Judges’ Beyond The Reef was Wisconsin’s Polynesian restaurant du jour. It was billed as a Supper Club; in the Midwest you have supper instead of dinner. So a supper club is a classy restaurant; not a place a guy goes to if all he wants is a shot and a beer.
It originally opened as a log cabin dance hall, exactly when, I don’t know. But Bob and Peggy Judge, two Wisconsinites who wanted to live in Hawaii but couldn’t get their feet unstuck from the Wisconsin cheese curds and Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, decided to bring Hawaii to Brookfield. They added an A frame entrance onto the log cabin and had two palm trees put on each side of the front walk along with two gigantic Tiki statues. This added a dash of Polynesia and I guess it worked for some folks, it didn’t for me. When you stepped into the restaurant you were met with a dimly lit dining area. The light came from table lamps that were filled with candles. It was light enough so you wouldn’t fall on your face, but dark enough to hide, in case your wife walked in looking for you. It had a sail boat called a Hukilau where you could get your salad and condiments in the Banyan Tree Room, or what I call the dining room. I guess some would call it romantic, if they were the romantic kind.
Harry told me this place made him feel like he was on a Hawaiian vacation. To me it was just another local bar with high priced drinks like the Sneaky Tiki, Kona Breeze and the Fog Cutter all priced at a buck seventy five each. My brandy ran less than a buck but I could get the same brandy up the road at Hepfner’s Bowling alley along with some pretty good pretzels, if the owner’s son, Glen, didn’t try to stretch an old bag into another week, for half of what I paid at Judge’s.
I walked in at exactly five minutes before ten because I was excited to see what Thelma would be wearing. The young hostess who greeted me wasn’t anything close to what I had in mind a Polynesian beauty would look like even though she was wearing a flowered skirt.
People in Wisconsin tend to be a pale white most of the year, unless they lost all their marbles and lay out in the winter time in the Wisconsin snow, trying to brown up a bit, which this girl hadn’t done.
“Good evening sir, do you have reservations tonight?’’ she asked.
I looked around before answering and noticed that most of the tables were empty so reservations obviously weren’t needed.
This was no Mader’s. To be fair, there are a helluva lot more German’s in Wisconsin than there are Polynesians.
“No, I am meeting someone here. I guess I will wait at the bar.”
“What’s the name of your party that you are meeting? When they arrive, I’ll send them back.”
“Her name is Thelma. She’s a tall blond lady.”
“Thelma Thieland? If that’s who you’re meeting, she’s at the Reef Bar with Jimmy The Peanut.”
“Wait a minute, you give names to your bar snacks?” I asked.
Evidently she didn’t think that was funny as she didn’t crack a smile as she said, “No, that’s his nickname. His real name is Jimmy Booth.”
So I tried again.
“The Reef Bar? So what’s beyond the reef?”
She just stared at me with a blank look.
I gave up and nodded to her as I walked back to the Reef Bar. There was a mural painted on the wall as you walked back. It was a beach scene with a sailboat floating by on what was supposed to be the bay in front of the Judges place on Kihei Beach on the island of Maui. Nice touch I thought.
I was familiar with the bar area. As I mentioned, I spent some time here staking out a high priced wife messing around with a high school coach. I had been working for one of Milwaukee’s titan’s of industry who wanted to catch his wife in the act of cheating so he could get rid of her without having to pay her any alimony. I knew where he was coming from but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the lady.
I noticed Thelma sitting at the far corner of the bar. There was a big guy behind the bar bending over talking to her. If his butt was in proportion with the rest of his body, he was one big guy. She saw me and immediately waved me over.
The bartender straightened up and turned to see who she was waving at. He was big. One of those two in one guys, a bartender and bouncer rolled into one package of muscle.
“Max,: Thelma cried, as she snuffed out her cigarette in the ashtray in front of her.
“Over here.”She said.
No kidding, I thought.
“Hiya Thelma, you look gorgeous.” I said walking around the bar and pulling out a stool next to her.
