NOVEMBER goes NOIR, AT THE BIJOU ~ "SPY-SIDE ECONOMIC$" - by Absolutely*Kate and AJ Hayes

 

  SPY-SIDE ECONOMIC$  

  
~ A Crime Duet ~

( In Progress )

Luscious Ladies and Genteel Gents ~

In our previous NOVEMBER goes NOIR ~ AT THE BIJOU show, you had an introspective gander at what AJ Hayes is all about ~ talented author and gregariously colloquial colleague to so many of us rambling writerfolk around the dark (thus inviting) labyrinth of WebTowne. The man's fearless, unbounded by any steenkin' genre, so . . . I sauntered up one night and asked him, "Would you write espionage with me?" 
 ( My Dad taught you don't know what the answer is until you ask. )

"Yep."

Absolutely*Kate and AJ Hayes

are midst set-ups and storylines, blending blitz of patter and patois into spy-side contenderings of a dynamic duo's covert escapades from more than half-a-century ago. Our protagonists are shoved off the moola train while the mission must still stay on track . . . reverberating with rumblings
 from WWII's Cold War freeze frames.

Here then, our "Reveal" of

SPY-SIDE ECONOMIC$

 A sneak-peek novel du duet

Be kind folks.

We'd like to know how it's doing on its fly-by.

Tentative Tumultuous Thanks,

     Irrepressibly, Absolutely*Kate

with the fearless fedora fella, AJ Hayes

SPY-SIDE ECONOMIC$

The brief from the Chief was short and sweet, but far from pretty. Funding was foiled, yet covert ops were to continue. Damn, what we were doing to buck the Balkans heightened an awareness it paid not to overlook. Marguerite sighed into the heat of what felt like a thousand Julys, tugged, twisted and tucked capricious auburn tresses into a smart French braid, then eyeballed the missive from headquarters once again. Like it would change anything.

 

FIND A WAY! STOP 

~ J. STOP

Strategically, Istanbul was intended to be their crossroads, not their albatross. Conflicting concerns from two continents which spanned the powers of political history had brought them to this point of time, to this today. She and a cantankerous partner with smooth patter and tougher instincts. Concealing impatience, she angled her wrist to admire the non-government issued Benrus. Yep. Late again. No more than usual, but still . . . they had an agenda of underlying currents as mysterious as the Bosphorus, as wide as the Sea of Marmara. From here, within the grandeur of Topkapi Palace, their mission was to unleash a chain of specific events guaranteeing safety for the world of tomorrow. It was 1952 and they knew what they must do. The ways and means were what was in the way now. Damn, how she hated crimps to her style, unless they were in her hair. But the exotic city of Istanbul was a sprawling metropolis. Surely a thousand angles flew around so many magic carpet rides?

 
Yes, they needed a plan to get off the ground, and it had to be on the cheap. From the government issue gun metal gray Regency TR-1 transistor with the false bottom, which traveled always near her, The Mills Brothers tried to lighten hopes and mood with "Shine little glow-worm, shimmer, shimmer". The Regency played her emotions. Possibilities attuned her mind. Then came Nat, that jolly ol' Cole, offering more than a shimmer to the glimmer of the idea Marguerite's honed intuitions were conjuring as ~ Unforgettable.

$

I watched her from across the plaza. Clocked the paper on the table in front of her. When she messes with her tresses in that fast re-bop, changing from flame haired Veronica Lake-ness to the perfect squareness of my fourth grade geography teacher, I know the score note for note and it just ain't good. I whistled a couple of bars of Lady Be Good to let her know I was there, because it's just not healthy to surprise that particular doll. More than a couple of yeggs who made that mistake are pushin' daisies in some of the loneliest bone yards in the world. I slid into the chair opposite her.

"What's shakin, gorgeous," I said. "Is it windy out today or are you shootin' for the Our Miss Brooks look?"

She made a growl like one of Bix's low notes and pushed the papyrus over to my side.

Yep, there ain't never no good news about bein' broke and absolutely none when you're twinkling your toes in the Istanbul Not Constantinople riff. I sighed like Billy Eckstine on a blues solo.

"So, where does this no geedus jive leave us, Dollface?"

The TR-1 was playing Django Rhineheart, which I thought was appropriate since Django lives in a place and space no one's ever been 'cept him -- and now, us.

She pins me with her electric blues and long, long lashes, leans forward (and that ain't all bad either). Got that grin back on. That grin that sends the bumpities up and down your spine and makes your knees feel like they been Louisville Sluggered by all of Murderers Row and maybe the bat boy too.

