Another Friday Night in Newark

At Uncle Merl’s Bar & Grill

(Featuring Doc Boreese and Charley in…)

Chuckie Chan’s

Revenge

Part II

“Do not challenge supernatural unless armed with sword of truth.”

It was too late to catch a bus to Newark airport, so Charlie put in a call to his old driver, ‘Birmingham’ Brown, now retired and living with his granddaughter in Irvington.  Two hours later the ninety-year-old pulled up in a 1942 Caddie convertible.  The old boy creaked his way from behind the wheel to open the door for his boss.

“Mista Chan, I thought you was dead.”

“Not glad to see me, Birmingham?”

“Oh, it's nothing personal, Mr. Chan, but the last time we met was in Washington, and if I can remember right, there was two or three murders.”

“Murder is my business.”

“Murder's all right, Mr. Chan, but you wholesales it!”

“Good see you too, Birmingham.  Was dead, now half dead.  Come back to join with spirit detectives, Doc and Charley…”

“Hi boys.”

“And must find evil spirit, Gafak Yoseff.”

Birmingham’s eyes grew as wide as silver dollars.  “Gafa…”  He threw the car keys at me and turned to run.  “Here you go, boys.  The Caddie’s yours.  FEET DON’T FAIL ME NOW!!!”  Old Birmingham tried to make a run for it, but Chuckie stopped him.  “It’s okay, Mister Brown.  You’re not coming with us.  Just get us to the airport as fast as possible.”

Having been assured he wouldn’t have to face Gafak Yoseff with us, Birmingham loaded us into the Caddie (which was remarkably roomy) and burned rubber for the airport… well, if rubber could burn at twelve miles an hour.  Anyway, it was another two-hour trip.

Now, Doc and I have been doing this for almost three hundred years now, hunting evil spirits and apparitions.  We’ve seen a lot of innovations to detection—fingerprints, DNA, voice recognition technology—but one advance stands out as the greatest detective innovation of all time.  Yes!  The credit card.  Chuckie’s Platinum Card bought us three third class passes on an old converted air force carrier bringing a shipment of tiger food for a magic act appearing on the Vegas strip.  I thought it interesting that the trip from Newark to Nevada was going to take fifteen minutes less than the trip from Washington Street to the airport took.  Of course, this wasn’t counting the three hours of sitting on the runway waiting for the tower to clear us for takeoff.

“Must come up with preparation; crime being planned most insipid.”

“Lots of dead bodies with swords through them, great-great-gran’pop?”

Charlie shook his head.  “Have moved from blue collar to white collar crime.  Now do crime with no blood at all.  ‘Murder without bloodstains like Amos without Andy—most unusual.’  Wish most strongly had wise shaman to contact spiritual help line.” 

A wicked smile crossed Doc’s lip.  Oh my God, I thought to myself.  Doc is my best friend, a father figure, a mentor, so I’ve never had the heart to tell him his shaman was fritzy.  Doc patted Charlie in the back, gave Chuckie and I the “follow me” hand signal, and led us to the airplane’s toilet.  We crammed into it and Doc locked the door.  He began feverishly digging around in his satchel, which was dimensionally engineered, no doubt—it had to be, no normal book bag could have held all that garbage!  Doc suddenly stopped and exclaimed, “AHA!  Here, Charley, catch these!  Wood from the ancient cedars of Lebanon.  Put these in the sink, we’ll use it for an altar and start a fire.”  Without withdrawing his head from the bag (he was actually buried up to his belly button) what seemed to be small logs of wood came flying out straight at me!  Needless to say, I didn’t catch them and they soon covered the floor.

Charlie was soon bent over the wood.  “Must be monsoon season in Lebanon.  Wood no burn, soaking wet.”

“I’ve got it!” Doc exclaimed triumphantly, totally ignoring the minor obstacle to the impromptu ritual.  He extended his hands over his head, showing a neatly folded gown of moldy brown cheesecloth.  “I knew I brought it.”

