Mr Computer Cleaner Ch. 07

"It's the way women are made," said Ivy. "We filter out rubbish like being told what to do."

"Yeah, why don't you continuing saying disgusting things to us, Mike? You won't offend us."

"Sorry once again, Dio," Mike whispered.

Dio punched him lightly on the arm and said he'd accepted the first apology. Everything was fine.

"I'll phone Terry and if it's a goer we'll meet him for a drink and you can give him your specification. They put out a cheaper model with a single disk CD player and only four speakers, smaller motor and a bench seat instead of bucket seats. That model is called the Workhorse. By that way, there is a great accessory for you – it comes with a removable liner for the back that can be easily hauled out to really wash it down."

"Dunno if I would need to go to the expense. One gets used to the smell of old vegetables and ancient fish. That's handy as well; the odors put people off from borrowing it."

"Get the model that will take a mattress," Susie said in a low voice that would not be heard beyond the kitchen. Mike pretended he had not heard the comment.

Dio left cheerfully. As he walked passed Susie stuck her butt out. He was tempted to whack it hard but knew that Mike would be watching for any ungentlemanly act. So he simply said, "Bye Susie. Thanks for morning tea; I'll pay on the way out."

Celina didn't want the money, so he left it on the counter.

"There was a lot of laughter and chatter in the kitchen," she said. "You do liven this place up when you call."

"Yeah, great atmosphere."

"I though perhaps we would get more work done if we had all males in the kitchen, but I don't think Mike would like that."

"Probably not," replied Dio diplomatically. "Bye."

Mike would certainly not like that, thought Dio as he walked across to his ute. Mike would then have to find something else to do when Celina was away doing the banking in the afternoons.

At midday he picked up Carra from Ronnie's office. She messed up his hair before buckling herself in and sighed, "I've missed you. It's been five hours since I last saw you."

Dio beamed with pleasure. She really was so neat, he thought.

"So, where is this mystery trip taking us?"

"To see a bunch of old fellows. They are expecting us to join them for pies and coffee."

"But I don't eat bought pies."

"Well, it will be an interesting test of Hackett Schmidt's flexibility. He may have thoughtfully bought you women's stuff. We'll have to wait and see."

"Oh, Mr Schmidt? You have often talked about him and he seems so interesting. I seem to remember you telling me he flew in the Luftwaffe during the war.

Dio almost drove off the road.

"Cripes no, don't say that to him. I'd told you I'd mistakenly thought he was a German and was a German fighter pilot during the war. But it turns out he was born in this country and actually has never been to Germany. Please – don't mention anything about my goof."

"All right, keep calm. Perhaps if you didn't think up some of the crazy things you do you wouldn't put yourself at risk. Mr Schmidt has never been to Germany – never been to Germany. See, I've got that. Why are we going to see him?"

"Because he's got something of ours in his garage."

"Oh, he bought some of our junk at our clearing sale and now wants us to buy it back?"

"No, his mind does not work like that. His mind is orderly – he would not purchase things he might later regret."

"He doesn't sound an exciting person."

"I ought to ask him take you for a drive."

* * *

Carra felt apprehensive as Dio parked on the street. Hackett and his two buddies dressed in blue boiler suits, ere lined up outside the garage, holding battered tin mugs of coffee. Pies and sauce were on the table in front of them.

"C'mon, hurry," Hackett called. "Me and the boys are hungry."

"Oh, he's brought the missus, I thought it was only a threat," Hackett joked. "Right boys, put down your mug and wipe your hands. We are about to be introduced to a real lady."

The men were still wiping their hands as Dio approached with Carra walking half a step behind him. She thought the men looked really old and was wondered if they required special dentures to cope with the commercial pie crust.

"Darling," said Dio, reaching behind and pulling Carra forward. "Hackett Schmidt, this is my fiancée Carra Fleming."

Hackett didn't click his heels but bowed, saying, "I'm honored to meet you Miss Fleming. It's a lovely afternoon, made all the lovelier with your arrival."

"Yes indeed. Just the sort of weather for a jolly good dog-fight over the Rhine, I mean pines."

Hackett looked at her curiously while Dio hung his head and counted to twenty.

"Miss Fleming, while I served many years in the Air Force I never actually was in active service – I suspect because of the origins of my name. But there is little point in discussing that. It's my pleasure to introduce the two key members of my team: This over-fed chappie is an artist extraordinaire in metal turning and fitting, Billy Jobb. This little fella who looks as if he's never had a good feed in his life is Alfie Morrow, a consummate master mechanic. Boys, now is an appropriate time to mark Miss Fleming's arrival on-site."