"Come closer, Clyde," she purrs like the kool kitty she is. "I got a plan."

Oh, joy is mine, I think. We've played this tune before and the coda is always pain.

It's like she reads my mind now, quick as a kid grabbin' for Dagwood and Blondie come a Sunday morning's funny papers. She rustles me up this look. It ain't so funny.

I wrangle her one back -- you know, the arch to the eyebrow beggin' to differ gaze.

Her look screams Why the hell NOT?

Mine? It starts off pure Bogey sportin' Spade and I think it's gonna hunker down. Trouble is, this dame's got double-dog dare shootin' flares in those true blue peepers. The stuff that can stop a freight train, haulin' four extra cars from Poughkeepsie.

Could be the honey purr, could be the cool cold calculating whirl . . . both I find so damn distracting that for a moment my persistence loses its resistance. I rally, try to get her off track. "Look kid, you want some Turkish cay? It's what they drink around here. See those sparkly little tulip shaped glasses those colourful costumed fellows are running back and forth the streets with? They go into that square shop over there and they come out with this circular tray over here. You want we get us some hometown brew? You can steep still, get copacetic and spill -- whatcha got to say, not whatcha got to drink."

She fiddles with her hair. I figger she's been thinkin' deep to dig up this rich plan. One without the usual payola from Uncle Sam. Part of the tight twist of the coiled coif is tugging undone. One good sign. I signal the waiter for two.

"Tessekker ederim." She slays me. Gets into the walled city of Istanbul by Orient Express only fourteen hours before me, and already she's charming the locals with proper accent and aplomb. Margie's always been about aplomb. And she gets plenty hot and bothered when I call her Margie. 

"Listen Hellewelle -- "

"All ears Margie."

The flying tulip glass just missed my left ear, but I dodged right, shortchanging her the payoff of a flinch. I was paying attention though. Oh brother, you betcha. She was talkin' sense, without the usual dollars up her sleeve to work with. God, this was priceless.

"Way I see it, we have to cross over to Libya. We find us a sultan and a slow boat out of Izmir. The wreck of Flight 64 will speak us the secrets of Mission 109."

"You mean Lady Be Good?"

"You know I mean 

Lady Be Good." 

I shot her my best Mr. Blaine. "Of all the plans in all the world why did ya have to pick that one?" 

Her fingers twitched and I knew she was grabbin' for another glassy tulip, only it wasn't there, so I took a chance and got the rest out before she found one.

"It ain't that easy Magee," I said. "I know some things about that flight, see and it's not exactly the riff you're blowin' now. The score the world knows is rebopped a bit by a baseline they never saw."

She tilted her head in that way she has of sayin' I got a chance to explain but it better be in cut-time or she's gonna take away my saxophone.

"You remember that year or so our duet was blown? I said there was a small misunderstanding between me and some MPs and I had ta spend some time in what is politely called the slam?"

She leaned forward a little so I figured I'd bought another couple of chords to play.

"Well that was true," I said. "About the MPs that is, but the hoosegow time was, uh, a kinda bogus riff. I wasn't in the calabozo. I was layin' down a gig with a friend of mine named Wild Willy Donavon. It was in France and back then, if you recall, there were Schicklegruber Juniors jackbootin' around every place you looked."

She made a twirling finger motion that said, speed it up Jack or that head's comin' right off those shoulders.

"Anyhow," I said. "Cut to the coda. Me 'n Wild Bill jived our way over to the coast, found a cave and stole a bomb Uncle Adolph had in mind to kerplunk right on top of New York City, USA. At least that was the plan until me 'n Donavon stole it and blew up The Grand Achtung's bomber and the cave they had 'em in. Then we splitsvilled with the boomboom and waited for our pickup plane. It came. We went. And I thought that was that."

I fixed her with my best Joe Btfsplk, Little Abner, Black Cloud Over My Head expression.

"But from that look in your eye and the name on the nose of our retrieval plane that night, it ain't necessarily so." I took a quick case of the room. " We ain't talked finance yet, Prettyfoots, so lem'me nutshell the rest of it for ya."

She lost the sleepy look and doubled down her attention.

"Make it fly, Cy ," she said.

"When Wild Bill 'n me gleeped that big bangbang. We got the manual with it. Title of the piece was Die Götterdämmerung Geräte. Which, if you sprakken Kraut, is --"

She waved me off. "I got it, Wunderkinder. The end of the world device. Great BIG boom. Proceed, Speed."

