Jailbird Detective

by Helen Jacey

  ‘You can dictate it to me now or you can come in. Payment upfront. Dictate it, it won’t go in the paper till you’ve paid up. Post your check, or come in and settle in cash. We’re very accommodating in how we take your money.’ His ironic tone was amusing. I felt a smile on my lips for the first time in weeks.

  ‘Want to go ahead? Let me guess. You’re getting married?’

  ‘Nope. Not the marrying type.’ I quipped. ‘Nor the maternal, for that matter.’

  He stifled a snigger. ‘So no weddings, no babies. That leaves sad news?’ His voice took on a mock-tragic tone.

  ‘Where do I start? But no, nobody’s dead.’ I bit my lip, thinking about Shimmer. ‘It’s a rather delicate matter.’

  ‘But you want to place an announcement and tell the world? Now I’m confused.’

  I laughed. ‘It’s mysterious. Maybe I should just come down and explain?’

  ‘Do! You’ll brighten the most boring day imaginable.’

  He told me to come to the Chronicle’s offices on Broadway, and ask for him. Barney Einhorn in Classifieds on the ground floor.

  ‘Thank you, Barney Einhorn in Classifieds.’

  ‘I look forward to seeing you, Miss…?’

  ‘Slate. Elvira Slate.’

  37

  ‘I’m not sure I understand.’ Barney Einhorn looked baffled. He had a bookish look and an incongruously lively face. His suit was old, darned on the lapel. I instinctively trusted him. His dark eyes reminded me of the homeless Jewish boys in London I ran around with aged eight after I’d fled the orphanage. They’d fed me warm bagels they’d stolen. Barney looked like how I imagined they’d be, grown up.

  It was a quiet day for the Classifieds department. Behind the wide counter, Barney was one of the few servers. Behind him, staff gossiped lazily at their desks. It looked friendly. Maybe I could get a job here one day.

  I said, ‘Truth is, neither do I. It’s a favor for someone. I need to find a link between something in some back issues, and something else.’ I slid a five dollar note across the counter. ‘And I’d appreciate your discretion.’

  He eyed the note. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘What does it look like?’

  ‘It’s a rhetorical question. You don’t have to pay me. You’re not placing an ad. This is fun.’

  I’d stung his pride. I slipped the note back in my purse. ‘All right,’ I smiled. ‘Here’s fun.’ I bent down and picked up Lauder’s papers, dumping them on the counter.

  ‘That’s a century’s worth in the world of personal columns,’ Barney said. ‘That won’t be quick. I can only do it when things are dead around here. Lucky for you, it’s pretty slow this time of year. Thanksgiving is around the corner, hardly any betrothals or weddings. The California winter doesn’t kill off so many old people in L.A., so we’re slow on funerals, too. It’s mainly births, which goes to show that there’s something to Valentines after all.’

  I took the purple card out of my pocket and slid it over the counter. ‘This is the connection. I have to find something, anything relating to this. I have no idea what to look for.’ I knew full well this could all be one big Lauder joke on me.

  Barney picked it up and examined the card. His brown eyes looked into mine. ‘Are you some kind of sleuth?’

  ‘What? No!’

  He smirked, his hand flying up, as if he wouldn’t press any further but knew he’d got it right. ‘All right. Nightshade Club. One of them!’

  My heart skipped a beat. ‘You know it?’

  ‘No. Not this one in particular. Wouldn’t be the first time the classifieds spread the word about a secret meeting place. Crackpots, spies – heck, I can’t tell the difference.’

  ‘So you’ll do it?’

  ‘I love this stuff. This kind of thing went on a lot in the war. The occasional christening at a church that didn’t exist. Then I’d figure out the date would be the same birthday as some fanatic. Like Hitler or Mussolini.’

  ‘Queer.’

  ‘Very.’

  I widened my eyes. ‘Did you ever figure out what was going on?’

  ‘A couple of times I had a hunch. I even called the cops once.’

  ‘Some job you’ve got. But don’t call the cops, please. This isn’t sinister, I’m sure of it.’ I averted my gaze from those big brown eyes.

