As Time Goes By
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: Here's looking at Caskett, kid. Rating: K Time: In a rather alternate universe.
"And what's that got to do with you, anyway?"
"I have the Letters of Transit. I'm meeting a customer here later tonight who will pay me very well for them. Are you impressed with me now, Rick?"
Rick made a show of thinking.
"No, not at all.
"Although I know you despise me…" Demming began.
"I don't despise you." Rick said quickly.
"Really?" Demming said with a smile.
"I once tried thinking about you long enough to despise you, but I got sick to my stomach after a couple of seconds."
"Even so, you're the only person in Casablanca that I trust enough to hold these for me until my buyer shows up. Will you take them for me?"
Rick thought about it. He hated to get involved with Demming, but giving some poor sucker a chance to get the hell out of Casablanca was worth the risk. He hoped.
"Sure." He took the Letters of Transit from Demming and tucked them in his dinner jacket.
After pointing Demming away from the back room, he walked to his bandleader.
"Sam, can you hide these in your piano?"
His furry bandleader looked up at Rick and shook his head.
"To begin with, my name is Curly. You fired Sam when you found out he was really a drummer and had just been faking the piano. Secondly, I'm not playing the piano, I'm playing the electric flugelhorn. The piano is so…so…last month. I've built an amplifier that goes all the way up to two and I hope to make it louder."
"Whatever." Rick said. "Just hide these somewhere." He handed the Letters of Transit to Curly. Curly put them in the bell of his flugelhorn and found he'd invented the flugelhorn mute.
"I'll never understand these young jitterbugs." Rick said as he walked away.
Just then, three of Casablanca's Finest, Captain Renault's chief enforcers, le Buggsy, le Muggsy and le Puggsy kicked open the door and advanced on Demming.
"Halt three times or we shoot!" Yelled le Buggsy.
The three already had their Tommy guns out and opened up on Demming, filling him full of .45 caliber rounds from their fifty round drum magazines.
"Mon Dieu!" Cried le Buggsy. "He lives."
Dropping their Tommy guns, they began to jump up and down on him while wearing their hobnailed boots.
"Zut alors!" Cried le Muggsy. "He still lives."
Le Puggsy was carrying a tank full of rabid, cyborg, zombie, vampire piranhas. First putting on heavy work gloves, they threw Demming into the tank. Alas, Demming was too much for the poor piranhas. One bite of Demming and their eyes rolled back in their heads and the floated belly up to the surface.
However, the unaccustomed water was enough to finally kill off Demming.
Le Buggsy carefully searched Demming's remains.
"He does not have the Letters of Transit on him. We must report this to Captain Renault."
As the three turned to leave, Rick had a question.
"You yelled at him to stop three times. Why? And how would he do that? I mean he'd have to move again to stop again."
Le Buggsy gave a Gallic shrug.
"Captain Renault told us to yell "Stop three times." before we shot. That's exactly what we did."
Rick thought about bringing this to the attention of Captain Renault but decided not to. It was only Demming.
As it happened, Captain Renault showed up just then, with a group of Nazis in tow. Rick walked over to greet them.
"Evening, Captain Renault. You brought company?"
"Yes, may I introduce Major Perlmutter of the Third Reich?"
Rick looked over Major Perlmutter. He supposed that black leather was now in back in Germany, but he thought that the knee- high boots, the fishnet stockings and the leather bustier were a bit much. That sort of ensemble looked so much better on Captain Renault.
Major Perlmutter of the Third Reich clicked his heels together, but unfortunately did not go back to Kansas.
"Ah, yes. Herr Castle. We have heard much about you in Berlin."
"Oh? All good I hope."
"Not at all. You ran guns to the Ethiopians when our gallant Italian allies invaded them."
"You wouldn't expect the guns to run themselves, would you?"
Major Perlmutter glared at Rick. It was a much inferior glare to one he'd once been used to, though.
"You fought against the Nationalists in Spain in 1937 and 1938."
"I did? My how time does go by."
"And now you are here in Casablanca. What's an American doing here? That is your nationality, isn't it?"
Captain Renault attempted to lighten the mood.
"Oh, Ricky is an alcoholic."
Rick shook his head.
"No, I don't drink alcohol, I drink distilled spirits, Therefore, I'm a spiritualist."
Major Perlmutter did not get the joke.
"We will be keeping a close eye on you, Herr Castle. A very close eye."
Rick called Sasha over.
"Sasha, will you please get one of our very best tables for Major Perlmutter?"
"Perhaps one by the garbage cans?" Sasha whispered.
Rick shook his head.
"The very best table."
Sasha rolled his eyes and led Major Perlmutter's party away.
Captain Renault stayed to talk to Rick.
"You could be in great trouble, Ricky.' She said.
"Lanie, how could I possibly get in trouble?"
"Major Perlmutter knows that the Letters of Transit that were stolen are supposed to be sold in your club tonight."
Rick shrugged,
"People buy and sell things all the time here. I sell things myself and buy some things as well. So?"
"Just be very careful, Ricky."
And with that, Captain Lanie Renault wiggled away.
Rick watched appreciatively until Sasha came up to him.
"Mister Rick, there's a problem in the…" He lowered his voice to a whisper… "back room."
