Mader’s was crowded for a week night. If you wanted good German food in Milwaukee, you could go almost anywhere; but, if you wanted great German food, you went to Mader’s. Gus Mader is the consummate restaurateur. He can cook and prepare food and present it so it looks like a million bucks.
The German atmosphere in Mader’s makes the many German American residents in the Milwaukee area feel like they are back in the Fatherland. Gus’ father, Charles, opened the place in 1902 when he purchased a building on W. Water Street. He called it The Comfort. It was the era when Bucket Boys toted pails of beer from office to office selling Cream City Beer for five cents a glass. After the depression, Charles turned the operation over to his sons, Gus and George. George’s wife does much of the cooking and people flock from all over the world to taste Mader’s Sauerbraten, Veal Rouladen or Pork Shanks. In fact, Gus has a standing challenge to anyone who can finish a whole pork shank by himself; if they can, the second one is on Gus. Once you finish the main course, if there is still room, their Old Fashioned Baked Cheese Cake is world renown. The fact that Gus puts his cute little daughter, Valerie as a hostess, in lederhosen makes guys want to yodel while walking to their table. Beer and brandy flows and schnitzel and strudel covers the tables. It is a festive place.
“Val, it’s me Max; how ya’ doin’?”
“I’m doing fine Max and very busy. These damn lederhosen are making me sweat like a dog in a Chinese Restaurant. So I don’t have time for small talk. ”
“Well, you look like a million bucks Val. Is our table ready? There will be four of us, Eloise and I as well as Detective Marshall and Detective Williams who are on their way.”
Val patted me on the cheek and said. “Follow me you sweet boy. You don’t have the stammtisch but you are close. Well, at least you can see it if you stretch your neck.
Where’s the Pisano Marcello tonight, at some Italian joint slopping down some spaghetti?”
“He threatened to come but I told him he would have to cover the tab. As soon as I said that he disappeared.”
“Well, tell him I said hi and that he should stop by sometime with his wife. It’s been too long since I have seen him. Come on Eloise, follow me. As soon as I heard you were coming, I got you a nice table. Normally my dad likes to put Max at one of the tables near the restrooms as most customers believe we only cater to classy clientele and we don’t want to change their perception. Plus we save the best tables for better tippers.”
Eloise couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. She knew my tips were usually skimpy.
“Thanks Val,” I appreciate this.
“Please send Harry and EJ back when they arrive won’t ya’?” I said.
“I’ll do that Max,” Val said as she turned and looked at Eloise.
“You look lovely tonight Eloise, too bad you’re wasting it on Max. If you ever are interested in waitressing here let me know. Dad has said numerous times how much he would appreciate your donning lederhosen and work in here.”
“You’re sweet Val, I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
“I’ll send that big lummox and EJ back when they arrive. I wish I could join you guys tonight, but duty calls. I’ll send a waitress back too. See ya’ later.”
“She is really nice, don’t you think Max?”
“Yeah, she is a beauty alright. Sometimes I actually think she likes me. What would you like to drink Eloise?” I asked as I saw our waitress approach. She would be hard to miss as her hair was dyed the color of a traffic cone.
“A Pink Squirrel.”
“A what?” I said.
“You heard me Max.”
“Hi, my name is Claudia and I’ll be your waitress tonight. May I get you something to drink?”
Claudia is what you would call a real dicke frau. She is so big she could flip a bus bench but I wouldn’t tell her that to her face. Her arms were the size of Ted Kluszewski’s, the first baseman for the Cincinnati Reds who tore the sleeves off his uniform so everyone could marvel at the size of his biceps.
“How about a Pink Squirrel for the lady here? Make that two and two double brandy manhattans on the rocks please.” I said politely; very politely.
“Coming right up.” Claudia snarled as she sauntered back toward the bar.
“Thought I would order for Harry and EJ.” I told Eloise.
As Claudia turned to walk back toward the bar, I saw Harry and EJ approach. Harry looked very dapper, like he must have just stopped off at a clothing store and purchased a new sport coat and pants as they were clean and freshly pressed and so was his white button down shirt. His yellow tie was knotted and pulled up to his neck. I couldn’t recall the last time I saw Harry look so clean. His flat top gleamed with butch wax and was sticking straight up. I had to admit he cleaned up pretty well. One thing he couldn’t hide were the bags under his eyes.
