Bigs Carmichael and the Hybrid Heist
Pull in close to a smokey dive bar. The clientele leaves everything to be desired, the music is slow jazz with a saxophone solo smoothly pouring out its heart. Through the smoke, the sound, the soul, a man sat at the bar, a cigarette pinched between his middle and index finger, held up on a propped elbow. His eyes were covered with the low brim of his fedora. His suit, covered by his brown trench coat hanging over the bar stool. His face, covered in a perpetual five o’ clock shadow. He looked up, and the dim flickering lights behind the bar illuminated his green eyes and devilish grin.
“Another drink?” The man said, as he pushed forward a glass heartbreakingly empty of scotch. The bartender, Tommy Two-Fingers, nodded and took the glass.
“You sure you need another one, Bigs?” He asked.
Bigs Carmichael, Private Police Detective, nodded.
“Does an octopus have three hearts?”
Tommy stopped mid-turn to the liquor, looked back at Bigs, and then raised his gaze to the distance and squinted.
“I have no idea.”
“That’s why you’re not a cephalopodologist. Just make with the drink, Tommy.” Bigs flicked his cigarette into an ash tray and lit another, then flicked that one away immediately and lit a third.
Tommy Two-Fingers poured Bigs a fresh drink, picked it up between his left pinky and right index finger, the only two he had, then dropped it when he tried to move. The glass shattered, and that sweet Scottish gold seeped into the grout like lost dreams from a wish whispered on a windy day.
Bigs sighed. “Don’t worry about it, Tommy.”
The old rotary phone Bigs took with him everywhere rang on the counter beside him. He picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear.
“Carmichael,” He said. A voice on the other end chattered away before Bigs continued, “Uh-huh. Right. At the office now? Thanks, doll.” Bigs tossed a few bills across the bar. “Sorry, Tommy, gotta scram.”
Bigs went up the two flights of stairs to his office. The lights inside were off, and as he pushed open his stained door that read Carmichael Investigations, he called out, “Ms. Fair? Why do you have the lights off?”
“I sent your assistant home, Bigs,” the most honey sweet voice in all the world said. Bigs reached out and flipped the lights to see… her.
“Veronica Dame,” Bigs said. “My primary love interest, constant foil, and thief that stole my heart along with every other jewel in this city.”
Bigs continued his exposition, but on the inside. Veronica was the most beautiful gal in all the black and white world. She had blonde hair to her elbows, and legs that stretched back to yesterday. The kind of legs with knees in the middle and feet at the bottom. She was sporting a red dress, red lipstick, and by the look of her smile she knew she had Bigs’ heart in her hand.
“It’s been a while, Bigs.” Her eyes bored into his soul like a raccoon staring down a half-eaten sandwich, hold the mayo.
“Three months, twelve days, and fifteen minutes. But who’s counting?” Bigs walked past Veronica and deeper into his office.
The place was dark, mostly because it lacked windows and only had one light. It had a couch, Bigs’ desk, and stacks of files littering the place. Normally, Bigs’ assistant Ms. Fair would have been around to help keep it tidy, but she’d been cut from the story because it was ‘too busy’.
“What do you want, Veronica?” Bigs asked, throwing himself into his desk chair and kicking his feet up. Veronica perched on his couch.
“I want to hire you.”
“Hire me? That’s rich. I can’t think of a single time you haven’t put the works on me in all the time we’ve known one another.”
“Oh Bigs, you know I don’t mean it. You know how I feel about you.”
“I don’t know Jack.”
“Well, I can introduce you to him. But I don’t know how meeting my hair stylist would make you feel better about any of this.”
“That’s not important right now. Tell me about the job.”
“Right, well, have you heard about the little art show the college is putting on?”
“Something about different artistic mediums, right? Aren’t there only like eighty students that even go there?”
“It’s a community college, Bigs. Well, the centerpiece of the show was the Hawk Diamond.”
“The Hawk Diamond? You mean that diamond they found buried in the desert? The one worth ten million bucks? They had that thing on display at a community college?”
“They sure did.”
“Makes sense to me. No follow ups about that. Wait… did? Veronica….”
“It was stolen about four hours ago.”
“I wonder who could have done such a thing.” Bigs looked her up and down and shook his head.
“Not me, Bigs. I was busy robbing the local art museum.” Veronica gestured across the room, and Bigs saw for the first time a very expensive painting that hadn’t been there just last night.
“I don’t take bribes, Doll.”
“Please, Bigs, I need you to find the diamond and return it to the college. Otherwise, I’ll never get the chance to steal it.” Tears welled up in Veronica’s eyes. Bigs melted like a crayon in a dragon’s pocket.
