The Kid Nobody Missed

This is my story for The 2021 "Hammered: an Ode to Mickey Spillane" Author Challenge.

I had no illusions of writing a story completely true to Spillane's style. I wanted to blend some of his tone with my love of romance. For that reason, I did a piece set several decades past a typical Mike Hammer adventure.

I need to especially thank Chloe Tzang for organizing this challenge. It was great fun writing something outside of my comfort zone.

There is no sex involving anyone under 18, and I left gory details up to the reader's imagination. I hope you enjoy it.

Barry James -- August, 2021.

The Kid Nobody Missed --A Zack Masters Story

May, 1973

"Look, y'all! We got us a baby killer on the bus."

They thought I was asleep, but I overheard the four of them working up the courage to act on their stupidity. It looked like the big, ugly redhead was gonna be the spokesman. He stood next to my seat trying to hover over me with the clear intent to provoke a fight. Funny, that's just what I wanted. After spending most of the last five years in Vietnam, I was getting really pissed by being pelted with tomatoes and my overall shitty welcome home. It was time to work him up so he'd take the first punch.

"I bet your momma would like it if I killed her big-ass baby. You look like a total embarrassment to your family. Shit, you're dumb as hell and damn ugly too."

I wished I had come up with something better, but it was working.

"What, asshole? What did you say?"

I stood, towering over him, and stared down at him. I enjoyed watching the color drain from his face. "I said, you're dumb, ugly, and your family is ashamed of what a lowlife you are. Why don't you and the three stooges here just go back to your circle-jerk and leave decent people alone?"

I guess he felt brave with his backup. The idiot took the bait. I blocked his attempt at a punch and let my training take over. I knocked the breath outta him, broke his nose, dislocated a shoulder, and threw him to the ground while I sized up the other three assholes. I was surprised to see that a bunch of other guys were beating the crap outta them.

The bus driver had pulled over once the fight started. He walked towards me and I assumed he was fixing to give me hell.

"I got on the CB and called the cops. They should be here in a few minutes to take care of these guys. Soldier, I apologize for how you were treated."

"Uh, thank you, sir. It's not your fault, but I appreciate it."

"Hey, I'm a vet, too. Fought in the Philippines in World War II. It makes me mad as hell how jerks like these guys treat our homecoming heroes. What's your name, son?"

"Zack Masters, sir."

The others on the bus started applauding. I looked at the guys who took down the other three.

"I appreciate your help, fellas." I looked at each guy individually. As I did, they gave their names.

"Pete Scancella, Korean War."

"Jim Farley, Vietnam in '66 and '67."

"Elrod Washington, Korea."

"Jake Donner, Korea."

"Bill Taylor, just got home from 'Nam a year ago."

"Sam Jenkins. I served in Europe during World War II."

"Geez, guys," I said. "We could start a VFW right here on the bus."

The local cops arrived, took our statements, and roughly herded the four morons into squad cars. Before they left, the chief pulled me aside.

"Son, these four are gonna wish they were never born. Here in Thackerville we don't take kindly to these war protesters. The local judge will put 'em away for a while to give them a chance to reconsider their views. Are y'all willin' to come back for a trial if we need ya?"

"Sure. I can do that."

"Probably won't be necessary. With the witness accounts, the most we may need is a deposition that y'all can do in your hometown. Local DA is great at persuadin' boys like these to take a deal. So, don't worry yourself about it, and thanks for being a man and servin' your country. There's lots of folks that appreciate it."

We got back on the bus and one of my helpers, Pete Scancella, approached me.

"Well, that made this trip interesting. Zack, do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Don't mind at all. You said you served in Korea?"

"Yeah. It was a weird time, but nothing like this Vietnam thing. When we returned home we didn't have to deal with the shit you boys are getting."

"I heard about some of it while I was in Saigon, but it's worse than I expected. I just processed out at Bergstrom Air Force Base down there in Austin. The shitheads threw rotten food at me, I was shouted at, and called some damn ugly names. I guess I shoulda bought some civilian clothes before headin' home. Wearing this uniform is supposed to be some sign of honor, but instead I've become a target."

"Hell, wear it proudly, Zack. I'm sure when you get home your family will show you the love and respect you deserve."

"I guess they would, but there's nobody left. My pop was my last relative and he died while I was overseas. That's why I'm taking my time traveling home."

