The following story was a light-hearted attempt to write hardboiled fiction for heads of education technology in schools. To some extent it seems a little dated now, because many schools invest in laptops and tablets rather than suites of computers. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy reading it.

A hardboiled character, by Terry Freedman

Jack Alibi knew how to work. He also knew how to work a scam. Sure, going legit was good, but it took time. Lack of time was something Alibi had plenty of.

He knew from the wire that the local school was being rebuilt, and that they were looking to put in a heap of technology. As far as Alibi was concerned, selling computers was like a licence to print money.

He staked out the school and got to know the movements of the big cheese, a classy dish who barely looked old enough to have left school, let alone run one. One night he waited in a doorway for her to pass.

As she did he started walking and brought himself up alongside her.

“Hey, honey”, he grinned. “How about a little coffee?”

She didn’t respond, except maybe her pace stepped up a notch.

Alibi went into phase two of his plan.

“I hear you’re looking for high tech stuff. Maybe I can cut you a sweet deal on a computer suite. I can get you a heap of computers, and even throw in a printer.”

She ignored him, but he continued.

“That stuff costs a lot of lettuce. That means less to spend on a fancy office and all the trimmings. Maybe I can help out.”

She stopped and glared at him.

“Oh yeah?”, she said. “And why would you wanna be helping someone you don’t even know?”

“On account that I’m community-minded. Besides, I’d hate to see a classy dame like you being taken for a ride. I can get what you need at a whole lot less.”

She remained motionless, but a quick glint in her eye let Alibi know she was interested.

“OK”, she said. “Let’s suppose I’m interested, which I ain’t. But let’s be hypothetical. What are you offering, and what’s your rake-off?”

Alibi was ready for that: he’d done his homework.

“I get all the tech you need, on a no questions asked basis. Hypothetically. As for me, I work on commission, 5% of the value of the merchandise. That hardly pays my rent. But Like I said, I’m community-minded.”

She looked at him like he was something that was tossed out in the garbage the night before.

“Yeah, I can see you’re all heart. OK, muscle head, you talk big, but maybe that’s all you do? Talk, I mean. My guess is that this ‘merchandise’ is old cast-off junk, right? That ain’t no use to me. I just took over running this joint, see? I’m the new broom around here, and there’s gonna be one hell of a big sweep. No jackass like you is gonna louse things up for me.”

“OK, sister, I get the picture, but you got me all wrong. I tell ya, lady, this stuff is so new it uses technology that ain’t even been invented yet.”

She reached inside her bag. Alibi’s hand went instinctively to inside his coat. She pulled out a packet of gaspers, put one to her lips. He lit it for her.

“I tell you what I’m gonna do”, she purred. “I’m gonna think about it.”

She drew on the butt and let out a plume of smoke.

“Well, I thought about it. No.”

“No? How come?”

“Well, Buster, I just remembered the advice my daddy gave me when I was knee-high to a cricket.”

“Oh yeah? And what might that be?”

“Never accept suites from strangers.”

Thanks to William Denton for his Dictionary of Hardboiled Slang.

I thought I’d ask ChatGPT to review the story, for a laugh. So bear this in mind if you decide to run an AI checker over this story and your computer starts emitting steam. Here’s what ChatGPT said:

ChatGPT’s review

There’s a lot to like here. It reads as a comic crime pastiche, with the hard-boiled vocabulary deliberately colliding with the rather mundane world of school procurement. The final pun is obvious in retrospect, but the story earns it through the escalating language.

What works particularly well

1. The voice is the story’s main strength.
The opening establishes the idiom immediately:

“Jack Alibi knew how to work. He also knew how to work a scam.”

That clipped, knowing prose feels like a parody of a 1940s/50s private-eye or gangster story. Words such as big cheese, classy dish, lettuce, gaspers, buster, sister, muscle head and joint keep the voice consistent.

There is also a pleasing contrast between Alibi’s self-image as a sophisticated operator and the rather ridiculous reality of what he’s doing.