“We defeat most dishonorable evil spirits with old dress of Gloria Swanson?”

“Golly great-great-gran’pop… who’s Gloria Swanson?”

Doc’s head shot up between his still-outstretched arms and he turned to the Chans.  “This!” he directed at them with an incredulous look in his eyes, “is the robe of Moses!  It is the greatest source of communicative psychic power and spiritual ascendancy extant!  I’ll contact the great beyond with this.”

“Wish Chinese detective been told would be talking to Great Beyond.  Would have shaved!”

“Who’s Gloria Swanson?… c’mon, guys!”

“We’re going to use the power in this robe to reach Nefri of Cairo!  He lived during the reign of Pharaoh Hottoddy.”

Doc Boreese crawled around inside the robe!  The robe fell about three feet in all directions around where Doc stood.  “There!” he exclaimed.  “How do I look?”

“You still look like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia to me,” I respectfully reported again.

“You were right about this wood, Charlie.  What the hell can we use for a medium?  You got anything to light a fire with?”

“Suggest emptying waste paper basket into sink and light unused toilet tissue.”

“Let’s do it now, before we’re airborne.  Time to boogie!”

And once again, Doc started shuffling around like Chubby Checker with Saint Vitus’ Dance.  With the Charmin smoking away in the sink, Doc made some moves a rain forest witch doctor would have been proud of… but as usual, nothing materialized.

“That’s it, guys.  I’m beat.”  Doc was panting pretty hard now.  “I’ve got a bad case of psychic medium block.”

“Holy Moses!  Doc, we got…”

“Not you two schmucks again.  Wada ya want wid Nefri now?”

All four of us jumped nearly halfway across the room—which wasn’t much, considering we were in a space not much bigger than a broom closet.

“Hey, Moses, is that you?” cried Doc.  “We can hear you, but we can’t see you, you aren’t in the flames!”

“Not in the flames?  You guys are boinin’ toilet paper in a sink!  You want a protoplasmic identification too?  Toilet paper!  That’s woise than the garbage pail you used last time.  And again, Nefri’s out for the night, so you ain’t got Nefri, you got me, his agent, Moses!  Remember me?  Ya said “Holy Moses” again, and you got me again.  Now, wadaya want?”

“Must respectfully inquire, T-H-E Moses?” Charlie queried.

“Hey.  Who’s the fortune cookie, and why is he talking to me?  Yo, bub… if you mean the guy Charlton Heston looks like, no!  If you mean the little fat Jewish guy who’s makin’ a fortune off Nefri Enterprises Inc., yes!”

“It’s a long story, Charlie,” I said rather uneasily.

There was a strange queasy silence in the room.  Our effort wasn’t getting us where we wanted to be.  We could feel the engines starting to warm up for takeoff.

“Well?” vocalized our apparition.  “You!  The tall, skinny tranny with the beard, still wearing one a’ Gloria Swanson’s old dresses.  Why are you botherin’ me this time?”

“Ahh, were chasing Gafak Yoseff and Nokt Tusoon Tamoon.”

“Yeah?  Puuullllease!  Don’t even mention dat broad’s name to me.  She took me for almost five hundred sheckles at the pyramid builders’ annual card party!  She’s vicious, and… she cheats!”

We were stupefied!  “You know these two?” Charlie said excitedly.  “Is reason we call spiritual help line!”

“S’okay!  Call it luck, skill, whatever.  That’s why I get paid the big drachmas!  I assume from your response I hit the nail on the head of your problem?  Yeah, I know those two schmucks.”

“Uh…”

“Okay!  Here’s the deal and pardon the pun.  Old Gafak would do anything for Nokt Tusoon Tamoon!  There’s an ancient Egyptian saying, ‘old man who gives all to young woman is flogged by her vagina!’ ”

“Have similar saying in Chinese.”

“Hey!  He came back from the dead and took her with him.  Right?”

“Mmmmm,” mumbled Doc, pensively stroking his beard and looking for a way to change the subject.  “So you know them in person? Alive?”

