The 26th Letter

by Larry Flewin

  "Excuse me please. I'm not feeling so well all of a sudden. I need to visit the powder room.”

  "But you haven't finished eating, my dear. And the chef went to such trouble. Here, I'll have it put away for you."

  "I'll be alright, really. It's just...I've got to go, I’ll be right back. and go she did, clutching her handbag to her stomach and all but running out of the place.

  Breakfast continued to come with a snap of his fingers and go in a blur of china and silverware. If only Stella could see this. Their grub was decent enough and the chef seemed more than happy to supply his guest with seconds. Guess they didn't get too many wolves at their door, especially hungry ones. They probably figured the best way to keep this wolf from their door in future was to kill him with food.

  We didn't say too much, as old friends never do. A few tips on the horses, a refill on our coffee, the weather, and that was about it. The two wolves had scared off the lamb, and with nothing else to occupy their attention, did what wolves always do, eat each other up in silence.

  And after all that, it was supposed to be cigars and brandy, but I figured I’d tempted fate long enough. I added my napkin to the heap of crusts on my plate, got up, and reached for my hat.

  "Going so soon. What a pity, and I was so looking forward to a quiet little conversation, just us two. I believe you may have something of mine. I’d like it back.”

  I froze, hat in hand. Not a good place to be because I couldn’t reach my gun in anything less than five seconds, enough to get me killed, knowing him.

  “Sit down,” he said in a darker voice. “Sit down, please.”

  “I don't see that we have anything else to talk about. We’ve pretty much covered all the bases already.”

  “Not all of them I assure you. Your friend Louie was most enlightening.”

  “He doesn’t know anything, and neither do I for that matter, any more than what we’ve already talked about. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I made a move towards the door on the far side of the room.

  "Don't be too sure about what you know and don't know. And take good care of it, it’s part of a set.” Even here, in the gloom of the corner, he could reach out and grab you by the throat.

  "And what I do know could get me killed. Yeah, yeah, I know, I've heard that a million times before. You'll notice that I'm still standing."

  I turned to leave, "Oh and by the way, this one's on me," I said. I tossed three fins on the table and beat it out of there. The silent glare that had ended more lives than I cared to count, followed all the way out of the dining room and into the hallway by the kitchen. I would have made it too, except for the hand that grabbed my right arm as I went by the kitchen door and dragged me in. My iron angel, turned lamb, turned scared silly.

  "You”, I said. "What is it with you. Listen sister, I want some answers, and I want 'em now. Just what the hell was...?” She clamped a gloved white hand over my mouth, as if that was going to shut me up.

  "Will you be quiet and listen, please. I haven't got much time. If Michael finds out I came in here to try and see you, he'll kill us both." That made me shut up.

  "What did you tell him. Did you tell him about the money?"

  "What money."

  She bounced away from me and quickly peeped out the porthole in the door. Dodged a coupla waiters and was right back, staring up at me with those big brown eyes pleading for my attention, and her life.

  "The two thousand dollars I gave you."

  "Oh, that money." She seemed real perky for someone who was real sick not more than ten minutes ago. Or was it real it real nervous.

  Her hands were clutched to her chest like this was a prayer meeting, nails dug deep into the leather of her handbag.

  "Yes, that money."

  "No, why, does he want it back."

  "Yes, I mean no, I mean he doesn't know I gave it to you. Look, just keep quiet about that and I'll talk to you later." With that she bounced over to the door and took another peep out the porthole. She popped the door open and vanished into the smoke and smell of breakfast.

  Well this was promising to be another interesting day. Breakfast with my best friend, a case update from his very nervous sidekick, and it wasn't even ten am. I took a deep breath, shook the cobwebs loose, and stepped out onto the street.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Last time I was in this up this way it had been as quiet as a funeral parlour. Mind you, it had been midnight, and I had been on the run, shooting back at whoever was shooting at me. Today it was a sea of people, and they all seemed to be in one hell of a hurry. Suited me just fine. I was in no rush to get where I was supposed to be going.

