The Gamesman

I have been rumaging through some of my old stuff and came across my Case Histories of Detective LaManch. It was an 8,000-word satiracal approach to crime stories I wrote back some time in the 1980s. The names are all based on goats and milking goats, to amuse my sister-in-law, who raises goats for that purpose. The idea was that I would write an entire series of short stories for Detective LaManch, but I ran out of juice after one entry and put it away. So, here is the sole entry, edited just the once, in its entirety.

CASE HISTORIES OF DETECTIVE LaMANCH

The Gamesman

By BBJD

Prologue

He clutched the gun and collected his breath. Two traps had been beaten, but eight remained. Eight ways to die. A cackling laugh brought him up short.

"Frightened?" the voice mocked. " I'm disappointed, Mr. Brookshaw. Surely you can handle a little pressure?"

He threw his back against the wall. "You're mad!" he cried.

"Am I indeed, Mr. Brookshaw? That isn't going to help you through the maze."

"I'm done with this!" he screamed. "Do you hear? I won't play your silly game any longer. I'm going to wait until help comes."

"Help?" the voice was angry. "There will be no help, Mr. Brookshaw. That’s against the rules. The game has rules, Mr. Brookshaw. Rule number one: You can't quit once you've started. If you won't search for my devices, then my devices will search for you."

He heard noises, like doors opening and closing and wheels carrying a load. Panicked, he ran. The noises were getting closer. Finally, he could stand it no more. Collapsing in a corner, he tried to shield his ears.

"You're mad! You're mad!"

He began running. Rounding a corner, he heard the voice for the last time.

"Now the game is over, Mr. Brookshaw. You lose."

Chapter One

The incessant ringing of my door buzzer interrupted my sleep. Opening my eyes I realized it was still dark. Not a pleasant way to begin a day.

I heard Karyeata get out of bed, open the closet door and rustle some hangers. The sound of feet shuffling and a door opening and closing assured me she had the situation in hand. However, I retained an attentive ear.

Blast that buzzer! So help me, I would shoot it. When I got up.

"Ah, Detective!" Karyeata's faint voice was pleasant.

"Where is he?"

"In bed."

"Get him. And hurry!"

The bedroom door opened. allowing light from the next room to pour in like hungry relatives.

"Cappy, it's Detective Hopper."

"Wonderful," I groaned. "Tell him I'll be right there. Oh, and Karye, could you fix tea, please?"

"Sure thing, Spike," she said with a teasing smile. I chuckled, fully aware of the reason behind my new monogram.

It did not take long to dress. I entered the main room and found Detective Hopper pacing. Seeing me, he rushed to shake my hand.

"Cappy! Thank God you're here!" his urgency slapped me like a cold shower.

"Claude."

"Cappy, I really need your help on this one."

Claude was moving right into his pitch. Whatever it was, it had had him at full steam.

"Excuse me." I didn't want to get into any details until I was fully awake. Besides, there was something I needed to do. I opened the flat drawer in the bureau and retrieved my forty-five. Then, as Claude watched in wonder, I fulfilled my vow to the buzzer. I replaced the gun to its repose and sat down on my lounge to await tea. Claude dropped onto the sofa across from me.

"One of these days that eccentric behavior is going to cause you more trouble than even you can survive," he said.

Karyeata peeked into the room. "What's the shooting about?"

"Cappy just shot the hell out of your door buzzer."

"Oh. That is annoying. I wonder why they even bothered to put one in a penthouse suite?" She disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Ask Cappy. His money built the thing. And right on top of his summer home, I might add."

I braced myself for the tirade Claude was about to launch. It wasn't so much that he was jealous of my inheritance as it was his practical mind was irked by what he considered useless extravagance. I simply saw it as a means of keeping people employed.

"Cappy, why in the hell did you build a high-rise penthouse on top of your summer home?"

"So we could get away from it all."

"Get away from it all? My God, man! You haven't gone anywhere. Your entire ranch is visible from the picture window."

"No sense in going too far. Some people might think we were being wasteful."

Claude shook his head. It was cruel to rile him, but it was also fun. And I needed something to help me wake up. Fortunately, Karyeata entered with the tea.

"Detective Hopper, would you care to join Spike and me in some morning tea?"

Claude looked up with relief. "Yes, Miss Milkworth. That would be nice. I need something to relax my nerves." He took a sip and then looked at Karyeata again. "Why are you calling him Spike?"

"Because we were up until two this morning playing volleyball," I said as Karyeata handed me my tea. "Honey, you're about to spill."

"I'll go put some clothes on."

"Good idea."

"Volleyball? You two are different."

He watched her go into the bedroom and disappear to the left.

"Say, isn't that your bedroom?"

"I have slept in there on occasion."

"But she just went in there to dress."

"That's where her clothes are."

"You mean she's sleeping in there with you?"

"No, she's dressing in there. I am sitting here drinking tea and wondering when you're going to get to the point."

