The Dewey Decimal Caper

The Case of the Dewey Decimal Caper

         Spam tossed the post card in front of him onto the pile of papers that littered his desk. Try as she might, Cassidy could not keep his desk clean. It seemed that Spam functioned a little more comfortably with a messy desk. He reached over the mess and picked up the phone receiver and began dialing the familiar number of his friend, Dave Frisco. He waited while the ring buzzed in his ears five, six, seven times. Just when he was on the verge of hanging up Lieutenant Frisco picked up the phone.

          “Mornin’, Dave,” Spam responded to the voice of his old friend. “You need to put the donuts nearer to your office. I was about to hang up”

         He smiled at Dave’s response and then continued, “Life’s tough, Dave. If you’d get there earlier all the jellies wouldn’t be gone.”

         Spam chuckled again at the banter between the two friends, and then he changed the subject, “Listen, since you’re having problems getting the proper nutrition over there, why don’t you pay me a visit this mornin’. I got something in the mail that you may be interested in .... Sure, ten o’clock this mornin’ would be fine .... Sure, I’ll save you a jelly. See ya at ten then, bye.”

         They say you only develop one or two really close friends in your lifetime. Spam considered himself to be very lucky. He had several; Dave Frisco was one of his best. The two men were rookie cops together years ago. There was a bond between them that could never be broken. Even after Spam became disgruntled with the force and struck out on his own as a private-eye, the two men remained tight. Dave cut Spam a little slack and let him in on many of the cases that were worked. It was a good thing for both of them. Spam was very good at investigating and often helped find solutions to difficult cases. In return, Dave opened the resources of the department to Spam, as much as he could and within certain limits.

         When Spam received the post card, he knew that he had to share it with Dave. He suspected he was meant to do that. He didn’t know how the sender knew of Spam and Dave’s special relationship. But, Spam figured the sender intended for the message to get to the authorities, and he wasn’t going to disappoint them. He retrieved the post card from his desk and read it again:

         “If you want to find the bad guy, I can help. 823 H393p.— Jane Austen”

         There were a lot of bad-guys in the city. Spam knew his share of them. But the only one of interest to him right then was the one connected with this note. He turned his attention to the box of donuts next to the coffee pot. There were two jellies left in the box. Spam picked one up, took a bite, and then swallowed some of the hot coffee. If Dave delayed any longer he would miss out on that last jelly. As if on queue, Spam heard the door to his office open and saw his friend enter.

         Spam smiled at the lieutenant, “Only one more left, Dave. I was kinda hopin’ you’d be detained. They’re really good today.”

         Dave poured himself a cup of coffee and then retrieved the last jelly donut. “It’s a shame what a man will stoop to just to get a jelly donut. So, what’s this mystery message you got me over here to see? You better not be wastin’ my time.”

          “Wouldn’t think of wasting good taxpayer money, Dave.”

         Spam tossed the post card across the desk to a seated Dave, who studied the message, wrinkled his forehead, and then shook is head.

          “What’s this suppose to be?”

          “I’m not sure. But, it looks like someone is trying to get me a message. Only they don’t want to come right out and tell me. Maybe they’re playing with me. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all. And, maybe it does mean something and they want me to figure it out.

          “Yeah, maybe—but Spam, the cops can’t do anything unless there is a crime. I don’t have any earthly idea what this is. There’s a lot of bad guys out there who are easy enough to catch without me worrying about a mystery bad-guy. I can’t help you on this one, Spam.”

         Cassidy set her work aside and listened to the two men ponder over the strange post card. She walked over to Dave and spoke, “Can I see that, Dave?”

          “Sure Cassidy, be my guest.”

         Dave handed the card to Cassidy and the two men turned their attention to the attractive girl-Friday. Both men had built a healthy respect of Cassidy’s intuition. She was a bright doll and had learned a lot since she had been working closely with Spam. She studied the strange message and then smiled.

         “Sillies, this is a book.”

         “What are you talking about, Cassidy?” Spam asked. “Does that note make sense to you?”