“Alive, dead… a crook is a crook.  Am I right or what?”

“ ‘Justice can be brought to dead men.’  Yes, crook is crook, wanted dead or alive.”

“Wanted Dead or Alive, remember that?  A great black and white TV show… but I digress.  They’re slowly becoming mortal!”

“Must catch in halfway state.  Have questions for Great Beyond, must have answers concern criminals’ intent.  ‘Question without answer, like faraway water, no good for nearby fire’.”

“Wada ya know, the dead Chinese guy isn’t an idiot.  Sorry.  Intent is someone else’s gig in the Great Beyond, but I’m still impressed.  Hey Confucius, why are ya hangin’ out with these cuckoos?”

“ ‘Each man thinks his own cuckoos better than next man's nightingales.’  Dead men cannot be choosey.  Must help great-great-grandson avenge my death at hands of Egyptian before he hurt himself!”

“Yeah, I got one a’ those too, on my mother’s side.  So what can I do for you?”

“So what do we do now?”

“First, stop thinking like apparition hunters.  Those two creeps are slowly turning human.  I know the scrolls they used.  Real dead ‘C’ quality scrolls.  But!  They got the god Annubis helping them; they used black magic on him and a few others to cheat at cards.”

“ ‘Sometimes black magic very close to blackmail’.”

“Uh, we’re not killing the apparitions?”

“…Does he really do this for a living?  Read up on your Knock Rum rules.  My guess is they’re gonna make a run on breakin’ a bank or two.  The No Cut Rummy Cheat, the Rummy Deck Cuff Trick, those two will be signaling like crazy, having had three thousand years in the afterlife to perfect their cues.  The Double Peel, Faking a Meld, Cheating the Rummy Count… all the cheats, they know ’em.”

“Have already killed one man to retrieve cheating machine.  Will read up on game and catch crook with hands in cookie jar!  Much help from Great Beyond.  Thank you, sooo much.”

“Don’t mention it!  Just do me a favor.  If you catch ’em, put ’em away forever!  This is Moses from the Great Beyond… signin’ off.”

“One ounce of experience worth ton of detective books”

When we hit the strip at Las Vegas, it didn’t take us long to learn what Gafak Yoseff and Nokt Tusoon Tamoon were up to.  There was a humongous Knock Rum convention in town with all the casinos participating.  The undead duo were working their way from casino to casino, breaking the banks and hearts of owners and gamblers alike.  They were going to take over Vegas, become mega-rich, and get a reality show about the world’s greatest woman Knock Rum Master.  What made the crime so sinister: it would have been on a major network at prime time, not a cable show!

“ ‘A fool and his money never become old acquaintances,’ paramount we find where most foolish money in town is...”  Charley paused.  “When in Rome, best not to look like Chinese Emperor and court.  Better look like Chinese waiters in expensive Roman restaurant.  After 6 PM, need monkey suits!”

“What kind of suits, great—”

“Ahh, I knew getting you surfboard for tenth birthday, mistake.  Monkey suit another name for male evening wears—”

“Pajamas?”

“TUXEDO, YOU IDI…”  Charlie turned his face to Doc.  “ ‘Never believe nightmare, no matter how real it may seem.’  Number one great-great-grandson better than nothing, I suppose.  Take out credit card, great-great-grandchild, be good for something.  Must find rental store, perhaps pawn shop.”

We found our way to a pawn shop we’d seen on TV, and the fat guy behind the counter who didn’t look too bright proceeded to take us for all we had.  Chuckie’s card was pretty much maxed, but the genuine “Charlie Chan Summer Whites Hawaiian Detective Uniform” that was sagging wonderfully off of Chuckie was worth the three off-the-shelf used Tuxedos he had—the problem being, there were four of us.  We were told that if we’d had a Charlie Chan autograph, we could have had even more.  When the fat guy turned his back, Charlie snatched the bowler from Chuckie’s head and ballpointed the sweatband with his Ming Hancock.