"You know what I mean. She slept in there with you, didn't she?"

"You might say that."

"Indeed?" he gave a loud chuckle and then looked at me more seriously. "But I don't get it. You two have always slept in different rooms."

"We're enlightened."

"Indeed? Now I think I know why you built this high-rise," he looked back into the bedroom and suddenly jumped to his feet. "Wait a minute! Those are twin beds!"

"I know. But they’re pushed together."

"Big deal," he said, planting himself in front of me as if to force the third degree. "There's a four foot wall of plywood between them."

I shrugged. "I guess we're not that enlightened."

"Ha!" Claude sat back down on the sofa. "She just doesn't trust you, right?"

"No more than I her."

"C'mon. What's the board really for?"

"We used it to play volleyball," said Karyeata, coming in from the kitchen.

"What? Say, how did you get to the kitchen? I saw you go into the bedroom."

"The dressing room adjoins both," said Karyeata, sitting lightly on my lap. Claude sat and shook his head.

"Why don't you two get married? Stop all this playing around?"

"We like to play," Karyeata said with her 'sweet and innocent' voice. She shifted gears. "So, Detective Hopper, why are you here?"

"I need your help on a case."

"My help?"

"Well, you too. But mainly Cappy."

"Sorry," I said. "I told you yesterday we were taking a vacation.

"But you can't!" Claude said.

"Why not?" asked Karyeata.

"In the first place, because he doesn't have any."

"Well, what about the other places?"

"Damn it, Cappy! Must you always let her do this?"

"Do what?" Karyeata feigned offense.

"This, this...," he waved his hands like he was flinging mud. "This utter nonsense! Volleyball! Humph! That bedroom bit was a set-up, wasn't it? Staged for my irritation."

"Kind of," she said. "I left the door open so you would notice. However, we did play volleyball. I won the first five games."

"I won the rest."

"Only because I let you spike."

"Enough of this!" said Claude. "I came here because I need help. I don't want to leave in worse shape. Will you help me?"

"We've already left on vacation," I said.

"Left? You haven't gone anywhere, damn it! You're right where I left you yesterday."

"Not true," corrected Karyeata.

"What do you mean, 'not true'?"

"She means..."

"I know what she means, damn it! What I want to know is, what the hell does she mean?"

I shrugged and looked at Karyeata. She turned to Claude and spoke in contrastingly soft tones.

"Yesterday we were at our summer home," she said.

"This is your summer home," Claude's voice was thick.

"Well, actually no," I said. "This is our penthouse suite. I had it built so we would have someplace to go on vacation. This is our first day."

"Oh for crying out loud. All I ever get from you two is ridiculous crap."

"What kind of..."

"See? There she goes again! I want to know if are you going to help me?"

"Maybe we should at least hear him out," Karyeata whispered in my ear, though none too softly.

"It might calm him down."

"Good idea," I whispered back. "We don't want him having a stroke. That isn't covered in the maid's contract."

"And you know how union people are?"

Claude looked surprised. "The maid belongs to a union?"

"A small one. But she is the majority leader," I said.

"How small?" asked Claude.

"She's the only one in it," I said.

"No wonder she continues to be reelected," said Karyeata.

Claude groaned and threw up his hands.

"Okay, Detective Hopper, we'll listen to what you have to say," said Karyeata.

"Thank you. Now what's happened is a man's been murdered."

"I figured as much," I said.

"Don't start that again, Cappy. Please."

I held up my hands as a sign of apology. "Please continue."

"Well the man's name is, or was, Casper Brookshaw. He was the executive vice-president in charge of new products at Smithereens Toy Company. You've heard of them? He was found dead three days ago propped up on a horse on the merry-go-round at Fun Rides Amusement Park. He had been shot fifty-seven times with a machine gun."

“I don’t think I’d like that ride,” said Karyeata.

“It would be thrilling,” I said. Then I turned to Claude. "Three days? Why so long to decide you need my help?"

"Because the case was turned over to me only four hours ago. I’ve had even less sleep than you."

"Why was it turned over to you?" I asked. "Your department only deals with special cases. What makes this case special?"

"The note attached to the body."

"Let me see the note."

Claude handed me the note. I held it so Karyeata could read it with me.

Let it be known that this shall be the fate of the true loser who gets in my way.

I shall be on top of the world.

Claude gave us plenty of time to ponder over the note before speaking again. I handed it to Karyeata for a more detailed analysis while I turned my attention back to him.

"Strange, isn't it?" he said, giving me a grim smile. He knew he had my interest.

"Kind of makes one think there are future victims," I said.

"Exactly. Only who are those people? The note doesn't give us much on that. Homicide has no leads. No one saw anything. No one heard anything. Interviews with family and friends have turned up nothing."

"What about his enemies?"

"Oh, damn it, Cappy! I thought you were serious about this. He was a business man. Who in the hell's got the time or manpower to interview a business man's enemies? Wake up!"