“Aw, don’t cry Sugar,” Bigs said. She came around the desk and pressed her face into his chest. He patted her head. “It’s alright now. Don’t you worry. We’ll get this thing sorted, faster than trouble finds me on a Tuesday.”
Veronica sniffled and looked up. Their eyes met, green and blue joining into a sea of sparks. Bigs leaned down, their lips drifting closer, unstoppable like two cats headed for the same sunbeam. Then, Bigs felt something press into his belly. He looked down to a familiar sight. Veronica’s derringer.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Bigs said as Veronica picked herself up and off his lap.
“I really do need your help, Bigs.” She stood and looked around. After a moment’s indecision, she shrugged and picked up the only decoration on Bigs’ desk. A black statue of a falcon.
“That was a gift!”
“Just something to remember you by,” Veronica said. “Oh, and Bigs, bring a gun. This one seems dangerous.”
“You know I don’t like them, Sweet Cream. Nasty business, guns.”
“Just be careful.” She winked, blew him a kiss with the hand holding her gun, and walked out the door like she always did. Bigs sighed and sat back.
Just then, his phone rang. A good dick knows no rest. Bigs sat up and picked up the receiver.
“Bigs? It’s the Chief.”
“Chief, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I need you on a case.”
“You think I work for you, Chief?”
“Y-Yes? You’re a private police detective.”
“Oh right. Where do you need me?”
“The local community college. There’s been a theft, and I need the best I got on the job.”
“I picked the wrong day to quit smoking.”
Bigs arrived at half past four. The community college cafeteria was covered from top to bottom in crime scene tape. As Bigs approached the front door, the Chief pushed his way between a thick layer of the stuff, gasping as he emerged.
“There you are, Bigs.” The Chief was a big man, round but tall. Wide shoulders. Bald. With a thick mustache that glistened from the wax he globbed into it.
“The Hawk Diamond’s been stolen, eh?”
“Just so.” The Chief nodded.
“Something about this thing stinks, Chief. Something stinks real bad.”
“Oh, right, sorry,” the Chief said. He took a few steps away from the open trash can he and Bigs had previously been standing beside.
“Thanks. But I gotta go with my gut on this, Chief, I don’t know about this one.”
“Oh Bigs, please.” Tears welled up in the Chief’s eyes. “We just have to find this diamond. Otherwise, the mayor will have my hide.” The Chief stepped forward and buried his face into Bigs’s chest.
“Aw, don’t cry Precious. Don’t worry, we’ll get this taken care of.”
“Thanks, Bigs.” The Chief sniffled and pulled away, leaving a smudge of mustache wax on Bigs’ shirt. “It means a lot to me that we support each other as men with feelings.”
“Men’s mental health is an important issue.” Bigs nodded. He stepped past the Chief, to start his investigation, when the man caught his arm.
“Be careful in there, Bigs. When whoever did this broke in, they let loose all sorts of artistic mediums. Keep your guard up, word is they’re all over the city.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Chief. I’m as careful as a pickpocket at a cop’s retirement party.” Bigs pushed through the tape, stepped inside, and felt something crunch under his boot. He lifted it to see below, and his face paled.
“Aw crumbs. An audio drama.”
Listen to the following audio before reading on.
Bigs finished wiping the last of the audio drama from his shoe and shoved the napkin into his pocket. He looked out the window, watching the city roll by like a reel of film missing its happiest frames. What was this case? Who took the diamond? Why did they take it? Should he grab something to eat on his way to the casino? Should he get something lighter in case he got into some sort of climactic chase later on? The questions haunted him like footsteps in an empty alley.
As the taxi pulled up outside the Sock Hop Casino, Bigs tossed a few dollars up to his driver and stepped outside. The Sock Hop wasn’t the cleanest casino in town, but it was the only one with sock in its name. It had bright neon lights on every corner and angle around the place. Behind Bigs, his cab driver pulled away. Then, holding a hand above their eyes to block out the blinding neon, backed right into a telephone pole. The pole fell into the street, crashing down on a passing black-and-white cruiser.
“Damnit!” Bigs heard his cabbie yell out far behind him as the cruiser flipped on its red and blue lights. Bigs was too far away by then. He approached a large man built like a storm cloud holding a grudge.
“Casino’s closed tonight,” the man said in a gruff voice.
“I need to see Mike,” Bigs said. He pulled out his badge case, flashed it for a second, then tucked it away.
“That was real fast,” the bouncer said. “I don’t really have good eyes, you know? I left my glasses inside. Could I just…?
“Oopsie daisy, that’s on me. Right.” Bigs pulled his badge case out again and handed it to the bouncer.
“Thanks man, I really appreciate it. Just with all the lights out here and everything.”
“It’s fine, really. It’s fine.”