2. The school/technology setting is nicely exploited.
The premise is stronger than it initially appears. Alibi thinks he’s found a lucrative racket because a school is being rebuilt and needs technology. That gives the story a contemporary hook while allowing the narration to inhabit an old-fashioned noir world.

The line:

“this stuff is so new it uses technology that ain’t even been invented yet.”

is especially good because it pushes the salesman/scammer absurdity just far enough.

3. The dialogue carries the story.
There’s very little exposition once the initial situation is established. The characters reveal themselves through their speech. In particular, the headteacher quickly turns the tables:

“My guess is that this ‘merchandise’ is old cast-off junk, right?”

She understands the scam—or at least suspects it—and refuses to be intimidated by Alibi’s persona.

4. The ending is a proper joke ending.
The final exchange is structurally sound:

“Never accept suites from strangers.”

It’s a classic groan-inducing pun on “Never accept sweets from strangers”, with suites referring to the computer suite. The fact that the whole story has been building around the proposed technology purchase makes the pun reasonably well motivated rather than simply bolted on.

And importantly, the headteacher gets the last word. That’s the right choice: Alibi’s attempted con ends with him being outsmarted.

Where I think it could be improved

The biggest issue is that the middle is somewhat longer than the joke requires.

Once Alibi approaches her, we know where the story is going. The conversation goes through several cycles of:

Alibi makes an offer
she is sceptical
he insists
she challenges him
he reassures her

The material is amusing, but some of it could be compressed to make the story snappier and more explosive.

For example, this sequence:

“I hear you’re looking for high tech stuff. Maybe I can cut you a sweet deal on a computer suite. I can get you a heap of computers, and even throw in a printer.”

and then:

“That stuff costs a lot of lettuce. That means less to spend on a fancy office and all the trimmings. Maybe I can help out.”

essentially makes the same point twice. One of those could probably go.

The headteacher is potentially the most interesting character

At present, she functions primarily as the person who delivers the punchline. But she has the makings of a much better comic character.

She’s introduced as:

“a classy dish who barely looked old enough to have left school”

and subsequently proves to be considerably sharper than Alibi.

I’d lean into that reversal. Let Alibi believe throughout that he is running the encounter, while the reader gradually realises that she is running him.

That would make the final suites/sweets line feel like the culmination of a character dynamic rather than merely a pun.

One phrase feels slightly awkward

“Lack of time was something Alibi had plenty of.”

This is clearly intended as a joke, but it doesn’t quite land for me because the reader doesn’t yet know why he has plenty of time. If there’s a later implication that he’s in trouble, on the run, or operating under some deadline, the setup would make more sense. Otherwise I’d either sharpen the joke or simply remove it.

There is perhaps one joke too many in the final exchange

The cigarette business is nicely period-noir:

“She drew on the butt and let out a plume of smoke.”

But it’s not really doing anything for the plot. If you’re aiming for a very short comic story, that paragraph could either be made more significant or cut.

On the other hand, if the intention is full pastiche, I’d keep it. The unnecessary cigarette ritual actually contributes to the genre parody.

The title

“Jack Alibi” is a good name, because it’s almost a joke before the story starts. I’d be tempted to make the title even more obviously noir-ish, though:

Jack Alibi and the Computer Suite
The Computer Suite
A Suite Deal
No Suite Deal
Never Accept Suites from Strangers

Of those, A Suite Deal probably best signals the comic nature without giving away the final gag.

Overall

I’d put this at around 7.5/10 as a comic short story, with the potential to become an 8.5/10 with some tightening.

Its real asset isn’t the final pun; it’s the collision between hard-boiled gangster language and the utterly prosaic business of buying computers for a school. That’s the comic engine. I’d make that engine work harder, reduce perhaps 15–20% of the dialogue, and give the headteacher a slightly more active role in manipulating Alibi.

The result could be a very neat 2–3 page comic story in the tradition of a literary spoof, rather than simply a setup for a punchline.