"I am awake, Claude."

"I should hope so," said Karyeata. "I put this on for that very purpose."

"And you were quite successful, my dear."

"Of course I was."

"But you misunderstand me, Claude. I was not referring to his enemies in general."

Claude's head nodded. "You mean organized crime? Yes, that would make sense. He was a business man. And he was killed with a machine gun."

"It would make sense except for the note," I said.

"What?"

"Well I hardly think organized crime would be so foolish to leave a note."

"Then who were you referring to?" asked Claude.

"Who would have the motive and means to commit such a murder and still be stupid enough to leave a note?" I asked. Then I looked at Karyeata.

"A politician," she said.

"A politician!"

"Yes, Claude," I said. "Not organized crime, but legalized crime."

"You mean to tell me that you think a politician is behind this? That's ridiculous! What would the motive be?"

"You haven't got a motive for anyone yet," I pointed out. "But a politician needs the least motive of anybody. Nothing they do ever makes sense."

"Hmm," Claude scratched his chin in deep thought. "So you are suggesting we find out who Brookshaw's political friends were and ask them some questions?"

"No, I'm suggesting you do that."

"And what will you be doing?"

"I'll be involved. Don't worry."

"Excellent!" Claude rose to his feet. Karyeata slid off my lap and we walked Claude to the door.

"You will want to come to my office for a full rundown of course?"

"Of course," I said and Claude shook my hand.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down," he said.

"Even if it meant giving up our vacation?" asked Karyeata.

"I'll make it up to you after the case is solved."

"We'll take care of that," I said. "You take care of the politicians."

"Don't worry about me."

"I never do."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

As he was just about to leave, he looked around. "How much did it cost you to build this anyway?"

"I have no idea. I leave those things up to my brother."

"Malcolm?" he frowned. "That boy's a shady character if I ever saw one. He used to be a lawyer, too. Before pressure from the OCLC caused him to resign."

"His resignation was unrelated," I said. "And his name is Milkum."

"Besides," added Karyeata. "You can't hold a grudge forever."

"I can do as I will. And I deliberately called him Malcolm."

This last was for my benefit. Claude always suspected my brother was, in fact, Chief Attorney Malcolm Drei - the Lawyer in the Mask.

Drei never lost a case, though sometimes his clients faced a tremendous amount of discriminating evidence. Also, he was well connected into the political scene. As far as anyone knew no one had ever seen his face. And since he always wore gloves, it seemed unlikely he would ever be identified.

But when the Organization to Control Legalized Crime (OCLC) received an anonymous tip regarding the legal profession the lid blew off and lawyers everywhere were scrambling for their lives. Many committed suicide, and many more simply turned state's evidence. When it was all over there were only a few lawyers and judges left. Yet they were honest. The 'Honest Few' became their slogan.

Malcolm Drei disappeared. He was never brought before the OCLC as no one knew who he was. That was when Milkum resigned, though charges were never brought against him. Claude had been assigned the Drei case and had attempted to enlist my help in finding the elusive public servant. No doubt my refusal was his reason for believing Milkum and Drei were one and the same. It was the only case of his I had ever refused. It was still open. Claude knew I had run my own investigation.

"I never said Malcolm Drei was my brother," I said.

"You never said he wasn't, either," Claude studied my face. "You'll come to my office?"

"We'll be there."

He turned to Karyeata. "Thanks for the tea. You know, you had better keep an eye on him.

There's a fine line between legal and legal-crime."

"I know. It's called a hyphen," she said.

I watched him walk down the short hall and get into the elevator. I closed the door and turned around. Karyeata was at the telephone.

"Do you really think a politician is behind this?" she asked.

"I'm convinced not."

"They why send Claude after them?"

"It'll keep him out of our way while we make our investigation

"Very wise."

"I thought so. Who are you calling?"

"We're going on the case, aren't we?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm calling the front desk and letting them know we're checking out."

"Good thinking."

The Second Crime

He turned the corner only to be confronted by three doors. All were tightly closed. When and how would this end?

"Confused, Mr. Zeloet?"

"What's going on? You promised me the door out would be here."

"And so it is, Mr. Zeloet. It is before you."

He looked at the three doors. "Which one is it?"

"Ah! Now you have come to the most interesting part of the game. They all lead out, Mr. Zeloet."

"All of them? What's the catch?"

"The catch, Mr. Zeloet?"

"Damn it, I know you do not intend to just let me walk away. What's behind the doors?"

"You are the eager one, Mr. Zeloet. I like that. I like that very much."

"I don't give a damn what you like."

"Temper, Mr. Zeloet. Temper. Each of the doors is the way out. However - and this is the fun part, Mr. Zeloet - only one is safe."

"And the others?"

"Quite ingenious, if I may be so bold. One fills with water after the door closes, and the other wraps a rope tightly about your neck."

"But you said they all lead out!"

