Whatever Happened to Memphis Smith?

Dick Tracy hustled down the street, his coat pulled close around him against the cutting wind. He stopped in front of the Easton St. Marie Hotel, a luxurious establishment that was well-known for its upscale clientele. He looked at the doorman, who stood rigidly at attention.

“Hello, Memphis.” Tracy said. “It’s been a while.”

“Afternoon, Mr. Tracy.” The doorman didn’t smile, but he raised his eyebrows in recognition. “It doesn’t seem so awfully long to me.”

“You look good.” Tracy pointed out the doorman's uniform. “It suits you. You keep the buttons nice and shiny.”

“If a man doesn’t take pride in his appearance, how can he take pride in his work?” Memphis asked, rhetorically. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I’m working a case. I thought you might be able to provide me with some information.” Tracy answered. 

“Aw, come on now, Mr. Tracy.” Memphis narrowed his eyes. “You know it’s bad for my reputation to be seen talking to you.”

“Got another idea?” Tracy asked.

“Well, today’s Wednesday.” Memphis looked down at his feet, then back up. “On Wednesdays I treat myself to a shoeshine. There’s a bench inside, in the left hallway off the lobby. Nice and secluded. I take my break in about fifteen minutes.”

“Good.” Tracy walked into the hotel. Memphis kept his gaze forward.

Later, Tracy sat at the shoeshine bench, pretending to read a newspaper. Memphis settled into a seat next to him and put his feet on the supports. The older man working the stand began to polish Memphis’ shoes. 

“Is it all right to talk here?” Tracy asked.

“Nothin’ stoppin’ us.” Memphis replied. “Shorty here keeps his focus on the job in front him, ain’t that right Shorty?”

“How’s that?” Shorty looked up, briefly distracted.

“Never mind, you just keep up the good work.” Memphis turned back to Tracy. “Now what’s troublin’ you, Tracy?”

“Some women have turned up dead.” Tracy said bluntly. “Four of them in the past 6 weeks. All young, fairly attractive. No identification, no matching dental records, none of them were reported missing. Their bodies were all found on the south side, near the marina.”

“Well, that’s a shame. Sometimes it seems like this city’s going the tubes.” Memphis said, sardonically.

“One of them had a tattoo in Cyrillic. We think that may connect her to some stories we’ve been hearing about the Russian mafia and human trafficking. They find these desperate young women back in the old country, charge them whatever money they can get together and tell them that they’ve found husbands for them in America. Then the women get here and they’re put to work as call girls.” Tracy sighed heavily. “If they cause any trouble, they get threatened with being sent back. Or, it looks like, just get killed.”

“Uh-huh. And why’d you come to me with all this?” Memphis asked.

“This is high-end establishment. You see all the comings and goings. I thought you might have noticed something.”

“Hmm.” Memphis rubbed the top of his head, thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, I have seen a few things that struck me as odd...”

“What’s that?” Tracy leaned closer.

“Well, several weeks ago, I started to notice a few young ladies that came to the hotel on more than one occasion. Sometimes they’d arrive alone, sometimes with a fellow. But never the SAME fellow, you understand?”

“I see.” Tracy said.

“And these ladies were surely pretty, I can tell you. What really stood out, though, was that when they spoke, they spoke with an accent.”

“Eastern European?” Tracy asked.

“Aw, come on now, Mr. Tracy. You know I’m not a world traveler.” Memphis looked at Tracy and smiled. “But they did sound like the kind of women you might see in a James Bond picture. You know, like from the 70s maybe? Or the 80s? One of them ones with Roger Moore. I like him, I’ll tell you.”

“I prefer Connery.” Tracy said, not smiling.

“That does not surprise me.” Memphis replied. “Anyway, these ladies didn’t SEEM to be up to anything unwholesome, and it’s certainly not my place to look sideways at any of the hotel guests, you understand?”

“I do.” Tracy said.

“But the other thing that struck me as peculiar was that every time one of them would leave in the morning, they would be met out front by the same car. A dark, late model number. Big SUV, you know the kind?”

“The same car, every time?” Tracy asked.

“That’s what caught my attention.” Memphis said. “In fact, I took note of the license number, just in case it became important.”