We hung around for almost an hour waiting for an expert to come in and declare Charlie’s autograph legit.  So we walked around the shop and Chuckie traded his Chinese knock--off Rolex for a working copy of Steve McQueen’s sawed-off shotgun from the old Wanted: Dear Or Alive TV show.  God!  Some fans.  After some questioning of the authenticity of Chan’s signature, the expert hesitated, then suddenly declared it righteous.  Charlie shook his head at Doc.  “ ‘Expert is merely man who make quick decision—and is sometimes right’.”  Charlie smiled at the exiting expert.  “Thank you, sooo much.”

But we still had a problem.  The other three tuxes fit Doc, Chuckie, and Charlie, but the only other clothing in the shop that fit me was a Mexican Police Captain’s uniform.  “Anyone ask, you here investigating new drug traffic route and picking up guns for friend in drug cartel,” Charlie told me.  “Easy to believe dirty Mexican cop walk right over border straight into casino and pick up more guns from DOJ.  Common practice these days.  Part of Obamacare, I think.”

We followed a line of casinos that had suddenly closed for the night: Caesar’s Palace, Bally’s, Harrah’s, Mandalay Bay, Hooters (we suspected that they had stopped here for lunch, Nokt Tusoon Tamoon was always a little unusual), Paris Las Vegas, the Tropicana, Flamingo, Trump International Hotel & Tower, and the Palms Hotel & Casino.  They were running amok.  They had broken the banks so fast that half the strip was taken out before an alarm could be raised.

We rushed into the MGM Grand, where it was old movies night.  There were women walking around in long evening gowns, all looking like Gloria Swanson (which served to confuse Chuckie even more).  It was obvious our quarry was already there and gone.  There was a body lying on the floor as the guests foxtrotted over and around him.  Chuckie knelt next to him, lifted the man’s wallet from his inside pocket and, standing again with a look of horror on his face, shouted, “ Golly, great-great-GRAN’POP!!!  He’s DEAD!!!”  The shout stopped the dancing and everyone stared at us.  Charlie shook his head.  “ ‘Always harder to keep murder secret than for egg to bounce on sidewalk.’  Anyone witness murder?  Anyone know what happen here?”

A real doll of a blonde with a pair of ripe melons stepped forward from the crowd.  “I do,” she purred suggestively.  “Humphredo Casa Blanca, a regular of ours, was here investigating new drug traffic routes for a friend in the drug cartels and to pick up more guns from the DOJ.  He accused the strange woman dealing cards of cheating.  Then the lights went out.  Three shots were fired.  When the lights came on again, he was there.  Dead on the floor!  She lifted her skirts and mooned him, then left.”

“Uh, most interesting but, no help.  Victim was stabbed!”

“ ‘Lady who goes camping must beware of evil intent’,” Chuckie added.  “Hey, doll, what were you doin’ when the lights went out?”

“Confucius has said, ‘A wise man question himself, a fool others’.”  Charlie gave Chuckie a reproachful glance.  “Great-great-grandson may find putting in two cents when not needed, very expensive.”

“Yeah, great-great-gran’pop, but in all the great detective stories—Sherlock Holmes, Boston Blackie—everybody questions the witnesses!”

“ ‘Authors sometimes take strange liberties.’  May explain you and strange behavior.  Tell you now… ‘crime never solved by books’.”

“Golly, great-great-grandpop, somebody had to see something.  This guy is dead right in the middle of the dance floor!”

“ ‘Every Maybe has a wife called Maybe-Not,’ but we check.  Anybody here know anything?”

The blonde stepped forward again.  She had sliced the melons and given them to the bartender to use in fruity mixed drinks.  “I heard the strange woman dealing cards say to the strange man with the animal’s head that she was homesick.  The little fat man in the loincloth with a striped dishcloth on his head and a sack of money over his back said it was okay, the next casino would remind her of home.  Then she broke the bank with her last meld and they left.  Not ten minutes ago.”

