Unremarkable

by Geoff Habiger

  Disappointed, I headed back to the elevators, checking all the door numbers as I went. I then headed down to the left checking those numbers as well. Lots of doors, some with department names and others with names of individuals, but none marked with 613. “Maybe that vet got the number wrong?” I said to myself.

  Suddenly, I heard the elevator door open with a clang. I froze, although I don’t know why. Technically I was in a public place, but somehow I knew that I would be in trouble if I was seen. I heard a pair of voices, though I couldn’t catch what they were saying. They sounded like they were heading toward the Postal Inspector’s Office.

  As quietly as I could, I headed down the hall and peered around the corner. I saw a man’s leg disappear around the corner at the far end of the hall. I headed toward them, passing the elevator, trying to move as quietly as I could on the linoleum floor. I stopped at the corner, listening.

  “You ask me, we’re going about this in the wrong way.” The voice was gruff and raspy, as though the speaker was either a really heavy smoker or somebody from the war who’d been in a gas attack.

  “But the Director told us to look into this personally.” The second voice was higher in pitch and sounded younger.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I heard the sound of a key in a lock. I wanted to see who was talking, but I didn’t dare look around the corner in case they saw me. “Listen kid, when you’ve been around the block as long as I have you’ll know to trust your gut in these cases, and right now my gut-” Gruff’s voice was cut off as the door closed.

  I risked a glance around the corner. At first I didn’t see anything. “Damn,” I swore under my breath. Then I noticed a thin sliver of light coming from under the door labeled ‘Janitor’.

  “You sneaky sons of bitches,” I smiled. I thought about going up to the door and trying to listen to what they were saying, but I figured that I’d spent enough time searching. My break had to be almost over by now. If I got fired, I wouldn’t be able to help either Moran or Capone, and I was sure that neither of them would be sympathetic to my plight.

  I headed back to the elevator. As I pushed the call button, I tensed. Was that the sound of the janitor’s door opening? “Come on, come on,” I mumbled to the elevator under my breath. I was sure that the elevator was being slow on purpose.

  The elevator finally arrived. I dashed in just as the doors opened, and began repeatedly pushing the button for the third floor.

  “So then the dame said, ‘over his dead body’.” I heard Gruff’s laugh. Oh come on, hurry up you damn mechanical lift!. I pushed the 3 button harder and the doors started closing. Hey—it must have done some good.

  “Oh, come on, man,” Gruff’s voice was getting louder. “That was a funny joke.”

  They were getting closer. Thankfully, the doors finally closed and the elevator began to descend. I leaned against the elevator’s wall, my heart racing. I definitely was not cut out to be a thief or a spy or anything like that.

  The doors opened on the third floor, and I stepped out right in front of Joe, who was coming up the steps.

  “Where’d you run off to?” Joe asked.

  “Uh, nowhere. Just the bathroom.”

  “Don’t bullshit me,” Joe said. “I was just in there and you wasn’t.”

  “Yeah, sure, ‘cuz I was in there earlier. Then I went outside for a smoke,” I tried to recover, and hoped to redirect Joe’s attention. “So did you find out from George what Francine’s favorite flower is?”

  “Uh, uh.” Joe wagged his finger. “Where’d you go? You’ve been acting strange ever since your date on Valentine’s Day. What happened on that date?”

  I stalled as we walked into the sorting room. I knew that Joe was not going to let me off easy, or let me change the subject. I was going to have to give him something good to keep him happy. I couldn’t tell him the truth, although I was sure that Joe would believe me. There was no way in hell that was I going to drag him down with me.

  I stepped up to my sorting station. “Man, I’m sorry if I’ve been a sap the past few days. You know how it is when you’re head over heels about a dame.”

  Joe chuckled at his station as he sorted through a pile of large envelopes. “Don’t you know it!”

  “So, Moira and I met for coffee Thursday morning. She said that she had something important to tell me, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was at breakfast. You know how women can be.” I heard an affirmative grunt from Joe.