Memphis held up a slip of paper.  “You find the owner of that vehicle, and I’d say you’re a step closer to tracking down your killer.” 

Tracy took the paper. He held out a folded bill. Memphis looked from the money to the detective.

“Why you have to insult me like that, Mr. Tracy?” Memphis scowled. “You know I’m not interested in your money. You just hold onto that.”

Memphis stood. He patted Shorty on the shoulder.

“You take care of this man, now, Shorty.” Memphis urged the shoe shine worker. “That’s a famous police detective. Worth his weight in gold and then some. You give him the deluxe executive shine.”

Memphis put on his cap, tipped it at Tracy and walked away up the corridor. Shorty turned to Tracy.

“You know he didn’t pay me, right?” Shorty asked.

Tracy chuckled as he reached for his wallet. “Yowsah…”

END

Custom Action Figure - 3.75" Movie Pruneface

Admittedly, this custom is not especially interesting. It's the head from an Applause figurine on a Men In Black 3 body. Same recipe as Itchy, basically.

The suit is actually purple, though in the photo it looks more blue. I went with grey hair because it's closer to the comic strip version.

I have more customs planned in this scale. Yes, Breathless is coming...

Endangered Species

“I appreciate you taking the time to do this, Mrs. Tracy,” the man known as The Mole said as he sat in the passenger seat of Tess Tracy’s sedan. His bulky figure was cramped, but he did not complain.

“It’s no trouble, Mole. I didn’t have any plans today.” Tess replied.

“I mean the whole project.” Mole continued. “I know that your time is valuable, and I can’t pay much…”

“Consider this a wedding present.” Tess smiled.

The Mole smiled back, grateful to have friends. In the weeks leading up to his impending marriage, he had taken on several projects of his own. His reading was improving, and his renovation of the shelter was making significant progress.

When Mole and Mrs. Spencer had gone in to get their blood tests, a thought had occurred to him. He had nearly set it aside, but he mentioned it to his fiancée and she had agreed that it was a good idea. Soon after, he had contacted Tess and her partner at the detective agency. Mole was surprised at the quickness of their results, though he supposed he probably should not have been.

Tess turned the car into a parking lot in front of a large building. Elaborate landscaping lined the walkways to the main door, and the face of the building was split up into large windows. Mole tried to make out the words on the sign in front.

“Stony… Brook… Assis-  Assistant?” he asked.

“’Assisted Living’, Lewis.” Tess explained. “It’s a group home for differently-abled people.”

“Oh.” Mole did not completely understand. Tess parked the car and they entered the building.

They were greeted by a slender young woman with long blonde hair and light eyes. She smiled broadly when she saw Tess.

“Mrs. Tracy!” The young woman threw her arms around Tess in warm hug. Mole felt slightly awkward.

“Hello, Tinky! How are you?” Tess held the young woman at arm’s length, looking her over.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted!” Tinky said with a smile. “I’m always running around doing one thing or another. But it’s worth it!” Tinky finally acknowledged Mole. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You must be the Mole!”

“Yes, Tinky, this is Mr. Rewes, the man I told you about.” Tess said. Mole was aware that other people seemed to be more sensitive about using his criminal alias than he was. He appreciated Tess making a point to address him by his name, but he was more impressed by Tinky’s smile. Her face held no sign of disgust or revulsion as she looked at him, which was an uncommon treat for Mole.

“I’m so glad you make it, Mr. Rewes.” Tinky held out a hand and Mole took it. “Wow, that’s a really big hand! It’s like a catcher’s mitt!”

Mole chuckled. “Toad says the same thing.” Tinky looked puzzled. “Toad is my… Well, she’s going to be my step-daughter. She’s a little girl. She likes baseball.” Mole explained.

“Oh, that’s great.” Tinky said. “Bring her by sometime. Some of our residents would love to play catch, I bet. Mr. Bailey used to be a minor league pitcher, I think.”

“I might do that.” Mole was non-committal. He was unsure how this meeting would turn out.

“Anyway, we can’t stand here all day.” Tinky was a bundle of energy. “Come on, I’ll take you back to meet him.”

They walked through a series of hallways, past several rooms and common areas.

