is his constant referral to his training manuals...you know, when he pulls out a novel by Philip Marlowe, which is obviously one of his favorite mentors in all things that could happen within the PI bailiwick... Other authors or their main characters are often mentioned for background...

And, if my memory serves me right, Sean, like Spenser, is the only PI who has a female love interest to enhance the intrigue and sometimes fear of being connected on a long term to someone who may get pulled in unwillingly to a case...

For some reason, Sean talks a lot about being short. I had to think back to Mickey Rooney's 5'2" before I could remember any man who was short but had leading movie roles... 

Then I thought of Michael J. Fox and knew he was the character I would choose to be Sean NMI Sean. 

My name is Sean NMI Sean. Answering requests and pleas for help is how I make my living. Sometimes I even get to save a blushing female person from whatever form of dragon is in pursuit. That doesn’t happen often, mind you, and I don’t ride a pale horse. My current ride is faded blue, sired by Ford out of Detroit. I don’t actually like horses. Mostly I take jobs that require me to ferret out wrongdoers of low-level chicanery, the kind of cases the cops have too many of and too few resources to spend on. Occasionally, the requests for help evolved into something major. Not often. Now I was answering the call. Actually, two calls. Earlier in the day I took the first call at my office from Sally Belassario. He had a friend in trouble and would I talk to his friend. Since Sally was who he was, I said sure, tell the guy to call me. I promised Sal I’d tell him when the appointment was, so he could be there too. The rest of the day, the guy didn’t call. Actually, nobody called the whole rest of that day. Nobody called the next day either. My business wasn’t what you’d call thriving at the moment. Might be the economy. But at ten-ten the next night, this particular night, the phone rings and it’s some guy I don’t recognize who then hands the phone to Sally himself. Would I come to such and such an address? “When?” I asked. “Instantly,” Belassario said. His voice had a mournful, late-night, too-many-cigarettes back-of-the-throat scarred kind of tone. Belassario, being who he is, and who he knows, I agreed, silently mouthing my objections to having to leave the comfort of my house on such a nice, relaxing, summer night. That was twenty minutes ago. The smell got stronger. I went left on Raney, following Belassario’s instructions. I drifted along the street for a block, the finely tuned engine under the hood of my ride making barely a whisper. My ride didn’t have a name. No loud hoof-beats. No flowing mane, no slashing hooves. I saw flashing lights ahead. After cresting a small rise in the street, I could see the source of the flashes, just two blocks away. My gut and my nose told me I didn’t have to look at house numbers any longer. Good gut and nose reactions are useful things for a PI to have. That’s what I am, remember? A PI, a shamus. A de-tec-a-tiff. I’m pretty good at what I do, in spite of certain physical shortcomings. There are those who have suggested the biggest part of me is my ego. It’s also good for a PI to have a head, or at least a working brain, somewhere close by. Flashing blue lights atop a Saint Paul PD patrol car that pretty well filled the next intersection led me to draw up to the curb. I carry an honorary Ramsey County Sheriff’s badge which the county bestowed on me a few years back. Sometimes it gets me through auxiliary police...

Only thing about being short as a PI is that you need to be well-trained in all aspects of potential violence, which Sean was, to ensure he could handle the jobs he was asked to handle. Sean had hoped to become a police officer, but failed the height requirement...

In addition, Sean is intelligent and makes sure he figures out how to take care of himself by making adjustments to his living... Like always parking facing the front so he can leave early...but also to ensure that a bomb or other unwanted items can be placed in his trunk... And, of course, he checks his vehicle in all other ways before he drives off... One other thing and don't ask me why. Sean wears red Ked tennis shoes all the time...well, almost all of the time unless he needs to escort his lover in a tux... or, as he sometimes does, wears all black, including a very old pair of tennis shoes to be able to break in where he knew he'd have to be very careful...and discreet...

And one other thing I loved about Sean. He even thinks...in...prose!

Dunkin’ Donut coffee shop, I probed my memory cells and dredged up the Grand Pharmacy event. The robbery and killings six years ago had happened on a night very like the one I was currently driving through. It was a dark hour, a witching hour, one of those wee hours of the night when mists swirl; when shadows collect around the edges of narrow pools of wan yellow light cast down by the street lights that march in soldierly rows along the boulevards and avenues of the city. It was that time of night when strange rustlings are heard in the trees, when bats and owls drift on silent wings through the urban forest searching for their unwary prey. It was a time when other predators stir and skulk. It was a time when active imaginations sometimes go into overdrive. It was a time when everyone but nightshift workers and evildoers and fools are tucked up in bed behind locked doors and barred shutters. Nuts. What it was, it was about two-thirty in the a.m. of an extremely hot, still and sticky summer night. As I recall it...

As with most PIs, Sean has developed many types of people as connections. In this case, Sean has been contacted by one of those who may be a little shady, but, nevertheless, Sean knew that it was important to retain this relationship. So they agreed to meet at a specific address... When Sean got there, the house was on fire! And when Sean met his acquaintance, he learned that he was being asked to investigate a man who happened to live in the building. About a cold case that had happened many years ago...

Unfortunately, the man who was going to be further investigated, turned out to be in the house when it burned down. The good thing was that there had also been a chance that five children were in the building. They weren't. So only a bad guy died, taking with him his  knowledge! Nevertheless, Sean was asked to proceed. The task was to find a case that had been stolen from the site of a robbery that took place at a pharmacy... and had never been found. Word on the street was that the case held millions of dollars!

I put on some Les Paul. He was a pioneer in multi-track recording back in the forties and fifties and created an electric guitar style that is still unsuccessfully emulated by a lot of today’s musicians. Paul was a huge influence on the popular music culture and I understand that Gibson still markets a Les Paul guitar.

Sean has cats and loves music...so, of course, that was part of my attraction to his life. Sean also talks to the audience. I find it extremely refreshing--if it is well done. You know, it is humorous, and often has Sean thinking to us about what his plans are to handle his latest case... Sean lives in the St. Paul-Minneapolis area so we learn a lot about what's happening there and where the good places are to eat--or not!

Sean also doesn't carry often... Of course, part of the reason is because when he has to carry a heavy gat around all day while traveling around talking to possible witnesses... the weight tires him out... After all, he doesn't even weigh 140 in wet clothes! 

So Sean solves the case, of course... But he just keeps on talking...

So, with little else to do, I went through them again, looking at the illustrations, the titles. Like Dutch Sax with the seductive strings and orchestra of Dolf van der Linden. Right. Dutch Sax? Is their sex, er sax different from ours? 

Then I laid my hands on an album I knew I had, but had misplaced for years. Frances Faye: Caught In The Act. Recorded by GNP Crescendo records which also issued an album with Helen Gurley Brown called Lessons In Love. 

I put F. Faye on the turntable, cranked up the volume and built myself a drink. Several hours later, at about two a.m. with images of those albums in my head I came mostly awake in my chair. On my stumbling way to bed, I began to get the glimmer of an idea as to what my next move should be. 

So over the next days or weeks, I'll be sharing more about Sean Sean and his PI exploits... through the rest of the series... I hope using this first post to tell you all about Sean, will ensure that you plan on coming back!

God Bless

Gabbie