It was one of them rainy nights. The kind of storm where you’d almost believe the water would wash the filth off the streets straight to the river where it would slip away forever but you know nothing ever comes clean in this town.
I was finally sobering up from a nasty hangover that seemed to last for days. I had been on a binge since that nasty incident a few days ago. I was ready to call it quits for good.
My name is Bricker and I was a detective. I worked for the city police until that one night. Now 'm a hasbeen, a nobody. Just another shnook with the stink of cheap booze and faliure dripping from my hand-me-down suit.
As I said I was ready to throw it all in when the phone rang. I knew I shouldn’t have picked it up, but I had to. At least for one last time I could pretend to play the good guy.
It was a dame. She wanted to meet me down by the docks. She said her husband was missing but she couldn’t come to my office. Little did she realize that I used the fire escape to go in and out of my office to avoid seeing the landlord.
I knew meeting her at the docks at 1 am smelled fishy but I needed the work so I told her I’d be there.
I pulled my shoulder holster from the desk drawer and shrugged into it. I checked the magazine and snugged the big .45 in place.
There was a pint of bonded bourbon in the same drawer with the rod. I took a big swallow of it to wash the taste of failure from my mouth and slipped the bottle into my overcoat pocket.
I made it down the fire escape without breaking my neck. Heh. Things seemed to be looking up. Shows you what a chump I am.
I poked a Lucky into the corner of my mouth and wondered if my heap would start.
I fingered my chin thoughtfully. Thoughtfully like a backstreet wino contemplating the last drops in his bottle of Old Liverkill, the evil liquid sloshing around like the thoughts in a madman’s head as he lurks in the darkened corners of the back alley in the tough part of madness city on a night when the rain won’t quit and the cops just don’t give a damn whether or not some private dick with a slug in his side and a chip on his shoulder can save the girl he just met down at the docks on a foul night like the sun’s never gonna come up on this sad little town ever again.
“Mr. Bricker?” She stepped out of the shadows.
I’d seen her before. Millions had seen her before in movie theatres around the world, but nobody had seen a shiner like that on her left eye. The swollen purple clashed with her green evening gown. She was wearing more than I made in six months, not including the mink wrap.
“that’s the handle lady.” I said trying to look steady, “What can I do for you?”
“I heard that you were the man to call when someone needed something special done.”
Her lips quivered in a subtle way. Not quite a come on not quite a pout. I felt my heart skip a beat but knew that as an actress this dame could fake anything without a second thought.
“I don’t know what you heard or who you heard it from but I ain’t some gunsel for hire. So if its revenge you want for the shiner, just know that I’m not they guy your looking for. I’m sure you can find some goomba elsewhere”
I lit up a smoke and took the opportunity to give her the once over. This dame had gams till Tuesday. I knew she had maids, servants, and a dozen boyfriends on the side, but here she was talking to me down at the docks in the middle of the night.
Something didn’t add up, but what choice did I have? Another week without a case and I’d be out on the streets.
“So doll, why are you out here in this stinkhole instead of crying your story to the police?”
“You don’t understand. I’m not after revenge, and I’m not after law.”
It made me wonder what she was after. Especially when she pursed those lips, and looked me up and down. But I held my peace, waiting for the punchline.
“I told you my husband’s missing. I want you to find him. And I don’t want the cops involved. A woman like me has a preference for things to be… discreet.”
I didn’t say anything at first. The dame was fine, but she was pushy. Let her wait. I turned my collar against the rain, and paced a few steps, sizing things up.
Finally, I turned back to her. “What do I get in return?”
“What do you get in return?” She licked her lips. “Your fee is…negotiable. Like I said, I like things to be discreet…this would be just between you and I.”
She reached out and took the cigarette right out of my mouth. vShe raised the cigarette to her ruby-red lips and inhaled deeply.
“It would be our little secret.” She blew smoke out in a sensous puff.
Suddenly, there was a muffled thump from somewhere in the deep shadows behind her. I looked over her shoulder just in time to see a silvery glint against the inky blackness several feet away. I’d know that glint anywhere. Moonlight reflecting off the metal of a handgun.
