Private Dick: Chapter Four-The Oldest Story in the Book
When I arrived on the third floor where my office was I caught the faint sent of perfume. Not like the stuff from the Parisian, this was expensive. The scent became stronger as I closed in on the door to my office. I all ready knew before I opened my door who it was. Caroline Fry stood in the dark next to my window. The moonlight spilling over her darkened silhouette. Rain began to trickle down the window and blur her reflection. I cleared my throat a little just encase she didn’t realize I was there. With a quick snap of her heels she was facing me. I stepped into the office and closed the door behind me. Setting the bag form the liquor store down on my desk, I pulled out a couple of old tumbler glasses from the top desk drawer.
“Can I offer you a drink?”, She bobbed her head up and down as her answer. I opened the paper bag and pulled out the new bottle of Gin I’d just bought. I splashed some into the glasses. I handed her the drink. Quickly she gulped it. I’d never seen someone that eager to be numbed by liquor. This act had twisted her face slightly.
“I hate to sound nosy, but it’s my job. What are you doing here?” By now the bottle of Gin was in her hand, and she was pouring herself another tall glass of it. I grabbed the glass from her before she could sip from it. A little Gin splashed out onto the floor and found it’s way into the cracks of the wood.
“I haven’t been honest with you. For that I’m sorry.”, her lips were quivering by now and the quiver was spreading to her voice. “I’m not Johns’ sister.”
“I kinda already figured that out, but go on.”
“How did you? Never mind that doesn’t matter now. I still want to find him though.” I felt sorry for dames who were in a position like this. I may be a tough guy, but I didn’t like seeing girls cry. I handed her a wadded up handkerchief from my pocket. It wasn’t exactly Kleenex but it would have to do. A honking sound came from her nose as she blew into the cloth. She was going to hand it back, but I motioned she could keep it. I didn’t like doing laundry, they sat everything comes out in the wash. I didn’t quite believe that.
“If you really want to find him, you’re going to have to tell me the truth. I’m a detective not a mind reader.” She looked deep in thought and than began to speak.
“A few years back I met Johns at a dinner party I was hosting, he was hired to park the cars outside. After the party I saw him crouched up in a corner of the garage. I asked what he was doing there. He informed me he had nowhere else to go. I felt sorry for him and offered that he could stay in the guesthouse for the night if he wished. Well one thing led to another, and we became lovers. I was a very unhappily married woman Mr. Riddick. Johns made me smile again.” She was back at the window starring down passively at the city. “I gave him money all the time so he could go and get himself cleaned up maybe find a job. That never happened though. He spent all his time and money at the Parisian drinking and drugging his life away. About two weeks ago we had an argument. He threatened to tell my husband about our affair. I told him to leave to get out of my sight. Well we’d had fights like this before, but he’d always come back. Not this time. I waited up all that night, no sign of him. I haven’t seen him since.”
“I hate to break this to ya Caroline, but you’re not the first rich lady to stoop the help. One thing I don’t get though, you said you went to the cops before..”
“I lied about that too. I thought it would sound more convincing.”
“Well I can see why you don’t want this to go public. Why pose as the sister though?”
“I thought you might feel more sympathetic to a sister looking for a lost brother than a married woman looking for her lover.”
“Any ideas on where his real sister is? It would be a big help.”
“No idea. I’m sorry. Once he mentioned her name. I can’t think of it at the moment though”, again she was digging thru the black purse. This time a business card appeared from it. I was beginning to wonder if this lady wasn’t a good friend with Mary Poppins with a bag like that. She placed it on the desk.
“My number in case you find anything. I’ll call you if I happen to remember the name.” With that she left my dusty shabby little dark office. I could hear the fainting clip clopping of her heels as she made her way down the stairs.
The only thing I was really sure of was that I needed a drink. I lifted the glass she’d been holding to my lips. When I looked down on the rim of it I could see a crescent mark from her lipstick pasted on the side. What game was this broad playing?