She scowled down at my foot, clad in a man’s shoe beneath the leg of a man’s trousers, and then at my face, beneath a man’s hat. “When I telephoned, I assumed you were Mr. Lisbon’s secretary. The advertisement in the newspaper was for ‘C. J. Lisbon’ and said nothing about your being a woman.” She looked almost irate. “I don’t believe you can help me.”
I flashed her my teeth and shook my head. “Ma’am, maybe you haven’t heard, but women are just as capable as men. Ever heard of Amelia Earhart?”
She frowned a little, but I could almost see her mind coming through the wilderness. “I have heard of her, of course I have, but ...” She didn’t finish and squinted at me a little harder than before.
I savored my cigarette, sucking the life out of it. I only had two left and no money for more, but finally had to bury it in the ashtray amongst the other smoked out corpses. “Look, Mrs. Kendall, on the phone you said this was a matter of a love affair. Why not tell me about it? I’m a woman, so you know I’ll understand your situation. Right? I’ve probably been there myself.”
She mulled that over for a second, then finally spilled her story. “Very well, if you insist.” She sniffed imperiously and began. “My youngest daughter, Heloise, has always been a good girl. She did well in school and took shorthand classes so she could find employment as a secretary. With the war on, and so many men being sent abroad, she found work in a law office as a clerk. She took dictation and filed papers.”
I took out my grubby little notebook and the stump of a pencil. “What is the lawyer’s name?”
“Mr. John Martingdale.”
“Is he rich?”
“I believe he does quite well, yes.”
I felt my brows furrow as I made a note. “I take it he’s much older than Heloise?”
She looked startled. “Yes, I suppose he is.”
I dropped my pencil and felt in my pocket for my smokes. I started to see any hope of eating tonight vanishing. “Look, the May-December relationship aside, if he’s got a lot of dough, well, your daughter could do worse than gettin’ hitched to a lawyer.”
Kendall surprised me then by braying in my face. “My dear Mrs. Lisbon! You’ve got it all wrong! Heloise didn’t run off with Mr. Martingdale. If she had, I’d be consulting a preacher instead of a private investigator.” She rooted through her purse and pulled out a pack of Luckies and shook one out and slid the pack toward me. I took one, gratefully.
“My mistake.” I lit her cigarette and then mine. “Go on with your story, ma’am.”
“Mr. Martingdale is a trial lawyer; what I believe they call a defense attorney.”
I grinned. “I’m familiar with them.” That much was true.
She puffed her cigarette daintily and exhaled a blue jet. “One of Mr. Martingdale’s clients was a hoodlum named Joe Shultz.”
“A kraut?”
She held out her hands and shrugged. “I don’t really know, you see, I never met the man. He does sound like a kraut though. He’d been arrested for felonious assault, but Mr. Martingdale got him off on some sort of technicality. That would have been the end of it, except that Mr. Martingdale then hired this Shultz fellow! Can you imagine!” She thumped her purse in her lap angrily.
I could imagine. There was a war on, and manpower was a scarce commodity. “So, Shultz put the moves on your girl?”
She strangled her half-smoked cigarette and mashed it in the ashtray-graveyard. “Oh, he sounds like quite the smooth character. Heloise talked about him every night during supper. It was ‘Joe said this’ and ‘Joe did that’ all through the meal. One night she mentioned that Joe had asked her to the pictures. Well, of course I forbade her to go! The man was a criminal, or at least one step removed from one. Not the sort of man one goes out with. Not at all.”
Her frown deepened with disgust. She could have charged a nickel a head to see that pruned-up face. She’d have made a mint. “I take it she didn’t listen to you?” I inhaled a lungful of tobacco, savoring it as long as I could.
“She did not. She started coming home from the office later and later. She said Mr. Martingdale was a busy man and needed her to stay late. Fool that I am, I believed her for far longer than I care to admit.”
“Until?”
“Until Mrs. Anderson, a neighbor of mine, saw Heloise and Shultz at the cinema. Mrs. Anderson is an inveterate film-watcher who has an unfortunate interest in Mr. James Cagney. She saw Heloise and Shultz at a screening of Captains of the Clouds. Of course I could hardly believe that Heloise would deliberately disobey me, and then lie about it, but Mrs. Anderson was adamant. She firmly maintained that she saw Heloise with a young gentleman at the cinema.”