“Golly, great-great-grandpop, a man with an animal’s head!  They have a team mascot working with them!”

Now it was Doc’s turn to shake his head in disbelief.  “Uh, Chuckie, I think that was the ancient Egyptian god, Annubis.”

“No matter,” Charlie said pensively.  “ ‘All foxes come at last to fur store.’  Only one casino in town fit that bill.  Young lady, most kind, has given us clue to next scene of crime.”  The half-ghost did his famous waist-bow/head-nod towards the girl.  “Thank you, sooo much, Miss.”

“Confucius say, ‘Luck happy chain of foolish accidents’.”

The only place in town that fit “that bill” was the Luxor Casino.  Except for the eight hundred dollar bills Charlie had “borrowed” from the dead man’s wallet when nobody was looking which we needed as a stake to get us into a game, we were too broke for a cab, so we ran all the way up the block.  Walking into Luxor was like stepping back into time.  It looked like the ancient Luxor of Egypt, a mummy’s tomb.  Charlie suspected it was Annubis’s doing.  There was sand over everything, and the thermostat had been pushed to a stiffling but even 100 degrees.  The only light was supplied by torches held by diapered slaves, all of whom were card-carrying SEIU members.

Luckily, the conventioneers were still arriving, so the games hadn’t started yet.  The bouncers at the door of the casino didn’t want to let us in because we weren’t wearing the funny hats of the Saint Louis Knock Rummy Society that was throwing the convention.  Chuckie and Doc stood there arguing with them, but Charlie pulled the eight hundred dollar bills out of his wallet and started fanning himself with them.  The bouncers ushered us right in.  “ ‘When money talk, few are deaf.’  Hoping ancient Chinese skill with cards not diminished by being dead.”

“That’s your plan?  Getting lucky at cards?  Beat ’em at Knock Rum?”  Doc and I looked at each other in disbelief.

“ ‘One grain of luck sometimes worth more than whole rice field of wisdom.’  Doctor must use psychic power, read his partner’s mind, honorable deceased Chinese detective, and signal.  When in Egypt, must walk like Egyptian.”

“I see,” Doc mumbled half to himself.  “If we can cheat them into losing, they’ll use more of their supernatural powers up trying to cheat back harder.  Then we can jump them!”

“ ‘Very difficult to explain hole in doughnut, but hole always there.’  Not explain well, but Good Doctor very close to right for a change.  Nice to know am not alone.  Come, must sign in.”  Charlie rushed forward, then came to a grinding stop.  He looked at Doc.  “Have bad thought.  You know how play Knock Rum?”

“Uh… I’m a fast learner.  I got the pamphlet they were giving out at the door.  Go!  Sign us in.  These things are usually all standard rules!”

Yes, they were!  Knock Rummy is like Gin Rummy, except that players don’t have to gin to stop play.  A player can knock (rap on the table or say knock).  Unlike Gin Rummy, the knocker's dead cards don’t have to be less than ten points.  A player knocks after drawing either the top card from the stack or the top card from the discard pile but before discarding.  The knocker then discards and all players show their cards, separating melds and unmatched cards.  Cards are not laid off.  If you knock and have the lowest dead card count, you win the point difference from all other players.  If you knock and rummy—all your cards are used in melds—you receive the point difference and a twenty-five point bonus from each opponent.  If you knock and an opponent has the same amount of deadwood points, that opponent collects the point difference from the other players.  If more than one opponent ties your deadwood score, they split the difference.  If you knock and one or more opponents have less deadwood points, the opponent with the lowest score receives the point difference from each player.  If they tie, they split the difference.  Every opponent who has less deadwood points than you also receives a ten point penalty from you.  Before the first hand, players determine the score needed to win the game—500, 1000, 10,000 points and so on.

There now!  Ya got all that?  Doc sure did.  In a kind of round-robin, he and Charlie would whirl past the conventioneers and go head to head with the dead.  Six players at six tables began with six cards in a hand, then down to four players at a table with seven card hands, then three players with seven card hands.  The last standing two players would have a final game with ten cards each.  What would happen then was anybody’s guess.  Boreese and Chan were plowing through the sixes at lightening speed.  And it was being noticed.

