I started reading hard-boiled detective novels. Fiction noir is what they called it. There was a second hand bookstore around the corner from my apartment. They sold old used books for the original cover price, which was usually about a quarter. I bought so many second hand detective stories that the book store owner started calling me Marlowe. It felt good. When he called me Marlowe I was no longer Thaddeus Wentworth, looser. I was Thaddeus Wentworth, tough guy. This appealed to me because tough guys would never sit around their apartments brooding over a woman. They would be out beating up bad guys and calling women 'dolls'.
Then in December, my break came. The security division of Intercontinental Detective Agency was advertising for students who wanted to make some extra money helping with shopping mall security. I applied and got the job. It was perfect! I would have something to do other than sit around my apartment and brood all the time. Further, I could make a little extra money. Although, my finances were pretty solid, I always felt insecure about them. I was worried that Uncle Earl would call one day and tell me that the Feds had confiscated all of my assets. And, last but not least, Intercontinental was the same firm that Dashiel Hammet worked for before he became a mystery writer. With this job, I was on my way to becoming a real gumshoe.
I showed up at work at the south end of the mall about ten days before Christmas. I went up to the security desk and asked to see the man in charge. I told them I had been hired to work with mall security. Out of nowhere a disembodied voice said "Hey there, boy, welcome aboard." Then something that felt like a huge hard hand slapped me on the back nearly knocking the wind out of me. I fell forward and almost landed on the desk before I caught myself. I was gasping for air as I turned around. A large hand was offered and the most powerful looking man I had ever seen in my life said, "Welcome aboard boy, my name is Shorty, Shorty Carbuncle and I'm the guy in charge."
Shorty was just a few inches shorter than I was and almost twice as wide. His arms were as thick as my legs and so muscular that they wouldn't hang straight at his sides. He had short reddish blond hair and leathery weathered looking skin with no shortage of freckles. His hands looked like small catcher's mitts with five fit kielbasa sausages sticking out of each one. I took his hand, but my hand was too small to reach around his palm for a firm grip. Instead he caught my four fingers in his grip making me feel like a fairy. Great way to start my career - Phyllis Marlowe, gumshoe fairy.
"Pleased to meet you, Shorty. My name is Thaddeus Wentworth, but my friends call me Tad."
"Nice to meet you, boy" he said with a pleasant but slightly devilish smile. I noticed that his teeth were stained. My guess was that it was from chewing tobacco.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
"I want you to do what your told." He said laughing loudly and beaming over his own clever wit.
I stood there looking and feeling foolish with no idea what to do next.
"Come on boy, I'll show you around"
There were four entrances to the mall with a security desk at each one. We would sit at one desk for about a half an hour and then walk across the mall to another desk. If the mall was busy we would change every fifteen minutes. If business was slow we might not change for an hour. Walking across the mall we would look for unsavory characters like high school kids who were just hanging out after school and likely to cause trouble of some kind. It was really a pretty boring job, but I was working for Intercontinental and my illusions about becoming a detective provided everything that the job lacked.
One day we were making our trek from one side of the mall to the other when we ran across some kids just outside of the food area who looked a little older than high school kids. Two were standing around while the third was sitting on the back of the bench with his feet on the seat. They were clearly just hanging around so Shorty told them to move on. The leader of the little group, apparently having read the constitution, pointed out that it was a free country. Shorty, being one up in constitutional law, pointed to a sign on the wall that said "No Loitering." The discourse left the realm of the esoteric when the leader hopped off the bench and told Shorty that he didn't feel like moving on. He showed his conviction by pulling a pearl-handled Italian switchblade out of his pocket and flipping the blade into view. My heart was in my throat and my body felt like it would explode from adrenaline.
"I asked you nicely to move on. If I have to ask again, it won't be so nice." Said Shorty with no more concern than if he were putting sugar in his coffee.
One of the leader's buddies walked over beside the leader as a show of solidarity and strength. Shorty seemed unconcerned. For my part, it was all I could do to keep from wetting my pants. Some tough guy!
The next movement happened so fast that I wasn't completely sure what had happened. In an almost fluid motion Shorty grabbed the wrist of the leader's knife hand, with his left hand and twisted sharply causing him to drop the knife. Then he brought his right hand up under the guy's throat. He lifted the leader straight up, almost a foot off the ground and held him there like I would hold up a shirt on a hanger. With his freed left hand he pounded his fist into the sternum of the friend with a sickening thud completely knocking the wind out of him.
"You stay there!" he said pointing at the third guy who looked like he might wet his pants before I did.
Shorty set the leader down gently and picked up the knife. "If I have to tell you again there is going to be trouble," he said. Apparently he wouldn't have to tell them again. They were all in a hurry to get home and review their copies of the constitution.
When we got back to the security desk, I was too rattled to sit still but Shorty behaved as though nothing special had happened.
"That was quite a show," I said trying to make conversion.
"It's like Teddy Roosevelt said", Shorty offered. "Walk softly and only beat the hell out of them when you have too."
I didn't think that was exactly how the quote went, but it seemed inappropriate to question it at this time. Instead I just sat there at the desk next to Shorty wondering how good it must feel to be that tough and that powerful.