Craven Gets Flashed III

“You hired a what?” said Betty.

“A photographer. To document my cases and get us in the paper. You should have seen her last night.”

“Seen who?”

“Jenny Wilkins, she lives above the photo shop across the street. She’s just a kid out of high school, but I think she’s going places.”

“Go on.”

“Like I was saying, when she spotted the philanderer coming out of the apartment house last night, Jenny rushes over and snaps his picture.”

“When she spotted? What were you doing, Mr. Detective?”

“Squinting mostly. Jenny had just taken my picture. I’m still seeing spots.”

“I see. Then what?”

“Betty, he was so blinded by the flash that he misses a step coming off the stoop and falls flat on his face. Out cold! Jenny tells me to turn the body over and pull his tongue out so it’s hanging sideways. When I was done doing that she tells me to get a pickle from the lunch bag and stuff it in his puss like he’s chomping a cigar. Then, just when I thought I was done, I wasn’t. Jenny reaches into her jacket and pulls out a couple of carrots and tells me to cram one into each of his ears. I thought that was a little harsh, so I placed one in each ear ever so gently.”

“You’re considerate that way.”

“I got a reputation, you know. After that, Jenny reaches into her purse and comes out with a tube of lipstick and writes Flashed! across his forehead. After which she takes another picture. This is going to be great, Mr. Danger! she says. I can see the headlines now: Heartbreaking Grocery Magnate Gets His Just Desserts. And, boy, when that bulb popped and that guy started yelping and flailing his arms around like a wild man it caused such a disturbance that the tenants were waking up and poking their heads out their windows. What excitement. I never felt so alive in my life! That’s when we ran for our lives. That scoundrel was a gorilla, and he wasn’t gonna be in a good mood when he got his vision back.”

“This Jenny sure does a lot of telling you what to do. Exactly who was working for who?”

“Ah, don’t be like that, Betty.”

“If Betty don’t be like that, than you be losing the last shred of that dime-store investigator’s license. It was a simple case. Take notes and photo of the adulterer exiting his new girlfriend’s apartment house. No flash bulbs or vegetables required. Those streetlamps give off plenty of light. I even gave you a picture of the guy you were supposed to be keeping an eye on. Was it the same guy whose ears you ever so gently fed carrots to?”

“I told you I couldn’t see straight.”

“So spunky Jenny Wilkins takes it upon herself to go charging after the first poor schlub who comes stepping out of the building. A schlub who, I happen to know first-hand, had nothing more in mind than to have a midnight smoke. All because he’s so devoted to his wife and kids that he chose not to stink up the apartment with cigarette smoke and who, furthermore, is doing his best to quit, but it ain’t easy when you’re a mailman trying to make ends meet in a city that’s not very forgiving when you can’t pay the rent, so you work part-time at Delaney’s saloon to pick up some extra scratch to help feed and clothe the kids a little better, but Delaney’s is so polluted with cigarette and cigar smoke that it makes quitting just that much harder, and to go even further, while he’s having his midnight smoke, who do you suppose he spots across the street ogling the legs of some camera-toting teen-age cutie? That would be a certain Mr. Craven Danger, that’s who.“

“I wasnt ogling. I was trying just to refocus after getting flashed.”

“The same Craven Danger who ducks him every Christmas when gratuities are certainly appreciated by hard-working family stiffs like Freddie Simmons—our mailman and sometime bartender—who, by the way, says he’s tired of all your I’ll catch ya later tips at the saloon, and who will be here any minute bearing gratuities of his own. There was some mention of a vegetable gift basket and how I should not be there when he comes baring gifts, as it may get sloppy.”

“Is it too late for Christmas tipping?”

“You can ask him yourself when he gets here. As for me? I’ll be across the street having a word with Jenny Wilkins. I’d love to stick around and see a grown man get his comeuppance - I looked it up, so don't ask - but I have to save someone’s reputation. Mine. See ya later, Mr. Danger. Enjoy your salad.”

What kind of vegfetable is a comeuppance?

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