"They do, Mr. Zeloet! In the one with ropes, you will be lifted to the outside. In the other, you will be sent through a pipe."

"You insane bastard!"

"Perhaps so, Mr. Zeloet. But you have a choice to make."

"No! This is insane! I'm going to work my way back through the maze."

He turned, but heavy iron plates fell from above and blocked his way.

"That is against the rules, Mr. Zeloet. You can only go forward. It's too late to back out, so why not be a good sport? If you do nothing you'll starve. At least you have a chance if you try. Don't you feel lucky?"

"You'll keep your word?"

"I've kept my word so far, haven't I? It wouldn't be much of a contest if you had no chance to win."

He didn't know if the voice was telling him the truth or not. It didn't matter. He had three chances to die, and one to live.

Forcing himself to remain calm he pushed the button for the middle door. It slid open and he looked inside. There was nothing to suggest danger. He stepped inside. Nothing happened.

"Well done, Mr. Zeloet! All that remains is for you to push the floor button and you're on your way."

Relieved, he pushed the button. Immediately the door closed and he felt something close about his neck and jerk him into the air. As he struggled and tried to gasp for new air he could hear the voice fading outside his consciousness.

"It is just as well, Mr. Zeloet. I would have requested a rematch anyway."

Chapter Two

While at Claude's office, word came that another murder victim had been found with a note attached. His name was Alvin Zeloet, and he was also a business man who worked at a toy manufacturing plant. Now we had a definite lead. Karyeata and I went straightway to Zeloet's office to question his office staff. We were met by his secretary, a Miss Sabra Lenette.

Miss Lenette was one of those women who always seemed to come up short when deciding which skirt to wear and how many buttons to fastened on her blouse. Her height was enhanced by five-inch heels. Her blouse was as tight as a wino on a Friday night. I had seen the type before. So had Karyeata.

"He was such a good man, Mr. LaManch," she said, wiping her eyes with just the right touch of sincerity.

"I'm sure he was."

"I suppose they'll want to promote me to his position now. But a man like that. He was so good at what he did. But I suppose you know all about him?"

"Just that he's dead," mumbled Karyeata.

"How do I replace someone like him in my life? Can you possibly know how I feel?" she asked.

"I've a pretty good idea. I believe I know the kind of man you're after," I said.

"I think I do, too," said Karyeata.

Miss Lenette gave Karyeata an annoyed glance. "Who's she? Your sister or something?"

"Or something. Now, Miss Lenette. Would you like to do me a favor?"

"I'm sure she would," said Karyeata.

"What kind of favor?"

"I need to get inside Mr. Zeloet's office."

Her accommodating behavior turned suddenly cold. I debated whether or not to send for overcoats to combat the chill.

"You cops or something?"

"Or something," said Karyeata.

"Well no one gets in there unless they got some kind of warrant. So, Mr. LaManch, unless you're the kind of guy who likes to beat up women, I'd say you were stuck. Or do you like to beat up women?"

I wasn't sure if that was a dare, a threat, or an invitation. Fortunately, I had Karyeata.

"We don't have time for that now, Honey, so why don't you stow it?"

"Besides, I never hit women when I have Karyeata to do it for me," I said.

Karyeata took an aggressive stance. "So, unless you want me to put out your balloons, I suggest you open the door."

Sabra eyed Karyeata, apparently to sizing up her capacity to follow up on the threat. Karyeata was probably the most feminine woman I knew. However, she was well able to do what she promised. I could attest to that. But only under extreme duress.

"All right," Sabra wisely decided to give in. "You've got five minutes."

She opened the door and we went inside. I stood and surveyed everything while Karyeata began turning everything inside out.

"Does she have to do that?"

"First order of business," I said. "Don't you ever watch detective movies?"

"Well just what is it that -"

A cry of triumph from Karyeata sent us to the closet where she was foraging. I reached in and took the heavy, black suit of fur from her arm. It was a single piece which was meant to cover not only the torso, but the arms, legs, hands and feet, too. Putting it on was done by opening the Velcro in the back.

"That's - that's Mr. Zeloet's workout suit," said Sabra. "He exercised in his office to lose weight."

"Yes. I'm sure the matted fur effect does wonders for the hemoglobin," I said.

"One could go ape over an exercise routine like this," said Karyeata, coming out with a second, smaller suit. "This one must have been for when he lost weight."

"What are you looking for?" Sabra demanded.

"Records of inventors turned down by Mr. Zeloet," said Karyeata, stepping into the smaller suit.

"Those chatter heads! What can they have to do with anything? Them and their harebrained ideas!"

"Nothing. Perhaps everything," I said, testing the suit I had for a fit. Karyeata was correct. There was definitely something primal about these suits.

"They’re over there! Just what in the hell do you think you two are doing?"

"We're investigating a murder," I said.

"But the suits!"

"Yes. They fit very nicely, thank you," said Karyeata. "You know, Cappy, I think I've seen something like you in a zoo."