Rick looked around to make sure Major Perlmutter didn't see him and walked to the back room. He opened the door and there was young Vito Vorleone, who would one day be famous in the ice cream business. Today, however, he merely worked in Rick's famous back room. In Nazi controlled areas, ice cream was a rare luxury, and such luxuries were reserved for Germans. But not in Rick's Café Americain. Rick watched as Vito put the finishing touches on a Rick's Supreme Sundae and handed it to a happy customer.
"So, what's the problem?" Rick asked Sasha.
"See the fellow at the end of the soda fountain. He's on his fifth Supreme Sundae and I don't think he can pay his tab. He and his wife have been in Casablanca for a long time, and I think it's getting to him. He's trying to drown his sorrows in ice cream."
"So? We've had welshers before. If he can't pay, kick him out and tell him not to come back."
Sasha nodded to the left.
"The lady with the nice legs over there is his wife, one Jacqueline Warner. She's been talking to Mr. Vaughn. I think he's hot for her."
Rick glanced at the two of them. He'd seen much better legs but pushed the memory of them out of his mind.
"Why do you say he's hot for her?"
"He's standing in a puddle of his own drool."
Rick looked again and it was so. He caught young Vito's eye and gave him the high sign.
When the young man ordered another Supreme Sundae, Vito's hands moved so fast that no one could follow what he was doing. He put the sundae in front of the young man and then faked looking surprised.
"Oh, look, sir. You have a golden ticket in your sundae. That means the next sundaes for everyone are on the house and your tab is taken care of."
When the young man had finished his sundae, Rick took his arm.
"I think you've had enough, young man. You and you wife should leave."
As Rick and Sasha moved the couple towards the door, the woman whispered, "Merci, M'sieur Rick."
Rick ignored her.
As he watched the two leave the Café, Mr. Vaughn came up to him.
"You're dith-picable." He said and walked out.
Rick smiled,
Curly had just finished a bluesy rendition of Take the A Train when he saw a very familiar pair of legs. The legs and the rest of her sat down next to him.
"Hello, Curly. Long time, no see."
"Um, hello, Miss Kate. It has been a long time."
"Play it for me, Curly. Play it for me for old time's sake."
"Er, I'm not sure I remember it, Miss Kate." Curly said unhappily.
"Oh, sure you do. I know you've played it hundreds of times. I'll tell you what. I'll start singing and you start playing."
Before Curly could say a word, she began singing.
"You put your right foot in,
"You take your right foot out,
"You put your right foot in,
"And you shake it all about.":
Curly was unable to stop himself. He began playing along with Miss Kate's singing.
In seconds, Rick arrived, and he was furious.
"Curly, I told you never to play that song again."
Then he stopped, seeing who was sitting next to Curly.
"Hello, Rick. It's been a while."
"It has been, Miss Beckett. Since the day the Germans marched into Paris. I remember it well. You wore blue, the Germans wore grey."
"Rick, I'm so sorry…"
"I stood there in the rain at the train station for three weeks, in the pouring rain waiting for you." Rick said angrily.
"That's true, Miss Kate." Curly added. "He got a horrible cold. I had to nurse him back to health with some of my grandma's chicken soup. It's an old family recipe. You know, the one that begins, "First, steal a chicken."
"I'm sorry, Rick, but I found out that my husband was in Paris."
"You're married and never thought to mention that?"
"My husband is Dr. Josh Lazlo."
"Josh Lazlo, the famous Czech patriot?"
"Yes. I thought he'd been caught and killed by the Germans in Prague. But he was hiding in a hospital in Paris. When I found him, he was hiding in an examination room in the hospital. He was giving some blonde woman an injection of some sort. It must have been very painful since she kept yelling, "Oh, God. Oh, God.", over and over again. When she came out her clothing was all askew and her face was red. It must have been difficult. I had to get Josh to safety. But I am sorry about us."
"So, what are you doing in Casablanca?"
"We hope to fly to neutral Portugal and then to the United States so Josh can continue to fight the Nazis. We're supposed to meet a man here and get something called Letters of Transit."
"I have some bad news for you then. Your contact, a Mr. Demming, was killed by the police here tonight."
"Do you have any idea where the Letters of Transit might be?"
Rick shook his head, being afraid to lie outright to Miss Kate. Curly just coughed,
"Sorry." Said the furry musician.
"Oh, there's Josh now." Miss Kate said. "I must go to him."
Rick watched as Kate walked over to her husband. He also noticed that Major Perlmutter and Captain Renault were keeping a close eye on the two.
Then Renault walked over to him.
"Ricky, you really shouldn't allow those two to come in here. It's dangerous."
"Really? Why?"
"Major Perlmutter wants me to arrest the two of them, but they've broken no French laws. But he keeps insisting."
"Major Perlmutter just wants Doctor Lazlo, right?"
"Yes." Then Renault smiled. "Oh, yes. You were with Mrs. Lazlo in Paris, weren't you? You rascal. Do you have a cunning plan?"
"I just might. But first you have to confirm with Perlmutter that he just wants Dr. Lazlo, not Mrs. Lazlo."
"I'll be back in a moment."
TBC