“THE DAY OF CALAMITY” – EXCERPT #1
It was practically a miracle I found an opening at the Arch Plaza Apartments, a sturdy two-story building at 730 N. Market with eleven total units. Constance Hanover was the gracious landlady in her seventies who had difficulty renting the front unit due to unfortunate circumstances as well as a bit of unsubstantiated gossip.
“Mr. O’Malley died suddenly and, well, that gave the appearance of a curse of some sort,” she explained to me in the early fall of 1945. The prior resident, Padraic O’Malley, was a long-time bartender at Tom’s Inn over on North Seneca. According to various stories passed around, he had a colorful way about him, claiming at one time to be a leprechaun, among other things. You either embraced his Irish charm or avoided him entirely.
“And those cats!” she added with disdain.
The first-floor apartment contained a main room looking out over the street and pocket doors separating the quaint kitchenette, the bathroom, and the small bedroom. The cats of which she spoke were two Manx, one an elegant tuxedo named Lady Mittens and the other a bright orange fellow called Sir Pounce. None of O’Malley’s co-workers would take them in, and Mrs. Hanover didn’t have the heart to evict them, being the good Christian woman she was. That I was willing to move in with a guaranteed one-year lease and maintain the feline residents allowed her to offer me a reduced monthly rent. The place was in proximity to everywhere in downtown I needed to be. I did not believe in curses and had no aversion to felines I was aware of. I just didn’t know what I was getting myself into.
Richie dropped me off after my visit with Whitman. I indicated I would head on over to the university late in the afternoon and he should pick me up at three. I reminded him to have spare receipt books available. His eager smile indicated he was ready for an adventure. His labored breathing due to the excitement had me worried.
Mrs. Hanover placed a small bench outside my front door so prospective clients wouldn’t have to wait on the stoop or in the street. It was done as much for propriety as for privacy. She allowed me to put a sign on the door itself, reading H. BERGMAN, INVESTIGATOR, with the caveat I would not be entertaining clients at all hours and disturbing the neighbors. At the time, I was barely making ends meet and did not think that to be a problem.
Private detective Harold Bergman stood as a testament to his former life as a Wichita Kansas policeman. Having endured the brutalities of World War II, he carries a slight but noticeable limp, a constant reminder of the battles fought on distant shores. As a Jew, his identity is woven into the very fabric of his being, but he cannot fulfill his father’s wishes that he become a rabbi, and instead faces a world where the laws of God and the laws of man don’t make sense, taking it upon himself to find the Truth and perhaps himself.
Harold finds himself entangled in the lives of a spoiled daughter, and the wayward husband of a devout colored woman. Their cases take Harold on a perilous journey into the depths of a dark underworld, where shadows dance with malicious intent and faith emerges as his sole weapon. Failure to wield it will usher in a day of calamity.
“The Day of Calamity”, The Wichita Chronicles Volume 1 will be released on November 29, 2023.