  I snicked a match on the Hotel wall, lit up, and watched the world go by through a blue haze. Checked out the skirts walking by. Gave me something to do while my brain sifted through recent events. Things hadn't changed much that I could see. Maybe a bit more knee showing, which meant hemlines were moving in the right direction. And there seemed to be a little more hustle in everybody's walk.

  It didn’t explain my breakfast lamb. She was acting pretty damn strange, even for her. She almost gets killed trying to hire me, doesn't bat an eye when I get a free flying lesson, and then tries to ignore me at breakfast.

  PI's weren’t supposed to be the brightest bulbs in the pack but even I couldn't figure her angle in all this. Cases like this were always pain in the ass because they weren't really cases. I wasn't working for anyone in particular, but I had been paid to do something. And when that something was done.......

  My second butt joined the first one down on the pavement. Ordinarily I'm not much of a deep thinker, I like to just get up and go, but this was not an ordinary time and place. I had no client, two bodies, my worst enemy, a very mixed up little girl, and some kind of treasure hunt. And all of them bouncing around this burned-out burg like change in my pocket.

  Everybody seemed to be playing hands off until I figured out, or found out, what my little gold cross was really pointing to. That was why she’d tossed all that money at me, and what my real role in all this was supposed to be. Find whatever it is, show her, and then the second I do I take a dirt nap. It's what you get for being a nice guy. No respect and an early retirement.

  Time to go to work. I hit up some loudmouth kid flogging the morning edition, jumped on the next streetcar, and took a seat in the back. A quick scan of the headlines told me nothing much had changed in the world, not since yesterday anyways. People lived, people died, and other people took over countries. Almost made me grateful that I lived here, where the worst thing that could happen was for some poor schmuck to get beat up trying to cut in line for a cup of soup. Almost.

  I lowered my paper and scanned the sea of humanity in front of me. Nothing but hats, collars, and newspapers bouncing in time as we sped along the rails, nobody interested in what seat I was in, or where I was going. Suited me just fine, I wasn’t big on crowds and all the glad handing that came with it. I preferred the background, five bucks for the ladies and five fingers for everyone else.

  Lit up a smoke and got ready to step off into one of the darker moments of this business. I was about to introduce myself to a whole bunch more holy joes, black robes and knowing smiles that were the only sane ones left in this dustbowl. I’ve met some pretty hard cases that profess the faith and hunt down sinners, but even they would have to admit that I didn't have a soul worth saving. It was going to be that kind of a morning.

  It was turning out to be another hot prairie day, the prospect of which didn't exactly thrill me. My pale skin and I liked the shadows, so this was going to be a real test of wills. If I couldn’t save my soul, I could at least take it out for walk and put some roses back in its cheeks. It had probably forgotten what sunshine looked like, and at ground level I could shoot first.

  This was a part of town already starting to show its age. Everywhere you looked it was the same, closed signs and broken dreams. When the lights went out on the gran
d cabaret of life, this was the first part of town to go dark. And in that darkness, life took on a whole different tone and meaning. Darker, dirtier, with nothing left to lose we became the worst of ourselves in order to try and better ourselves.

  All those plump politicos not even a block away and it was a whole different world, one where a cup of coffee could get you pretty much anything, or anyone. Which is where Michael, and others of his ilk, came in. To them, dark and dirty meant opportunity, which they took full advantage of. You couldn’t exactly fault them for that but even a down-and-out like me had some sort of conscience. Or was it a sense of honour perhaps, lost in the muck and mire of daily living but still trying to do the right thing, despite the odds, and the occasional bullet.

  I wasn’t more than a block into my soul searching when a couple of friendly faces waved me over. A couple of early risers these two, working girls with their own style of conscience, given how they earned their daily bread. The particular establishment they operated out of acted more as safe haven, taking in those calling a street corner home and giving them just a little hope, and a roof. Each had a story longer and darker than my own, and yet they smiled like today’s sunshine was meant just for them.

