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Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
21

The Top Hat hadn’t changed a bit since I’d been a regular. Before AA talked me out of having a life. That was nineteen months, five days and four hours ago – but who’s counting? It was just as filthy, just as dark and smoky as I’d remembered it. God, it was beautiful.

Joe the bartender recognized me once the heavy wood door had closed and returned the bar back to its cavernous din. If he was suprised to see me walk in, he didn’t let on. He’d probably seen more people fall off the wagon that an injun on the Conestoga Trail.

Joe raised a bushy eyebrow at me and I shook my head. “Not tonight, Joe.” I said in a voice I hoped didn’t shake. My mouth was watering like a dog who’d just heard Pavlov’s bell. “I’m here on a job.”

Before he could answer, a silky voice behind me said, “It’s a small world. Mr. Spade?”

22

The Top Hat hadn’t changed a bit since I’d been a regular. Before AA talked me out of having a life. That was nineteen months, five days and four hours ago – but who’s counting? It was just as filthy, just as dark and smoky as I’d remembered it. God, it was beautiful.

Joe the bartender recognized me once the heavy wood door had closed and returned the bar back to its cavernous din. If he was suprised to see me walk in, he didn’t let on. He’d probably seen more people fall off the wagon that an injun on the Conestoga Trail.

Joe raised a bushy eyebrow at me and I shook my head. “Not tonight, Joe.” I said in a voice I hoped didn’t shake. My mouth was watering like a dog who’d just heard Pavlov’s bell. “I’m here on a job.”

Before he could answer, a silky voice behind me said, “It’s a small world. Mr. Spade?”

23

The Top Hat hadn’t changed a bit since the days when I was a regular - back before AA talked me out of having any kind of life. It was still as seedy, as filthy, as I remembered it.

I heaved open the heavy oak door and stepped into the cavernous din of the bar with all the confidence of a sixteen year old driving a Porsche. I hadn’t had so much as a sniff of scotch in the nineteen months and six days that I’d been on the wagon so I wasn’t worried about returning to my old stomping ground. I was in charge now.

And it wasn’t a social visit. I had work to do.

Joe, the bartender, nodded curtly at me in greeting, then did a slight double take when he recognized me. “Spade.” He said without letting on if he was surprised to see the likes of me walking in, after nineteen months and six days. But Joe’s probably seen more people fall of the wagon than an injun on the Conestoga trail so he’s learned to keep his mouth shut and just keep pouring.

I shook my head and was going to tell him that it wasn’t like that, that I was here on business. But my mouth was watering like a dog in Pavlov’s lab and I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth.

Then a voice spoke to my back. A silky voice.

24

Okay, something wacky’s happening here. When I looked this morning, my posts weren’t there - I swear!!!

Pick one. Any one. And carry on.
EDITOR!!!

25

A silky voice that I remembered, though I remembered it more swearing like a drunken truck driver stuck with a load of spoiled tomatoes. Before I had a chance to dive behind the bar, an arm grabbed me playfully by the shoulder.

“Well hi Lily” I said, “how’s the dancing coming along? Still the toast of the town?”

“Why, having any regrets?” Lily asked, playfully running her hand through my hair. She still was a knockout, but I would let her knock out the next guy instead of me and count myself lucky. “What about you, still chasing slimy dollars for unhappy husbands? And I thought you didn’t visit us sinners any more. Nice of you to come by and see me.”

“Nope, just here looking for a brunette singer, I’ve heard she’s the real stuff.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed. “You mean Betsy Sullivan? Don’t make me laugh. The only reason she’s even allowed on stage is because Louie bought a whole sob story she sold him about three kid sisters to feed. She knows how to lay it on thick.”

“Well, Louie was never the sharpest knife in the drawer, now was he?” I saw Joe’s face twitching like a pot of pea soup boiling, which was supposed to be his secret warning signal. Sure enough, Louie’s cheap cologne was filling the air on my other side, and Louie’s ugly mug was there under the cologne. “What’s the matter, Mike, you trying to take back my girl Lily?” he sneered, while draping his arm over Lily’s shapely shoulders. “Or is it the drink that brings you back to my joint?”

26

It was on the tip of my lips to tell Louie I was looking for an asshole, but looking into his weasel brown eyes, I knew it would be redundant.Louie was an asshole, but not the kind I was looking for.Louie didn’t carry a gun, he preferred his fists.

