Let’s say you want to evict a “professional nonpayer of rent” without the bother of court.
Call Dick Henry.
Or perhaps you let someone camp in your yard, and now his tent has grown into a squatters’ commune.
Dick Henry’s here to help.
Or maybe your ceiling has just been replastered when pieces of it rain down on your breakfast table, but the contractor ignores your calls.
Listen to Dick Henry himself explain how he dealt with that third situation: “The celestial forces of karma drew my fists forward in a left, right, left to the gut followed by a right uppercut to the chin, which snapped his teeth together like a dollar mousetrap.” After extracting $2,200 from the contractor’s cashbox (including a $500 fee for himself), Dick issues some parting advice: “It’s wrong to take advantage of little old ladies. You get me?”
Sure, we get him — and Dick Henry has got us as well, boasting a nice mix of charm and swagger as the narrator and title character of P. G. Sturges’s captivating and breezily confident debut novel, Shortcut Man.
In many ways — right down to the L.A. setting — Dick echoes the prototypical tough guy of the Raymond Chandler school: hard on the surface, romantic to the core, freighted with existential angst. He believes, for example, that “beautiful women were lies in and of themselves. Without a single word they made extravagant promises. And in the next breath they broke them.” Elsewhere he reflects how “Every now and then, at night, the distant thrum of a car or the scent of the wind through the trees would sync up with an old memory and create a fleeting pocket of three-dimensional wistfulness, bittersweet on the tongue.”
The set-up here is classic film-noir nastiness, replete with a breathtaking femme fatale. Dick is hired by “erotica” producer Artie Benjamin to find out whether Artie’s wife, Judy, is cheating on him — no names or photos, please, just a simple yes or a no. The job seems easy enough until Dick lays eyes on Judy: She’s a dead ringer for his own current fling, a frisky stewardess named Lynnette. Indeed, Judy is Lynnette — and suddenly Dick Henry is investigating himself. Complications ensue when Artie’s “I just need to know” escalates into ever-more-pressing requests, with correspondingly zany fallout — film noir verging on dark screwball comedy.
Shortcut Man takes no shortcuts around moral tangles. The knottiest of them stretch back to a gripping episode from Dick’s younger days policing L.A.’s Koreatown, where he first took justice into his own hands. But the novel is also about love (and sex too, readers should be aware): how love lures you in, how you have to protect it — and protect yourself from it — and what betrayal feels like. Can Dick resist Judy/Lynnette? Does she truly love him? Dick confesses that he has no idea what romantic love is anymore: “Maybe I never did. Is it that perfectly spherical satisfaction of wishing to be nowhere else? That conspiracy of two against the universe?”