“Get down!” I whispered urgently and pulled her behind a stack of wooden crates. She leaned against me, all the brazeness gone out of her like wind out of a sail. She looked up at me with nothing but fear in eyes. Gone was the confident woman of ten seconds ago. This woman was frightened for her life.
There was that familar report of a .45 rattling out of the dank air. Something hot clipped my right ear as I fell to the ground. Whoever was gunning for her wasn’t that good a shot or they couldn’t see very well, either way it was good luck for us both.
“I can’t stay here!” She said running towards the alley.
“Stay down!” I shouted as a second shot rattled across the bay.
I quickly returned fire in the direction of the first shot. It richochetted off of a brick wall but was not followed by the the thud of a body. It looked like my play mates had moved, fortunate for me but not the girl.
I turned to see her lying face first in a puddle of rainwater and her own blood. I cradled her cold body in my arms hoping I was was wrong about her condition. It was too late, the nearsighted gunman did his job well.
As her life flowed away she looked up and said…
I heard sirens. Someone had called, or maybe the cops came on their own. I had to leave, and I had to leave fast. I didn’t want to answer questions to some cops from homicide who read the obituaries first thing every morning hoping to see my name. The question was, was the man with the gun in the darkness finished, or did he want me, too?
My rat hole office with the office bottle was looking better and better. Johnny’s DTs would calm down after a few more, and for a little bit he’d be lucid and could tell about The Fat Man. Nobody knew more about the underworld than Coal Oil Johnny.
The .45 jabbed my armpit, but it was good company. I could see the front door and the entrance behind the bar from the booth.
I lit a Lucky Strike and waited for Johnny to get drunk enough to talk.
But just when I thought my luck was in the gutter, it slid through the grate and down into the sewer. Lieutenant Hanson came in the door, with his two favorite gorillas in blue backing him. The slug in my side that had cost me my career had gotten him his gold shield; that I wasn’t up the river or dead was an unfortunate oversight in his opinion. Spying me, he and the goons advanced to my booth, hands on gun butts. “Beat it!” He snapped to Johnny, and Johnny didn’t have to be told twice. “Well Bricker, it looks like I have you at last!” Hanson sneered. “Gonna come quietly?” I could tell he and his bully boys were praying I wouldn’t.
At this point, I knew I was in a terrible jam. My informat had run off, Hanson was about to resume me to room tempurature, and there still was the issue of the Fat Man and the sniper. I knew that it was all over, when, suddenly, unexpected relief came.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen”, the bartender, Nick the Mick, said, “but this man isn’t leaving until he pays his bill.”
“The hell he isn’t” Hanson said, slapping Nick in the face.
“All right old timer,” Hanson said gripping his gun tightly! “Let’s not make this more difficult than we need to.”
I had to laugh at the situation. I was Hanson’s partner in the day and I knew he was a poor shot. Nick the Mick could have squezzed two into Hansons fat belly before Hanson lifted a finger. Sure it was an forty year old gun, but the Mick kept it in mint condition.
I only hoped Hanson had no delusions of his own skill.
“Bricker, the Girl had your name and address written in her hand book. We pulled the slug out of the dame and it was a .45 like yours. There is no use in this game. Just come with us now and I’ll see what I can do to make it easier for you,”
A drunk staggered into Hanson. He grabbed the table near my drink. His nails were manicured and clean. His suit was clean and expensive, he was shaven and his hair parted.
“Gutman the Fat Man owns Darlene Dettrick’s movie contract,” Johnny quipped unexpectedly. “I can’t imagine his harming someone who made so much money for him. You gonna drink that?” He scooped up my drink and swigged it down. He coughed, retched and turned to vomit onto Hanson’s shoes. Hanson cursed and shoved him away. Johnny was gagging now, and turning blue. I picked up the glass he had appropriated and gingerly sniffed it. Bitter almond. Cyanide. No sign of the staggering drunk in the three piece suit.
“I guess I’m going with you after all, Lieutenant.”