“You’ve made wonderful progress with the place, Tinky.” Tess observed.

“Thanks. It was a real rat-hole when me and Spec took over.” Tinky was clearly not someone who minced words. Mole appreciated that.

“Is Spec here? I’d love to see her.” Tess asked.

“She’s on a supply run.” Tinky explained. “If she’s not careful, she can spend the whole day at the Costco and blow our month’s operating budget. And Lizz is no help. I asked her to go with Spec on a trip once and it took twice as long because they were gabbing on the whole time.”

“Do you see Lizz often?” Tess was unsure how delicate the subject would be.

“Sometimes.” Tinky’s voice was matter-of-fact, not betraying any distress. “She mostly comes to see Spec.”

“Oh.” The group was quiet, except for the sound of their footsteps.

“Vitamin was here last week, though.” Tinky offered, brightly. “Came to see ol’ Squinty-Eyes. Apparently they’re friends from way back when? Did some theater together.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Tess smiled.

“Yeah, ‘nice’ isn’t the word.” Tinky observed, sardonically. “Vitamin’s a shameless flirt, and when the two of them work together? Forget it! A lot of these lady residents aren’t used to that kind of attention. They get all flustered like you wouldn’t believe.”

Tess laughed, and Mole smiled. He felt a bit left out of the conversation, but was impressed by the facility. The residents seemed happy, and enjoyed a certain amount of autonomy. Mole had always had a strong independent streak, and he often feared not being able to take care of himself in his declining years. Knowing that he would have a family eased his mind, though, and he concluded that he wouldn’t mind living in a place like this if it became necessary.

Finally, Tinky stopped the group at a door and knocked. A man wearing dark glasses and carrying a cane answered.

“Yes?” he asked.

“It’s me, Mr. Rhodent.” Tinky replied. “I have those visitors with me that I told you about.”

Mole looked at the man, slightly stunned. He had asked Tess to try and find out if he had any family that could be located. He had known that it would be a difficult task, since he was a foundling. Mole had been raised by Louis Rewes, a sewer worker who had found him after he had been abandoned by his birth parents. Tess had confirmed Mole’s suspicions that Louis had had no family of his own.

“I’m sorry, Mole, but the Rewes line seems to end with you.” Tess had said that day in her office.

“I understand, Mrs. Tracy.” Mole’s shoulders had slumped. “And with my own daughter and granddaughter dead, it looks like I have no family at all. Except for the new one I’ll be starting.”

“That’s a good way to look at it.” Tess had said, consolingly. Then, a thought had occurred to her. She had asked Mole for access to his blood test results, and had said she would contact him if she found anything. A few days later, she called to invite him to this meeting. 

“Louis, this is William W. Rhodent. According to the DNA test we conducted, the two of you are cousins.” Tess explained.

“Is that a fact?” Mr. Rhodent asked. “You’re sure?”

“As near as we can tell, sir.” Tess said.

“Please, Mole needs to sit down…” Mole leaned against the wall, his old verbal habit creeping back in to his voice.

“Yes, of course, come in.” Mr. Rhodent stepped out of the way and let the group in.

“I actually have to get back to the front desk.” Tinky excused herself. “Give me a ring if you need anything, okay?” She left without waiting for an answer.

Mole settled himself into a chair in Mr. Rhodent’s room and took a few deep breaths.

“Mole is-  I mean, I’m sorry.” He puffed. “I’m overwhelmed.”

“Let me get you some water.” Tess poured a cup full from a pitcher at Mr. Rhodent’s bedside. Rhodent sat on the bed, facing Mole.

“So you’re the Mole, huh?” Mr. Rhodent asked. “I’ve heard of you. Frankly, I’m not surprised we’re connected.”

“Do I look like the rest of your family?” Mole asked.

“I’m blind.” Rhodent explained.

“Oh.” Mole shook his head. “I’m sorry. This is so much.”

“I’ll tell you what, If you don’t mind, I’ll feel your face, and that’ll give me an idea what you look like.” Rhodent offered.

“Yes, go ahead.”

Standing and walking carefully, Mr. Rhodent approached the Mole. He held out his hands, and Mole took him by the wrists and guided his hands to his face. Mr. Rhodent felt Mole’s features for a moment, then gasped.

