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Clutching his mug of coffee, George made his way into the front room and had intended to get back to the task of going over what remained of the supplies and that damn list that he kept like it was the most important thing in his life. Brushing his hair out of his eyes, which really was starting to get long now, he grabbed his clipboard and then his eyes surveyed the many boxes that he had last seen the evening before.
Wait a minute. That wasn’t right. Something was off.
The box with bandages was on the table and he was pretty sure that he had put it underneath it. George Luz had a system and he was damn proud of it too. He needed to have a system to keep everything nice and orderly, unlike everything else in this damn war. He took a few steps until he was standing behind the table and his eyes went wide all of a sudden. When he bent down to look at boxes and crates underneath, he immediately noticed what had gone missing.
“Son of a bitch!”
*****
George Luz had seen more detective movies than was probably healthy. He’d seen all the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movies multiple times. Whenever there was a new Mr. Moto, Charlie Chan or Thin Man movie, he was always at the front of the line. And he’d seen The Maltese Falcon one too many times. Yet another movie that he knew by heart.
Then there was his great love for detective novels. He read Black Mask magazine when he was a kid and devoured the magazine within a day whenever a new issue was released. All of his issues were still at his parents’ house and they were left under strict instructions not to throw any of them away, because they would be worth big bucks according to George one day. That was where he had first encountered writers like Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett.
What he needed now was a femme fatale. Someone like Myrna Loy or Mary Astor. But where was he going to find one of those on such short notice? He probably didn’t need one to solve this particular crime since he already had a vague idea who had done it, but it still would have been fun to fire some lines at a hot dame that had hired him to solve this case. He’d just have to imagine that particular part. Wouldn’t be that difficult to imagine someone like Hedy Lamarr or Veronica Lake coming to him and wanting him to solve the mystery of her missing Hershey bars.
When he went downstairs again, channeling the likes of Sam Spade, Sherlock Holmes and Philip Marlowe all at once, he must have looked like a lunatic to everyone that saw him, but in his own mind he was going to be the mastermind that was going to crack this case wide open.
“Murder, my dear Watson.” What George really needed was a deerstalker cap, but finding one in Germany right this instant was probably impossible. “Refined, cold-blooded murder.”
George came to a stop in the doorway briefly when he saw Vest standing behind the table and saw that he too was surveying what had gone missing.
“Luz, the Hershey bars… what are you wearing?”
“I know. Already saw that when I came downstairs. Someone’s swiped all of them.”
“I noticed…” Vest looked George up and down again. He had one of those huge German pipes in one hand, a flashlight in the other and what was that he had around his shoulders? Was that a cape? Where on earth had he gotten that from? “What are you doing?”
“I was going to lift Lieb from his bed.”
“Lieb? Why?”
“Because he’s the culprit! He took one bar yesterday when he thought I wasn’t looking, but I saw! Eyes like a hawk!” George held the pipe above his head in a move that he hoped looked dashing, but Vest did not share that sentiment unfortunately. “He came back last night to finish the job!”
“The job?”
“The heist! The caper! The… the.... stickup! The crime of the century!”
“It’s just a couple of Hershey bars, I’m not sure that it’s the crime of the…”
“Doesn’t matter! I am going to locate that dirty rotten scoundrel and I’ll make him pay for his crimes!”
Before Vest could reply, George had already turned around and was going to march off in the direction of the street. The only problem there was that he had turned around too fast and his cape had inadvertently hit him in the face so he stood there for a few seconds, brushing the fabric out of his face and then accidentally hitting himself with the flashlight. He huffed loudly, straightened out his outfit and finally set off in the direction of the street, his cape billowing behind him.
When George was out of earshot, Vest muttered, “It's definitely too early for this.”
George made his way down the street towards the house where 2nd platoon was stationed. He got a couple of weird looks that he chose to ignore and he could hear Vest shouting at him from somewhere behind him, but he still kept moving. If he didn’t get there fast enough, the thief might attempt to get rid of the loot so he had to get there as fast as he possibly could. Bursting into the house, the first person that he encountered was Chuck who had been standing by the window in what was once the sitting room. When he caught sight of Luz, he almost doubled over with laughter.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Chuck laughed so loudly that McClung and Ramirez joined him from the adjoining room to look at what was going on. “Jesus Christ, Luz. Is that a curtain?”