Chuckie and I were amazed.  Doc and Charlie kept a running dialog going about their wives; how they fixed their hair, boiled their rice, dressed for church, on and on as they signaled back and forth.  And they took meld after meld, zipping through their competition.  Every time we looked over at Gafak Yoseff and Nokt Tusoon Tamoon, it was obvious that they were looking back at us!  At the end of the three man pass, Chuckie leaned over Charlie and whispered in his ear.  “Golly, I think we got ’em worried, great-great-gran’pop!”

“ ‘Cannot sell bearskin before shooting bear.’  Learn to relax and watch, great-great-grandson.  Patience—‘Must harvest rice before can boil it.’  Suspect we have been recognized.  Unusual for Mexican policeman to not speak Spanish; dead giveaway… pardon pun.  Gafak not stupid.  Realizing now longtime nemisis not completely dead, so must try to kill completely.  ‘Enemy who misses mark, like serpent, must coil to strike again.’  Keep eye open.  Expect all Egyptian hell break out if honorable half-dead Chinese detective start to win head to head round.”

Charlie was more right than even he knew.  Nokt Tusoon Tamoon hadn’t wasted the three thousand years she’d been in the underworld.  She and Gafak had cheated the diapers off of every god she could get her cards on, playing Knock Rum games for centuries on end.  They all owed her, and she was ready to collect.  When she was partnered with her BFF, Gafak Yoseff, she was incredibly good at cheating.  Charlie could see that she was a near-flawless shyster.  But Chuckie had positioned himself next to Gafak, and every time he reached into his diaper for a card to feed to his crony, Chuckie slid against him and the card would fall to the floor.  Now, with a ten card hand and left to her own devices, Nokt Tusoon Tamoon was running wild.  Only an old hand like Charlie Chan could spot the frauds and stop her.

“Excuse, please, Miss Tamoon, to be keeping hands on table.  Bug bite could be fatal.”

“Bug bite, Mister Chan?  A little bug will not deny me my victory.  The Pharaohs could not deny me, the gods could not deny me, and the Saint Louis Rummy Society, with all their posturing and boasting, cannot deny me winning half the money in this strange country run by a black Pharoah!  A network program will surely follow!”  She discarded and, to her surprise, Charlie swooped the card up.  It was becoming obvious the Chan clan was more than holding their own, and for the first time in three thousand years, the Queen of “denial” might get knocked on.

It was obvious that as we were watching Nokt Tusoon Tamoon, it was even more obvious that we were being watched by all the crew of the Luxor Casino, who had fallen under her spell.  It was particularly obvious when security dragged me out from under the table and accused me of looking up skirts.  Skirts?  Cards!  I was looking for cheat cards.  Doc had donned his old Gloria Swanson gown and was dancing in circles to bring good luck to Charlie.  It started to drizzle, so I made him stop.

Nokt Tusoon Tamoon had a few black magic tricks up her sleeve, too.  At a table in the corner sat a strange group of beings.  At a signal from Gafak, Shu, the god of wind and air, made the air conditioning turn off, leaving the air in the room completely still.  As we all were sucking for air, the wind he released into the air was filled with past tense polish sausage and sauerkraut.  I’d never seen an Asian man’s eyes cross, but Charlie’s sure as hell did.  People were passing out everywhere.  In the turmoil, Tamoon tried to discard out of turn, but Charlie grabbed her hand.

“Not to discard second time, thank you sooo much.  Honorable detective must now give up card.  Discarding dishonorable six of clubs.”

“Aha!  I’ll take it!”

Before the air could clear, Set, the god of deserts, storms, evil, and chaos started a sand storm a’ rockin’.  It was he that turned the Luxor into a real desert, covering it with tons of sand, and that sand was now blowing in all directions at near-monsoon force.  Chairs, tables, and playing cards filled the sand-choked air in chaotic harmony that forced Doc, Chuckie, and I back. But the table that Charlie and Nokt Tusoon Tamoon sat at stayed put.