“Ye Gods…” he said quietly. “You could be brothers…”

“Who’s that?” Mole asked, eagerly.

“My boy, Roderick.” Rhodent took a step back, feeling for the wall. Tess stood and guided him back to the bed. “Thank you. My only son, he had a face just like yours. He became a criminal, and died.”

“That’s what made me think of Mr. Rhodent when you wondered if you had any family, Louis.” Tess explained. “Years ago, one of Dick’s cases involved a mysterious man with a face like- Well, the newspapers called him the ‘rat-faced man’. I’m sorry, Mr. Rhodent.”

“I understand.” Rhodent breathed heavily. “Roddy didn’t have it easy growing up with his mother and me. Our eyesight was never very good to begin with, and he took advantage, sneaking things here and there. My father lived with us for a while when Roddy was a boy, and he used to tell him these long stories about his brother - my uncle - who was an outlaw. Made it sound so glamorous.”

“We think that must be your biological father, Louis.” Tess explained.

“Seems like it must be. My father had the same sort of features- big nose, hairy face, little eyes. He always said it ran in his family. I got lucky and took after my mother. Little Roddy, though, he got the Rhodent looks as bad as anyone.” Mr. Rhodent spoke bluntly.

“This man, your uncle…” Mole began, “What did your father say about him?”

“Just what I told you. He was a crook. Stole and cheated, and when he had money he threw it around on liquor and loose women.” Mr. Rhodent felt around for his bedside table. Tess went to help him, but he waved her away. “I’ve got it, I know this room well enough.”

Rhodent opened a drawer in the nightstand and withdrew a framed picture. “I put this in a drawer because… Well, what’s the point of having it out? I got tired of knocking it over.” He held out the picture to Tess, who passed it to the Mole. “If that’s the picture it should be, it’s of me and my wife, my father, and Roddy. Roddy would have been around 10 years old at the time.”

Mole looked at the photograph. The resemblance between him and the older man was uncanny. It was clearly apparent in the boy as well.

“Your wife is beautiful.” Mole said.

“I know it.” Rhodent replied. “After Roddy died, she just wasn’t the same. He broke her damned heart, you know. She just started withering away. And then after she passed, I knew I couldn’t get by on my own. Thank God for this place, or I don’t know what I would have done.”

“I’m so sorry to put you through this.” Mole said. “Mole doesn’t mean any harm.”

Rhodent sighed. “That’s the way it is. Won’t matter after a while. Can I have that back?”

He held out his hand for the picture. Mole stood and returned it, and Rhodent placed it back in the drawer. “I suppose I could get a print of that made for you, if you want.”

“Mole- I don’t know.” Mole answered.

“Well, figure it out and let me know. It’s not going anywhere.” Mr. Rhodent stood, and started ushering them to the door. “I don’t want to rush you, but I’m pretty sure the baseball game is going to start soon, and I want to get to the rec room where it’ll be on the radio.”

“Do you need help getting there?” Tess offered.

“I can get by well enough.” Rhodent turned to Mole. “Look, uh, Lewis, is it? I know I’m not great company these days. If you want to come back another time, maybe I’ll be in a better mood? We can talk more?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll do that.” Mole assured him.

“Just call first, okay?” Rhodent asked. “Let someone at the desk know you’re coming. Maybe a day or two in advance. I don’t like being surprised.”

“I don’t either.” Mole smiled weakly.

The two men and Tess exited the room and Mr. Rhodent made his way up the hall, using his cane to guide his steps. Mole watched him go.

“Well, Louis,” Tess observed. “You have a family. The mystery’s solved.”

“I guess it is. Mrs. Tracy.” Mole shook his head. “But I’m not going to start calling myself Louis Rhodent. I owe that much to my father.”

END

Custom Action Figure - 3.75" Movie Itchy

Here's another in my series of 3.75" figures, made using the heads from the Applause figurines produced in conjunction with the 1990 Dick Tracy feature film.

Here we have Itchy, aka Jake "Itchy" Rossi, aka Itchell Oliver. Much like my Playmates version of this character, I made him in his regular blue suit/black shirt/spotted tie wardrobe.