"Where's home?"

"Allentown, Pennsylvania."

"Why you takin' a bus all the way there? You coulda flown and been there in four hours."

"I was stupid. A guy I met at Bergstrom told me about buses and how they were a great way to see the country. I had no deadline, so I thought I'd give it a try. But I gotta tell ya, at six-foot-five, and 250 pounds, my ass is not lovin' these bus seats. I bought tickets to go as far as Kansas City, but then I'm flying home from there. Besides, the windows are so damn dirty that I can't see America anyway. Cramped seats, no view, and this god-awful smell? I'm thinkin' air is the way to go."

"Yeah, I hate the bus, too. But I go from Austin to Oklahoma City once a month to see my kid, and it gets too expensive to fly. So, what's waiting for you in Allentown?"

"My pop was a private investigator. He left me his house and office. I just turned twenty-five, so I can get my PI license and take over like Pop and I planned. Got plenty of training. I started as an MP and eventually was assigned to criminal investigation."

"CID, huh? I thought of doing that. Did they train you at Fort Wood?"

"Yep. Fifteen weeks."

We talked for a while before he decided I needed room to stretch out. We promised to keep in touch, but I didn't expect that would happen.

*****

I stayed in Kansas City a few days to sightsee and sample some of their best steak and barbeque. I called my pop's best friend, Liam McMurray, who would meet at the airport once I landed in Allentown. He also had keys for my pop's place and had been keeping the bills paid until I returned. Liam was a detective with the Allentown police, and was my pop's partner when they both were on the beat.

My flight plan called for a connection in Pittsburgh. I thought of staying in the Steel City for a day to visit an old friend who served with me in the CID, but at that point I was anxious to see home and, especially, a certain girl. It made me wonder why I was willing to take the bus instead of flying. But, shit, I hated flying, and the flights home did nothing to change my opinion. They were bumpy as hell, and both landings were more like barely controlled crashes.

I felt good getting' off that damn flying hunk of metal. Walking through the terminal it struck me that I was looking mostly at the tops of people's heads. Shit, the last time I was here was five years and four or five inches ago. Everything would be different. Pop was gone. I was grown. The army was in my past. My stomach churned and I noticed my hand cramping from holding onto my carryon so damn tightly. I had to face a new life, and I hated change more than I hated flying.

In baggage claim, things got better when I saw the man who was my second father. I've never been the hugging type with guys, but the bear hug he gave me felt damn good.

"Uncle Liam!"

"Zachariah! Wow, you really turned into a giant-of-a man. When did you get so big?"

"I had a late growth spurt my first year."

"Damned good to have you home, son. I sure wish your dad was here. He'd be proud as hell."

My mouth and throat were dry and I could feel my lips quiver. "Yeah, thanks. Hell, I wish I could have seen him one more time. It was bad enough being away, but...shit, it will be weird now at home without him."

"He was so proud of you. Shame he's gone. I miss him too, but I know he looked forward to having you as a partner."

"Man, I could still learn a lot from him. But serving with the CID has given me a ton of experience."

"Well, I got things set up for you to get your PI license. But we can talk about that later. How about I take you home? You can relax a few hours, then I'll pick you up for dinner. Sound good?"

"Sounds real good. Is Aunt Nancy cooking?"

"Uh, no. I guess you haven't heard. Nan and I kinda separated for a while. She took Caitlyn and they're living in Pittsburgh with Nan's mom."

"Damn, Uncle Liam. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. It is what it is. Good news, though--I think she'll be home soon. And, hey, you can drop that 'Uncle' shit. Makes me feel old."

"Well, Liam, I have to be honest. I really wanted to see Caitlyn. Uh, can I ask, is she with anyone?"

He burst into a loud belly laugh. "The two of you were always close. No, she's not with anybody. Something tells me you have some designs on my little girl."

"You know I've always cared about her. She was so damn young when I left that it wasn't right to do anything about it. But, I gotta tell ya, Caitlyn was always on my mind. I'd be lying if I didn't say I wanted to see if, ya know, if we could be..."

"Zachariah, I'd be the one lying if I didn't say I hope you two eventually hitch up. She was a mess when you left for the Army, and we tried to explain things to her. But I'm pretty sure you've had her heart since she was a little girl. I hope she moves back soon."

""Yeah, me too. Hey, do me a favor."