  ‘Your wish is my command.’ Barney concealed a highly ironic look. ‘But it’s a job. Not a great job.’

  ‘Why do it, then?’

  ‘Pays the bills. I don’t have a lot of options and it beats selling insurance.’

  I noticed a walking stick, propped against the edge of the counter. ‘Oh, sorry.’

  ‘Souvenir from France, courtesy of Uncle Sam. At least I got to come home. And now, I get to meet people like you. Female P.I.s!’ He winked.

  ‘I’m not a P.I.,’ I mumbled.

  He slammed the palms of his hands on the counter. ‘If you say so. Leave it with me.’

  As I went down in the elevator, I had a fat smile on my face. Barney Einhorn had lifted my mood.

  I walked away from the office and a few blocks along, found a movie theater, practically empty during the daytime. A slushy romance was playing.I bought a ticket and sat in the empty auditorium. As the miraculous couple exchanged passionate glances on screen, I remembered Rhonda’s face, lighting up when Shimmer kissed her. As short and fragile as my allegiance had been to Shimmer and Rhonda, I still felt uneasy.

  Bright girls, bad starts.

  I left the movie before it ended, too restless to concentrate on the flimsy plot.

  I considered calling Troy for a drunken diversion but he might be offended I’d gone off with Lyle and I didn’t want to be grilled or to have to endure any witty innuendo. Besides, a night out with the cynical screenwriters wouldn’t help. If anything, their shallow minds would annoy me. They knew nothing, just peddled fantasies and lies about non-existent women. In real life, nobody looked out for girls like us and nobody would.

  We had to do it for ourselves.

  With Shimmer dead, did Reba T. find Rhonda? Had Lauder told her where to find her? Lauder was just as good a liar as me. And he was a coldhearted bastard.

  Damn it, Rhonda!

  Back in my room at the Astral, I sat cross-legged on the mustard floor, cupping the dice.

  Odds, I’d forget all about Rhonda, just wish her well and get back to my empty life of following Lauder’s orders.

  Evens, I would do something. I had no idea what. Maybe I could get a taxi back to the house in Fauness Avenue and check if she’d come back. Maybe I’d find something so I could quit worrying about her. Maybe something else would be there, a sign. Like a fresh pint of milk, or Rhonda in bed with another woman. Then I could just walk away.

  I rolled the dice.

  Double six.

  Evens.

  Something like relief washed over me.

  It was what I wanted to do.

  38

  The wind was picking up. Oranges rolled over the sidewalk as if lined up by a drunken pool player, and the air was full of their sweet aroma, as if the Santa Ana was a giant perfume atomizer scenting the pool room.

  I stood outside the house, now plunged into darkness.

  No lights. Nobody home. I should just leave.

  No. Get in, poke around, get out. Peace of mind, remember?

  I crept quietly up the front steps of the house. I was wearing dark gray flannel pants with side pockets, and a black sweater, topped off with a gray and maroon patterned silk necktie. I flung a gray jacket over my shoulders and had tilted my gray felt hat over my face, my hair in a hair net. The aim was to blend into the shadows while I worked.

  Earlier in life, I’d done my fair share of smash-and-grab jobs but I hadn’t picked a lock for years. A quick brick through the window would attract the attention of ol’ Nosey Parker next door.

  I pulled out a hatpin, kneeled down and got to work. I kept my gloves on the whole time, which slowed me down. If I got in, and then h
ad to make a quick getaway, I wouldn’t have time to wipe anything down.

  Footsteps! I froze. Out in the street, somewhere behind the shrubbery, someone was whistling a romantic tune. I listened for a while. A woman’s voice, calling to her dogs.

  Just a nocturnal stroller.

  I got back to the task, and in a few seconds, the lock clicked open.

  I pushed the door open, flicking the light of my small torch around the front room. I ventured in, softly closing the door behind me.

  The smell of beeswax hit my nose. Someone had been cleaning.

  Through the front door’s glass panel, the streetlights provided enough light so I put the torch back in my pocket. There was no mail on the doormat. Instead, it had been stacked up on a side table. Interesting. I checked the date on one item. This morning.

  Wait – the three suitcases. Now there were only two. A good sign, surely? So when had Rhonda left?