"It's quite possible," I said. "I only wish I could say the same about you."

I opened the files and removed about forty pounds of paper which detailed the efforts of toy and game inventions which would never see the inside of a department store. Creativity without reward. How unfortunate.

"There must be hundreds of them," said Karyeata.

"Maybe thousands."

"And our clue is in there somewhere?"

"Undoubtedly."

"It'll take days to find it."

"Weeks."

"Months maybe?"

"An incredibly big job."

"Claude?"

"It's the only way," I said. "I'll have him gather up Casper Brookshaw's files for comparison."

"That's an awful amount of work."

"It'll keep him out of our way."

"Good thinking."

"I know."

We began to gather up the files, but Miss Lenette was uncooperative.

"Just where do you think you are taking those files?"

"Police business," I said.

"I thought you said you weren't cops?"

"We aren't," said Karyeata. "We're just bringing them the work."

"Well is there anything else you need?"

"Yes," I said. "Where do you keep the heads for these things?"

"After all," added Karyeata. "An up and coming executive shouldn't begin a new position with skeletons in her closet."

“Or ape suits,” I added.

She stared at us a few seconds. It was clear she had already been wondering how to dispose of the simian articles.

"Do you want them now, or shall I have them delivered?"

I exchanged glances with Karyeata.

"Delivered will be fine," I said.

The Third Crime

He groped along in the dark, feeling his way with his hands. Fear urged him forward even as he felt its paralyzing grip.

"Hurry up, Mr. Orntanu," said the voice, that hideous voice which had been tormenting him since this ordeal began. "You have only so much time to find the next weapon before your adversary."

He wanted to answer. He wanted to cry out and accuse this voice of insanity. But he could only weep.

"Tears, Mr. Orntanu? How very unprofessional. And after all I've done to help you. Very well, I shall offer you further aid. But you really aren't much fun at all. And working for a toy company, too. Ah, well! Life is full of its inconsistencies. But do try to do things on your own. You are only a short way from it. Take the next right and go straight. Then you'll be there."

He stumbled forward as the voice urged him to hurry. He made the turn and began to run. Then, when he was close enough to activate the switch, the goal was lit up in a flurry of lights. A long, bright sword stood on a pedestal with its point upward. He hurried forward to grab it, but as he got close it fell toward him and he was impaled.

"I do wish you wouldn't cry, Mr. Orntanu. Nobody likes a poor loser."

Chapter Three

Karyeata and I entered Claude's office. We had received a message telling us he had important new evidence. Claude was pacing. I seated myself behind his desk and Karyeata sat on my lap. He tossed a folder in front of us.

"Willard Slurps," he said.

Karyeata opened the folder. "So do you. What's that got to do with this?"

"Willard Slurps is the name of our murderer!"

"I wasn't aware we had been murdered," I said, absently scanning the information in Karyeata's hands.

Karyeata smiled. "Hmm. Must have died and went to..."

"Damn it, you two! This is a murder case. Can't you take it seriously for even a moment?"

"I thought we had," I said. "Didn't you?"

"Yes,” said Karyeata. “I think it was four days ago."

"Some day you two are going to drive me to insanity."

"How far away is that?" asked Karyeata.

"Not far!"

"Good. We can take the Rolls then,” she said.

I looked at her in surprise. "I thought you didn't like rolls?"

"Only the jelly kind."

"Can we please get down to the business at hand?" said Claude.

"Which is?" I asked.

"Willard Slurps! I believe he is the murderer of three executives from toy companies."

"Of course he is," I said.

"Then can we please go over this?"

"We already have," said Karyeata, tossing the folder back to Claude and leaning back against me.

"But you hardly looked at it!"

"We've seen enough," I said, giving the now sleepy Karyeata a nudge. She sat up and recited the folder.

"Willard Slurps. Born to wealthy parents twenty-five years ago. Was last survivor when entire family was sent to prison or committed suicide. Inherited the family estate and several million dollars. Disappeared for five years. Recently began approaching toy companies with new game ideas: all of which have been rejected. Seems his idea of fun doesn't fit with typical wholesome family entertainment. Executives from approached toy companies have now been found dead."

"Humph! Well did you also happen to notice where his father worked?"

"I did," I said.

"He worked for Malcolm Drei!"

"So?"

"So maybe he's a link to him."

Karyeata's sat up. "The missing link?"

I sighed. "You have high hopes, Claude, but I'm on this case to find a murderer. What you do after is your affair."

"And what we do after is ours," said Karyeata.

"Well anyway, we're pretty certain who our - the murderer is," said Claude. "All we have to do now is find out where he's hiding."

"That's the easy part," I said.

"Easy? Hell, he could be anywhere."

"But he isn't," said Karyeata.

"Then where is he?" Claude looked at the wall with the map of the city. "With his money, he could have built a place where we'll never find him."

"Well, consider this, Claude," I said. "If you had several million dollars and wished to get away, where would you go."