         “Well of course it does. This is the Dewey Decimal catalogue number of a book. In fact this number represents a particular book. And, I doubt if your sender is Jane Austen, since she’s a 19th-century author. My guess is the writer of this note is letting you know that she’s a woman.”

          “Jeez, Cassidy, you amaze me.” Dave chuckled as he finished off the last of his jelly donut. “An’ I suppose you can tell me what book that is?”

          “Well, I can’t, but I know who can. I’ll call Phyllis; she works at the city library. Give me a second and I’ll tell you.”

         Cassidy walked to her desk, shuffled through her address book, and dialed the phone number. Spam smiled at Dave as he spoke, “You gotta love her.”

         Shortly Cassidy hung the phone up and joined the two men who stopped their conversation and waited with interest for her to share with them the name of the book.

          “Well, gentlemen, it seems like the name of your mystery book is The Prisoner of Zenda.”

         The men glance at each other and then spoke in unison, “What’s that mean?”

         Cassidy shrugged, tossed the solved mystery post card on the desk, and remarked as she returned to her chores, “How should I know? I’m just a girl-Friday; you’re the great detectives.”

          “Well, it wouldn’t make sense to send us a message about a bad guy who is already in prison. If we are intended to catch a bad guy, I assume he is working around us here in the free world. The likelihood is that our man is a con.” Spam mused out loud.

          “Makes sense,” Dave continued, “and I’d say he’s probably a new release. So, that means we’ve got a con out there that’s gotten out of jail recently and is getting his hands dirty. Now all we gotta do is figure out who he is and what he’s doin.”

          “Dave, can you have your guys run the record on recent releases, who are living in this area, say within the last six months. We also gotta figure out the connection between this con and Miss. Jane Austen here. She may be a relative or a girlfriend. Check out the immediate families and see if any of them are librarians. Cassidy will check with Phyllis and see if any of her librarian friends have any shady boy-friends. Until we find out what he’s done, that ought to keep us busy.”

          “OK, Spam, I’ll put a man on it. But, I can’t have him on this for long—at least not until we got a crime to solve.”

          “I understand, Dave. We’ll work it from this end when you run out of manpower.”

         The two friends shared a little small talk and then Dave retuned to his office. His work here was finished and so were all the jelly donuts. After he left, Spam picked up the post card and studied it closely. Something just didn’t make sense to the puzzled gumshoe. Eventually, he lay the post card down and turned his attention to Cassidy.

          “Cass?”

          “Yes, Spam.”

          “Cass, something puzzles me about all this.”

          “And, what’s that, Spam?”

          “Well, if this doll knows this is a bad guy, if she knows what he’s doing and if she wants to rat on him, why not just pick up the phone and tell the cops? Why the mysterious post card?”

          “Oh Spam, your really don’t understand women, do you?”

          “Well, apparently not, Cass. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

         Cassidy’s voice softened as she spoke with a tenderness that was in someway personal, “Spam, she loves him. She can’t bear to be the one to hurt him. But, she is also a person with values and she can’t condone the things he is doing. She can’t turn him in, but she can help you stop him. In a sense she is being supportive of him. She is not doing it; you are. But she’s going to make you work for it. Love is a strong emotion with a woman, Spam.”

         Spam studied his girl-Friday, who had become much more than a girl-Friday. Just what that was Spam did not know, or rather did not recognize. Cassidy was special. Spam knew he could not function without her in his life. He tried not to think about it; it got complicated when he thought about it.

          “You can tell all that just from that note?”

          “Well, maybe I’m using a little female intuition also. But I’d bet your jelly donuts on it.” Cassidy smiled and returned to her work. Spam watched her for a good long while. He didn’t hide the fact he was watching. She amazed him and he enjoyed the sight of her.

**********************************

         Spam tossed the file folder with the ream of information Dave’s guy had dug up on recently released cons. There were all sorts of criminals: thieves, murderers, rapist, hoodlums, forgers, pickpockets, blackmailers, and a host of other generally bad guys. Spam figured there would be a lot but not this many. It seemed to him half the city consisted of some sort of crook. So far there wasn’t anything to tie anyone on that extensive list to The Prisoner of Zenda. What he needed was some more help. It had been a week since he received the first post card. He was now looking forward for the mail. Hoping he’d find another post card.

