Having taken to the idea of being a private eye, William now referred to himself as W. Spade. He has also recruited his daughter, MG and his niece, Lav, to be his Sherlocks. They do all the legwork…and the paperwork. The three of them still squeeze into the El Camino, but Berferd has to ride in the back. The life of a gumshoe, is not an easy one.

After solving the now famous Click case, W. Spade Et Al has become a household name. Everyone in town wants their mysteries and crimes solved by W, his daughter, MG, and his niece, Lav. Luckily, once she completed the fundraising for the new swimming pool, Friday Click decided to stay on as the call screener.

Since the basement office had been buried, it was necessary for the business to find a new place of business. Luckily, there was another dirty business place for rent. It looked like a gingerbread house.

Let’s get right to it…

It’s Monday and Friday is sitting at her desk when the phone rings. It only takes two or three rings now for her to recognize the sound. She usually manages to answer it by the fourth ring, or if her nails aren’t dry, she lets it go to voicemail.

VM: You have reached the offices of W. Spade Et Al. Your call is very important to us (you can hear the distinct sound of someone blowing on their nails.) If someone is holding a gun to your head, hang up and call me back. I’ll answer it this time. If you’re holding a gun to someone else’s head, you have the wrong number. Please hang up and call the cops. Get it? Got it? Good!

Ring, RIng, Ring, Ring

Friday: Hello…you have reached the offices of W Spade Et Al. What can I do ya for?

Caller: I think I just stumbled over a dead body.

Friday: Wow…really? Male or Female? Did you know the body was dead before or after you stumbled? A good way to check to see if they’re really dead is to hold a mirror up to their nose. If it fogs over, they’re still alive. Hold on…W wants to talk to you.

W: This is only Friday’s second Monday. She’s still got a lot to learn about detective phone etiquette. So who’s the poor stiff?

Caller: YiiiiKES! Click

W: I think said caller just hung up on said me. Did you put a tracer on the call, Friday?

Friday: Say what? Oh yeah…remember? Tracer won’t be here until tomorrow. He had to give two weeks notice at the warehouse. It sounds like W. Et Al has a real murder case this time. Sounds like the dead guy is as dead as your cigar.

W: The vic can’t have been dead that long. I think I’ll go drag Main and see if there’s someone running around town yelling, “YiiiKES!” You get ahold of MG and LAV. Tell them to meet me at Mack’s Cafe and I’ll buy them a cinnamon roll.

What W doesn’t know is that MG and Lav are being held captive by a guy from Presho, a town about thirty miles east. They aren’t in Presho, but that’s where the captivator is from. His name is Chris Cross.

Lav: MG do you have any idea where we are? It’s really dark in here.

MG: No, but I think it might be close to the North Dam. There’s a golf course nearby and I heard someone yell. “Fore.”

Lav: Who do you think captivated us and why?

MG: I don’t know, but he sounds like he has a Presho accent. I’ve come up with two clues and you haven’t come up with anything concrete, Lav.

Lav: Why are you always so Cross, MG. Besides, I have too come up with something concrete. Did you know we’re standing in wet concrete right now?

Both: “YiiiiKes!”

W Spade Et Al got themselves in a jam. This case takes place at the Murdo North Dam. MG and Lav are in a fix. Instead of gum on their shoes, they’re stuck in concrete mix.

W. drove the El Camino uptown, to see if MG and Lav were anywhere around. The guy who called said he tripped on someone dead. Before he hung up, “Yiiiikes” was all he said. His Presho accent was real distinct. It was enough to put Berferd hot on his scent.

Was the “Yikes” guy guilty or was he the victim? Were the girl’s new shoes meant for them to swim in? Would W Et Al and Berferd crack the case? Or would they stumble over the dead guy and fall flat on their face?

To solve the mystery you need to know there is more than one guy here from Presho. If one’s name is Chris and he has a brother, what do you think is the name of the other?

Who is the stumbler?

Who is the captivator?

Who is the dead guy?

And what is the why?

To Be Continued…

I wish there was a simple way to describe the last three plus weeks. I’m sure many of you will scratch your head and wonder if this is a true story. It can be validated by my brother, Billy and our Step-Father, Gus. Just remember as you read this, Gus is 90, Billy is 77, and I’m 69. The good news is we all found that we’re made of pretty good stuff.

Between the three of us, we can usually remember the important things…like where our list is hidden. Except for Gus, who has recently had open-heart surgery, we can lift heavy objects and still walk the next day. We have learned how to pile garbage sacks on a wheel chair and, with the aid of a flashlight, find the dumpster in the middle of the night. We’ve learned how to discard items belonging to someone who never throws anything away…and for the most part get away with it.

I’m from Texas, my brother is from Los Angeles, and Gus lives in Ontario, California.

It all started several weeks ago when I decided that Billy and I should try to gather all of the paperwork needed to help Gus file for a VA pension. At the same time, Gus was scheduled to have his chest opened up to replace a valve. Sounds easy enough. Billy put about 4,000 miles on his car transporting Gus to his regular doctor’s appointments and taking forms to said doctors to complete and sign. Be advised…you make an average of 5 trips and 10 phone calls to get one form.

By the time I got to Ontario for Gus' surgery, which didn't happen then, there was frustration in the air. You can smell frustration, you know. BTW Gus didn't have surgery until about two weeks later because his COVID test, which was part of his preop came back positive. That was a real shock to us as he had COVID last February and later had the vaccination. It was even more of a shock to the group of Gus' friends who were sitting with us in the bakery when he got the phone call. I came back to Texas and stayed the 10 days that Gus was in quarantine. I flew back to Ontario the day before he was scheduled to try it again. He sailed through the surgery and they released him 5 days later. His ribs are literally wired together. (My brother missed two vacations, and was picked to serve on a jury the week Gus came home. Kip and I got two new rescue dogs. We found one on the day I came home the first time and the other the day I came home the 2nd time.

The problem with the coming home part was that Billy and I hadn’t finished making our midnight trips to the dumpster so we couldn’t get the house ready for the recovering patient. Gus is an admitted, um… collector and we had to uncollect him.

One important lesson that I would like to pass on. Before you try to move a newly purchased recliner, be aware that with most of them, the back slips off, making it much easier to carry. We moved that sucker to the motel before we discovered that feature. If we hadn’t figured it out, we would have had to take an ax to it in order to get it through the door at Gus’ house.

Since we weren’t ready, Billy put Gus up in a very nice motel for several days and I stayed at Gus’ house.

Back to the VA project.

We finally got everything together and a Veteran’s Service Officer pronounced it ready to send off to the big guys who make the ultimate determination. Three days ago, we got a letter stating they needed another piece of information. We got it, took it, and handed it to a local VA Service Officer. We read they try to expedite the process if the veteran is over 90. Now we’ll wait and see.

The night before I left, I got to take a break and took the train to Los Angeles. My brother’s wife, Liz, picked me up at Union Station and I spent a lovely evening with Liz and Billy, my niece, Erin, and her boyfriend, Carlos. Liz fixed a wonderful dinner, and we sat at tables on one of the two beautiful decks that were recently completed. As they used to say in the Murdo Coyote, “A good time was had by all.”

Have a wonderful evening. I can’t sit and type too long. I stiffen up.