"And you are an eccentric," Karyeata gave my cheek a tweak.

Claude turned around and stood in shock. "You mean?"

"Exactly," I said. “He never left home.”

"But we searched his mansion!"

"So you missed a spot? We'll never tell. Will we, Karye?"

Claude sat down across the desk from us. "Well, if he is there, I have only one thing to say: I'm glad you're on this case. Only a lunatic like you can catch a lunatic like him."

"We'll take that as a compliment," said Karyeata.

" It wasn't meant as one."

"Did you notice some of his game ideas?" asked Karyeata.

"Some are quite interesting," I said.

"Interesting?” said Claude. “They've clearly been conceived by a lunatic. Who would buy them?"

"One never knows," said Karyeata.

"Even so," I said, letting Karyeata slip off my lap and get to her feet. "I think we should go over to Willard's. Say, when are you going to get some good cigars, Claude?"

"When you give up smoking."

We started for the door, but Claude wasn't finished.

"Oh, by the way. A Miss Sabra Lenette called to ask when we planned to return the records."

"She gave you records?" asked Karyeata. She looked at me. “Bolero?”

I shook my head. “Johnny Cash.”

"She also said she does not want to be disturbed any further."

"I don't think that's possible," I said.

"What do you mean?" asked Claude.

"You haven't met her?" asked Karyeata. Claude shook his head. "Shame. A girl like that."

"Yes,” I said. “I think you should whip over there sometime."

"She'd love that."

"No doubt. Yes, she'd be the perfect girl for you to get tied up with."

"She'd love that, too."

"Yeah, yeah," said Claude. "More of your silly jokes. I hope you two realize that when I opt for early retirement before I'm forty I'll have both of you to thank."

"Glad to be of help," I said, and ushered Karyeata out the door.

"Anything for a friend!" she called back.

Claude made one of his patented sounds of disgust and slammed the door behind us. Karyeata giggled.

"Do you think he'll bite?" I asked.

"She'd love that, too."

Chapter Four

Finding Willard Slurp's mansion was no problem, and finding Willard Slurps was of no concern. We knew he was there and so we knew we would find him. But, with the case so close to resolving, we were both eager to be done with it. And we didn't know when we would find him.

"It would have been nice had he thought to build a high-rise," said Karyeata.

"Yes, but he has obviously gone the other way. So the question is, 'Where is the access?'"

"You know we have to split up to find it?" she said.

I could not help my look of concern. It did not elude Karyeata's eye and she smiled.

"You look so cute when you're worried about me," she said.

"So do you. I'd like to keep it that way."

"But it needs to be done. Don't you ever watch detective shows?"

"Quite right. Pardon my falling out of character. You go that way. I'll go this way."

"And I'll get to the bottom before you."

"I won't be far behind."

“You never are.”

"Then let's be off."

"Some accuse us of that already."

"They're right."

I watched Karyeata walk away and before walking in the opposite direction. I knew finding the entrance would be easy now. It's always that way when partners split up. Together, we could search for years and never find the passage. But separate? We'd have all we could do not to find the way. I don't know why this is so. It just is.

It took me less than ten minutes find Willard's secret door. Karyeata would already be inside. That was another quirk about male/female partnerships. No matter how fast the male gets to the door, the female would already be inside.

I chuckled at the inability of the police to find the entrance. But again, that was just the way these types of cases went. The police were never able to find anything. It had nothing to do with how bright they were. If this case were normal, the police would have nabbed their culprit in about four hours. But then they wouldn’t have needed me. Police incompetence was just fact about the unusual murder case. Of course I was expected.

"Welcome!" the voice hailed me as dim lights came on and a steel door closed behind me. "You have come to play?"

"Perhaps. What's the game?"

"First things first. I must have your name."

"It's yours."

"You misunderstand. Tell me your name."

"Think of me as 'The Player.'"

"Ah!" the voice chuckled. "How refreshing to find an eager contestant. But I make it a rule never to play with strangers."

"A wise precaution. LaManch."

"LaManch? Sounds French. What does it mean?"

"It's my name."

"Oh, of course! First or last?"

"Well, since I'm the only one here, I guess I'm first. But if no one else shows up, I guess I'm last."

"No," the voice sounded wearied. "LaManch. Is it your first or last name?"

"It's the only name I've ever had."

"Is there any more to it?"

"Capra."

"What? Oh. Very well. Now, I suppose I should introduce myself."

"You're the Gamesman," I said.

"What?"

"I read your file. Willard Slurps, Gamesman extraordinaire."

"Gamesman." He was speaking to himself now. "I like that."

"Figured you would. Now, what game are you proposing?"

"I like your style, Mr. LaManch."

"Let's drop the formality. Call me Cappy. Most of my friends do."

"Friends? You may change your mind about that after you have heard the game. But Cappy it is."

"And I shall call you Gamesman."