"So, when me and the General picked up the crate, we heard this tick-tick-tick and figured that couldn't be cool. Opened it up and, sure as Dizzy plays a bent horn, there were redlights blinking and bari sax humming and what might have been angels singin' Bye Bye."

She looked. I talked. Fast.

"We rigged a temp fix with spit and bubblegum. Told the pilots and let 'em fly. When I heard the Lady got lost, I figured it was Donavon squaring the deal to Top Secret. But from what you say, what I thought don't matter. So, now you know it ain't exactly what you think waitin' out there in the sand for us, Babe. Just a temporary fix on the end of the world that's lasted way past its expiration date."

I shrugged.

"Now let's talk banking."

I flipped my glance over her, oh-so-fetching shoulder.

"That cat in the ice cream suit and Panama hat back there's got swastikas in his eyes and in his heavy ridin' right pocket, a bag of uncut diamonds that's his get-me-to-Brazil stash. I know this because the two mutts with him -- hiding behind the potted palms -- got lightning bolts somewhere on their bodies and Waffen SS troops don't ride with no lightweights. 

They are not easy to distract." 

I pushed my chair a tiny way back before I said the next thing.

"So looks like the Tunisia gig again, Dah-ling."

Credit due, she didn't go for my eyes with those long, red nails of hers. Just growled way low a bit and sighed.

I shrugged again and tried to look reluctant.

"Look, Toots. I didn't put 'em on your chest. And it was God who made 'em spectacular. I just think we got no other play right now. We'll catch up on your assignment after we got the cash."

She just nodded. I faded and took up a location out of sight of all the bully boys. And waited for the show to start.

© 2011 ~ Authors Absolutely*Kate and AJ HAYES

Sneak Preview ~ AT THE BIJOU
  
PHOTOS ~ Istanbul Tourism / Matthew Magda on location at Hagya Sofia

a good Turkish tea house / Flight 64, Mission 109 / Men's fashion 

$

THAT'S ALL WE'RE GIVIN' UP NOW FOLKS.

But how are we doin'?

  

~ A*K and AJ

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

NOIRtorious AUTHORS
Every other day that's
NOIRvember

   THE HITS JUST KEEP COMING 

November

Goes   NOIR

*AT THE BIJOU*

        

Be there

or be square Bub.

Talkin to you too, Toots. 

Curtain 

rises on:

simply C L I C K  show LINKS below:

LOVE STRUCK TROUBLE

   By ~ KEVIN MICHAELS

  

DETECTING MALICIOUS MURDER

and ALL A BROAD

Debut ~ GRAHAM SMITH

  

WISH UPON A STAR and STAR

By ~ JULIE MORRIGAN

  

YOU ONLY DEFECT ONCE

Debut ~ CHRIS Rat-a-tat RHATIGAN

  

THE REASON FOR LIVING

   Debut ~ JOSEPH GRANT

  

BERTINO'S HEAD

   Debut ~ AJ HAYES

  

 ~ OUR NEXT HEADLINERS "REVEAL" ~

  

BIJOU FAVE ~ BISH'S BEAT'S

  PAUL BISHOP

  

BIJOU DOUBLE*FEATURE

  ERIC BEETNER and

ANTHONY VENUTOLO

  

BIJOU BOOK RELEASE

Debut ~  NIGEL BIRD

  

BIJOU BOOK EXCERPT

from Academy Award Winner, 

Best Movie ~ SIDEWAYS

Debut ~  REX PICKETT

  

ABSOLUTELY*KATE, BOGEY & PALLY PRODUCTIONS

"NOVEMBER GOES NOIR, AT THE BIJOU"

"NOIRVEMBER" term coined & minted

 by the trendy Harry B Sanderford 

TURKISH DELIGHT GONE SOUR ~ By Absolutely*Kate of Harbinger*33 {#Flash Fiction Noir}

TURKISH DELIGHT GONE SOUR

~ By Absolutely*Kate

As gleaned from the files of
Detective Nelle Callahan

Our tale of two trenches counter the origins of a rare gem at the battered cream counter of Magrudy's Hill o'Beans. Best cup o'joe a dark rainy night can brew. You can sip along with the links below ... but steer clear when the action heats up. You wouldn't want to get in the way. I've warned you.