The head presented a challenge, as part of the left ear was obscured by his hand on the original figurine, so I had to re-sculpt it.

I do wish that Applause had made a figurine of Mumbles, so that I could have all of Big Boy's lieutenants, but oh well.
More to come.

Secrets Among Friends

January, 2014

Dick Tracy stood at the bottom of the staircase. He rubbed his chin. The jackhammers had stopped some time ago, as the last of the dried cement had been broken up and taken away. The pit wasn’t especially deep, only about 8 feet, but it would have been enough to drown Tracy if he hadn’t kept his wits about him.

They’d discovered the rungs that led to the trap door, which was set into the pit at an upwards angle. Tracy had deduced that Kadaver had felt for the rungs which would have led to the door, then escaped through the tunnel.  There were a series of additional doors in the tunnel, each with locks – some combination, some keyed. There was no telling what other kinds of booby-traps Kadaver might have installed, and Tracy didn’t want to risk any of his people getting hurt by rushing.

Sam Catchem came down the stairs behind Tracy and offered him a cardboard cup full of hot coffee. Tracy waved it away.

“I’ve had too much already. I’ll get jittery.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam looked over the scene. “The Chief’s outside. Wants to see you.”

Tracy looked intently at his partner. “Did you tell him?”

Sam was stone-faced. “I barely said two word to him. Besides, what’s to tell? We received an anonymous tip that this is where we’d find you.”

Tracy smiled grimly.

“I’ll call your wrist wizard if anything happens down here.” Sam assured him.

Tracy hauled himself up the stairs and down the hallway to the front room. He passed several technicians and forensic scientists, all looking for evidence that might connect Abner Kadaver to the various crimes he was suspected of committing. Tracy was expecting that Fritz Ann Dietrich, or possibly some other representative of the FBI, would arrive soon.

Tracy stepped out of the house into the cold night. Chief Pat Patton was standing next to one of the flood lights that was aimed at the house. Pat was the only still figure. Tracy approached his old friend.

“Tracy.” Pat said. “You look terrible.”

“I haven’t shaved.” Tracy explained. “Didn’t want to miss anything.”

“Have you slept?” Patton asked.

“I grabbed a nap in one of the squad cars.” Tracy was non-committal.

“How long ago was that?” Pat asked.

“… A while.” Tracy admitted.

Pat looked at the ground and kicked a loose rock. “Tracy, you know I don’t like to pull rank on you.”

“Then don’t.” Tracy’s face was stony.

“You’ve been out here too long.” Pat urged. “You’ll get sloppy. Miss something. Contaminate evidence, maybe.”

“You know me better than that.” Tracy replied.

“I don’t know that I do. Not now.” Pat fixed Tracy with a steady gaze.  “Something happened here that you’re not telling me.”

“No, Pat, I-”

“Quiet!” Pat barked. Tracy was stunned. “You’re hiding something from me, Dick, and I don’t like it. You’ve got Sam covering for you, too. How long are you going to keep this up?”

“It’s not like that.” Tracy objected.

“I don’t know what it’s like, Dick!” Pat shouted. “We’ve been friends for years, saved each other’s lives a dozen times! And now, on THIS case, there’s something you won’t tell me? This is unprecedented.”

“I know it.” Tracy rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But this wasn’t like anything that’s happened before, Pat. I knew there would be risks when I became a police officer. That’s why it took me so long to marry Tess. Now, she knew what she was getting into, and she knew the danger, but my kids?”

“Tracy-“

“Sure, Junior got in plenty of scrapes, I couldn’t stop him. And somehow Bonnie and Joe would get mixed up in my cases from time to time, but those were always accidents or coincidences.

“This wasn’t that, Pat.” Tracy’s voice was strained. “This time, they took her. She’s my little girl and they took her. Made her a target just so they could get to me. None of them have ever done that before. Not even the most vicious killers we've faced. So when Blackjack told me he’d found her…”

Pat put his hand on Tracy’s shoulder.

“You let him go.” Pat said. “Blackjack’s the one who found Bonnie and Ray. He was here, he helped you, and you let him go.”

Tracy hung his head.

“This can’t go in the official record, Tracy.” Pat’s voice was low. 

