It was just a few weeks ago that I finished and published the third book of the Deuce Luce Trilogy, 'Beaune Appetit'. Here is Larry Bystrom at his best. He is an old friend of Deuce's. He is asked by his wife, Amy, to talk about his exploits when he worked for the FBI. He tried to beg off saying that he was not allowed to discuss any Bureau business. Finally he relented with the caveat that some details as names and locations had to be changed for security reasons. Here's his story:
" All right, here we go, and the
names and location have been changed or deleted to protect the innocent. Deuce,
you're an old newspaperman—do you remember the Tri-state Old-timers?"
"Oh yes. Folks this was a gang of old farts that used to go around
knocking off banks in the Midwest. I guess they were
damned good at what they did."
"Oh they were good, all right. They began their careers back when
safe crackers or burglars were called yeggs. We got a tip from a very reliable
source that they were going to be breaking into the main bank of the town. The
town shall be known as Upper Dufusville. Now these guys,
as we later learned, spent an extraordinary amount of time casing their target.
It was nothing for them to post look-outs on street corners observing the bank
staff coming and going all hours of the day and night. Times were logged into a
notebook, the type and manufacturer of all of the locks on the entry and exit
doors were duly noted. In short, with the huge amount of time they were
devoting to this endeavor, you could not say that crime pays. We reckoned they
were knocking down about eighty-cents an hour.
"Anyway, like I said, we got this tip so we set up surveillance on
the front and rear entrances. I was with my partner in a car parked about a
block away on a street that was on the getaway route. My partner Morrie and I
would take turns looking into the rear view mirror. It was important to know
not only what was happening in front of us but behind us too. You don't want
any surprises while you're playing the waiting game.
"Next thing I know Morrie says 'there's a bogey at six-o'clock—open your door and crouch behind it
and get a better look'. So I get out, it's about three in the morning and the
street light is out, so I have to wait and let the guy walking toward the car
get to within ten feet so I can make a determination: friend or foe? Now I'm
laughing uncontrollably and I just about fell to the ground in a paralytic
heap.
"My partner, Morrie gets out and draws his weapon, then re-holsters
it and says to this guy, 'who in the fuck are you and what the fuck do you
think you're doing?'
"I try to compose myself as best I can and take a closer look at him
and start laughing again. Really, it was very unprofessional on my part. But if
you would have seen this character: he was dressed in jockey silks but missing
the pants—naked as a jaybird from the waist down but he did sport a spiffy pair
of cowboy boots and a cute little jockey's cap. Between his legs he had a
child's toy horse—the kind that looked like a broom stick but with a horse's
head on top. And he had a riding crop that he was using to spank his butt while
yelling giddyup, giddyup. Again, Morrie asks him who he is. The guy says he's
the poet laureate of Keokuk, Iowa. At this point I completely lost it—my stomach
muscles hurt from laughing so hard.
"Morrie looks at the guy with a straight face and says, 'Here's the
deal Mr. Lone Ranger—you and Seabiscuit better skeedaddle back to the OK
corral', then looking at me, he continues, 'or Tonto over here is going to cap
your ass with a couple of silver bullets'.
"And the guy takes off. Evidently he got the message. So after I
regained some of my composure, I asked Morrie how he could remain so cool with
this half-naked dufus spouting all kinds of nonsense?"
To which Morrie replied "You mean he wasn't the poet laureate of
Keokuk?"
With the punch line Deuce spits out a mouthful of coffee and Bette and
Cindy can't stop laughing. Then Bette chides Deuce that he can't drink coffee
and laugh at the same time. Amy says to Deuce not to worry, she'll clean up the
mess. Bette asks Amy if she thought the story was funny because she wasn't
laughing that much. "Bette, I was doing all I could to stop from peeing in
my pants—well, for the most part I was successful."
Amy asked Bystrom what happened
after the half-naked dufus got out of there?
"Glad you asked, dear. It turns out that Morrie was a brilliant guy.
He had a hunch that the dufus in racing silks was just a diversion so he gets a
hold of agent Likens on the walkie-talkie. Likens is scoping out the rear
entrance of the bank from an adjoining roof-top. He says to him there ought to
be a bunch of old geezers fleeing the bank any moment. Sure enough, almost on
cue, like a bunch of roaches scurrying for cover after a light is turned on,
six senior citizens are doing all they can do to flee the scene. They were
rounded up without anyone breaking a sweat."
"Larry, you need to write a book about your Bureau
experiences."
"No, Deuce, you're the writer. You can't believe all of the shit
like this that went down. Trouble is I'm not allowed to talk about it."
... "Now that we are alone honey, I'm going to haul you off to bed
and have my way with you."
"Larry dear, you can have me any way you want me but before I
willingly submit, answer me this one question."
"Anything for my insatiable wife. What's the question."
"How did you Bureau guys know that the tip you got was for real and
who did you get it from?"
"Amy, I told you there is some FBI business that I can't discuss
with you. But let me think. I'll tell you what—the leader, the brains of the
Tri-State boys was sleeping with the wrong bimbo."
Thinking about the phrase 'sleeping with the wrong bimbo', Amy chuckled,
"I know the answer—the guy talked in his sleep."
"God, thank you letting me have the good taste and the good sense to
marry the smartest woman this side of the Mississippi,
and the hottest one too. Bingo, Amy—you shoulda been an agent."
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