by Larry Flewin
The sun was just coming up over the rooftops when I set out for home. This time of the day nobody's really awake so the streets are calm and quiet, the sun is just high enough to be right in your face about it. East was never my favourite direction, but that fireball still held the siren’s lure for me. It lit up everyone and everything and left them nowhere to run and no place to hide.
I waded out into the early morning traffic, stuck out my thumb and did my best to flag down something with wheels. I just wanted to go home and sleep it off, but it seems I couldn’t stand straight enough or walk tall enough for someone to take a chance on my money. Guess that graveyard look didn’t appeal to many.
The long walk home took me back through downtown and into the clothing business. This area was a maze of brick warehouses and wood-walled factories, where many good citizens still earned a living. A lot of businesses had vanished into the night, doors locked, and windows boarded up, but here it was a different story. Even at this early hour there were people everywhere, and in one helluva hurry. You had to have something to wear even if it was just to line up for soup.
I pushed my way past racks of clothing and shouting mobs of the still working, stepping carefully over any number of those who weren't. Breakfast came cheap out here. Smokes were a dime a dozen, and hooch filled more shelves than baked beans.
The shadows were cool and inviting, I took a pew on the massive stone steps of the last shady spot for miles. She was a big old thing, seven stories of empty lives, her past still plastered on her doors and windows. And by the looks of things, she’d been like that for a while. I sat with my back to the front door, gulping down breakfast between puffs, contemplating life, my life, and what to do now that the hunt was over. Not that it really was, Michael was too much the bulldog to back off like that and say or do nothing. There was too much of his wallet at stake.
I’d been chased off my last hope of finding the rest of the trail so I took that as a sign I should leave off. I already had enough money to pay for my time, and with Michael’s attention focused elsewhere, I could end this waste of my time. Whatever was out there didn’t have my name on it, so let some other schmuck look for it.
The sun wasn’t quite high enough to be a pain yet, but my curiosity was. Every so often my eye caught a glimpse of the faded lettering on the glass pane of the wooden door behind me. Fancy gold lettering trimmed in black and a leafy outline proudly announced who the last owners had been. It wasn’t until I was half done breakfast, I made the connection. I froze when the realisation hit me, that moment when lady luck or your guardian angel, whoever was next in line, came through and lobbed you a softball.
The name on the door, and emblem below, I had seen before. It was the same as on the gravestone I’d spent the night huddled up against for warmth. A sudden, prickly, feeling swept over me, the kind of feeling you get when you've been electrocuted, or had the crap scared out of you. It’s a fiery tingling that tears through your insides right down to your toes. The world moves more slowly, your palms sweat, and your heart starts to pound.
I got up to take a closer look, blinked away my amazement, and pulled out my forty-five out of its nice warm holster. Sharing my curiosity, it took point, nudged the big front doors open enough for us to slip in, and introduced me to the rest of my day. We went through a small lobby, a second set of doors, and then up some more stairs into the main part of the building itself. The dust was so deep I could see my footprints following me. I wasn't worried too much about any two-legged company as I was four. Two legged I was expecting to come across at some point, any four legged I was going to shoot. I didn’t like rats
I creaked my way up the stairs and took a good look around. Empty and dead, like so many other places I could name. Quietly wandered down the halls, peeking into empty rooms, stepping over scattered files, and broken dreams. Three or four floors up I go the chills again as I found the name and emblem neatly stencilled onto the frosted glass panels of an office door. And if that wasn’t enough, there were faint footprints in the dust leading to and away from it from farther down the hall.
The wooden floor had been scuffed clean in places, like he had a bum leg, or was carrying something heavy. The door they came from was just around the corner and locked tight. So, was my luck really this good today or was there something in my breakfast bottle that was giving me second sight.
The ornate brass doorknob turned easily and I was inside, wondering what the hell was going on now. There was the usual assortment of desks, chairs, typewriters, and telephones. It looked like all of three people could have squeezed in here and run an empire. There was a foot of dust over everything, along with somebody’s handprints and footprints.
All the activity seemed to be focused on one desk and one chair in the far corner. Seems somebody had taken the trouble to dust off just this one particular desk and chair. There was nothing in any of the drawers, or anywhere else for that matter, so the why of it escaped me. I sat in the big wooden chair for the longest time, turning slowly and listening to the silence, waiting for whatever. But it never came.
My feet went up on the desk, a long pull on the remains of breakfast and dreamland was only one snore away. I would have stayed that way too except my nose sent my brain a telegram a short time later. Smoke. Not cigarette smoke, but heavier, more earthy.
My eyes woke up first and took a good look around. The door was still closed but what I couldn't see still smelled. That got me up and out of my seat and over to the door, where I gently grasped the knob. It was cold to the touch, but the smoke curling under the door's edge told a different story. My nose had been right, and I was in big trouble.
Waves of heat and smoke came at me as I eased the door open. I was enveloped by a smoky grey haze that was getting warmer and thicker by the second. I stepped back and slammed the door shut. Of all the stupid things you can do, sleeping it off in a burning building pretty much tops the list. Not that I had noticed any smoke on the way in, but when they're this old, and this abandoned, sooner or later someone's going to need the insurance.