          “Spam, you’ve got jelly on your tie.” Cassidy shook her head and frowned. “I try to keep you cleaned up so you can play with the other boys, but you insist on wearing your food. What am I gonna do with you?”

         Spam smiled at Cassidy, “Just keep on working Cass. I’ll get the hang of it sooner or later.”

          “Well, it’s enough to drive a girl to drink. Oh, by the way, you may be interested in this.” Cassidy laid the post card on top of the mail she had just sorted. “I think you’ve been expecting it.”

         Spam snatched the card from the mess and studied it. He read out loud.

         It pays to be careful with who you associate with. 823 D54 ad3.— Nancy”

          “OK, Cass, you know the drill. Find out what book this is. Maybe this is the clue that’ll lead us to the bad-guy, whoever he is?”

          “Sure, Spam. I’ll give Phyllis a jingle right now.” Cassidy smiled and winked as she added, “What would you do without us ladies?”

         Spam nodded and sat back patiently to wait for Cassidy to reveal the next link in the mysterious post cards. It took only a moment and Cassidy slipped a piece of note paper to Spam.

          “That’s it. That’s your next clue.”

         Spam read, “Oliver Twist.”

          “That’s it—Oliver Twist? Could that be his name—Oliver? No, that’d be too easy. Gotta be more to it. You know anything about this book, Cass?”

          “My lands, Spam, didn’t you read the classics in high school?” She grinned, “Of course not, I bet you paid the brain of the class to write your book reports, didn’t you.”

         Spam shook his head and shared her grin, “Well, I guess I’m busted. After twenty-five years I’m finally exposed. English Lit was not my favorite. So, tell me Cass, what’s the book about?”

          “It’s about an orphan boy who falls in with a group of street urchins who are controlled by a benevolent thief. He takes care of the boys. They in turn take care of him by stealing on the street. The innocence of young Oliver melts the hearts of those he comes in contact with. All except for a man named Bill Sykes; he’s an evil man—violent. He doesn’t stop with small street stuff; no, he’s a big time thief. He specializes in burglary of wealthy homes. He is a really bad guy.”

          “That’s it then! The guy is a thief! I’ll have Dave pull all the names of the cons released in the last six months who were doing time for burglary. I'm interested to know how many of them are named Bill.” Spam picked the card up and studied it again and then continued, “There’s something different here, Cass. Our informant has signed herself as Nancy. You don’t suppose she’s giving us her real name?”

          “I don’t think so, Spam.” Cassidy sighed, “You know, you really ought to do a little more reading. It’d help you be a more rounded person.”

          “I’m round enough, Cass. If her name isn’t Nancy, then what’s it mean?”

          “Well, Spam, Nancy is a character in the book. She is a kind-hearted woman who befriends young Oliver and watches out for his interest, even against Bill Sykes, who by the way is the man she loves. I suppose Nancy has something in common with our mystery informant.”

          “Cass, you are a jewel. Dinner’s on me at Jocko’s tonight.”

          “Spam, you know Jocko doesn’t serve anything but finger foods in his bar.”

          “Well then, the drinks are on me, an’ I’m gonna let you fix dinner at your place. How’s that?”

         Cassidy giggled as she responded, “You are so gallant, Spam. What more can a girl ask for than to fix herself dinner. It must be the company that excites me about that offer.”

         Spam picked up his phone and began dialing Dave’s number. This should narrow down the field.

          “Dave? Spam here .... Listen, I’ve got another lead on that mystery bad-guy were looking for .... Yeah, I got another post card. Cass made the connections with the book. It’s from a book titled Oliver Twist .... What? You’ve read it? Jeez, Dave I’m impressed .... Listen, I think the guy is a second story guy .... Yeah, he’s a burglar. You need to check on the cons who were sent up for burglary. You might check to see how many of them are named Bill. My bet is at least one of them is named Bill. He’s probably our man .... Catch you later Dave; I’ve gotta take Cass out for drinks and dinner. Let me know if you find anything.”