  “She said that I had to wait until dinner, and you’ll never guess in a million years where she wanted me to take her. Come on, guess.”

  “I don’t know, Jake’s Diner over on Wacker?” Joe laughed.

  “Come on, don’t be a goof. She wanted me to take her to The Lex.” I heard a gasp from Joe, followed by the sound of several envelopes hitting the floor.

  “No way! What did you tell her?” Joe was kneeling down and picking up the fallen envelopes.

  “I told her hell no,” I laughed. “I haven’t even gotten my first paycheck yet. There’s no way I could afford to take her there.” Up to this point I’d been pretty truthful with Joe, but that had to change. “She gave me some sappy, puppy dog eyes, and pouted like a champ, but I wouldn’t give in.”

  “That’s right, man,” Joe agreed. “You have to make sure the dames know their place.”

  I nodded, though I personally didn’t agree with Joe. “Instead, I told her I’d take her to this little Italian place I know over on LaSalle. A nice, quiet mom and pop place. So that’s what I did. Great food, candles on the table, and even a guy who plays the violin.”

  “Yeah, I know that place. Called Corleone’s, right? Maybe I should take Francine there on our first date.”

  “So anyway, during the meal Moira tells me that she has to leave town for a while.” Since she had been shot and killed, I figured that having her leave town worked in my favor. “I was shocked, ‘cuz we’d been hitting it off really well. She told me that she had to go down to Springfield to stay with her sick aunt for a while. But you know how dames are. I couldn’t tell if she was telling me the truth or just trying to dump me.”

  “Man, if Francine tried that on me I don’t know how I’d react.”

  I laughed to myself. Joe was talking like he and Francine were already an item. I figured now was as a good time as any to turn the spotlight back on him. “So, did George tell you anything about what Francine likes?”

  Joe began a long discourse on all that he knew about what Francine did and didn’t like. I focused on my sorting, letting him drone on. I was happy to not have to talk about Moira any more. Her death still didn’t seem real to me, and with all the other stuff that had happened, I was still coming to grips with the whole affair.

  Now that I knew where the Feds were hiding out in the building, I just had to figure out how to break into their room, find the books, steal them, and get them to Moran before he decided to make his threat against my parents real. Piece of cake.

  Chapter 9

  I stifled a yawn as Joe and I walked out of the sorting room. I was so tired that I had nearly fallen asleep several times standing at my post. Only the fear of falling down and making a fool of myself, and quite possibly getting fired, kept me going. I desperately wanted to go home and sleep, but I knew that if I ditched Joe again this morning he’d never forgive me. We walked into the diner, which was doing a brisk morning business, and we managed to grab a booth that was being vacated by three mailmen getting ready to start their shift. I slid their empty plates and drained cups of coffee to the side of the table, but Joe’s eyes were immediately drawn to Francine, who was walking up with a coffee pot.

  Francine is a good lookin’ gal, I guess. She didn’t have anything on Moira, in my opinion, but I could see why Joe was interested. She had soft brown hair that she wore pulled together into a ponytail and held with a red hairband. Her skin was creamy white and she
had freckles on her cheeks. I didn’t know Francine’s last name, but if it wasn’t O’Toole or Murphy or some other Irish name, I’d eat my hat. She was shapely enough, with a trim figure and wide hips that swayed as she walked.

  “I hope its extra strong this morning, Francine,” I said.

  Francine smiled, “Stuck a fork in it myself to check.” She set down two clean cups and poured out the dark black brew. The aroma was invigorating as I grabbed one of the steaming cups.

  “Hey, Francine,” said Joe. “So, how’s my doll this morning?” He cast his eyes over her body, taking her all in, then reached up and patted her on her rear. Francine just grunted at his awkward fondling and went back to the counter.