  Velma had never understood this part of the business. She took it personally that I would go anywhere near the girls let alone talk to them, and on occasion stand up for them. It wasn’t part of her world, and she couldn’t understand why it was a part of mine. Yeah, it wasn’t the nicest, or the prettiest way to make a living, but in some ways, it may have been the most human. Who knew more about the streets and what was happening on them, than the people who worked on them?

  "Morning girls."

  "Hey Tony, where ya been keeping yourself,” a redhead replied. “Haven't seen you around for a while." Sandy, the oldest, a real sweet smile and a figure that still showed some promise, although she was more involved management these days. She kept an eye on the others, and an eye out for who might be a problem. Customers were one whistle, cops were two. Me, I rated an arm around the shoulder and all the latest news.

  "Yeah well, you know how it is, honey, business. So, how you been keeping?” I pulled out a pair of smokes, lit them up, and passed her one.

  "Ah, so so. Business, eh. Well, ain't that a lucky break. We could use a little business up here. Been kinda slow lately.”

  Another cute little thing drifted out of an open doorway. Janice, a brunette. All of five foot nothing and as tough as they come. Blew me a kiss before parking herself in the sunshine.

  "So, what are you working on this time. And who is it trying to kill you, this time,” Sandy asked ever so innocently. She knew better.

  "Nobody. Just missed your smiling face is all."

  "That'll be the day," groaned Janice, rolling her eyes.

  We were joined by a couple of other girls I knew more by sight than by name. I didn’t get out here all that much, but whenever I did I always seemed to draw a crowd. Maybe it was my charm and good looks, or the fact that I was still alive, but when I stopped by they all gathered around like pigeons on a breadcrumb.

  "Okay ladies, gather round. I got a name and a face. Maybe you seen it, and maybe you ain't, maybe you know someone who has, I just need to know, is all.”

  I flashed them my soberest smile, my picture, and my hopes. The chorus of no's sounded like roll call the day after the big one ended, and with just about as much enthusiasm. They had never heard the name and didn't recognise the face, but the word was out now and I could count on a call if something or someone popped.

  That done, the girls went one way and Sandy and I went the other. I didn't care to mention the real reasons behind my visit, all she would do was worry, and I didn't want to involve her in this. Michael had a long memory and an even longer arm. That Sandy wasn't working for him yet was a tribute to just how stubborn, or lucky, she really was. Stella could take care of herself.

  Sandy and I went way back, so much so that whenever I was in the neighbourhood it seemed natural for us to get together. I would be the swell, take her arm, and walk her around for a bit. I’d talk, she'd listen, and we’d share a few laughs and maybe a few tears. The way she acted towards me was almost motherly. Didn't know if I cared for that but it was good to see her all the same.

  "So, how you been keeping, really. Haven't seen you for some time. I was beginning to wonder."

  "Yeah well, you know me. Always on the job.”

  "And always one step ahead of the next bullet. I know you. Who is it this time, Fat Tony, Michael, a jealous girlfriend, maybe?”

  That last comment always got me. I knew where her interests lay but there was a lot needed fixing and I wasn’t exactly in a hurry on that score. I had a lot of life left in me so switching in midstream didn’t exactly appeal to me. We all gotta change sometime, I get that, but now didn’t seem the time or place. I liked what I was but she was persistent. I never did understand that.

  "Now you know about me and dames, honey, and that was no dame in the picture. But you're right about one thing, Michael."

  "I keep telling you, you gotta be careful around him. I know what he's like."

  "Yeah well, so do I, which is why I'm still here. So, how’s about you."

  "Oh, same old same old. Nothing much ever changes around here."

  I looked at her hard. “Yeah, about that, you see anybody you don’t know or don’t like nosing around, you let me know, okay? I might have a shadow or two dogging my trail. Just keep your eyes open, okay?”