“Did you ask her about it?”
Kendall favored me with a look that could sour milk still in the cow. “Of course I did! She flew into a rage and spoke most disrespectfully! She said that I had to understand that she was a grown woman and that I couldn’t rule her life anymore. She said that, as an adult, she could date any man that she pleased, and it pleased her to date Joe Shultz! I’m sure her father turned over in his grave at that moment!”
The loudmouth at the counter was on about the coffee being cold, and demanded the waitress bring him another cup. He grumbled loudly until she did.
Kendall watched the man for a minute before continuing. “I again prohibited her from seeing him, but she just laughed. She said I was wrong about Shultz, that he was a good man and I’d see that if I gave him a chance. Give a criminal a chance! Clearly the man had deranged her mind by then!”
I nodded and tried not to grin. I lit another of her cigarettes and tucked one behind my ear. She didn’t seem to notice. “What happened then?”
“One afternoon I came home from the bakery, and Heloise was simply gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes, she’d taken her clothes and left.”
“When was this?”
“Two weeks ago.”
I scribbled that in my notebook. “Well, two weeks is a long time, Mrs. Kendall. They could be at Niagara Falls by now.”
She smiled and waggled a finger at me. “Ah, you’re wrong, Mrs. Lisbon. You see, my dressmaker telephoned to congratulate me on my daughter’s upcoming nuptials, and that her wedding dress would be ready by next Tuesday. I cannot imagine what sort of rat’s nest they’re holed up in, but it’s certain that they haven’t left town.”
I noted the dressmaker’s name. “So, you want me to find your daughter before she gets hitched to this Shultz fella?”
She eyed me for more than a minute before she spoke again. “Mrs. Lisbon, I appreciate your situation, and I do wish you well in your career, but perhaps you didn’t hear what I said about Shultz.”
I knew this moment would inevitably come. “What about him?”
Kendall sighed expansively. “He was, as you might recall, arrested for felonious assault. He is clearly a man with violent tendencies, and not one that a female private detective should tangle with.”
The loudmouth at the counter spun around on his stool. “A what? A girly detective?” He laughed loudly, pounding his fist on his thigh. “Oh, that’s a good one!”
I pulled my hat lower and frowned at him. “Hey buddy, why don’t you just button up? This is a private conversation.”
He roared again, his mouth opening like a grouper. “So, that’s you? A dame playin’ P.I.? That’s a riot, girly, a real riot!” He guffawed again.
Kendall sat motionless. She held her purse in a death-grip.
I stood up and looked the loudmouth right in the eye. “Look pal, take a hike before I lose my temper.”
He stopped laughing and stuck his face in mine. “Hit me with your best shot, girly.”
So, I did. I gave him a jab in the gut, which caught him off guard and doubled him over. I brought my knee up into his nose, which spouted blood. With both hands I hauled him upright and shoved him toward the door. He stumbled backwards and fell flat on his back. I straightened my suit jacket and reseated
my hat as he looked up at me from the floor.
“Well, well, well. Looks like this ‘girly detective’ just beat the tar out of you, right, buddy? Pick your sorry carcass up and get out of here.” I put my hands on my hips and glared at him until he managed to stand up. He wiped his bloody nose and scowled at me.
“This ain’t over, girly. You’ll see me again. You’ll see me soon.” He jabbed his finger at me. Lou, bless his heart, came from behind the counter and shoved the loudmouth out the door.
“Sorry, Lou. He had it coming.”
Lou, who never smiled, didn’t smile now. “I don’t like fights in my place, Kissy. This is your only warning.”
“You’re all heart, Lou.” I sat back down, pulled the cigarette from behind my ear and lit it. I took a long, sweet drag, and exhaled slowly before I looked at Mrs. Kendall. “Sorry about that, ma’am.”
After a long pause, she smiled. “When can you start, Mrs. Lisbon?”