Alfie disappeared for a moment and returned and said to Carra, "Ma'am, please accept this small custom built gift with our compliments. Hackett designed it, Billy created it and put it together and I polished it and did the wiring."

Billy carried out a stainless steel orb that sat in a stainless steel base. A magnifying mirror was attached to the orb and around the perimeter of the mirror was a protruding u-shaped channel in which sat a circular light tube.

"We thought we'd make something pretty good for you," Billy sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "We were told by 'The Hun' – that's what we call Hackett – that Dio, being a pretty neat guy, was bound to pick a babe a heap better than himself, so we rose to the occasion."

Carra was frantically thinking of what to say; what was it? Something to put out on a bird bath?

Billy came to her rescue. "You plug it in and operate this side-dial on the base, which is a triode alternating current switch to allow you to control the intensity of the light level on the targeted area. Then, Hey Presto! You've got the coolest lamp to grace any dressing table. No hair or piece of dry skin or eruption will be safe!"

"How absolutely marvelous," Carra cooed. "What an original and inspirational piece of craftsmanship to grace my dressing table. Perhaps I could report in due course how effectively I am now dealing with skin eruptions."

At that, the boiler-suited men immediately fell in love with her and laughed warmly.

"Now, Miss Fleming," Hackett said. "I actually knew you would be arriving but didn't presume you would like a rabbit pie. So I had the deli make these for you: sliced barbecue chicken on rye, just a scrapping of butter alternative, a pinch of salt and chopped parsley with two small squirts of fat-free Italian salad dressing that has just a tiny touch of garlic. I trust that is to you satisfaction."

"Yes indeed, Mr Schmidt."

"Good, but please call me Hackett."

"I'd love too, but only if all of you address me as Carra."

"Boys, Workshop Memo 104: Dio's missus to be called Carra. No exceptions."

"Thank you, Hackett," Carra said. "This sandwich is gorgeous."

"We could do you a bunny sandwich next time," Billy offered.

"No – chicken's fine, thank you Billy."

"Right, time for inspection. Eat and drink as you go," ordered Squadron Leader Hackett.

The team followed him into the garage.

"What is it – some kind of vehicle?" Carra asked.

Dio grinned but Hackett looked quite offended.

"Some kind of vehicle? This is a late 1952 MG TD Mk 2, or more correctly the disassembled pieces of a late 1952 MG TD Mk 2," Hackett said. The boxed side members and tubular cross-bracings of the chassis have been sand-blasted with some of the welds strengthened and a couple of rusted areas cut out and replaced. The imported slotted vent wheels have been cleaned up – they are in excellent condition – and new tires fitted. Billy and Alfie are working on reconditioning the engine, gearbox, running gear and suspension while I attend to the wooden frame, which is English ash. The woodwork also has to be reconditioned as there is a little bit of rot and some of the joints are loose."

That information assisted Carra to focus. "So this is indeed a car, but not like my MG."

"You have an MG?" Hackett asked in surprise.

"Yes, a 1979 roadster."

"Well this is also a MG, but consider it being a propeller pulled Douglas Dakota compared with your model which is more akin to a Fokker Friendship turbo-prop – a difference of two decades of engineering and technical development."

"I see, although I really don't see because it's all in pieces."

"Then you may wish to look at this poster over here."

Carra followed him into a recess containing a heavy workbench. On the wall above the bench was a manufacturer's poster of the original MG at the time of its introduction to the public.

"Oh!' exclaimed Carra, clapping her hands. "How dinky."

"I be damned – how dinky," muttered Hackett.

"It's an affectionate term," Carra explained. "I love it and want to ride in it to feel like being back in the fifties bouncing on one's ass inside a piece of pure nostalgia."

"I'll be dammed. Bouncing on one's ass inside a piece of pure nostalgia? You should be writing adverts for international corporations, Carra," Hackett said, very impressed.

Carra clutched his arm.

"Would it be all right if I popped in to check on progress from time to time Hackett?"

"What do you think, boys?"

"Yes!" they chorused.

"But Carra, you don't have to bring Dio," Alfie ventured.

"Oh, hullo, Dio," Hackett said. "I'd forgotten you were here."