"I like that better all the time. But here's the game, Cappy. It's called 'Damsel in Distress,' and the object is for you to rescue a fair maiden from her captivity before you are both killed. Like it?"

"It has potential. How is it played?"

A door slid open in the wall before me. A gun was lowered from above.

"The maiden is at the far side of the maze. She is shut in a small room with a glass door which can only be opened from outside.”

“I have to go outside?”

“No! Outside of the room. Roaming the corridors are eight deadly robots. Your task is to take the special laser gun and fetch her back here."

"Sounds simple enough."

His laughter echoed the halls. "Indeed, Cappy? Well, consider this: the robots move slowly and in a pattern. But should you be spotted by any, an alarm will sound and they will close in. Also, the robots use real bullets."

"Really?"

"Really."

"And what are my advantages?"

"You are a unique man, Cappy. None of the others had the your kind of spirit."

I shrugged. "I like games."

"It's a pleasure to have you. Yes, you do have certain advantages. There are small rooms stationed throughout the maze which the robots never enter. By hiding yourself in them you can elude detection for short periods. However, infrared sensors will activate a special thermostat, causing the doors to open – and alert the robots. Shoot any robot and it is out of the game."

"How many shots do I get?"

"More than you'll possibly need, I assure you."

"And firing the gun sets off the alarm?"

"Of course."

I stuck the weapon inside my coat. "And what's my motivation to play?"

"You're going to love this!" he laughed. "The maiden on the other side? She's the one who came with you! Don't you just love it?"

"And?"

His stunned silence was nearly as loud as his laughter. He had not expected this.

"What do you mean, 'and’?"

"I mean, what's my motivation?"

"I just told you."

"No, you just told me Karyeata is the other player."

"You don't believe me?"

"Of course I do."

"I'll let you talk to her. There. Go ahead."

"Hi, Cappy!" Karyeata's voice was bright and unconcerned.

"Hello."

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. You?"

"Nothing."

The Gamesman was annoyed. "Stop it! This isn't what I want."

"What do you want?" asked Karyeata.

"I want you to play the game."

"Why should we?" I asked.

"Because if you don't, I'll kill you anyway."

"Oh, that's no fun," Karyeata moaned. "Cappy, I thought you said he sounded like a fun guy."

"I did. I guess I was wrong."

"What's going on here?" the Gamesman demanded.

"What's going on is nothing," I said. "And that's the way it's going to stay until you give us a good reason to play."

"I'm offering you your lives!"

"Oh, we've already got those," said Karyeata. "What else have you got?"

"What else have I got?"

"Yeah. Offer us something we don't have or you'll have to play spoil sport and kill us anyway.
That won't be good for your reputation."

"It won't be good for us, either," I said.

"At least we won't have to live with it."

“Good point.”

The Gamesman’s silence indicated his hesitancy. It was obvious he was beginning to sway.

"What have you got in mind?" he asked.

"How about you?" I asked.

"Me?"

"Yes. We play your game. If you win, we're dead. If we win, you have to play a game of our choosing."

There was a short pause. Then the sound of laughter.

"Well done! Well done! So you want to raise the stakes?"

"I prefer mine grilled," said Karyeata.

"With the right touch of spice," I added.

"Bar-B-Queue sauce?" he asked.

"A little."

"Excellent! Very well, Cappy. You win now and we'll play something else."

"One condition."

"What's that?"

"Your word as a gamesman that you will not interfere once its started. If you do, the deal's off."

"I agree," he said. "I truly like you, Cappy. I kind of hope you do win."

"So do I," I said.

"So do I," said Karyeata.

I walked as quietly as I could, wondering how tuned into sound the killer robots were. Finding the rooms to hide in wasn’t difficult. There were many, and all clearly marked. I tested one early and discovered I had less than ten seconds before the door reopened. Slurps laughed.

"Not a whole lot of time, is it?" he asked.

"Enough for my purposes," I said.

"What purposes?"

"My main purpose is to win."

"But to do that, you must defeat my robots."

"Not necessarily."

"What do you mean? What do you mean?"

"I don't have to tell you everything."

I knelt next to a door near a corner passage and waited. After a couple of minutes I heard the sound of an approaching droid. When I judged it to be close I opened the door to the side chamber. Sure enough, the droid reacted to the sound and sped up its approach. It came around the corner to wait until the door opened. Then it would blast me. Except the door wasn’t closed. I was holding it open and, as I hoped and expected, the droid continued its merry way into the side room. Then I let the door close. The droid had no ‘body heat’ so the door never reopened.

“What are you doing?” the Gamesman sounded alarmed. “You can’t do that!”

“Why not?” I asked.

“My robots aren’t supposed to go into the rooms.”

“Then they’re cheating.”

“What do you mean they’re cheating?”

“You just said the robots aren’t supposed to go into the rooms. This one did. I call that cheating.”