We stepped through the glass door and stood on the street. I waved down a taxi, and Mrs. Kendall slid inside. She rolled down the window. “Thank you, Mrs. Lisbon, for helping me with this, ah, situation.”
“No problem ma’am. Please call me Kissy.”
“Kissy? An odd sort of name.”
I chuckled. “It’s short for Cassandra.”
She nodded and waved as the cab pulled away from the curb. I watched it disappear around the corner. I heard footsteps and knew who it was without turning.
“Hey. Girly. I said I’d see you soon.”
I turned to face the loudmouth. “So you did.”
He grinned. “What did you get from the old lady?”
“Check for seventy-five dollars.”
He whistled. “Not a bad haul. That bit about losing a husband at Pearl was a nice touch, though. Brought a tear to my eye. Really, it did.”
“It could have happened.”
“You’d have to have been married for that to happen, and who’d marry you?”
I tilted my head back and laughed. “Come on, Norman, she was going to walk out of the place! I had to think fast. I got us seventy-five bucks, didn’t I?”
He shrugged. “You did, I don’t know how, but you did.”
“I told you that dime we spent on a newspaper ad would work, but you didn’t believe me. Nobody ever believes me.”
“This P.I. scam was pretty smart, I’ll admit.” He gingerly felt the end of his nose. “Did you have to bloody my nose though?”
“Norman, your nose bleeds if a fly land on it. Quit complaining.”
He rubbed his hands together with gusto. “Let’s cash that check and drink beer until we forget how to walk! It’s time to celebrate!”
“Sorry Norman, but we have to stretch this cash until it squeaks. You know that.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re a real killjoy, Kissy.”
I favored him with a glare. “Shut up, Norman.” I looked down the street where Kendall’s cab had turned the corner. I had to admit, I felt bad for the old woman. Her daughter probably was making a huge mistake with that Shultz fella. I turned to Norman. “Have you forgotten that we have rent to pay?”
He grinned, and I felt another of his advances coming on. “Rent would be cheaper if we shared a room.” He held out his hands imploringly. “Right?”
I waved that away. “Pssht. That’s never gonna happen, Norman. I’ve told you that about a million times.”
“I’ll wear you down, Kissy, one day you’ll be mine.”
“That’ll be the day, Norman. Not gonna happen. I know you don’t believe me when I say that, but that’s just because you’re stupid.”
He grinned. “We’ll see, Kissy, we’ll see. So, what do we do now?”
I looked down the street again, pulled out my last snipe, lit it and blew smoke in Norman’s face. “I think we’re gonna find Mrs. Kendall’s lost lamb.” Of course, he didn’t believe me. Nobody ever does.
Chapter Two
“I don’t get it, Kissy. Why are we gonna waste our time findin’ that broad’s chickadee?” Norman spoke to me through the door to my room as I changed clothes. His voice carried through the transom loudly. “What’s she to you? Nobody, that’s who. So tell me why. That’s all I want to know. Why?”
“Because that’s what she paid me to do. Now shut your mouth.” I rooted through the trunk that held my worldly possessions in search of a dress. I supposed I must own one, but it took such a long time to find it that I began to wonder if I really did. When I found it, I decided it was a sorry looking thing, more gray rag than blue dress. “Perfect.” I slipped it over my head and burrowed into the trunk again.
“Norman, are my shoes in your trunk?”
“What? Your shoes? Weren’t you just wearing them?”
“Not those shoes. The other ones.”
“You have other shoes? Since when?” I heard the doorknob rattle.
“Oh, here they are. We’ll need to stop by a drug store while we’re out.”
“Are we going out?”
“Yes, Norman. Try to keep up. We’re going out. I told you that an hour ago.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t believe you.”
“Of course not.” I snatched open the door and watched his jaw tumble to the floor.
“Kissy! You’re wearing a dress! You almost look like a woman!”
“I am a woman, you dolt.” I had to smile though.
“I know, but you never usually look like one.” He eyed me up and down.
“Put your eyes back in your head before I decide to take offense.” I locked the door and started downstairs. He had to trot to catch up. “Come on, Norman.”
“Where are we going, Kissy?”