“Alright, well, Detective Carmichael, head on in.” The bouncer returned Bigs’ badge and stepped aside. “I should warn you, we’ve got one of those errant mediums inside. Nasty stuff, real literal.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Bigs said, and he stepped inside.
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It wasn’t long before Bigs stepped out of a cab down by the docks. He never liked to go there, yet it seemed like every case somehow ended up in that dank metal behemoth filled monument to criminality.
The Mafioso’s warehouse was clearly labeled with a large mural so freshly painted it was practically bleeding color into the night mist. The mural read R.I.P. Mafioso Mike, a man of honor, mostly by accident.
Bigs approached the large chain-link fence that surrounded the perimeter. He knelt to pick the lock.
“Hmm… this one,” Bigs said as he picked up the third lock from the left. He stood, stepping away from the long line of free locks lining the fence, then stepped through the gate.
“Bigs,” a familiar voice called out behind him.
“Chief, what are you doing down here?”
“Figured you could use a hand.”
“Or two. Thanks, Chief.”
Together, Bigs and the Chief crept into the large warehouse. It didn’t seem like the kind of place one might find a priceless jewel. It was dark, dusty, covered in spiderwebs, and if Bigs was being honest it was more like a place you might find a mystery you didn’t pay rent on.
“What are we looking for?” The Chief asked.
“Somewhere you might keep a big diamond.”
“What about those?” The Chief pointed to the center of the warehouse where, sitting beneath a single beam of light, two safes sat side by side.
“Oh, right.” Bigs approached and knelt beside the safe. “Let’s hope I picked the right lock.”
With one large swing, Bigs brought the lock up above his head then smashed it down on top of the safe on the right. The tumblers within clicked before the safe door swung open ever so slowly, creaking like a ship’s hull dreaming of the sea. Together, the Chief and Bigs peeked into the darkness of the safe’s interior. Something inside shifted, moved, then sprang out.
“What the hell is that?!” The Chief roared as he stepped back.
“Acrylic paint!” Bigs yelled. “Look out!”
Listen to the following audio before reading on.
Bigs rested his head on the wall behind him, put his hat over his eyes, and took a deep breath. It had been two days since the docks, and he was still exhausted. He hadn’t been able to find Veronica when the dust settled, but he knew she’d turn up like she always did, all he had to do was wait.
“Bigs Carmichael?” A voice called him from his daydreams. Bigs removed his hat from his eyes and saw a uniformed security guard standing over his chair. “We’re ready for you.”
Bigs stood up, almost lost his footing as his socks slipped on the linoleum floor, but caught himself and followed the guard back through the winding hallways. Finally, he was brought into a room with a single occupant and sat down across a metal table from the man who had been his best friend.
“They taking care of you in here alright?” Bigs asked.
“As well as can be expected,” the Chief said, shrugging. He picked at the handcuffs that secured him to the table. “Prison isn’t as bad as I thought. And, Mafioso Michael is letting me work off my debt to him in here by slipping his incarcerated boys extra portions from my kitchen job, so I guess that’s working out.”
“I’m sorry I had to put you in here, Chief.” Bigs looked down and his eyebrows furrowed.
“Don’t be, Bigs. You did what you had to do.”
“I still don’t understand. You know I’m the best you got, why put me on the case if you’re the one who took the diamond in the first place?”
“I take my job seriously, Bigs. Stealing the diamond and acting as Chief of the Private Police Detectives are two separate things entirely.”
“I guess that makes as much sense as anything else,” Bigs said with a sigh.
“Did you return the diamond?”
“Yep, returned it this morning to the festival at about 10:15.”
“Good work.”
“Well, not quite. Not as soon as I left, the diamond got snatched again. About 10:18 to be specific.”
“Crime never rests,” the Chief said, nodding.
Bigs sighed again, then stood to leave.
“Hold on, Bigs. You can’t leave before I give you your next assignment.” The Chief pulled a yellow folder out from under the table.
“What? You’re still the Chief? How?”
“I told you, being Chief and being a thief were two separate things. I did help you solve the case, after all.”
“You stole the damn thing!”
“Bigs, be serious.”
Start playing audio, then continue reading as it plays
The Chief opened the folder and slid it across the table. Bigs slapped a hand down on it before it could slide off. “The mayor’s husband has been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped? Didn’t have that on my bingo card.” Bigs looked at the folder, grinned, and nodded. “Alright, Chief. I’m on the case.”
The End…?
Credits:
Tanner Forbes
Author
Voices
Editing
Filming
Instrumentals
Emily Forbes
Voices
Sock Puppetry
Sock Puppet Design
Painting
Vocals
Wes Fulkerson
Guest voice work
https://wafulkerson.com/about/
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