*****************************

         Spam unlocked the door to his office. Cassidy was late getting in; otherwise she would have answered the phone that was ringing. Spam heard it ringing the entire time he was walking down the hall. The caller was persistent.

          “Hello!” Spam barked into the receiver.

          “Oh, hi, Dave .... No Cass isn’t in yet. We were up late last night and I told her to sleep in late this morning .... That’s none of your business. But, if you must know, I slept at my place last night. Now, what is it you want? .... Great, how many of them are named Bill? .... Holy cow! Twenty-five! I guess it is sort of a popular name. How do you suggest we narrow it down to our man? You got any bright ideas? .... Forget them? What do ya mean forget them?”

         Spam slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand, “Jeez! I didn’t think of that. So you got one con named Sikes--Herman Sikes. Different spelling—but, you know that’s gotta be our guy .... You think he’s got something to do with that string of burglaries up in the Manor Heights district? .... Let me guess, you checked his address with his parole officer and it’s a vacant lot .... Yeah, just a lucky guess .... Well, at least we know who our man is; and we got the crime. All we gotta do now is find him. Let me work on it from my side. I’ll let you know if I find anything .... Yeah, I’ll tell Cass ‘hi’ for ya. Catch you later, Dave.”

         Spam busied himself with a dozen little mundane chores. He regretted letting Cassidy take the morning off. Not because he was paying her for time not spent in the office; no, he regretted it because he needed her right then. He wondered at how he got along without her before she came to work for him. He watched the time impatiently and shortly before noon he was rewarded when he heard the sound of her walk outside in the hallway. Her walk was as distinctive as her signature. His pulse quickened and he smiled inwardly at the thought she would soon be in the same room with him.

         Cassidy opened and walked through the door. She cheerfully greeted Spam, “Hi, Boss! Thanks for letting me sleep in this morning. It was just delightful.”

          “Glad to do it Doll, but we’ve got work to do, so drop your stuff on the table and get on the phone to that friend of yours, Phyllis.”

          “Sure, Spam. What’s up?” Cassidy shot an inquisitive glance at Spam as she stored her purse and coat.

          “We know who the mystery bad guy is. His name is Herman Sikes and he’s a cat burglar. Dave thinks he may have something to do with a string of home burglaries up in Manor Heights. I think he’s right.”

          “OK, Spam, what do you want from Phyllis?”

          “Cass, we know who the guy is and suspect we know what he’s up to, but we can’t find him. If we can find his girl, we can find him. Ask Phyllis if she’s seen anything of this guy Sikes around any of her librarian friends. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only shot we’ve got right now.”

         Cassidy called Phyllis and began to recount the details to her. At the mention of the name Sikes, Phyllis paused.

         She continued slowly, “Cassidy, I don’t know of any man named Herman Sikes. But we do have an assistant librarian in the downtown branch by the name of Gloria Sikes. She’s new with us and pretty much keeps to herself. It’s just that the librarian in that branch, Helen, told me that Gloria has come in late on a couple of occasions sporting some bruises. She told Helen she fell and bruised herself. You ask me, those were not made from any fall.”

          “Phyllis, I know this is asking a lot, but could you give me her address. It really is important.”

          “You know I can’t do that Cassidy.”

         There was a pause over the line and Cassidy heard Phyllis shuffling papers, “But I also know that young lady is in trouble. Now, I didn’t say so, but if you were to drive by 2313 Somerset Square, you might see Gloria going into apartment 23B. Now, I can’t give you her address. All I can do is suggest you take a drive.”

         Cassidy smiled. Her voice conveyed the smile through the connection as she remarked, “I understand, Phyllis. I think I will take a little drive this evening. Thanks Phyllis, bye.”

         Cassidy scribbled the address on a pad, tore the sheet with the information from the pad and placed it on Spam’s desk. “Don’t ask where we got that. But you’ll probably find your bad guy there.