"Sure. What?"

"If I gotta drop the 'uncle,' can you call me Zack? When Pop called me Zachariah, it meant I was in trouble."

*****

Over dinner, Liam gave me an update on how things had been in Allentown. Basically, things weren't much different. Cheating investigations were way up with soldier's wives being lonely and seeking local loving. Liam thought my military background would make my services attractive to vets and guys still overseas. Plus, if I could make a few bucks while puttin' the screws to scum who preyed on women whose husbands were overseas, not to mention the women who were only too happy to be seduced, I was fine with that.

Liam dropped me at home and the house felt kinda eerie. I wandered through the office thinking about Pop. The smell of his pipe tobacco lingered making it feel like he was still there. Mementos sitting around never meant much to me before, but now they seemed like treasures 'cause they were Pop's.

The old place was a twin in the same area as many local law firms. Every firm knew my old man, and his office was always nearby when one of their clients needed his services. Pop knew what he was doing when it came to this business.

Above the first floor offices were two floors of living quarters. I went upstairs, flopped into bed, and began to dwell on plans for the future. This was the same exercise I had done every night for years, but now I was ready to get things rolling. While my PI license was being processed, I decided that I'd spend the next week or so looking up old friends and seeing how many were still around. Most important, somehow I needed to talk with Caitlyn. Damn! Why was she in Pittsburgh?

It took a while, but I finally drifted off to sleep.

*****

In the morning, I grabbed breakfast at a local greasy spoon, choosing a booth that gave me a view of both the front and back door. My waitress, with more curves than Tom Seaver, kept my cup filled with coffee. I spent the day organizing the house and office. Uncle Liam had a service keep things clean, so I didn't have much to do except put things where I wanted them.

The next day, I visited the local Ford dealer to get a used truck and found an old friend who was now working for the dealership.

"Craig? Craig Schwartz?"

"Geez, is that really you, Zack?"

"Yep. Just got home."

"Damn, when did you get so big?"

"The Army kinda makes you grow up, know what I mean?"

"I heard you served. Got drafted, huh?"

"No. I signed up. My draft number was low so I knew I wasn't gonna escape. Besides, I wanted to serve in military investigations, and signing up gave me a better shot. What about you?"

"I got called up, but I'm 4-F. I'm deaf in my left ear. Shame, really. I wanted to serve."

"So, got a good used truck you can sell me?"

"Just so happens I have a '70 F-100. Only 12,000 miles, and in great shape."

Most salesmen were as slick as an otter in Vaseline, but I trusted Craig. "That sounds expensive. I was thinking older and cheaper."

"It's right over there. Take a look at it while I talk to my manager. He's got a soft spot for vets. And the fact that you're my friend may get you a price you can swing."

Dark blue, clean, and sexy as hell, it was exactly what I wanted. Craig got me a great deal and I paid cash on the spot.

"Zack, you're gonna love this baby. Good luck with it."

"Thanks, man. It's a hell-of-a nice pickup."

"Hey, tonight I'm getting together with some friends at Gracie's Bar. Some are old classmates of ours. Why don't you join us?"

"I like the sound of that. What time?"

"We all usually get there by about six. Gracie's still serves a mean burger, then we'll shoot some pool and shoot some shit as well."

*****

I spent the rest of the afternoon getting to know my new girl, Vickie. It took a few minutes to come up with a name for her, but Vickie seemed to fit. She and I would be spending plenty of time together on stake-outs and crusin' around town.

I showed up at Gracie's and spotted Craig right away along with a few other guys I knew. Unfortunately, one of them was Bob Smith, a real prick. He used to go out of his way to make my life miserable. He grew at an earlier age than the rest of us, so in eighth grade he decided being a bully was fun. When he hit about five-ten, he stopped growing and we all passed him. It looked like the schmuck was still about the same size.

He was wearing an out-of-date Nehru jacket and pastel paisley bell bottoms that seemed to light up under the black lights in the bar. One large paisley was strategically located where his dong would be. This guy had more issues than a Nixon voter at a love-in.

"Hey, Zack," Craig shouted. "You remember Tom, Alan, and Bob?"

"Sure do."

Bob hung back with some other guys I didn't know while the others said hi. He said something to his friends, nearly missed the bar trying to put down his brew, and staggered over acting like he owned the place.

"Hey, w-w-war-monger. Home from r-rapin' and killin'?"