Tracy thought for a moment, then he nodded.

“Go home.” Pat ordered. “Kiss your wife. Hug your daughter. Tell your son that you’re proud of him.”

“Not yet.” Tracy protested, weakly. “I want to tell them that we have leads on Kadaver.”

“They won’t care.” Pat said. “They just want you at home. This is an order.”

“I’ll be back here in the morning, maybe the lab guys will-”

“You’ll be at your desk in the morning.” Pat said, decisively. “I want you to prepare a statement for the press. You need to be well-rested, shaved, showered, in a pressed suit. And shined shoes.”

Tracy chuckled. “You going to read the dress code at me, Chief Patton?”

“If I have to.” Pat wasn’t laughing. “Now get out of here.”

Tracy walked past Pat and ducked under the police tape.

“If Kadaver’s alive, we’ll find him!” Pat called after his friend.

“I know it!” Tracy responded.

Pat paused, then hustled after Tracy, catching up to him before he reached his car.

“Oh, one more thing Tracy,” Pat puffed. “Ms. Steffihawk said you got a call from Vitamin. He claims it’s something urgent, but you know how he is. Give him a call when you get into the office tomorrow. It might be good for a laugh.”

End.

Custom Action Figure - Playmates Pruneface

Pruneface, like Itchy, is one of those characters that I think got mishandled by the Playmates movie line.

In the film, Pruneface is a sophisticated (but clearly dangerous) mob boss. The action figure, though, was rumpled, with an undone necktie and some hand grenades strapped across his chest.
I swapped the head onto a Mumbles and repainted it.

I understand why Playmates did things like that, of course, because otherwise they'd have a toy line that was pretty much all guys in suits. It was a time when screen accuracy was not valued like it is today.

Family Loyalty

   B-B Eyes entered the Bird Club and looked around. The place barely half-full, a sorry showing for a Friday night. A trio played some light music on the stage which at one point had held a full 16-piece band. Waiters moved sluggishly between tables, with a few more hovering near the bar. They didn’t to seem to fear for their jobs.
    B-B Eyes took at seat at the bar and got the bartender’s attention.
    “Tell my brother I’m here.” B-B Eyes barked.
    The bartender nodded and stepped into a back room. He returned a moment later, followed by a wild-eyed man smoking a cigarette.
    “B-B.” Jacques acknowledged his brother.
    “Shock-Eyes, good to see you.” B-B smiled smugly.
    “Don’t call me that, you know I don’t like it when you call me that.” Jacques' tone did not match B-B’s playful one. “Are you drinking?”
    “Are you buying?”
    “You’re my brother and you’re going to ask me that?” Jacques picked up a bottle from behind the bar and poured two glasses.
    “It’s not the good stuff, is it?” B-B asked. “I’d hate to think I was bankrupting you.”
    “I’ve got my head above water.” Jacques explained, and took a swig. He didn’t look at B-B Eyes as he said it.
    B-B Eyes turned and leaned his back against the bar. He spread his arms out. “Yeah, yeah. Besides, this place is better without a lot of people. Who wants to be crammed in like a sardine, like at Club Grey or the Ritz.”
    “Are you here alone?” Jacques asked, not wanting to acknowledge the subtle dig.
    “Kitty’s visiting her sister this week.” B-B explained. “And B.D. is in jail.”
    “What, again?” Jacques shook his head. “When’s that idiot going to stop getting caught?”
    “You’re telling me.” B-B lamented. “I tried to give him a nice simple job making deliveries for me, but he won’t do it. Insists on coming up with his own schemes, which never work. This time it’s just petty larceny, though, so he should be out soon.”
    The brothers sat in silence for a moment, which was interrupted when the door burst open. A slim, dark-haired girl entered, followed by a loose group of well-dressed young men and women. A waiter approached and attempted to guide her to a table, but she breezed past him and set herself down at a table near the bandstand. Her entourage joined her, spilling over into nearby tables. She chatted loudly with some of her group, then called the waiter over and ordered champagne.
    “Who’s that?” B-B Eyes asked.
    “Debby Thorndike.” Jacques replied with a groan. “Society broad. Rich and noisy. She’s a real pain.”
    The woman called Debby yelled at the musicians “Play something that swings!” She then drummed her hands on the table to set a tempo. The band complied.
    “You’re the owner, throw her out.” B-B said turning back to his brother.
    “I can’t, she spends too much.” Jacques replied. “Besides, she’s good scenery. She’ll probably pass out in an hour.”
    B-B chuckled. “You know, Shock, it really pains me to see you like this.” He took another sip of his drink. “I could help take the pressure off. You wouldn’t have to put up with some uppity tart like that, and you’ve got that nice big store room that connects to your loading dock…”
    “I’m not letting you store your bootleg tires here.” Jacques said flatly. “I told you a hundred times. I’m staying legit, got it?”
    “Sure, sure. Legit.” B-B turned his eyes back to Debby Thorndike. She had roped one of her male friends into an awkward tango, but couldn’t seem to decide whether she wanted him to lead or not. Frustrated, she pushed him away and pulled another of her male companions to his feet.
    “She’s a feisty number.” B-B observed. “And not too hard on the eyes, either. Comes from money, you said?”
    “Yes.” Jacques confirmed. “Just like your wife, remember?”
    “Don’t ruin my fun, okay?” B-B Eyes watched the young woman intently.