I tried to catch my breath and think this thing this out, but there wasn’t much time. The smoke was getting and waving it away only seemed to make it worse. Out the door into the hallway and make for the front stairs seemed like a good plan. But before I charged into the night, I cozied up to the glass of the door again. A good ear can tell you the difference between a crackle and a roar. Roaring means the fire is big and bad and headed your way, while crackling means the insurance policy has just kicked in and you still have a chance if you run for it. All I heard was roaring.
I was on the move in two seconds flat but the wall of dark outside the door stopped me dead in my tracks. I couldn't see the other end of the hallway it was that bad already. The race hadn't even started, and I had already been outrun. My next thought was to fight my way out. All I needed was a few seconds and a few feet of clear and I could be on my way. I took the extinguisher off the wall beside the door and lumbered forward through the smoke and heat.
As I got closer to the top of the stairs, a flickering light began to show from down below. I couldn't see much but I could hear a lot, and what I heard was getting closer. I figured there was still a good chance of making it out if I was quick, so I grabbed the nozzle, pointed it down the stairs, and pumped for all I was worth. Nothing. The flames only grew brighter.
Just swell, it was as dead as the rest of the building. It had enough heft to be full of pig iron, but it wouldn't work worth a damn. More aiming and more pumping, and all I got was a sore arm. If curses were water, I would have been out of there in a heartbeat. As it was all I could do was run to the other end of the hallway and try for the other stairwell. No dice. That door was locked solid, and no amount of shoulder on my part was going to change its mind.
I hefted my fire-fighting pal and applied him to the problem at hand. A little desperation on my part and the door and the extinguisher came apart at the same time. Both of
them popped open, the one slamming back against a wall, while the other fell apart at my feet. And both of them left me a little stunned. Behind the door was another door, a big glass and chrome extravaganza with the word bathroom on it. Confused by smoke and fear I had hammered open the wrong door.
At my feet lay the remains of the door crasher special. From its belly a number of small canvas bags had fallen out. They were the size of a fastball, and all wearing little bows of string wrapped tight around their necks. The contents were just as surprising. The first one I opened was full of uncut diamonds, lots of them. The footprints had been up to something alright and this was probably it. I stuffed the bags into all the pockets I could find.
By now the smoke was thick enough to choke an elephant. The freight train sound was getting closer, which meant the way in was not the way out anymore. I retreated to a sink to soak my hankie in water so I could breathe through it. That done I searched frantically for another way out, and to my surprise I found one. Around the corner against the far wall was a door that opened up onto a janitor’s toolkit, mops, pails, and a large window.
I climbed over the janitor’s mops and pails and the like, to come up hard against a window that hadn’t been opened since the dawn of time. I could see out, and I could see what appeared to be a fire escape but there was no way this thing was going to let go. It didn’t have to. A few buckets and a mop later I was climbing out onto a rusty fire escape high above the back alley.
The crowd gathering below was too intent on seeing her go up to notice a smoky, soot stained, PI make his grand entrance coughing up a lung and then vanish stage left. Pushing and shoving got me to the rear of the mob where I turned and stopped to watch for a couple of minutes myself. There were flames shooting out of the window I had just opened, along with most of the rest of the upper floors. Anything else that Darius might have done or hidden was going up in smoke.
I stayed, hoping against hope, but the distant sound of approaching sirens told me it was over. Thankfully the trip home was more uneventful. I didn't care to stick around once I could see how bad the fire was. And I didn’t need some nosey parker of a good citizen asking why I smelled like a chimney. We already had enough trouble with fires in this town without someone trying to pin one on me. With my luck the judge would only give me ten years.
I was in the process of unloading my pockets when I caught a whiff of Shalimar mixed in with the smoke and soot. My guest was seated in the welcoming arms of my big brown friend in the corner. I didn’t have to guess which one it was, and that she was pointing something nasty at me.
“So, what took you so long”, I growled, ignoring her and her nickel-plated toy.
“Oh, you know, this and that. Trying to explain to Michael why there was nothing in the grave.”
“Because you were at the wrong one.”
“And how my little sister wasn’t to blame.”
“And neither were you, but he didn’t see it that way, did he. So, how’d you get away.”
I heard a slight chuckle. “Not easily I assure. We were on our way back to the hotel when the car blew a tire. The driver got out to change it and we simply ran for it. He came after us, and he would have caught us if Rita hadn’t stopped at a street corner and screamed like banshee. Some copper came over and she pointed out the driver. He gallantly took up the chase and we kept running.”
Seven small canvas bags made a neat little pile in the middle of the desk. I could feel the toy follow me as I wandered over to the coat rack and shed my hat and coat. She was a handful alright but did she have it in her to pull a trigger. She might have considered herself determined and deadly, but I figured otherwise.
“So, which one are you. Let me guess the first one, the one in the rain with all the money. Rickie?” A guess.
“Guilty as charged. Rita is older by about thirty seconds, but I seem to have inherited all the brains.”