"Ha-ha," replied Dio, as the others laughed. He tossed the keys of the ute to Hackett. "Take Carra for a spin around the block. After listening to me talking about you she has the impression, for some reason, that you might not be a very exiting person. It was just an early sight-unseen impression, so don't blame her for that. You both appear to be bonding very well."

Hackett had caught the keys, licking his lips. "Right, come on Carra. Driving this little baby gives me so much pleasure. Come and see our neighborhood."

While the other two men stared, wondering why they hadn't been invited to have a drive, Dio called out to Hackett, "Remember – trucks, cops and school children."

"Right, Dio. I've no wish to frighten the missus."

Smoke from tire spin drifted across the driveway entrance as Hackett zoomed off around the block.

"The Hun thinks he's a Boy Racer," Billy commented.

"Listen," Dio said.

The three men heard the sound of protesting rubber of a vehicle being driven hard into a corner.

"That missus of yours will require a change of pants unless she's used to you driving that way," Alfie suggested.

"No, I'm an upright citizen," Dio grinned.

"Right, especially when it comes to chasing crooks – I read that newspaper article about you going after that tosser who robbed that taxi shelia," Billy said. "That was real he-man stuff."

He asked Dio where was going with the chair.

"I'm just putting it here at the door. I think someone will need it."

A couple of minutes later the roar of a V8 motor under heavy acceleration sounded. Then three quick gear changes could be heard, the vehicle slowing down to a throaty burble.

Hackett drove up the driveway, waving with delight.

Dio went to the passenger's door, helped Carra out and walked her to the chair.

"Just sit and breathe deeply. You'll soon be okay," Dio fussed.

"My God, look at you," Hackett said with concern looking at Carra. "Are you all right? You're incredibly white and shaking. What did Dio do to you?"

"I shall be all right," Carra said weakly. "I've just been punished for thinking you sounded rather unexciting. Please, never drive me anywhere again, Hackett."

Alfie raced out with an ice pack and a fan. He put the pack behind Carra's neck and holding the fan right up to Carra's face, turned it to its highest setting.

"She'll be OK is a couple of ticks," he explained. "We used this technique on our drivers belting around short circuits on very hot days."

"But it's not an excessively hot day," Hackett said.

Alfie looked at him. "But it turned into a real scary day for this sweet lass. Both you and Dio should be ashamed of yourselves."

Hackett remained nonplussed, but Dio hung his head.

The lunch guests headed back to town. Carra, now fully recovered after having just managed to retain her lunch, was set to give Dio her first tongue-lashing, but began to smile, having thought of something even better.

"Darling," she said. "When I have just given birth to our first child and you are down on the floor dry retching, I shall call Dio! As poor you responds I shall ask you to come to me instantly and cut the placenta."

Dio looked horrified and Carra felt almost sorry whe'd been so tough on him as she watched his face pale.

"Do you want me to drive, darling?" she simpered.

* * *

The dreaded time for Cal had almost arrived. In a little over twenty-four hours he'd be face to face with his mother-in-law. The three Flemings and Dio had left a couple of hours after dawn for the city, a journey of four hours or more.

After checking into their hotel, Dio and Carra went to her parent's room where it was decided the girls would go shopping and the men could do anything they wished, except get drunk.

"Well, perhaps we'll go to see if we can find some women," Cal said with unaccustomed bravado in the presence of his wife.

"You poor darling," said Carmen, stepping forward and stroking his face. You are so nervous. Never mind, it will be all over early tomorrow morning."

"Poor daddy, you are so nervous," said Carra stepping to the other side and holding Cal's arm against her chest and kissing it.

Cal looked forlorn.

"Dio, for goodness sake take him off for a drink," said Carmen. "Cal, you must promise that you will drink only what and when Dio orders for you; promise!"

Cal nodded as signs of relief floated over his face.

"Dio," Carmen said menacing. "He's not to be delivered back to me drunk, not even in the slightest. Do you understand?" " Sure," Dio smiled.

"I mean it Dio. If I suspect he is the slightest bit drunk I shall really cut loose."

"For goodness sake, Carmen, he has the capacity of two normal men; a couple of drinks won't have any chance of kicking in."

"Thank you for that reassurance Dio. I don't want my Caleb with a hangover and acting like a wimp when meeting mama tomorrow morning. That would mean a victory to her, and I couldn't stand that."

"I'll give him a pep talk," Dio suggested.