***

     Debby Thorndike kept her vitality for longer than an hour. Jacques guessed that she must be pacing herself better. Or she had slept especially late that morning. As the night wore on, her group dwindled. Her friends either left, or started to nod off in their seats. Frustrated, Debby looked around her.
    “You are all crushing bores, do you hear me?” She grabbed her wrap off her chair, knocking it over in the process. “Bores and leeches, that’s what you are! I don’t know why I bother with any of you!”
    Debby stormed out of the club. B-B Eyes, who had kept his gaze on the young woman all night, followed closely after her. He emerged into the dark street and found her waiting at a taxi stand.
    “It might be a while.” B-B Eyes offered. “You want a lift? I’ve got a sweet little car with some brand new tires on it.”
    Debby looked at him, startled by his forwardness.
    “Well, aren’t you a gentleman.” Debby tapped the dimple in B-B Eyes’ chin. “Cute, too, with your baby face.”
    “Yeah, I’m a real darlin’.” B-B Eyes pushed his hat back on his head, leering, and wrapped an arm around Debby’s midsection. He pulled her away from the street.
    “Hold on, now, Tiger. I’m not that kind of girl!” Debby protested.
    “I know exactly what kind of girl you are.” B-B’s voice was low and menacing. He had nearly dragged her into the alley next to the building.
    “Get your hands off me!” Debby was becoming frantic. “I’ll scream!”
    “Who’ll hear you?” B-B Eyes grabbed the back of Debby’s neck and pulled her face to his. She cried out in protest but the noise was muffled by his mouth. She gathered her strength and pushed him away. He stumbled back into the brick wall of the Club with enough force to knock his derby hat off.
    “Why, you little…” B-B lunged at her.
    Debby raised her hands to hold him off. With her right hand, she grabbed his throat. She raised her left hand and raked her fingernails down and across his face. In her panic and fear, she swiped with all of her strength, and her manicured nails gouged deeper than she had expected.
    B-B Eyes cried out and staggered back, clutching his hands to his face. Blood seeped through his fingers and onto the unlit sidewalk. Debby fled up the street, losing her shoes in the process but not looking back. B-B Eyes' sputtering curses rang in the night air behind her.