Stepping back out of the fog of his dime store cologne, I lit up a smoke so I could breath some clean air. I chose my words carefully. I had to. One misinterpreted word by the schlum in front of me and I’d be wearing a steak over my face for the night.

“Hello, Louie. Long time no see.Came back for the atmosphere.” I took a long drag off my Lucky Strike. “How’s the banking business?”

Louie called it banking. Coppers called it Loan Sharking. Louie made a pile of money off of fear. Fear of what he might do to someone a minute late with a payment. Just last week he busted some guys legs for deliquincey of payment and took his brand new radio as a penalty. Louie’s temper was legendary.

" I’m hear to see Betsy."

“Wha for?” Louie’s eyes narrowed.

“Heard she was a good singer. Rupert can’t stop raving about the dame. Figured I’d give a listen and see for myself. If only to get Rupe to shut his trap.”

The fat man’s posture relaxed, a smile tipped up the corners of his thin lips. " Yeah, she’s good. She’ll be on in five. I never miss her show." Louie raised a pointed finger, " She’s wit me, unnerstand?"

I nodded once, smiling a little, " You got Lilli and this Betsey. You’ve become quiet the ladies man."

27

Louie bared his teeth in was meant to be a smile. “I can’t keep 'em off me. Ya know wad I mean, Mikey?”

“I wouldn’t know, Louie.” I muttered. Then I caught Lily staring at me with a “poor bastard” look on her face. Nothing like a whore’s pity to make a guy feel lower than the Titanic.

Louie caught her look and laughed, his gut bobbing up and down like a duck’s bottom. “It’s been a long time, huh, Spade?”

I just shook my head. Bastard. It had been a long time. Louie laughed louder.

“Well, ain’t you in a swell mood tonight, Louie?” Lily spat.

"Why shouldn’t I be, babe? I got you at my side, don’t I?

“Until someone better comes along.” She replied biterly. As if on cue, the the lights dimmed and a spotlight lit up a dank stage. “Speaking of the devil.” Lily said before she sauntered off into the crowd.

28

Just interjecting another editorial tip (not one, of course, that will do ANYTHING to help the continuity or untangle the plot threads)…

You guys want this to be a bestseller, we need to make some changes. Male private eyes don’t sell any more, Robert B. Parker nonwithstanding. Also, mystery doesn’t sell. SUSPENSE sells.

Our protagonist needs to change sexes. Think Kinsey Millhone, think V.I. Warshawsky, think Sharon McCone. Bring in a serial murderer. Who has a bizarre sexual fetish. Let’s get some corpses going here, we need a corpse by the end of the first chapter at the latest. A woman or a child would be good. And we’ll need another woman or a child whom we can put in Jeopardy.

You guys are going for quality. You want quality, or you want to move product? Start recycling ideas that people who hit the bestseller lists did BEFORE. Then we can tell the Marketing Department “This is Mary Higgins Clark in the world of High Fashion Modeling” or “This is the Stephen King of Spanking Porn” or “This is the Danielle Steele of CyberPunk.” Start thinking CRAP, people!

Uke

29

I left Louie to argue with Joe about putting too much whisky in the client’s glasses, and decided to grab a table. Fighting my way through the crowd, I saw my banker with a couple of laughing young ladies, ordering another bottle of champagne. I hoped that wasn’t my money he was celebrating with, and made a mental note to check my account in the near future.

I found a pretty good seat near the rear, and sat down right when Betsy came on stage. I hadn’t seen her too well before when she had her raincoat own, but in an evening dress, she was enough to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained-glass window, like my buddy Marlowe used to say. The sweaty piano player hit the keys, and she started singing. When I say singing, let me explain. My mother had the best voice around, and even the neighbourhood slobs agreed. She had a chance to be on the radio, but she met my dad and decided to take care of him instead. But she would still sing, and when she washed me in the bathtub she used to sing an old love song about a sailor’s wife waiting for her captain to come back from the war. Well, I’d never heard it sung since, but when Betsy started, a chill ran down my spine, and I felt like my mother was singing to me again, like she used to before the accident. When a waitress walked by, I decided that I’d proven to myself that I could stay off the booze, and a little glass wouldn’t hurt anybody.