If I’m anything, I am truthful. She was gorgeous. She had on a red dress that was so tight that I thought it was her skin. At first glance I thought she had mistakenly put it on backwards, as I swear it was cut so low I could see her navel again. I was beginning to wonder about this girl and where she shopped for her clothes. Wherever she went I didn’t want her to stop.
She held out her hand for me to shake, I guess. But being the gentlemen I am, I clasped it and bowed my head and kissed the back of it.
“Oh, Jimmy, did you see that? Mr. Fly is such a gentleman. I am flattered by your attention, Mr. Fly. Please make the acquaintance of my good friend, Jimmy.
Jimmy held out a ham that I assumed was his hand and I grasped it hard. I figured he wouldn’t be as pleased as Thelma was if I kissed it.
Only problem he squeezed mine much harder than I squeezed his. I tried to hold back the tears but it was difficult to do as I swear I could hear my metacarpals crack under his grip.
If I thought Thelma’s dress was tight, Jimmy might have done her one better. His flowered Hawaiian shirt left no doubt in my mind that he packed a helluva lot of muscle and wasn’t to be messed with.
Luckily our handshake ended before I passed out and I was able to recover my composure and, with tears welling in my eyes from the pain, I asked Thelma how long she had been there.
“I arrived around nine, didn’t I Jimmy?” she asked.
“Yeah, a bit before.” He said.” Whatcha drinkin’?” He asked.
“Christian Brothers on the rocks.” I replied.
“You got it.” He said as he turned back to his work.
“He’s pretty big. Does he work for Ray?”
“Tampa Ray? My gosh, no. Jimmy sat next to me in homeroom in high school.”
“He goes by the name of peanut?” I asked.
“That is such a funny story.” She yelled, “Jimmy, Jimmy, tell Max how you got your nickname.”
Jimmy was pouring my brandy and looked our way and shook his head. He stood up and grabbed a bar rag and dried his hands. He picked up my drink and walked our way.
Placing the drink on the bar in front of me he said. “It’s on me Max. When I was a little kid I liked sticking stuff in my nose. One day I was sticking peanuts in my nose and my ma told me to quit. Of course, I didn’t and I got two stuck up there. One in each nostril. My ma had to take me to the emergency room to get them removed. The next day in school Thelma called me Jimmy The Peanut and it stuck, no pun intended. By the end of the day, everyone was calling me that. Twenty five years later here I am, Jimmy The Peanut Booth. I kinda like it now so I don’t know what I would do if nobody called me that no more.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” I replied even though I didn’t.
“Listen, you had anything to eat, Thelma?”
“Yes, Max, I have. Let’s take our drinks and go to the table in the corner so we can talk. Jimmy, will you keep an eye on our drinks and bring us another round when they get low?”
“I got my eye on you Thelma, don’t worry.”
I slid into the booth next to Thelma and she moved back toward me so her thigh was brushing against mine. And I thought this was going to be a rough evening. Now, why am I here I thought?
I looked around to make sure none of Tampa Ray’s goons were lurking in the corner somewhere.
“Max, what are you worried about?” she smiled as she reached in her purse and pulled out a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes.
Very perceptive lady I thought. I dug in my pocket for my Zippo United States Army Air Corp Cigarette lighter and flipped it open. Spinning my thumb on the wheel, I sparked the flint igniting the flame. Thelma leaned into me, placing her hand over mine to steady it from shaking. I couldn’t help but notice how her chest expanded as she inhaled the smoke deeply into her lungs. She turned her head up as she blew the smoke in the air. Wow, why was that so sexy when she did that and not when Harry did it?
“Well, your boyfriend does have a reputation for rubbing people out who cross him. Maybe that has me sweating a bit but, otherwise, I am okay with this.”
“Are you planning on being naughty?” She smiled coyly at me.
She didn’t wait for my answer and said, “Or good?”
I wondered what she meant by ‘good’.