  Joe and I drank our coffee. It was as strong as Francine had promised. For the rest of the breakfast Joe played his game with Francine. George must have given him some bum tips on Francine’s likes—which didn’t surprise me in the least—since apparently Francine hated Greek food, couldn’t stand boxing, and was allergic to cats. Despite Joe’s usual failure for the morning, I thought I could see a change in Francine’s demeanor; she didn’t seem to put her normal venom into her rebuttals of Joe’s advances.

  After about twenty minutes Joe had received and devoured his flapjacks, so I figured I had done my duty as a friend. The initial jolt from the coffee was starting to ebb and I finally took my leave. I shrugged into my coat and tossed a nickel onto the table to pay for my coffee. The cold morning air had a sharp bite to it, helping to clear some of the cobwebs. As I passed the window outside the diner I was stunned. I saw Francine sit down in the booth across from Joe. Huh, I guess persistence does pay off.

  It was Saturday morning and there were almost no commuters on the L. The air was crisp and clean, and I could smell a snow storm brewing. The cold air continued to invigorate me as I walked from the L up Racine. I passed a bakery on the way and the aroma of fresh baked bread filled the air. For a brief moment, I thought of picking up some challah for Mom. I even gave a passing thought to surprising them at Temple, but I think that would have given Mom a heart attack. I would have fallen asleep during the service, and that would have embarrassed Dad.

  Instead, I continued on to my tenement. I still didn’t have any idea of how I was going to get the books from the Feds, but I had a whole night to think about it since I didn’t have to go back to work until Sunday evening. I entered my tenement and trudged up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. Mrs. Rabinowitz was thankfully absent, so I was able to make it to my door without any neighborly attention. I put the key in the lock and gave a satisfied nod when it turned with a click. I entered my apartment, turning on the bare light in the kitchen and tossing my coat on top of the coat that was already draped across one of the chairs.

  I was heading to my room when I stopped. Another coat? I turned back to the kitchen and looked up just as the floor boards creaked. I caught a glimpse of motion right before my face exploded in pain as a hand slammed so hard into my left cheek that my vision blurred.

  “You son of a bitch! You left me for dead!”

  My face stung, sharp pinpricks of pain darting across my cheek, but it was the sound of her voice that shocked me more. Moira? I think my jaw fell open, because I couldn’t say anything.

  Moira stood before me and I blinked a few times to make sure that it was really her. She looked radiant in a red blouse with pearl-white buttons, black slacks, and black short-heeled shoes. Her green eyes flared. She looked beautiful… and furious. Maybe it wasn’t the smart thing to do, but I didn’t have anything to say, so I grabbed her and quickly pulled her to me, kissing her deeply on her mouth.

  She pushed me away, “Uh, uh. You can’t just kiss and make up for this. I was shot and you left me for dead on the frozen fucking street!”

  “Moira,” I stepped back and held up my hands. I wanted to block any other attempts to slap me. “You were dead! You were covered in blood. There was a bullet through your chest. I even checked you for a pulse and you didn’t have one! You were dead!”

  “And so, what, you left me there to be food for the jackals?” Her voice was scathing.

  “I couldn’t stay there with a dead body. The cops were on their way, and I wasn’t gonna try to explain to them what happened since I didn’t even know myself.” I walked past her and into my living room. “Hell, Moira,” I held up my hands, “when I didn’t see your name listed in the papers along with the other guys that were killed I knew I had made a mistake. I went to every hospital in the city yesterday to see if you had been admitted.” I turned around and looked at her. She stood in the entry to the kitchen, her hair backlit by the kitchen bulb. It cast her face in a sensual shadow.

  “You mean so much to me,” I pleaded, taking a tentative step toward her. “I was devastated. I watched you bleed all over the street, and then I spent what seemed like an endless day visiting hospital after hospital.” I took another step. “And with each hospital, when I didn’t find you, it only reinforced what I had seen happen to you; that you must have died.” I reached out and gently held Moira by the shoulders. She flinched, but didn’t pull away. “And now here, you are standing in my apartment, definitely alive,” I reached up and touched my cheek, which still stung. “But how?”