After the first song finished, those drunken slobs around me hadn’t even noticed. Betsy started a more up-beat number, but right in the middle of the second verse she flubbed a couple of lines. Surprised, I looked up at her, and noticed her staring at a dark corner of the club. I looked in the same direction, and saw a big hat with a shadow underneath. The size of the shoulders, and the colour of the suit reminded me of my afternoon’s disappearing client, but I couldn’t tell for sure. Then I noticed Louie walking past the front of the stage in the direction of that same corner, and from the look on his face I could tell he wasn’t on his way to offer free drinks to a valued customer.

(thank you Editor!)

I decided that it was time to do something. I ripped off my jacket, revealing two revolvers snug under my armpits. Lily stared at me in horror from the bar, because under my jacket my shirt wasn’t thick enough to hide my two large, pendulous and brand-new breasts. “Mike, you’ve become a woman?” I heard her gasp, but I was already charging through the crowd towards Louie and my mysterious client. A woman carrying a baby stepped up from a table, but at the same time the mysterious stranger saw me and popped a couple of bullets my way. The woman and child dropped like a sack of potatoes. Bad break for them I thought, but lucky for me!

Louie and the stranger disappeared through the back door. I reached it a couple of seconds later, but as soon as I got out, a large knock on my noggin made me see stars…

Had I been asleep? My head hurt like hell, and it seemed like I was coming back from a bad dream. I managed to open my eyes.

30

::snort::::Thanks Editor!

I looked up to see the hottest pair of legs standing over me. A blurry dame in a short skirt. When I finished with my hormone shots, maybe she’d let me borrow the outfit. That’s if I could drop the last ten pounds. I don’t recall saying anything, but the next sound I heard was like the good whiskey that someone else always keeps around when they are celebrating something. Only I hadn’t celebrated anything in a long time.

“Spade,what the fuck have you done to the Top Hat?”

It was Stella Ryzkck. Chief Homocide Dick. Sharp as razor with a wit that hurt more than a paper cut. When asked how to pronounce her last name, a sick little smile would twist up her lips as she say, “Riz-kick. It’s polish for Do What I Fuckin Say Or I’m Gunna Drop Kick Your Balls To Jersy.” She was known on the street as Drop Kick Ryzkck.

“Your left tit is hanging out of your shirt, Spade.” No one ever accused Stella of mixing words.

Somehow I told my side of the story while Stella bought me a cup of joe over at the Sunrise Diner. I told her about my almost client getting shot and not dying and the dame with brown lipstick and how I was looking for an asshole.

“Any particular asshole?”

" Not a lord-high-poo-bah-of-the-assholes type asshole" I tried to explain while my head ached from the wallup it received.

“More along the lines of your garden-variety assholes,huh?”

A tingle went up and down my spine at how quickly she understood me. I could see that this was going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Either that or my colostomy bag was full again.

She took a long drag on her fag, " Your almost client’s name is Benedict."

“As in Arnold?”

“No, like the eggs.” She shot back. " He’s into monkeys."

I sat back in the booth. My mouth must have been as big as the Grand Canyon. Suddenly, everything made sense.

31

“Benedict.” I repeated the name as I conjured up his features in my memory. “What a sick bastard.”

“You think you’re telling me something I don’t know? You don’t even know the half of it.” She leaned forward, her ample breasts displayed on the table like two delectable appetizers. I felt my own nipples harden, and it was all I could do to keep my hand out of my lap. Stella, oblivious to my distress, continued on. “He’s wanted in a half dozen child murders in the midwest.”

I nearly spit out my coffee. “Child murders?”

“Yeah. Little girls.” If my vision weren’t so blurred I’d have sworn that Ryzkck was tearing up. A soft spot for Drop Kick? “He was the primary suspect in the Lima, Ohio case - he was a neighbor of the girl - but he had an alibi. His “alibi” recanted when he dumped her, but by then Benedict had vanished.” Her face hardened. “Along with the monkeys.”

32

I heard the little voice in my head telling me “Get out of here now!” I usually ignored the little voice, and every time I had been the worst for it. But hell, I’m a woman of tradition, so I told the voice to shut up and turned my attention back to Stella. This was going to be a tough question, but I had to know.

“How about that woman and baby at the Top Hat? Did they make it?”

“We’re waiting for news. Ah, he’s here now.”

I turned my head, and saw a tall, lithe figure approaching. My jaw dropped. If it weren’t for the five o’clock shadow and the men’s suit, I could have sworn it was Betsy! The shoulder-length soft hair, the dimples, everything was there.

“Mike, meet Robette Sullivan, Interpol. He’s working with us locals on the case.”

My tongue was going two different ways at once and I needed another big gulp of coffee. What the hell was this?