The ring seems to be the thing in ~

"THE CHOCOLATE PEARL"

Off mean streets to a good cup o'joe saunters Nelle & Harry ~ 

"THE WILL'S THE WAY"

 

A pounding rain washed in a Tom, Dick or Harry with  ~ 

"THE DAMP FEDORA"

 

Earlier Intro to NELLE skims silver shadows in ~

"GOT NOIR"? 

      

"The Chocolate Pearl is RARE Nelle! That's why you've never heard of it."

"Sure, sure Harry-today. That's what they all say. One in a million. Ain't none like it nowhere else, hunh?"

"Good deducing, Lady Gumshoe. And what's this Harry-today rubbish?"

 

"C'mon.You on the up and up with all this? A sultan and a bequest and a heisted carved chest on the swisheroo in the Silk Market? All to get to your missing mother's missing ring. Sounds pretty chic sheik to me Ali Baba Boy. And who knows who you really are. I'm bettin' the pie and coffee tab you pulled Harry outta your hat, Fedora Man."

 

"Nelle doggone it ~ hear me out and take it in. You'll see. I'm telling you -- you'll see."

"That's what concerns me Big Boy. The way your spiel spills. It's sloppy. You got gaps a Duesenberg could drive circles through."

 

KAGoldberg photo

Chuckling into a low rumble gaining high steam, one eye peeled towards a potential peal from the little silver bell above the oak framed door, Albert DeFonse Magrudy topped off their white porcelain mugs with more strong joe and more soft thoughtfulness than he usually poured. No saucer splash. No side dribble slosh. "Either of you ever hear of the Spoonmaker's Diamond?"

 

"Jeepers creepers! Is everyone dishin' exotic sparkle-tales today? Go ahead Albie, spin your fine fable -- and then will you tell me why you're heating up that greasy ol' frying pan so much? You got the jitters or d'you forget what goes into a new recipe you wanta try out for the ritzy swanks? Ain't any ham and egg orders around here. No takers on the stools but us and Newspaper Guy over there, still rattling his attitude back in the booth. He's sippin', he's thinkin', but he ain't chompin' on nuttin' far as I can tell."

 

"Settle down Nelle will ya? I'm the client here. You're the one whose role is to be eager to hear. Now I'd like to hear what our fine purveyor of excellent percolation has to say. I'll wager HE believes my story."

 

Albert visibly preened.

Nelle audibly groaned. "Sheeeesh. Boys will be boys will be boys. You'd think testosterone would get tangled the way you menfolk trip over seconding each other's motions. Alright, alright already! Both you wisecracking bums stir me up the Diamond Spoon story and then bring on the Chocolate Pearl chaser and we'll either have dessert or the fundamentals of a trail to finally follow."

 

 Timely appliance photo ala Jason Kolodny

The battered yellow Philco which gave valour to the kitchen ledge at The Hill of Beans for the last seventeen years kicked in: "Somewhere there's music. How faint the tune. Somewhere there's heaven. How high the moon. There is no moon about when love is far away too." 

 

Albie kicked in. Harry-today leaned his elbows in on the cream counter tiles, without a concern for the meringue mess that had missed his pie hole earlier.

"His love was far away  . . . She was beautiful, in the eyes of his heart, in the roaming eyes of Istanbul. The young maiden Ozel had been taken away with her merchant family when the silk caravan made its usual route along the Meander River into Pamukkale. He knew she'd be back. Sugar, spice and everything nice was for far more than just a cup of chai. He had to catch her eye, show his worth when she returned."

Nelle realized she was succumbing as well to the web of the weave Uncle Albie's tapestries of facted fiction usually told. Sighing, easing into what a good mesmerization does for mood and moment, she lingered a look beneath Maybellined lashes on this Clyde dubbing himself a Harry. Good gosh, he's eating this up. A tough guy for soft tales. Maybe the mother ring rings true. Chocolate pearl, huh? Mystery, history and missing once again. Guess I really am gonna have to look into this.


Albert knew how to hold an audience without even clenching a weathered palm, the same way he understood the grounds of the secret for concocting the best cup of joe a dark rainy night could brew. And Albert knew when trouble was struttin' its stuff up a dark rainy street too. But for now, there were these two. A guy with a mug vaguely familiar needing his niece with a nose for what was on the up and up and how to shake the shadows to find out. The clock on the wall was ticking, but a story is a story is a story and this one was on the tell ~
 

"His name, Harry? Coskun. It meant 'enthusiasm', and a poor man with a beautiful woman on the brain certainly has it, doesn't he? He let his spirit manifest his desire. Walking by the rubbish heap of Egrikapi a glimmer caught our canny Coskun's eye. He reached in, dug around and pulled out a large pretty stone. A very pretty stone indeed. One that rendered the deal of the day. Coskun bartered one of the most magnificent diamonds Turkey or the world had ever seen through all of antiquity, to the local spoonmaker for three of his most finely crafted wooden spoons."
 