“I told you, to the drug store. I need a smoke in a bad way.”
Norman shuffled along a step behind me, his hands crammed into his pockets. “So, are you hoping to hit the old lady up for more cash? Is that it? You know, act like you’re looking for her brat and ask her for another check to cover expenses? Is that the game?”
“Nope. I’m gonna find the girl.”
“How? Kissy, you’re not a detective! Not a real one, anyway! What do you know about detecting? You don’t even know where to start!”
“Just because you don’t know where to start, Norman, doesn’t mean that I don’t. Don’t confuse what you know with what I know. It’s insulting.”
We walked a block or two in silence until we got to the drug store. “Wait here.”
He pouted at the ground. “Sure, Kissy. Sure.”
I went in and bought two packs of Camels and a bright red lipstick, and at the last second, I bought Norman a fat cigar. He grinned when I came outside and handed it to him.
“Thanks, Kissy!”
“You’re welcome. Hold this.” I shoved my handbag at him while I painted my lips with the lipstick. It’d been a while, but I managed it by looking at my reflection in the drug store window. I smacked my lips and smiled at Norman. “What do ya think?”
“You’re beautiful.” His blue eyes were so painfully earnest that I had to laugh. I savored a smoke and snatched my handbag out of his limp fingers.
“Thanks.” I ran my fingers through the unruly brown mass of my hair, wishing I’d bought a comb. “Come on, we have a long walk ahead of us.” I started down the street and Norman followed me.
“So, where are we going?”
“Well, the way I see it, we really only have two places where we could begin looking for leads. We know two people who have been in contact with Heloise and Shultz since she left her mother’s house, right?” Norman shuffled along in silence, so I continued. “The lawyer and the dressmaker. While it’s possible that the dressmaker has the girl’s new address, it’s more likely that Heloise just let her think she was still living at home with her mother. Since the dressmaker telephoned Mrs. Kendall’s house to tell Heloise when the dress would be ready, I think it’s safe to assume that’s the case. No, the dressmaker probably doesn’t know anything that
will help us.”
“Of course.”
I flipped my cigarette butt at Norman’s head. “We’re left with the lawyer. I think we’ll find out something there.”
“That’s where we’re going now?”
“Yeah. I didn’t put on this damned dress to go dancing with you.”
“How are you gonna get the lawyer to talk? You want me to get tough with him? Rough him up a little?”
I’ll never know how I didn’t die laughing right then, but I managed it. “Uh, no thanks, Norman. I have a different idea.”
“Oh.” He liked playing the tough guy.
I patted him on the cheek. “Tell ya what, if I don’t find out what I want to know, I’ll let you rough him up for me. All right?”
Norman grinned. “All right!”
We hoofed our way toward Martingdale’s office, and I began to swear revenge on the sadist who invented women’s shoes. We rode the streetcar until we got within walking distance of West Seventh, but when we finally got to the office building, I had to take the torture devices off my feet and rub them for a minute before I could go inside. I looked squarely at Norman. “I need you to stay out here. Keep an eye out for Shultz.”
“How do I know Shultz from Adam? I’ve never seen him.”
“Neither have I. Kendall gave me a snapshot of Heloise, but she’s never even seen Shultz.” I took the snapshot out of my bag and showed it to him. “If you see this girl with a man, especially if they’re arm-in-arm or holding hands, then you’ll know you’ve found Shultz.”
“What do I do if I find him? Want me to wrestle him to the ground?”
“No, that won’t be necessary, Norman. Just watch him. If he has a car, note the make and model and any other noticeable features. Got it?”
“Sure. I got it.” He pulled his cap low and stood near the entrance, as inconspicuous as a tap-dancing elephant. At least he’d be out of my way.
I hiked up the stairs, cursing my shoes with every step. Martingdale’s office occupied space on the third floor, where an orchestra of typewriters ticked out a percussive symphony, accentuated by sonorous little bells. I found two accounting firms and a correspondence school before I saw a door with ‘Martingdale & Associates’ painted on the glass. I pulled an envelope out of my bag and stepped inside.
Big Shots and Bullet Holes Page 2