“What’s the news from the hospital?” Stella asked.

Robette nearly spat in the ashtray. “She didn’t make it, thanks to your pal here.” He looked about ready to slug me. “She and the baby died an hour ago, but not before she was able to talk. She was Benedict’s first wife, and she came back to try to convince him to turn himself in. I guess she still loved him.” He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose, and his eyes threatened us to dare say anything about the tears in them.

“Hey look, it’s not my fault she a bullet! I didn’t ask her to step in! And what’s Interpol doing here anyway?”

“We’re helping you guys get rid of a nasty criminal. I’m with the secret primate division. This sexual traffic of animals is going to stop, and it’s got to stop right here. And you nosing into our case is no help.” He definitely had a chip on his shoulder.

“How is you pretending to be a nightclub singer going to help a bunch of monkeys?” I snapped right back.

“First of all, moron, those aren’t monkeys, they’re bonobo chimpanzees. Primates. Got it? And second of all, I was undercover doing surveillance, until you came and screwed the pooch. Why don’t you go back home and play with your mommy?”

If there’s anything that I won’t let a jerk get away with, is joking about my mother. My fist was already halfway to his chin when Stella shoved me back in the seat. “Quit it you two! Or I’m going to throw you both in the slammer.” She took a deep breath. “Robette, Mike here is OK. He’s worked with me before. The chief doesn’t like him, but if you’re square with him he’ll be square with you. Sometimes he likes to play his little games when there’s a client involved, but he’s not going to in this case. Right?” Her eyes stared at me to make sure I got her message.

“The question is, what do we do now?”

“I have a lead I can follow. Down at the zoo”, I said. “But maybe you two professionals don’t need the help of an amateur like me.”

33

A lead.So soon. The spy who wore brown lipstick was good. Damn good. Even Drop Kick was impressed. The way my head was swimming and my nipples were tingling, but I wasn’t sure for whom. I hadn’t been this sexually confused since that incident at summer camp when I was 12.

On the ride over in a taxi cab Drop Kick and Robette gave me pointers on purchasing a bra. Drop Kick was on the side of supportive while Robette preferred a demi-cup. Neither of them wanted to get into a discussion about panties. Apparently, it was bikini-thong argument that went way back with the two of them and knew not to tread on that conversational snake. Instead we talked about safe subjects that you could talk to your Granny about: religion, abortion and the third ‘gry’ word.

As the water tower for the zoo came into view the conversation lagged. Our thoughts went inward of what expect inside. Blowing by the ticket lady, Drop Kick flashed her badge to the portly security guard. Robette gave the man a hard I-dare-you-to-lie-to-me stare,
" We’re hear to see a man about a monkey."

34

The guard was chewing a Big Mac, as evidenced by the brightly colored package on his desk. At first he didn’t respond to Ryzkck at all; he just kept chewing. I could feel Stella’s ire rise as he continued chomping. Finally he swallowed it in a big gulp and wiped a glob of special sauce off his chin with the back of his sleeve before heaving his body out of the chair and acknowledging our presence. “We’re CLOSED.” He shouted as if addressing a child. He pointed to the huge wooden sign that declared the same thing in case we doubted his word.

Ryzkck’s face turned a bright shade of red, and I could tell that she was trying desperately not to drop kick him into the Hudson. She was still holding her badge outside the window and she proceeded to shove it to within an inch of his nose. “We’re not here to see the KOALAS, sir, we’re here on official police business. Please let us in.”

He stared at the badge dafty as his tongue searched out and dislodged lettuce from between his teeth. He spat on the ground. “Well, no one’s called me saying they’re expecting coppers.” He sniffed importantly. “And I can’t let you go in and just roam around the place without an escort.”

Stella’s thin lips bisected her face. She was pissed. “You know,” Her eyes darted to his owl-shaped name badge, “[italic] Newman [\italic], I know you rarely get to hear praise, but I just want to tell you how WONDERFUL it is that the zoo has found someone of your caliber to protect our lions and tigers and bears. Ow!” She rubbed her head where Robette had whacked her.

Robette stuck her head out from back window, “Officer,” She said in a sacchriney voice. “I’m not sure you understand how important this is. We are investigating a serial killer.”

Newman blanched. “A serial killer?” He looked to his left and right nervously. “Like Ted Bundy?”

“Yes.” Robette said soberly. She lowered her voice. “And he preys on security guards.”