“Ah!  Good card!  Thank you, sooo much!”

“Damn you, Chan!  There are no gods strong enough to protect you!”

“ ‘Dead men need no protection.’  Dishonorable cheating slut of Egypt may have nine of diamonds.”

Chuckie, Doc, and I nearly choked on the sand that filled our mouths when our jaws fell open.  We had never heard Charlie use language like that, and it stunned us.  Judging by the reaction of Gafak Yoseff, he was shocked too.  This would be a fight to the bitter end.

“Here!  Take that, copper!  Four of clubs.”

“Have been looking for same.  Thank you, sooo much!”

“Ahhhhhhhh!”  With that, Tamoon unleashed the dogs.  Well, actually, she let the monkeys out.  Babi, god of baboons, sent his furry bung-holed army into the room.  It was insanity.  Chairs were flying, people running in fear, baboons sitting down at the baccarat tables… and winning!  Another fix, no doubt.  It looked like a scene from The Wizzard of Oz!  Several tourists from Nebraska were quite impressed with what they thought was a genuine Las Vegas floor show.  Through it all, Chan and Tamoon could be heard over the din, screaming at each other as card after card fell.

“THREE HEARTS, PLEASE!”

“QUEEN OF DIAMONDS!”

“EIGHT OF SPADES!”

Card after card fell as the two enemies went after each other and the points grew.  Tamoon tried it all; the No Cut Rummy Cheat, the Rummy Deck Cuff Trick, Faking a Meld… but when she tried Cheating the Rummy Count, Charlie had had enough!  He slammed his hands down on the table.  “ ‘Too late to dig well when honorable house is on fire.’  Have seen all cheating need to see.  Cannot win now, Nokt Tusoon Tamoon!  Evil associate, Gafak Yoseff, has met Chinese detective many times, and knows now proverbial jig is up!”  With that, Charlie went to stand up.  Gafak Yoseff charged forward with Osiris, god of the underworld and the afterlife, and rammed the table into Charlie.  Osiris began reciting the ritual to send the Half-Dead to the Great Beyond.  All Nokt Tusoon Tamoon had to do now was wait for Charlie to fade out of existence once and for all, knock, and win the game… but old habits die hard, even for the dead coming back to life.  Charlie had fallen to the floor, and as soon as the knocked-over table blocked his view, Nokt Tusoon Tamoon jammed her hand down in Yoseff’s diaper and pulled out the cards she needed (and raising a pain-induced smile from Gafak).

“KNOCK!!!!  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK…”  She was going crazy, knocking non-stop, but when she raised her skirts and bent over to moon Charlie, there was a tremendous blast and the air was filled with a thick black smoke.  When the smoke cleared, a stunned Nokt Tusoon Tamoon stood straight up with an open-mouthed look of pain on her face.  On the other side of the smoke, Chuckie Chan stood, Steve McQueen’s sawed-off shotgun replica in hand, with smoke still curling from the stubby little barrels.

“Nobody kills my great-great-gran’pop and gets away with it!”  A grand statement, but it fell on deaf ears.

When nobody was looking back at the pawn shop, Chuckie had traded his high school ring for two rounds of rock salt-filled shotgun shells and two rounds of double-o buck that had been left by a deer-plagued farmer on vacation!  He’d peppered Nokt Tusoon Tamoon’s butt with rock salt.  It was obvious the salt had an effect. The baboons disappeared, the sandstorm stopped, and the sweet smell of air freshener filled the room.  Nokt Tusoon Tamoon, however, was hopping like a rabbit with its tail on fire around the room at high speed, with Gafak Yoseff in hot pursuit with a bucket of ice.