-Later-

    B-B Eyes sat in the kitchen of his home. His wife Kitty was cutting off the bandage that had covered his eye and part of his face for several days. A hand mirror sat on the table in front of him. Jacques and a blond man wearing eyeglasses sat at the table as well, waiting to see the results.
    “And she hasn’t been back to the Club since then?” The man asked Jacques.
    “I haven’t seen her or any of her friends.” Jacques replied. “But we’ll find her.”
    “And when you do, then what?” The bespectacled man asked, scratching his neck.
    “That’s what we’re here to talk about, Itchy.” B-B Eyes answered.
    Kitty removed the bandage and looked at her husband’s face. She stiffened, but didn’t gasp. B-B Eyes picked up the mirror and looked at himself. Five red lines cut through the right side of his face, from his forehead to just below his eye, the scars from Debby’s assault.
    “Can you see?” Kitty asked.
    B-B Eyes blinked, then focused on each of the people in front of him. He closed his left eye to test the vision in his right.
    “Yeah. Yeah, I can see like normal.”
    “Well, that’s something anyway.” Kitty breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll make some coffee.”
    “It’s not that bad, actually.” Jacques offered. “The one over your nose is barely there. And maybe they’ll fade with time.”
    “Not likely.” Itchy responded. “But that’s good. Makes you look dangerous. People will give you a wide berth.”
    “Thanks, fellas.” B-B Eyes slumped back in his chair. “I’m glad you’re both here. Means a lot to me.”
    “Of course.” Jacques said.
    “I wouldn’t have missed it.” Itchy added.
    “Uh-huh. But where’s Shaky? Anybody seen him?” B-B Eyes asked.
    “He’s in Vegas, getting married.” Itchy scratched his armpit, then behind his ear.
    “Again?” B-B Eyes raised his eyebrows in surprise. The gouges in his face deepened.
    “Yeah.” Itchy explained. “As near as I can figure, this broad he was seeing found out about one of his scams. So, basically, he has to marry her to make sure she can’t testify against him if he gets caught.”
    “Poor dope.” Jacques said.
    “Not so poor.” Itchy offered. “The broad’s got a few adult daughters from a prior. Real lookers, too. Blondes.” Itchy chuckled. “So, the new wife might end up having an deadly accident at some point, and ol’ Shaky will need some comforting maybe.”
    “Heh. I should be so lucky.” B-B Eyes laughed sardonically, then stifled himself when Kitty entered with a coffee pot and cups. She set them on the table. “Thanks, honey.”
    “You boys want sugar? We’re out of cream, but I’ve got sugar.” Kitty offered
    “Black’s fine.” B-B Eyes answered for the group. “Now, why don’t you leave us alone for a while, huh? We’ve got some planning to do.”
    “You’re sure, dear?” Kitty’s voice was tired, but concerned. “You don’t want me to bring you some salve or anything?”
    “I’m fine, I’m fine.” B-B Eyes shooed her away. Kitty left without another word.
    “So, with Shaky gone and B.D. locked up, that just leaves us to get back as this Debby Thorndike bitch.” B-B Eyes announced. He turned to Itchy. “Unless your brother can help?”
    “No, Twitch is trying to keep his hands clean.” Itchy explained.
    “Doesn’t he work in the sewers?” Jacques asked.
    “For the moment. He keeps saying he wants to get in at the City Records Department, but he’s got to start at the bottom and work his way up.”
    “’Bottom’ is right…” Jacques chuckled.
    “So, it’s just us.” B-B Eyes wanted to get the group back to their purpose. “And I’m assuming I can count on both of you.”
    B-B Eyes leveled his gaze at his brother. It took Jacques a moment to register what B-B Eyes was implying. He straightened in his chair.
    “Hey, come on, Beeb.” Jacques said. “This isn’t like me not helping with your bootleg operation. That stuck-up little piece of ass almost took your eye out. What kind of a brother would I be if I didn’t help settle the score? You’d do the same for me, right?”
    “Exactly.” B-B Eyes leaned forward conspiratorially. “Now, the first step is to find out where she drinks, then make arrangements to get her good and juiced one night. This operation is basically a Reverse Badger Game. Itchy, you can forge a good marriage certificate, right?”


End

Custom Action Figure - 3.75" Doubleup

Here's my latest custom action figure project - Doubleup.

Doubleup was made from the body of the recent DC Multiverse Black Mask figure, with the head of the recent Marvel Infinites Sandman. I sculpted on the extra hair and added a whip from an Indiana Jones figure.

Doubleup is the most recently-created character of which I've made a toy, created as he was by the current creative team of Mike Curtis and Joe Staton. I don't have plans for any other modern-era characters at the moment. Maybe I'll make a Blaze Rize at some point, or possibly even Scarlet Sting?

The Indiana Jones line gave us a few different whip configurations, which is nice.

As you can see, he's a little bit taller than my other3.75" scale figures, but not quite as wide. Still, I think he makes a suitably imposing presence.