"Oh will you darling," Carmen said, twirling away from her husband to finish right up against Dio. She reached up and waggled Dio's left ear. "It will be so good of you to do that."

"Mama!"

Carmen stepped away from Dio and innocently asked, "Yes darling?"

"Let's go shopping!" Carra said, glaring at Dio who wondered why he was getting 'the look' instead of Carmen.

The men looked for a bar, or more precisely 'a suitable bar' as Cal had prescribed. Dio had no idea how one could tell whether a bar was suitable. Did Cal mean clean or the beer was at the right temperature or did the bar have to offer just the right ambiance?

He found the answer was not at all complicated. While Dio was instructed to wait on the pavement, Cal went into six bars to check them out before coming to the entrance to the sixth bar, all smiles, and beckoned to Dio, to enter.

"The two women are real lookers. The place is empty so we'll have their undivided attention."

That's very interesting, Dio concluded. The quality of the beer and cleanliness of the premises are not how one judges whether the bar is 'suitable'. Once seated Cal immediately pushed aside Carmen's instructions and acted uncooperatively. "A limit of four light alcohol beers and one whisky. Bloody hell! Light beers taste like lamb's piss."

"I wouldn't know, lacking your experience of such close intimate contact with sheep."

Cal squared his shoulders and looked straight at the point of Dio's jaw.

"Steady on," cautioned Dio. "Hit me and we'll go to a coffee shop."

"You're psychopathic!"

My word, Dio thought. That's a big word for Cal to use. Getting away from his workplace and his dominant wife allows him to express himself more freely.

"Two Sentinels, please miss," Dio said.

Both men enjoyed watching the young woman bend to wipe their table. The expanse of suddenly revealed skin extended almost to her navel. They watched her walk away.

"You didn't have to drink light alcohol beer."

"I know, but I had to order the crap to prove to you that I am psychopathic."

"That's a bloody big word for you to use, boy," laughed Cal, jarring Di's teeth as he thumped him on the shoulder.

"This despotic bitch from Argentina," Dio said, turning serious. "When did you last see her?"

"We visited her four years ago."

"So, even after all those years since your wedding, she's still got the knife in you for taking her daughter away."

"Yes."

"Bloody hell."

"Well said!"

"No doubt you are expecting more of the same."

"Yep. There is no alternative, is there?"

Cal watched the barmaid walking over with their drinks. He smiled and she beamed at him. Dio hadn't notice this as he was looking out of the window but he assumed it would be happening. He heard the bottles being placed on the table and guessed that the barmaid would probably be pleased that a good tip was now being tucked into the top of her stocking. But he was wrong. Looking around, he saw Cal handing her five bucks, which she tucked into the pocket of her shirt, her eyes not leaving Cal's steady gaze.


Thinking he was surplus to requirements, Dio turned to the window again, gazing at the city skyline.

"Is there?"

"Is there what?" Dio replied, when realizing that Cal was talking to him.

"Is there an alternative? She'll dominate me again, just as she's done in the past. I'm not scared of her, you know – I just try to be compliant to please Carmen."

"I'm sure that is the reason, Cal. Cheers."

"Cheers."

"Lamb's piss," grimaced Dio, and Cal roared with laughter.

"Cal, the only way out is to break the cycle between you and this Ogre of Las Pampas is that you have to take a stand."

"I don't think that's her title. Over there they address her in Spanish in a highfalutin title that goes on for at least ten seconds."

"That's simply window-dressing Cal, just like lipstick and make-up. Remove it and she's just like any other old dame. I want you to regard her as the Ogre of Las Pampas. For someone who's just managed to say highfalutin, you ought to be able to manage that."

"Ogre of Las Pampas. Ogre of Las Pampas. Shouldn't that be ogress?"

"Very good Cal, but let's not become pedantic. This woman's has balls, so ogre will be fine. Now Cal, listen very carefully. This is what I want you to do. You will have only one opportunity to break the cycle – the very first opportunity that presents itself. You must remember that she's a conniving ogre out to dominate you, to take your manhood away from you – with a knife perhaps."

"Jeeze, Dio. Lay off a bit will you; I value my gear."

"Right, then do everything to protect it. She will come off that plane saying to herself, 'One tight squeeze of that dog Caleb Fleming's nuts and he'd all mine for the duration. Got that?"

Cal nodded, wide-eyed.

"Say it Cal."

"At the very first opportunity before she squeezes my gear I'm going to break free by mortifying her and thereafter she will lay off me and treat me with respect."