The other droids, attracted to the noise of the first, were on their way. I quickly followed the path of the first away, dodging into known ‘blind alleys’ as the pursuers went past. I could hear the Gamesman moaning and mumbling. He had not anticipated this at all. Within a few minutes the droids were all huddled around the door, waiting for their prey to emerge. Now I just had to get Karyeata. In just a few minutes I had found her.

“Where are your robot buddies?” she asked.

“I left them at the corner. They’re hanging out together.”

“So now we just have to get to the maze’s beginning,” she said. “I suppose we have to get past your robot friends?”

“You suppose correctly.”

“Of course you have a plan?”

“Don’t I always?”

“I think perhaps you could do with some humility.”

“Which happens to be my plan!”

“Clever.”

We crept back to where the droids were huddled in a large group. We got down on our stomachs. I took out the special laser gun and opened it up with the handy little screwdriver on my key chain.

“This sure comes in handy,” I whispered.

“Does it have a bottle opener?” Karyeata whispered back.

I proudly displayed one to her. “And it has a flashlight, a magnet and a corkscrew.”

“That is handy. By the way, do you know anything about special laser guns?”

“Only that they use power, and that too much power at one time is a problem.”

“Why is that?”

“Well,” I had finished my work and now the gun was beginning to glow and hum.

I quickly crawled to the corner and tossed it around and came back and huddled with Karyeata next to the wall. There was an explosive flash and then the sound of a single droid trying to get out of a closet. Karyeata and I got to our feet and walked around the corner. All of the droids were shut down.

“Too much power means an explosion. An explosion means light. Bright light. Lots of it.”

“And these robots don’t like too much light, do they?”

“No. They really don’t.”

Chapter Five

We walked back to the beginning of the maze where we were met by Slurps. We had won the game. The Gamesman was not happy.

“I’m not sure this was a fair game,” he said.

“You mean because you cheated?” I asked.

“I didn’t cheat!”

“It’s all right. We forgive you,” said Karyeata.

“Forgive me! Wait a minute!”

“Now. Our game,” I said.

“Your game?”

“Yes. You agreed to play a game of ours, if we won. Well, we won.”

Willard eyed me with suspicion. “What is this game?”

“It’s called, ‘Making it Through the Court System,’” I said.

“It doesn’t sound promising. How does it go?”

“You go to court and see if you can get a reduced sentence instead of the normal death penalty.”

“That’s not a game!”

“Why not?”

“Because in order for it to be a real game I have to have a chance at winning. There is no way I can get a reduced sentence.”

“Sure there is.”

“How?”

“You need a good lawyer.”

Willard laughed. “There are no good lawyers. All the best lawyers are in prison.”

“Or dead,” added Karyeata.

“Not all of them,” I said.

“Who do you know?” asked Willard.

“My brother is a good lawyer. He wasn’t even indicted.”

Willard was unconvinced. “Then how can he be any good?”

“He worked as an associate of Malcolm Drei.”

Willard’s eyes went wide. “Your brother worked for MD and A and never got indicted?” I nodded. “You’ve got a deal! I’ll play. Let me get my things. What kind of reduced sentence do you think I’ll get?”

“You can probably count on special lodgings,” I said.

“Special lodgings? You mean an asylum? I don’t want to live in an asylum. People are strange there.”

“Only because they’re different.”

“Besides,” added Karyeata, “it’s better than the alternative.”

“But what about my game inventions?”

“Oh, don’t worry about those,” I said. “I’ll sponsor your games and get them patented in your name.”

“You will?”

“Sure. I saw your ideas during the investigation. Some are quite interesting.”

“Like ‘Ring Around the Thorn Bushes,’” said Karyeata.

Willard smiled. “Yes. I like that one. You have to play it in the nude. Very good. Let’s get going!”

Epilogue

I lay back in my lounge chair. The sweet scent of fresh tea wafted in from the kitchen. The setting sun was breaking over the horizon and casting long shadows. Everything was peaceful now. Not like an hour ago when the repair man was drilling holes and nailing up new trim around the door. I should have had that done while we were gone. Karyeata came in with a tray. She poured out two cups of tea and handed me one. Then she eased herself down onto my lap.

“How nice it is to be back on vacation,” she said.

“It is. Very nice.”

“Do you think they will ever let Willard out?”

“Not likely. But I fancy he’ll be all right.”

She sighed. “It’s amazing.”

“What’s amazing?”

“Willard. I mean, its been years since anyone got off on an insanity plea.”

“Well, it was more a case of getting in than getting off.”

“Even so. It was a pretty good job of lawyer work – considering the current judicial climate.”

“I was beginning to worry that Claude might have to join Willard.”

“Yes. He was going to go after poor Milkum. It was nice of you to distract him.”

“Well, I think Miss Lenette was getting bored anyway. Now that the two are together they can wrestle with each others problems in a more constructive manner.”

“I know she will like that.”

“As do I, my dear. Are you up for a game of volleyball?”

“No spiking.”