  I moved out of the front parlor along the corridor, making my way into the dining room where we’d smoked the weed. I got the torch back out.

  Spick-and-span in here too. No sign of smoking, drinking coffee and cookies. Rhonda could have cleared up after Shimmer left.

  No chess game.

  The general tidiness and the missing suitcase pointed to Rhonda leaving of her own accord, as Lauder claimed. He didn’t tell me how he knew she’d gone, I suddenly realized.

  There were three other doors. I’d try each room, just to be sure. Sure of what? There had to be a bathroom as well as the bedrooms. I peered inside the first room along the corridor. It was another parlor. Sofa and armchairs covered in sheets, ghostly in the low light. The curtains were drawn.

  On the wall, the torchlight hit a chalk bust of a Madonna and child on the mantelpiece. Her face made me jump. I cursed, and retreated.

  The next room was smaller. Heavy lace curtains covered the small back window. There was a single bed with a tall metal bedstead, hospital style, which was also covered in sheets. An invalid’s bed. Rhonda’s granny‘s last bed, before she snuffed it?

  I stepped on something soft. A rag doll lay on the floor, her face to the ground. Shimmer had been right. The place was creepy. I bent down to pick the doll up.

  ‘Stop right there.’

  I froze, halfway up.

  The voice of an old woman. Frail and nervous. ‘Turn around, hands up. Show me your thieving face.’

  I did as she asked. Nice and slow.

  A little bird of a woman stood in the doorway. She wore a floral housecoat, and had her rollers in under a scarf tied at the top of her head. Her hair was white. She was skinny as a rake, and her hands shook under the supreme effort of training a rifle on me.

  I recognized the face.

  Nosey Parker, from next door.

  ‘It’s not what it looks like, ma’am. I’m Rhonda’s friend, Gina. Just checkin’ in on her, or hoping to.’

  ‘What kind of pal breaks in? I saw you pickin’ that lock.’ She eyed me suspiciously, steadying the gun. ‘I’m gonna call the cops!’

  ‘Wait a minute! I just thought Rhonda might be sick or something. Didn’t want to get her up. Opening the door like that was just an old trick my daddy taught me in case I locked myself out. Hatpin, see?’ I showed the bent pin to her, grinning moronically.

  She grunted. ‘Saw you here other day. On the doorstep. Didn’t look like pals then. How come you’re back? You robbin’ the place?’

  ‘No! Me and Shimmer don’t always see eye to eye. I mean…didn’t. May she rest in peace.’ I made the sign of the cross on my chest.

  The old woman shook her head. ‘Didn’t surprise me one bit when that cop said she came to a bad end. Knew she was trouble, the minute she rolled up with Rhondie.’

  That cop. It had to be Lauder. And the way she said ‘Rhondie’ was full of affection.

  ‘A cop came?’ I said.

  ‘Two of ‘em. One after the other. What’s it to you?’

  So Lauder and a partner had come here before seeing me. That’s how he knew Rhonda had gone.

  ‘When did the cops come? The next day?’

  Thelma nodded. ‘Yeah. In the morning. That’s when I got the news.’

  ‘Can I lower my hands now, nice and slow?’ I pleaded.

  The old bird thought about it, then nodded. The rifle stayed high, wobbling rather alarmingly. I grinned, nervously. ‘How about you meet me halfway and put the gun down? Sure looks heavy. I promise you I’m no thief, just a pal. A concerned pal. Do you know where Rhonda is? If she’s okay?’

  We stood there in the gloom as she weighed it up. Loneliness seemed to win over distrust as she finally lowered her weapon. ‘No, I don’t. Truth of the matter is I was hoping you was her.’

  ‘Did you see her leave?’

  ‘Sure I did. It was darned late, too. Went off in somebody’s car. Don’t know who, never saw their face. Same night you came over.’ The old lady looked around, a little bewildered. ‘Rhondie’s granny Gladys was my best pal. This is her house. Left it to Rhondie when she died. Promised Gladys I’d take care of things, keep the house for Rhondie.’

  ‘Ain’t that a nice thing to do?’ I tried to sound soothing.