I moved over to the sink, and started running the water, for once it came out hot and clean. My friend stayed in his holster, although I could feel him begging me to let him take a quick shot and end this. She didn’t strike me as all that dangerous. Crazy maybe, for getting mixed up with Michael, but not trigger happy.
“So where is your better half, the charm school drop out.”
“Rita, she’s safe enough. She told me all about your adventures.” Her laughter was gentle and melodic. “She was quite put out with you. That was a new suit, and a very expensive one.”
Everything from the waist up hit the floor and I started wiping the fire off, listening hard and trying to figure how this was going to play out. I had my own ideas on that score, but I figured they could wait until she stopped talking. Might be she more to say that would keep me out of Michael’s clutches for a little while longer. And maybe she knew something I didn’t. Either way, I wasn’t in the mood to go after her just yet.
“And just how is our mutual acquaintance, mister Panychkin. He doesn’t like take too kindly to being double crossed, you might want to save your ammunition.”
The gun dropped into her lap and she sat back, breathing deeply, like she was as glad as I was this wasn’t going to end badly.
“Little more than his pride, I suspect, but that’s something we underestimated entirely. We were all of us convinced that you had led us to the right place. When I saw you I knew something was wrong.”
“Really?” I asked. “So, what kept you from pointing that little detail out. Develop a conscience all of a sudden or has it more to do with greed.”
“Quite frankly to didn’t occur to me. We were both of us just a little nervous about his reaction. And weren’t we right. You heard what he had to say? That was nothing compared to when we got back to the cars. You’d have thought we’d stolen the Mona Lisa he was so angry. You men and your pride, all we did was tell a little lie or two and he treated us like criminals.”
“You’re lucky to be alive,” I replied.
“I suppose. He said he couldn’t stand to look at us, so he put in the second car. More fool him.”
I put the soap and towel to good use, both of them black as ink before I was half done. Stella was particular about just who she let in, as if the five stars painted on her window actually meant something.
“You seem pretty sure of yourself, sister. How can you be sure you can trust a guy like me? What’s to keep me from turning you over to Michael with, say, half these bags here and some line about how you were going to double cross him, but I caught onto it and here she is, so we’re square now.”
“Bravo,” she exclaimed. “You really aren’t as dumb as you look.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said. “I clean up pretty good, too. You don’t mind, do you? I’ve got a date with a plate and you aren’t invited.”
“Go right ahead. I’m in no hurry.”
“I’ll just bet you aren’t”, I said and turned back to the mirror to address the whiskers on my face. It was like trying to tame a brush.
She pulled a cigarette out of her purse, lit up, and sat back. The gun stayed in her lap, still pointed in my general direction. I was beginning to like her, she reminded me of me.
“So, you gonna tell me what all this is about, or do I have to ask Michael.”
“You two don’t get along very well, do you.”
“That’s an understatement, honey. We go way back him and I, none of it pleasant.”
“So he told me.” Smoke drifted up lazily from where she was sitting.
“Curious. I would have thought identical twins would have been more of a challenge, but you handled that part of the chase very well.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” I said, working the razor carefully across my throat. All she had to do was sneeze. “Most of it was luck. You two must have been quite a handful growing up.”
“And not you?”
“Nah. After my old man ran off, Ma wigged out so I crashed at my Gran’s for a little while and here I am.”
&n
bsp; I threw on a clean shirt and rearmed myself, all under her watchful, smoke filled gaze. I moved over to my desk, sat on a corner, picked up one of the bags and opened it. She watched me like a cat after a mouse as I fished out one thing after another. I looked over each item with feigned interest and carefully placed them on the desk. They gleamed dully in the morning sun, doing their best to shine in the dusty confines of my office.
“So, tell me, doll, what’s so important about all this stuff,” I said. “Why go to all the trouble to drag me into this little scheme of yours and almost get me killed. I don’t know you or your sister although I did kinda like Darius. He didn’t have time to say much but we got along real well.”
‘Well” she began. “I suppose you have earned the right to know now that you’ve found everything, at least I hope that’s all of it. I had quite given up hope that we would ever find any of it. When we met up with Mr. Panychkin and explained our situation to him he had the idea to get you to work for us. He didn’t want this to become public, and quite frankly he didn’t have anyone in his employ capable enough.” She blew out a long cloud of smoke through that elegant nose of hers, the one she was looking down at me with. “I do hope you’ll be a gentleman about this, forget what has passed between us, and give me what is mine.”
“You’ll have to do better than that,” I said, shaking my head, “if you want to convince me to let bygones be bygones and just hand this over. You’re a real pistol, you know that. I should be madder than hell right now after all you’ve put me through. I’ve heard too many sob stories to shed any tears, but somehow, you’ve got me thinking, maybe I shouldn’t put you over my knee just yet. So, tell me what I want to hear, maybe this’ll be your lucky day.”
Indecision showed on her face as she bit her lower lip. She took a deep breath and sat up straight, like she was in the principal’s office or something and I’d just brought out the strap. She lit another cigarette and took a long pull on it.
“My name is Richelda Paulina Bolesna. I live at…”