By Lauren Hildebrand
“Whoever’s stealing from this factory won’t get away with it!” The accountant slammed his palm on his desk. A small mountain of spreadsheets fluttered to the floor.
I raised an eyebrow and sketched a hissing cat on my notepad.
“Now, Pete, calm down,” the foreman soothed.
“I am calm!” Spittle flew from Pete’s mouth.
“Sure.” The foreman wiped his face. “But these inventory deficits you’ve found are too small to be significant, likely an accounting error or—”
“Detective Bryant.” Pete leaned forward, coke-rimmed glasses inches from my nose. “What some people consider a negligible error, I’m convinced is systematic theft. Sure, we’re only short a fuel pump here and a radiator hose there—never the same automotive part, and never more than a few a week. But after combing through shipping receipts and inventory records, I’ve discovered a pattern of loss dating back twenty years and including everything from ball bearings to seat upholstery. Why, in fifty-three, an entire transmission was written off as ‘inventory error.’ If that’s ‘insignificant loss,’ I’ll eat my slide rule!”
Pete collapsed into his chair. The foreman looked at me and shrugged. I doodled a mushroom cloud and two men studying it: “Is that the Russians?” “Naw, Pete missed his meds again.”
The clang and rattle of the assembly line drifted through the office walls. The foreman cleared his throat. “Anything you can do, detective?”
Yeah, gain enough seniority to get assigned to Detroit’s real problems. “I’ll take a look around the factory floor, see what type of access a person needs to steal parts like you’ve described.”
Pete stood.
“He’ll take me.” I grabbed the foreman’s shoulder. “I’m sure you have lots of… slide ruling to get back to.”
“Don’t you want to see my chart of—”
I hustled for the door, but the foreman still beat me through.
I took a deep breath. “He always like that?”
The foreman shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve only worked with him for sixteen months.”
Around us, power tools screeched and stuttered along the assembly line. The smells of hot metal, rubber, and new vinyl clogged the sticky air.
I surveyed the long row of workers, parts, and partially assembled cars, pursed my lips, and sighed. I was more likely to find Russian saboteurs here than individual missing parts.
“Hey, Lou!” the foreman shouted.
A muscled giant straightened from attaching a door and grinned at us. “Yeah, boss?”
“This is Detective Bryant. Detroit Police. He’s gonna look around for a bit. Answer any questions he has and make sure he don’t get squashed.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Lou’s calloused handshake practically engulfed my forearm. “Nice to meet you, detective.”
I extracted my arm and checked for internal hemorrhaging.
“I gotta get back to my duties,” the foreman said. “Talk to Lou if you need anything.” He strode away.
I sighed and turned a new leaf in my notepad. What did Pete, my Chief, and the lords of fate expect me to accomplish searching a factory complex for lost blinkers and ball bearings?
“You a real detective?” Lou studied me through the passenger window.
“Yeah.”
“Like Kojak?”
“Nah, don’t care for lollipops.” I poked along a row of unidentifiable gadgets and tripped on an oversized toolbox.
“Watch out.” Lou picked up a steel door like it was made of bamboo. “What car do you drive?”
“Sixty-nine Pontiac LeMans that the chief wrecked in a car chase.”
Lou smiled dreamily. “I like the LeMans. Prettier than my old Jeep. But someday I’m gonna own a Cadillac.”
The next station worker laughed. “Before or after you get your six kids through Harvard and buy your wife a bigger shack?”
Lou laughed with him. “You think I’m joking, but I will. I’ve put together Cadillacs since forty-nine and never touched a beautiful-er car.” He gave the Eldorado a pat and watched it move down the line.
A whistle pierced the factory hubbub.
“Lunch time, big boy.” Lou’s coworker tossed aside his tools.
Lou slowly removed his gloves. “’Scuse me, detective.”
I stepped aside. He pulled forward what I’d mistaken for an oversized toolbox, opened it, and extracted a cheese sandwich.
I stared into its cavernous depths. “Where’s the cow?”
Lou closed the miniature locker and sat on its lid. “My wife must’ve forgot to pack it.” He held out half the sandwich. “Want any?”
“I’ll pass.”
I left Lou and his coworker sitting on his lunchbox, speculating on the Tigers’ chances of regaining the AL East championship.
I circled the factory all afternoon, poking my nose into loading docks, doodling maps of the floor layout, and generally getting in the way.
At the final whistle, I drifted out to my vehicle with the throng of tired laborers.
“Hey, detective!” Lou stood at the front gate. One arm waved enthusiastically at me, the other drug his lunch box toward a Jeep that looked like the aftermath of two car chases and a hijacking.
Works with beauties, drives a beater. There’s worse things than crazy patrol.
I waved back and climbed in my LeMans.
Eventually, my supervisor decided I’d squandered enough taxpayer money wandering the factory like Dennis running an errand, and that my talents were better served elsewhere.
As I left the parking lot for the last time, I spied Lou walking away from the factory. I pulled up beside him and rolled down my window. “What’s with the dinky lunch box? You get tired of bringing the whole fridge?”
He grinned and swung the moderate tin container. “The other one hurt my shoulder.”
“Want a lift to your Jeep? I don’t see it out here.”
Lou’s eyes lit up. “I don’t drive that old thing no more.” He pointed across the way at the strangest amalgamation of parts I’d ever beheld. A single tailfin presided over three rear lights and a mismatched collection of doors and mirrors.
“I got me a Cadillac!” Lou grinned.
I whistled between my teeth. This one was going with me to the grave. “What… year is it?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hahaha – I saw that coming but Lou’s so likable!
I could see the ending coming, but it still gave me a laugh. Fun story.
Love the detail and worldbuilding. Also, I kinda want to see Frankencar for myself!
Fun, good characters.
Is it based on One Piece at a Time by Johnny Cash?
You’re correct! If you’re a member of the Havok Horde, you’ll be automatically entered into a drawing for a $10 Amazon gift card at the end of the month.
I too, could see the end coming, but very glad Lou has his “Cadillac”.