         Spam read the address and then grinned at Cassidy, “Doll, if I wasn’t your boss I’d kiss ya.”

          “I can always quit,” she responded coyly.

          “Don’t you dare! We’ll talk about this later. Heck, I may even give you a raise. Right now, I’ve got to take a little trip. Stay near the phone, Cass. I may need to get to ya in a hurry.”

          “Anything you say Spam. I’m not going anywhere.”

***************************

         Spam sat in his car, watching 2313 Somerset Square, Apartment 23B. He spent the afternoon there. He was there when Gloria Sikes came home in the evening from her job at the branch library. He was also there when Herman Sikes came home shortly after her. This was part of the job—waiting. He had a thermos of coffee and a dozen jelly donuts, which were whittled down to two stale donuts. Two hours after Herman Sikes arrived home he opened the door and strolled down the street. Spam started his car and followed carefully behind. Herman waited at the bus stop. However, he did not take the bus when it came through. He continued to wait. Shortly, a large truck drove up and pulled over to the bus stop. Written on the side of the truck was Ace Remodeling and Storage. Herman Sikes got in. As the truck pulled away from the curb, Spam followed.

         The truck ambled along making a number of turns. Spam passed the truck and watched it out of his rearview mirror. He knew it was heading for the Manors. There was only one main road leading there and if the truck turned he felt confident that he could pick it up off of one of the side streets. Besides, he felt no one really suspected being followed from the front. The truck turned, taking a direct route to the Manors. Spam quickened his pace taking a side street and picked them up again at the edge of the exclusive residential neighborhood. He permitted the truck to pass in front of him again and turned behind it. He followed from a block away. It was easy to see the big truck. They slowed in the narrow streets of the residential neighborhood. The trees overhang the street and the big truck dislodged a number of small twigs and a bunch of leaves as it brushed the overhanging limbs. They slowed to a creep and then pulled into the long circular driveway of a large estate. Spam made note of the address and then continued on down the street past the truck. He could see Herman and another man opening the large doors in the rear of the truck. He drove on by. There was a neighborhood grocery about six blocks back. He would use the telephone and call Cassidy.

         Cassidy was filling her time with odd jobs when the Spam’s call rang through to the office.

          “Cass,” Spam began as soon as he heard her voice. “Give Dave a call. Tell him to add another hit to his burglary list—628 Magnolia Gardens .... Yeah send a car, only I’m afraid these guys will be out of there before the car gets here. They’ll make fast work of this .... I’m going to go back and tail them when they leave, if they get away before the cops show up. I’ll give you a call when I get to their stash place.”

         Spam smiled at Cassidy’s response, “Sure, Doll, I’ll be careful. Now, give Dave that call.”

         Spam ended the phone call and hurried back to 628 Magnolia Gardens. As he approached the mansion the truck with Herman and the stolen goods pulled out of the drive and ambled down the street. Somewhere off in the distance Spam heard sirens. The thieves would be well out of sight before they arrived at the burgled house. He kept his distance and followed the truck. They drove casually observing all the traffic laws. They left the residential neighborhood and negotiated a dozen stoplights in the commercial district. This part of town was what some would describe as seedy. The restaurants had long turned into bars and the warehouse district lay before him. They turned down a street lined with warehouses on both sides of the roads. About mid-block they turned into the parking lot of a warehouse that had seen better days. All the windows on the lower level had been either broken out or boarded up. Herman jumped from the passenger’s seat and fumbled with the lock to the double doors, while the driver waited to drive in. Spam pulled to the curb and watched.

         A kid on a bicycle towing a wagon with odds and ends in it approached directly in front of Spam. He rolled down his window and waited until the kid was even with him before he called out.

          “Hey kid! Hey!”

         The boy slowed to a stop and suspiciously peered into Spam’s open window. He saw clutter strewn on the passenger seat and an uneaten jelly donut in a box. He also saw Spam’s .45 cal. hanging in his shoulder holster.

          “You a cop?” The boys asked tersely.

          ”Do I look like a cop?”