“By George, they’re human!” Doc remarked, impressed that the blast had had any result at all.  “Charlie took all the psychic power out of them!”  Charlie, meanwhile, was grinning ear to ear in a most un-Chinese manner.  “ ‘Man without relatives is man without troubles.’  But perhaps this time… make exception!”

I gotta admit, Chuckie looked like an Asian Steve McQueen as he popped open the scatter gun and sent the spent shells flying out onto the floor.  Nokt Tusoon Tamoon and Gafak Yoseff were clumped in a corner as Chuckie marched towards them, putting the other two live rounds into the chambers.  He raised the weapon and leveled it at the two snivelling cowards that had caused so much psychic trouble.  The expression on Chuckie’s face told me that now that these two birds were human, he was going to deal with them in human terms.

But karma doesn’t always follow the script.

From the table where the gods had been sitting, two shadowy figures rose and walked between Chuckie and the two cheats.  It was Tawaret, hippopotamus goddess of childbirth and fertility, and Bes, dwarf god of pregnant woman, newborn babies, and family.  They faced Chuckie.  “Would you really do that to a mommy… to be?”

“They’re gonna be parents?”

“The gods are going to punish them.  Triplets… and he’ll never be certain they’re his!  Gafak caused all this, Nokt Tusoon Tamoon cheated even the gods.  Now that they’re human, all bets are off.  They lost!  And looking into the future…”  Bes put his pudgy dwarf hand to his brow, peered into the future, and started to chant, “yayaya, yaaa, yayaya, yaaa…”

Tawaret gave him the NCIS headslap to the back of his head.  “Cut the drama, Bes.  The fix is in, guys.  A baby a year for the next twenty years.  They’ll be changing dirty diapers until they’re old and gray.  Sound fair to you, oh great Officer of Eternal Justice?”

Chuckie looked at his great-great-gran’pop.  Charlie was sitting on the ground, beaming that his young relative had been called an “Officer of Eternal Justice.”  Charlie nodded.  “Always happens—‘when conscience tries to speak, telephone out of order.’  Cannot find right words.  May have misjudged you, great-great-grandson.  Justice served!”

Doc and I sighed in relief.  We had helped avoid another psychic disaster—and hadn’t even been beaten up this time!  Doc, still dressed as Gloria Swanson, called Osiris over to help Charlie on his way to Great Beyond.  Osiris, despite being god of the underworld and the afterlife, was not a bad guy… er, god.  We had rid him of two ticks in his butt, and he was happy to help despite Doc in a dress making him uncomfortable.  As he chanted away, and the world’s greatest detective faded, we could see that a bond had been established between the two Chans.

“ ‘Cannot see contents of nut until shell is cracked.’  Still think you idiot, but have hope.  For having avenged my death, thank you, sooo much.”  With that, Charlie Chan was finally… no more.

“So long, great-great-gran’pop.”

“What now, Chuckie?” I asked.  “Goin’ back to the old surf board?”

“Nah.  I think I’ll stay here, start my own detective agency.  How’s ‘The Chan Clan’s Find-Your-Man Agency’ sound to you?”

Doc and I smiled, nodded, and got the hell out of there before Chuckie could push the issue about whether or not we liked the name—or the idea!  We heard, months later, that Chuckie had become famous as the man with Steve McQueen’s gun!  We never bothered to find out why.

Nokt Tusoon Tamoon and Gafak Yoseff settled in Las Vegas.  When the baby bump began to show, they were married by an Elvis impersonator on the strip.  Sure enough, old Nokt became a baby maker of the first order.  The Luxor Casino hired Gafak Yoseff as a doorman—and, as a little bonus from the Great Beyond, anytime anyone asked him what his name was, he got punched in the face for using “that” kind of language.

Doc and I hitchhiked a ride back to Newark in a truck haulin’ chickens.  It was a little uncomfortable riding in the open back with the birds, but the trucker drove us almost to the door of Uncle Merle’s Bar & Grill.  Uncle Merl was waiting for us with a couple of ice cold butzhs sitting on the bar.

And the universe was in harmony again.

THE END

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