  ‘Well, we’d been neighbors for forty years and counting. Took her into hospital myself last winter. I knew she wouldn’t be coming home again. Gladys had a son, Rhonda’s pop. Hailed from Wales, original. Mining family. Took it upon himself to go down to Tijuana, married a Mexican. She came back here with him.’

  I wondered if the whole stick-up was just a ploy to get some company. You didn’t see many old women on the streets of L.A. Walking sticks, wheelchairs, wrinkles and gray hair wouldn’t get you far in this town.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

  ‘Thelma. You?’ She’d forgotten.

  ‘Gina.’

  Thelma sat down, nodding, using the butt of the gun as an armrest. I hoped the safety catch was on. She went on. ‘House stood empty for a couple of years, then that Shimmer shows up, acting like she owns the place. “Who the hell are you?” I ask her. Tells me Rhondie’s sick and the place is gonna be sold. To that real estate mob, the ones sucking the life out of this neighborhood. Broke my heart when I saw the poor child, suffering like that.’ She crossed her chest.

  I cut her off. ‘But Rhondie left, taking a case, getting in a car. That sounds like she knew what she was doing.’

  ‘How do I know? She left. I’d been bakin’ that day. Another batch of peanut cookies. Don’t eat ‘em myself but kids round here like ‘em, sure enough. I pay ‘em in cookies to pick up my oranges. Where was I?’ She had already forgotten her train of thought. ‘Oh, yes. Thought I’d give Rhondie a few cookies. Her favorites.’

  ‘About what time did you go around?’

  ‘No ‘about’ about it. Nine o clock, on the dot. Rhondie took ‘em but she wasn’t hungry. I stayed for a while. We chatted about this and that. She never even said goodbye. I just been praying she’ll walk back in.’

  I wanted to leave. I could feel reassured. Thelma was just feeling rejected Rhonda hadn’t looked in.

  Time for bed, Elvira. Get the hell out and forget all about it.

  Thelma suddenly burst into tears. ‘Oh, Gladys,’ she sobbed. ‘I let you down.’ She suddenly dropped the gun, and it clattered on the floorboards. She crumpled on the bed.

  I hovered, uselessly. ‘Hey, hey. You did your best. Sounds like Rhonda knew what she was doing, that she went of her own accord. She’ll be fine.’

  But surely, Rhonda had left before she knew Shimmer was dead. Shimmer hadn’t returned, so Rhonda could have got worried and stuck to the plan to leave, or called a friend who’d picked her up. Lauder had indicated the bodies had been found in the morning. Rhonda would have found out like everyone else, in the news. She would have been devastated. I had no doubt about their love for one another.

  The old dear looked up, her eyes watering. ‘Suppose so.’

  ‘You did your best for her.’

  Sniffing,
she said, ‘Can I fix you something to eat?’

  I reluctantly said a coffee would be good. Thelma picked up the gun and went to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and shuffled around, talking to herself.

  I tucked the rag doll into bed. ‘Sleep tight,’ I said, for no reason at all.

  As I left the room, I inwardly repeated the obvious facts. Rhonda must have gone willingly. Shimmer didn’t come back on time. So Rhonda called a friend, she wasn’t going to be a sitting duck.

  But. There’s always a but. And one was niggling now.

  Reba T. could have collected Rhonda at Lauder’s behest.

  Maybe someone else had helped her run.

  Maybe not your problem.

  I half-heartedly opened the chest of drawers, gloves still on. Perfume, cheap cosmetics, a few dimes, costume jewelry. It looked like the kind of stuff Shimmer would wear. So they hadn’t packed up any of this stuff for their departure. I wouldn’t bother examining the suitcases. They were probably full of things for their new life.

  I returned to the kitchen. Thelma poured the coffee into two china cups. I removed my gloves, and lit a cigarette. We chatted about the neighborhood, how the city had changed since she grew up here, that it never stopped changing. ‘They’ wanted to knock down this road for apartment blocks, and were buying everyone out. ‘They’ had bought out Rhonda – on the cheap, as far as Thelma was concerned. Then she told me to sit down as she served me coffee and cookies.