“Shut it!” George tried to sound forceful and in control of the situation, but it didn’t exactly help when three guys were just standing there and laughing at him. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Lieb!” By this time Vest had finally caught up with him and was looking at the three men apologetically from the hallway. “To hell with this! You guys are no help at all.”
Turning around, the cape almost constricting him once again, he made his way up the stairs where the beds were. It didn’t take him long to find Liebgott who was still fast asleep. In one quick movement, George yanked the blanket away from him and started prodding him with the flashlight.
“Where is it, Lieb!” Flicking the light on, he started shining the light into Lieb's eyes. “Tell me where you hid it!”
“Wha…” Lieb sat up, scratched his scalp and shielded his eyes from the bright light with his free hand that George was pointing straight at him. “Luz? The fuck, man.”
“Where did you hide it!”
“Hide what?” George grabbed Lieb’s pillow and threw it on the ground. “Hey! What the hell!”
“I know you took it!”
By now a small crowd had started to form in the doorway and they were looking at what was going on. No one was quite prepared for seeing George Luz waving a flashlight and a pipe around at a bewildered looking Joe Liebgott who was still trying to figure out what was going on.
“Where is the loot, Lieb!”
“Loot?” Lieb was getting increasingly more annoyed and his voice went up in pitch. “What loot?”
“The goddamn Hershey bars! I know you took ‘em!”
“Fuck! You came over here to see if I took some fucking Hershey bars? You’re insane!” He tried to push George away from his bed so he could go back to sleep. “And why the hell do you even have a fucking pipe?”
“I know it was you!”
“Fuck off, Luz. I didn’t take anything.”
Still not entirely satisfied, George pulled Lieb off his bed and he hit the wooden floor with a thud. When Joe then tried to come at him, George started brandishing the flashlight like it was some kind of weapon. It seemed to do the trick though because Lieb instead held his hands up, by now quite convinced that George had completely lost it.
Detective George Luz knew that Joseph D. Liebgott had a stash of Hershey bars somewhere. It wasn’t exactly a well kept secret or anything, everyone knew about it. It was just that no one had figured out where he kept them before. He knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of Joe in regards to what he had done with the stolen chocolate, so in what was supposed to be his final act before he had intended to drag the culprit back to HQ so Winters could deal with him, he grabbed the mattress and pulled it off it’s frame.
“AHA! I knew it!” Before Joe could intervene, George pushed the flashlight into his chest to keep him away from him. “You planning on opening a store or something, Lieb?”
Underneath Liebgott’s mattress were at least twelve Hershey bars which was a considerable amount more than what had gone missing last night. George started grabbing the bars and handed them to Vest to hold. When he got everything, he calmly turned the flashlight off and turned to a visibly angry Lieb.
“You’re lucky I don’t have you court martialed over this.”
“You’d court martial me over a couple of bars of chocolate?”
“You bet your ass I would!” Satisfied that he had solved the case, he pushed his way through the men in the doorway and then he turned around with flourish to add his parting words. “Remember boys. A life of crime doesn’t pay.” Some of them started snorting in laughter again, but he ignored this once more. When George headed back down the stairs, he shouted, “Stay out of trouble!”
And with that he was gone.
If there had been a femme fatale who had hired him for the job, she would no doubt be ecstatic with how fast he had solved the heist and then she would no doubt fall hopelessly in love with him. Instead George would have to settle for Winters’ praise with how he had solved this case which was a very poor substitute indeed. But it would have to do for now.
“Fuck!” Joe Liebgott for his part was absolutely furious that George had taken all his chocolate. “He took all my stuff!”
“I still have mine.”
“Shut up, McClung! Fuck!”
“I can’t believe you hid all that shit under your bed,” Chuck replied. “Who even does that?”
“I’m going to get it back! All of it!”
“Yeah, good luck with that one,” Ramirez muttered before departing. “You’re on your own.”
All of the guys shuffled out of the room and Joe put all his stuff back in order. He would have gone back to sleep if he hadn't been absolutely seething. This wasn’t the end of this. No fucking way.