  “Sure, anything you say. Just be careful.”

  We were at the end of the block, which was about as far as she was ever willing to go. She gave me a pretty solid hug, a peck on the cheek, and told me to be more careful again, before vanishing back into what little crowd there was up here.

  Well, there wasn't much more to do beyond this point except head back to where I had left off the other day, act humble, and ask politely. No one ever said the job was going to be easy, but this was a stretch even for me. I preferred the more direct approach, usually because I could get the answers I wanted without wasting a lot of time. It was harder on my knuckles, but the payoff was getting to truth faster. Sometimes that could sometimes mean the difference between getting paid and getting shot. It was that kind of a life.

  Something I didn't always have a lot of was patience, the direct approach will do that to you. You get spoiled, and then all of a sudden real-life hits back. Take today, I was all set to run from building to building, asking, nodding, and running some more. But not today. Turns that when you're playing a hunch, expectations don't always count.

  My first contact was a fat little gnome digging in a garden. He was working in front of some tiny little place near to where the girls had been sunning themselves. At first glance, it looked more like a large stone barn than a church, tucked away in a tree-lined corner of the world, almost like it didn't belong there and was too ashamed to admit it. A closer look and the stained glass in the windows gave it away. My man was cheery enough and gave me a welcoming pat on the back strong enough to knock out fillings.

  It was like talking to Friar Tuck, bald head, big belly and all. He was even dressed like him, a black robe with a rope around his waist. The Irish accent threw me for a second, but when I put it to him, all he could do was thank me, bless me, and point me the way to the next station of the cross.

  Several stations later I was out of patience, smokes, and any idea of exactly where I was. I’d spoken to more padres, deacons, and the like, than a rosary had beads, or so it seemed. Yes father, no father, bless me for I have sinned father, have you seen this guy father. That's the beauty of legwork, it takes you places you never expected, and shows you things you never hoped to see. And it can still leave you turned around and clueless.

  Still, I was half expecting to run into my angel or someone else connected to all this somewhere along the way. I'd been off the leash for a long enough time for someone to start getting worrie
d. Somebody somewhere had to be on the lookout for yours truly, if only to report that there was nothing to report. Michael was playing this pretty damn cool, I mean I had as much of a connection to make at this, so if by chance I wasn't being followed, then Michael’s would have to cross his fingers. He never struck me as the type who believed in luck.

  It only took ten churches and who knows how many cemeteries before the hand played itself out and the connection was made. I had just come out of another corner store armed with a mickey, a map, and a pocketful of smokes when a well-heeled skirt up the street caught my eye. Actually, it was her rear end that caught my attention There is just something about a tight skirt on a hot afternoon. I gave her the once over twice from a respectful distance, and with good reason.

  She was as gorgeous, and as pious, as any angel should be, with legs that would turn even the devil green with envy. It took me a few seconds to come back to earth and remember that this particular vision had almost gotten me killed more times that I cared to count. I didn't figure on giving her another shot at it, so I moseyed on over to a nearby tree, leaned into a shady spot, lit a smoke, and watched her very carefully.

  She was standing on the sidewalk about a hundred feet or so in front of me, talking to some wimpy little guy in a cheap suit. He was bowing and scraping respectfully, hat in hand, like she was royalty or something. Seemed to be listening real hard to what she was saying, especially after she slipped him a wad of green, thoughtfully tucked into his upper coat pocket, and patted gently into place. A few more bows and scrapes, and they broke it off and she stepped into a waiting cab. I had to smile, Michael was making his own luck, and I was right there to see it. It usually took money to find money, and she had a cab waiting.

  I finished my smoke, watched her drive off into the sunset, and then took a quiet look around. The last time we'd been this close, one of her friends had decided to help Stella redecorate. Probably the same guy that had done my place. I was pretty sure I was alone, but I didn't want him to get any more bright ideas.