  She looked at me with her green eyes. I saw anger there, but it was muted and I thought I could see a twinge of regret. “Oh, Saul, I didn’t realize what you went through.” She grabbed my hands and held them in hers. “Getting shot was so excruciating; I wanted to die the pain was so intense. I guess I fainted from the shock and the pain, but the bullet must have only grazed me. When I came to and you weren’t there I was so pissed! Can you imagine what I went through, waking up covered in blood, and not seeing you? I thought something had happened to you as well, there was so much blood on the ground.” Moira reached up and stroked my cheek where she had slapped me earlier.

  Her touch was like velvet, and a shiver went up my spine. “Moira, I’m so happy that you’re alive. Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “I’m fine,” she said as she tilted her head up and kissed me gently on my lips. I kissed her back, my lips pushing against hers, my mouth opening up ever so slightly. I shuddered. Even the French kiss that we’d shared on the day she’d been shot hadn’t felt like this. I wasn’t a virgin; I’d learned the practicalities of the birds and the bees with a girl in high school, but Moira was special. Her beauty had entranced me from the first day that I saw her in the diner. I had fantasized about her from that moment, but she’d always been a bit distant, insisting that she had wanted to get to know me first.

  Now she kissed me harder, her left hand reaching up to caress my head, her right hand sliding down to grab my ass. I embraced her, breaking the kiss and nibbling her lower lip, my left hand reaching up to stroke her breast. A sigh escaped her lips.

  I began to maneuver Moira backwards, into the kitchen. As we moved, we continued to kiss, her hands untucking my shirt and tugging at my belt. She paused in the doorway to my bedroom, ripping at my shirt, tearing it open, the buttons popping off. The remains of my shirt dropped to the floor as her hands caressed my chest, tracing a line down to my pants. I managed to kick off my shoes as she pulled my pants down.

  I stood there, naked except for my socks. I was excited, and thrilled, and just a bit nervous. Moira pushed me onto the bed. I landed heavily on the quilts and she gave me a little smirk. “I guess you really are Jewish.” She slowly unbuttoned her blouse, then let the red fabric fall to the floor to reveal pert, white breasts. With a couple of deft motions she stepped out of her pants. She stood there for a second, the late morning light from the window shining on her gorgeous body.

  She climbed onto the bed, kissing me across my chest and neck. I began to caress her silky smooth body, stroking her breasts, returning her kisses. Moira raked her hands across my chest, scratching me with her manicured nails. It hurt, but I was too focused on her body, and what her
mouth was doing, to really care.

  She sat up, her legs straddling me. I let my hands caress her petite breasts, and she let another sigh escape as she arched her back. She grabbed my hands in hers, pushing them back above my head. She bent down, kissing me on my lips, then my chin, walking the kisses down my throat. She paused on my throat, her teeth nibbling at my skin, then continued down my chest. I sighed as she continued, anticipating her path. Her kisses continued down my stomach, and I gasped, “Oh, yes.”

  She continued to kiss me. I couldn’t be sure, but as she glanced up at me it looked like her eyes flashed red for a moment. Must be a trick of the light. Then she bit me on the right side of my stomach. “Ouch!” I yelled, expecting it to hurt more than it did. “Not so hard, honey.”

  Her only answer was a deep-throated growl as she continued to gnaw on my stomach. I could see blood welling up around her lips. I struggled briefly, but her grip was like iron and I quickly tired. Her head came up, blood encircling her lips. She had a feral, animal-like look in her eyes and her teeth looked longer and sharper than normal. Another trick of the light?

  Despite her devilish look, I was calm and relieved. This was not what I had expected when I first laid eyes on Moira at the diner. I should have been scared. I should have been in pain. But instead I felt peaceful and amazing, as if this was how life was supposed to be.

  Moira bent down and brushed her breast against the wound, letting the nipple dip into the blood and then trace up my chest. She leaned down to kiss me and I could taste my blood on her lips and in her mouth.