"You know, Bob, nothing would make me happier than to beat the crap outta you. You've been a piece of shit as long as I've known you. If you had an ounce of brains, you'd get your buddies to carry you outta here right now."

"Why? W-whattaya gonna do?"

He put his hand on my chest and pushed. I was gettin' sick of this crap, and nothing would have made me happier than paying him back for all the shit I had to put up with from this turd. I didn't think the folks around us would appreciate that. Instead, I wanted to embarrass him. I grabbed his trapezius muscle right where his neck and shoulder met, and pinched the hell out of it. He went to his knees in agony, but the pain would stop as soon as I let go.

"Tell you what, Bobby. Why don't you leave before I make an example of what happens to stupid assholes like you?"

Craig and the others apologized as they dragged Bob and his crew out the door. The extra shove at the end left no doubt about who my friends were. Folks were clapping in appreciation for ridding the room of the stench of Bob Smith.

"Sorry, Zack. None of us like Bob much anyway. I think it's time he finds someone else to hang out with and annoy."

"No problem. Thanks for the backup."

I looked around and noticed that the room had quite a mix of people. There were lots of working class guys getting a buzz after a long day. Craig and a few of the guys were examples of a younger set of up-and-comers wearing suits and ties. Then there was the group of hippies. Somehow, I never expected they were into the bar scene.

"Craig, what's with the hippies over there?"

"Oh, they come here most nights for a cheap meal--at least the ones who aren't vegetarians. Don't you recognize any of them?"

Just as he asked, a skinny blonde walked towards us. Her long hair hung down over a white top that matched a very loose skirt. Both were sheer and you could see that she had nothing on underneath. I looked at the flowers in her hair, then at her face, and I instantly recognized her.

"Damn, Craig. Is that Sheila Peters?"

"Yep. She's gone wild and stupid. Can you believe it?"

Sheila was in my class and I had a big crush on her. She was always flighty, so I guessed her becoming a flower child shouldn't have been a surprise.

"Zack? Is that you?"

"Yeah. Hi, Sheila."

"Far out! You remember me. Oh, call me Moonbeam. Nobody calls me that other name anymore."

"Moonbeam?"

"Oh, yeah. The first time I made love was under moonlight, so it always reminds me of that night."

"Wow. I guess that's something special."

"Oh, yeah. So you're back from that stupid war?"

"Sheila, I mean, Moonbeam, you're not gonna give me shit about that too, are you?" Her dreamy, fake little voice was starting to annoy the hell outta me.

"What? Oh, no. You do what you have to, I guess. I mean, I do believe in making love, not war, but I guess not everyone can choose. You don't like war, do you?"

"Nobody likes war except those in power who make them happen."

"See, you love peace like I do."

"I guess you can say that. So, other than making love, what do you do these days?"

"Not much else. We party and smoke weed. I live with my friends in a house nearby, and we just are, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess I know." What I knew was they were all delusional thinking they could escape real life.

"You want to join us, Zack? It could be fun, and, if you like, we could make love later. I always wanted to be with you."

Damn, I couldn't get to first base with girls in high school. Being freely offered a home run caught me off guard.

"No, but, uh, thanks for the offer."

"Oh, bummer. It would be groovy."

"Sorry, Moonbeam."

"Okay, I guess. So what are you gonna do now that you're back from the war?"

"I'm gonna do what my pop did."

"He was fuzz, wasn't he?"

"I don't like that word. He was a private detective."

"I'm sorry. I don't want to offend anyone or anything. I just think we should all live in peace, you know?"

"Nice sentiment, but it only takes one person wanting to make trouble to kill the peace."

"Well, okay. I gotta go. Bye, Zack."

She kissed me and gave me a flower out of her hair. As she walked away, I turned to Craig. "Geez, she's turned into a real flake."

I spent a few hours with the guys, then left to head home after agreeing to meet at Gracie's the next evening. Craig was right. It was good and cheap, and I had no desire to eat my own cooking if I could avoid it.

*****

The following day, I ran a bunch of errands before going to Gracie's for dinner. The other guys weren't there yet, but I noticed the hippie group was already chowing down. Just as I sat, Sheila, I mean, Moonbeam came to my table.

"Hi, Zack. Can I talk to you?"

"Sure, as long as you're not gonna try to get me to join your hippie friends."