          “You got a gun. You either a cop or something worse ‘n a cop.”

          “Don’t worry about that. I ain’t no cop.” Spam scribbled a note on a piece of paper and handed it to the kid with a ten dollar bill. “You get this message to the person who answers the phone from this number and I’ll get you another ten-spot when you get back with her response.”

         The kid shoved the ten dollars in his pocket and read the note. “This is all I gotta do? Just say send Dave to this address?”

          “That’s all you gotta do. And tell me the name of the lady you talked to. That way I’ll know you delivered the message and you can have your other ten dollars.”

          “There’s a phone in Kelly’s, just two doors down from here. You could make the call yourself.”

          “Yeah, I could, but I don’t know Kelly and didn’t know there was a phone there. You make that call and the money’s yours.”

         The boy pulled his bike and wagon over to the side of the street in front of Spam. He glanced at Spam suspiciously and remarked. “I’m gonna leave my bike here. Don’t steal my stuff.”

         Spam watched through his rearview mirror as the boy entered the bar. After a brief moment the boy came out and walked around to Spam’s window.

          “Cassidy says Dave’s on his way. Now, give me my ten dollars.”

         The boy snatched the ten dollar bill from Spam’s hand and jogged over to his bicycle. He checked his stuff to be sure all was there and then he continued past Spam, twenty dollars richer. About twenty minutes passed before Spam saw the familiar cruiser that Dave drove. Two black and white’s trailed behind him. Dave pulled up to Spam and called through his open window.

          “OK, Spam, where’s the action?”

          “Herman and a partner have a moving truck with the stolen stuff inside that rundown warehouse across the street. I’ll lay odds the place is full of stolen goods. They’re inside waiting for an invitation to your bed ‘n breakfast downtown.”

          “Good work, Spam. We’ll drop in for a little visit. You want to come along?”

          “Sure,” Spam left his car and last jelly donut and joined Dave in his cruiser, “I always like a party.”

         The three police vehicles pulled into the parking lot, blocking the door of the warehouse. Rapidly the uniformed officers jumped from the cars and rushed the side office door with guns drawn. Spam followed after them shortly. When he entered the warehouse he found two men lying on the floor with the uniforms cuffing them. Piled against the walls were paintings, furniture, and appliances waiting to be fenced.

         As they pulled Herman Sikes to his feet he spoke to the nearest person, who happened to be Spam. “How’d you find out? How’d you know? I been real careful.”

         Spam smiled at the crook and said, “Dewey told us.”

         Herman Sikes furrowed his eyebrows and quizzed, “Who the hell is Dewey?”

         Spam did not answer. He walked away, leaving Sikes wondering who this mysterious Dewey was. He chuckled as he heard Sikes continue as they led him to the car, “I said who the hell is this Dewey guy?”

*************************

         After about a week, Sikes had been booked and confessed to the burglaries. He was now on his way to prison again. Spam sat back in his chair and closed the file on Herman Sikes. There was no need to even bring Gloria Sikes into the mess. She had enough troubles as it was. But without her help, no one would have ever suspected Herman Sikes, well not for a long time at least.

          “Spam?” Cassidy’s voice brought him out of his meditation.

          “Yeah, Cass, what is it?”

          “Well, looks like you got mail here.” Cassidy handed Spam a post card.

         Spam read the simple note.

          Endings are difficult but worth it. 823 D54c 1868a - Gloria

          “Spam, I already looked it up. The book is A Christmas Carol. And she signed it with her own name this time. This is a personal message from her.”

          “A Christmas Carol? What’s a Christmas story got to do with all this?”

          “Oh, Spam, don’t you remember the story. Gloria talks about endings. The ending of this story is a joyous one. Old Ebenezer is just full of gratitude and good deeds. Spam, this is Gloria’s way of saying thank you. She’s grateful for what you’ve done.”

          “Couldn’t she just call me on the phone and say, “Thanks?” Or maybe she could buy me a drink or fix me a meal?”

          “No, Spam, she couldn’t. And anyways, that’s my job.”