"That's it? Three lousy spoons? How's a guy gonna charm a dame he has the hots for with spoons?"
 
Nelle laughed. "Maybe he'll open a kebab restaurant Har. Serve the sultan something bold beyond the pale and be pulled into cozy cuisine duty at Topkapi Palace. He'll get the girl along the way since this magic carpet rides to delicious success. Imagine that hue of  happily-ever-after with sunrises over the Bosporous. Pretty heady stuff. Next thing you know, they up the ante and go into caravan cahoots to smuggle chocolate pearl rings -- " 
 
"Put a lid on it Nelle. I want to hear the rest of the story. Mr Magrudy, pay no attention to my tin pan alley detective making up the tangle of her own mazes. Will you kindly continue?"  
 
He glared.
She winked. Slow. She hoped it drove him a little crazy. He was gettin' to her and she needed to stay sharp. Somethin' didn't seem on the up and up all of a sudden --
 
The bell didn't ring twice or even once when the Hill of Bean's door splinter-smashed open. It didn't have a chance. The hoodlum with a hand on the handle meant business. And from the huff to his hustle, he meant it quick. Real quick. Danger in the gut quick. The feller in the back booth with the newspaper about the baseball player done in by a deranged female fan? Hell, he headed for the men's room in nothing flat. Albert's Turkish delight tale had lost its tempo and its timing. The hour had gone sour. 
 
Making his way straight away to the little man behind the big counter, Tough Guy patted his chest and rasped a chuckle the way diabolical sounds when it thinks its holdin' all the cards in a loaded deck, "Got a message to deliver Alb. You stir the street up against payin' protection like everyone is s'posed to 'round here, youse gotta pay anudder price. A higher price. A learn-a-lesson price. So how you want it? Out here in front of the local joe and pie loiterers or do we take our business out back?" 
 
Harry wasn't a man who liked a story interrupted. Especially a story that he could tell was going to substantiate his story. Well sure, he figured Albert was doling liberties with his delivery, but he fully expected the further story of the Spoonmaker's Diamond to wend its way back to his own Chocolate Pearl's mystery of history.This dope duping the coffee man was in the way. He reached for his pocket bulge.
 
Tough Guy had absolutely no time for pocket graspers slowing the purpose of his purpose. One sharp retort from an instinctive knack with a flair-handled Python knocked the dripping trench's snub nosed pistol clean and spinning dizzy on the floorboards with powder burns and epithets stinking up the air. He kicked the gun clear and bonked the bent-over bozo on the back of the noggin. Hard.   


Nelle nailed the shooter deftly with her Colt DS, Detective's Special. "Right in the jewels. Story that gem boys," she smirked, as Albert let the sizzling grease of his fry pan plan fly. Welts and wails, wails and welts indicated the cringing mass of hired gun was now a seriously marked man. "This one's not so hard-boiled anymore, is he Albie? We're gonna have to put the skids under him though."

Leaning over the other sprawl on the floor, the one with a dampened fedora, a crushed spirit and an inherited treasure to refind, the one going by the moniker of Harry on a cold rainy night, she hissed into a whisper, softened by her eyes "Don't ever pull out your heater unless you're prepared to use your heater. You got that?"

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

 Stay Tuned. 

There'll be more.

 

There's always more
brewing than a Hill o'Beans  

when trouble's on the scene

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

I'm Detective Nelle Callahan.

I've met some of you before and no doubt I'll run a once-over on some of youse when we meet up on some dark rendezvous that spooks or sparks a soul. But for now I gotta case -- and a dead guy and a welted guy and something to find, as well as finding out why I should be finding it. I'll keep you posted ... You take care now. Don't take any wooden nickels, hear?

(c) 2010 ~ Author Absolutely*Kate

Earlier Intro to NELLE appears in "GOT NOIR"? 

This case started off with  ~ "THE DAMP FEDORA"

Off mean streets sauntered Nelle & Harry ~
"THE WILL'S THE WAY"

What's the man who may be Harry after?

"THE CHOCOLATE PEARL"

 

 

*AT THE BIJOU* 

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