He had been putting in some long hours the past few days and they were going to continue for quite some time unless he could solve the murders of the three headless women.
EJ looked very stunning and professional in a navy pant suit with a red silk bow neck blouse. I knew all the bulges under her designer jacket weren’t coming from guns. Many heads turned as she walked back to our table.
Harry pulled out the chair next to Eloise and EJ sat down and immediately picked up a conversation with Eloise as if it was a continuation of one they had earlier in the day. She refused to acknowledge my presence.
As our waitress Claudia placed our drinks on the table, I told her to give us a few minutes before coming back for our food order.
When Claudia turned to go, EJ grabbed her hand and said
“What’s this Claudia?” pointing down at the drink that was placed in front of her.
“A Pink Squirrel, EJ.” Claudia replied.
I guess these two have a history together, I thought.
“What in the hell is it doing in front of me? Give it to that little rump ranger over there,” she said pointing at me.
“Bring me a double bourbon on the rocks.”
“Jim Beam?” Claudia asked as she picked up the Pink Squirrel and gracefully slammed it down in front of me spilling some of the light pink liquid on the table.
“Yes, thank you,” EJ said, all sweetness now that she was able to let me know where I stood this evening.
It wasn’t long before I saw Gus Mader making his way through the crowded restaurant, talking to patrons along his way toward our table.
“Good evening, Gus.” Harry said.
“My pork shanks! They stole my pork shanks, the sons of bitches. I don’t have enough to make it to the weekend. If I ever get my hands on whoever did this, I will castrate ‘em and serve their nuts up on my menu as Rocky Mountain Oysters.”
He stopped to stare at Eloise and said. “Hi pretty lady. It’s nice to see you again. I wish you would consider working here for me. You would have all the boys lined up outside just to see you. I might need that if I don’t get my pork shanks back.”
“Who responded to your call?” Harry asked.
“A Sgt Turner and detective Miller. They acted like it was no big deal and wondered why I would give a shit that someone stole my pork shanks. I’ll tell you why,” his face turned red as he yelled, “it was a couple of thousand bucks of pig I had in that meat locker, that’s why, you worthless public servants. Sorry detectives, not you. No offense meant.”
“No offense taken. Do you mean Sgt Dave Turner and Detective Jack Miller?” EJ asked.
“Yep, that’s who I mean.”
“Those two losers haven’t closed a case in over a year. I think they are biding time until retirement.”
“I can believe it. That’s why I am asking Max here to look into it for me. Come by tomorrow and we will get into the details. I talked to Marcello and he said you weren’t working on anything now and had a lot of free time.”
“Claudia, bring this table a round of drinks on me next time, will ya’?”
He turned back to our table and continued. “I have Sam Galbraith flying out to Denver Thursday to pick up some more pork shanks from the Colorado Beef Company.”
“Colorado Beef Company? What are they doing with pork?” I asked.
“Like everybody else these days, they are diversifying.”
“I was supposed to get with Sam and go look at some bucking stock in Loveland Colorado, just outside of Denver. I’m nervous to fly with that guy. The last time I was up with him the gauges weren’t working on that damn Model 17 Staggerwing biplane. When I pointed it out to him, he said a good pilot doesn’t need a gas gauge.
Hell, that might be true, but I would feel much better if they worked. How does he know how far he has flown? That plane has a range of 785 miles and it is 780 miles from the Palmyra Airport where Sam has that piece of crap hanging to the airport outside of Denver that he puts her down in. He said it is safer to put ‘em down when there is no fuel in the tank, in case he miscalculates.”
“Yeah, Sam’s a good guy but kinda crazy when he gets into high altitude.”Gus said.
“You may be right Gus, but I can’t figure him out some of the time, I just don’t feel right being around him, damn Republican.”
“He has a Staggerwing biplane? Those babies have radial engines on ‘em. They are rated over seven hundred horsepower. They cruise at over 200 mph.” Harry said, surprising everyone with his knowledge.
“Yeah, well, if they cruise at 200 mph Sam flies ‘em helluva lot faster.” I said.