“With me naughty and good are one and the same.” I replied.
“I bet they are. I was rude before, I should have asked if you are hungry Max?”
“No, brandy fills any void I may have. What about you?” I said.
“I’m fine.” She replied.
I was glad we moved on as that conversation was getting a little steamy and I was afraid of where it might have led us. I don’t care what she said but a woman who looks like Thelma would never be far from Tampa Ray’s reach.
“What did you want to talk to me about, Thelma?” I inquired.
I didn’t want to rush the evening but I was curious as well as nervous.
“Ah, right to the point, huh? I thought we might take this time to get to know each other a little before we got down to business.” She said.
“Alright, what do you want to know?”
“And here I thought Ray was a crass ass.” She giggled.
Boy that hurt. It was at this point I decided I might not be as suave as I thought I was.
“Look Thelma, I am sorry, but I have these images of headless women swimming through my mind and I can’t seem to shake them. If you have any information that might help in finding out who might have done this please let me know. I will protect you as my source. I promise.”
“Oh Max, you don’t get it do you. I am not afraid. Tampa Ray has nothing to do with this. I know, or knew Sally Hammonds. She was my roommate for the past three years. She moved out last April and I have only seen her a few of times since. She told me that she was seeing a guy who was a little kinky but very nice. He was well connected and she thought he was the ticket for her to get out of her situation. She was so sweet.”
“What situation, Thelma?” I asked.
“What do you think, Max? Being broke, being used by men, not seeing any way out of being used.
Thelma lowered her head and her shoulders shook. I could tell she was crying. I put my hand on her shoulder and in my best Max Fly way, I attempted to comfort her.
She threw her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder as she started to sob.
I wasn’t prepared for this and didn’t know how to react. I looked around again to make sure none of Tampa Ray’s beer trucks were lurking in the corner someplace before I put my arms around her and brought her closer to me and said, “That’s alright, that’s alright. We’ll find out who did this.”
I put my index finger under her chin and lifted her head up so she could look into my eyes.
Her eyes were a bright green, what I would call cat’s eyes; very sexy.
“I promise Thelma, I won’t let this drop until we get the guy who did this to Sally.”
Her lips trembled when she replied. “I know you will, Max, that’s why I called you.” She nuzzled her face deeper into my neck.
“Where did Sally work?” I asked.
“Harley Davidson. She worked in their bookkeeping department.”
She pulled back and looked into my eyes.
“Is your name really Max?” She asked, dabbing at her eyes.
“That’s what my momma told me. Why?”
“I don’t know, I was wondering if it was short for something like Maxwell or Maximilian.
“No, my mother said she named me Max because it sounded like a hard name. I didn’t have a dad, at least one I knew, and she thought I needed a tough name to survive. She thought I would end up being a carpenter or a pirate.”
Thelma laughed at that. “Are you a pirate Max?”
“Only on weekends; I bring out my eye patch to impress the ladies.”
“You don’t need an eye patch to do that, Max.”
She lowered her eyes and then looked up at me with those cat green eyes of hers. “Have you ever been married?” She asked.
I looked at her a moment before replying. “Nope I haven’t, Thelma, I lied. From what I have been able to observe, marriage always ends badly…divorce or death and I’m not ready to face either right now.”
She laughed and shook her head and then reached into her purse.
I felt the sweat bead up on my forehead as I thought she was reaching for a gun. I just don’t trust women.
“Here, this is Sally’s diary,” she said.
It always amazes me how much stuff women can shove in their purse.
“She left it at our apartment when she moved out. I always meant to get it back to her but one thing led to another and I never did.
I looked at it and there are some disturbing things in there that I think you should read.
She writes in there that B.M is a real shit.”
“Bowel Movement?” I ask.
“Max, B.M. is the initials of her paramour.”
Paramour; this guy is a step up from a John at best and Thelma’s calling him Sally’s paramour?
At this point I wondered if Thelma was smart enough to be a house plant.