2A/N: Another of my Willy Wonka series based on the 1970 movie, with a tip of a felt hat to a certain 1941 film.
Straight Scoop
Charlie Bucket entered the office that he shared his mentor and partner Willy Wonka. Although still a boy, he was learning the candy business by leaps and bounds and every day seemed to reveal some new twist in the business. There was a lot to learn, and with a teacher like Willy the lessons were anything but structured.
Even now he was supposed to meet Willy to discuss some of the nuances of running the factory. However, the older man wasn't here; he was probably delayed with some matter, although there was always the chance he had forgotten. Charlie adopted his usual strategy to wait a reasonable time just in case it was the former. On the way to his desk, he passed by Willie's and noticed the newest copy of True Chocolateer magazine, a publication of highly-exaggerated fiction for people in the candy industry. Seeing what looked like a chocolate hawk on the cover, he picked up the magazine and sat down at his desk to read the featured story.
The Maltose Falcon
The dame walked into my candy store and strode right past the chocolate bars, the gumball display and even the jawbreaker rack with nary a glance; she only had eyes for the man behind the counter - Sam "Willy" Scoop.
That's me, and when someone comes into my shop without looking at the sweets I know something sour is afoot; San Francisco is a beautiful city but it can stink with the best of them. I brushed off a speck from my purple coat's lapel and straightened my bow tie.
"Are you Mr. Scoop or Mr. Bowman?" she asked nervously. Customers usually don't get nervous in candy shops unless they had too few coins and too big an appetite. This doll looked like she had plenty of both, but only time would tell what the appetite was for.
I tipped my hat to one side and leveled with her. "I'm Scoop; Bowman's my partner. What can I do you for?"
"My name's Wonderful. I'm looking for my sister" she stated matter of factly.
I let her watch me look deliberately around the shop from my vantage point. "I don't know who she is, but she's not here unless she's invisible. Is she invisible?"
"No, of course not."
"Then she's not here." I like to call a spade a spade.
"I know she isn't; but I thought you might be able to help me find her. She came into San Francisco for the big candy convention last Tuesday with a man named Thursday and I haven't heard from her since. I think he brought her across state lines for immoral confectionery practices and I need to take her back home. The police said you were the best detective in the whole candy trade - will you help?" she asked, pulling out a few portraits of some dead presidents. I looked at the bills in her purse and quickly counted the zeroes before making my decision and I quickly agreed.
"I couldn't help but overhear" Miles Bowman said as he entered from the back stockroom as he introduced himself. "I'm going to retire next week anyway, so why don't I met this Thursday fellow next Tuesday?"
"Tuesday's no good, Thursday's leaving on Monday" she said as she shook her head.
"How about Saturday?"
"He's busy at a Sundae workshop."
"Wednesday it is" I broke in, since we were running out of days pretty quickly. "Miles will meet Thursday tonight at the Tomorrow Club, and we'll tail him back to find your sister. We'll get her home; there are a few tricks of the trade to get her out of this jam." We talked for a few minutes and a plan started to jell.
"Thank you" she said as she swept out of the shop as quickly as she entered. Women were like malted milk balls; the first one was really special and second one was better, but after a few dozen you start to lose interest for a while. I hadn't had one for quite a while.
"One for you and one for me" Miles said as he split the C notes between us. "I'm sure looking forward to spending this in retirement. It's not a gold rush, but it's a start."
...
Miles' body lay at the bottom of the hill, completely covered in a creamy white layer of swirls.
"The way we figured it, somebody pushed him over the railing here" Detective Poolhouse said as he pointed to the broken railing. "He must have rolled down the hill and conked his head on that big rock, knocking him out. Then the person covered him in frosting and smothered him. They used a Smith & Wesson spatula."
"Somebody iced him. He woulda retired next week if he hadn't taken the case" I noted dryly as I studied the sky; it was a clear night and even with the city lights you could make out the milky way while the full moon was about to set in the west. Whoever it was, he probably saw them coming. They didn't sneak up behind him either - the night was so quiet you could hear a gum drop. I picked up my gum and stuffed it in my pocket before letting the detective in on the case. "He was tailing a guy named Thursday."
"You won't give me his name today?"
"No, his name was Thursday. Looks like maybe Thursday didn't like being tailed - now I gotta get new stationary made at the shop with just my name on it."
"You gonna break it to his wife?"
"No, I'll tell my printer first. But I'll let my secretary Effie Praline do it tonight; I'll, uh, comfort her tomorrow when I can work it into my schedule."
"Sweet."
...
I got into the office late the next morning after a late night visit from Poolhouse and his superior Lt. Dundee telling me that Thursday got his just desserts by being strangled with a licorice rope. They were checking me out, but I was clean as far as Thursday was concerned. With so many unsavory characters hanging around after the convention, I told them a thug could be hired for peanuts and they left, figuring I was nuts.
While setting up the new stationary with my secretary I was interrupted with a call from Miss Wonderful telling me to meet her at the Trumpet Apartments. She had checked in, and when she registered she had left the name field LeBlanc. When I got there she let me in and I looked around while I waited for the next shoe to drop. She was either still unpacking or she was just a messy housekeeper; regardless, I settled deeper into a chair while she admitted that the story she had given us was false. It was then she admitted her name was really Brigid O'Irish.
"We figured that; no one levels with the real story at first. It's like those cheap chocolate Easter rabbits you see at the five and dime; they look good on the outside, but nothing but hollow on the inside. You know what that means?"
"That unscrupulous candy makers deceive shoppers with false packaging?"
"No, it means I get to keep both hundred dollar bills now - Miles won't need his in retirement."
"Will you help me, Mr. Shovel? I can't tell you the real story - not yet." She batted her eyes at me and played vulnerable. Dolls do that; they know guys are suckers for it. I was as cynical as a newcomer to an island of cannibals, but her money was as good as her looks so I played along.
"The name is Scoop; Sam Scoop. Some of us, eh, don't need to hide behind fake names. Okay Miss O'Irish, if you're looking for help then this candyman can."
