We were getting dressed when my phone rang. Claudia stopped dead and gave me a momentary look of panic. She was concerned that she would be involved in more of the police investigation, and that was not something she was looking forward to. I gestured for her to relax and answered the phone.
“Clayton Lane, private investigator.”
“Mr. Lane, this is Tracey from La Rue.”
“What is it, kid?”
“Well, I just got on shift and I saw that we have a reservation for Chairman Coyle, party of 10. He’s going to be in with the city commission.”
“No kidding? What time is the reservation for?”
“8pm, sir. The chairman usually arrives a few minutes before. I thought that you might be interested in that.”
“I am, kid, I am.”
There was some rustling on the other end of the line, then Tracey’s voice came back in a whisper.
“I think she is going to be here tonight, too.”
“Thanks kid, you did a fine job. I’ll be down there tonight. Can you book me a reservation for around the same time?”
There was more rustling, some muttering, then a response.
“I have you penciled in for 8:15 at table 8. That’s two tables away from the chairman. I’ll have the table set for you early.”
I looked back at Claudia as she slowly rolled her hosiery back up her silky smooth legs.
“Make it for two, will you?”
***
I was dressed in my best bib and tucker (which didn’t look like much) and Claudia had slipped into a seductive blue number. We arrived at Le Rue de Seine a little after 7:45. Tracey, aka Henri, was the maitre’d and gave us a knowing nod when we walked in.
“Name please, sir and madame?”
“Lane,” I spoke, playing along. He ran his finger along a ledger book, making a show of it, before he stopped and tapped the book a few times.
“Ah, here we are! Lane, party of two. Follow me, please.”
He took us into the dinning area and sat us at a single table situated not far from a long row of tables, all set with centerpieces and candles and the best crystal the place had on reserve for hotshots and bigwigs. As he sat us down, Tracey came over to me and leaned in to whisper in my ear.
“The chairman should be here anytime. He’s as punctual as anything.” Then he stood upright. “Would we like to start off with some wine tonight?”
I began to say no, I had no clue about wine or the fineries of life, but I was cut off by Claudia.
“We will have two glasses of a clairet; Mouton-Rothschild, 1951, please. If the ‘51 isn’t available, we would enjoy a ‘54.”
Tracey smirked and bowed.
“Very good, madame. I shall fetch it right away.”
With a sly grin shot my way, Tracey was off. I looked at Claudia inquisitively, and she simply smiled and winked.
“We came here often when we first moved here. If there was one thing that my husband knew, it was wine.” Her smile faded as she remembered her husband. I reached over the table and took her hand. She looked at our hands, then at me and her smile returned.
Just then there entered a small, balding little man with a tiny mustache and squinting eyes. He shuffled over to the head of the large arrangement of tables and sat with his hands folded in his lap. He seemed unassuming, almost harmless and timid. He looked at no one, he simply kept his gaze forward.
Tracey came back with two wine glasses and a bottle. He set a glass before both Claudia and I.
“Madame,” he said as he poured Claudia’s wine. He topped her off with a dash more and a smile.
“Merci beaucoup,” Claudia thanked.
“Mon plaisir.” He wiped the mouth of the bottle with a towel and came around to pour my glass. As he did, he leaned down slightly lower than he did for Claudia.
“Chairman Coyle,” he whispered and indicated with a small jerk of his head toward the tiny little man at the table. I nodded my thanks. Tracey finished pouring my wine.
“Thanks, kid,” I said as he wiped the bottle once more. I stuck out my hand for him to shake. He took it, and as he did I saw his eyes light up. He shook my hand once, nodded and left, discreetly pocketing the fiver I had slipped him for his information.
I reached for my glass of wine when Claudia cleared her throat.
“Let it breathe, it will achieve a better flavor that way.”
I scowled but retracted my hand. A waiter came by with menus. There was stuff on there I had never heard of and even more stuff that I couldn’t pronounce. Claudia must have seen my dismay because she giggled and spoke up.
“Overwhelmed?”
“I can’t even say half of the stuff on the menu. How do you say steak a potatoes in French?”
Claudia shook her head then pointed to her menu.
“Steak au poivre avec pommes frites. Trust me.”
“What the hell is steak aw pwah and pom freets?”
Claudia giggled again at my lack of refinement.
“It’s peppered steak and French fries.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?”
As we sat patiently for our waiter to return, we watched as the table filled up with the members of the city commission. The table became abuzz with chatter and Tracey and another waiter came to the table to take drink orders. Our waiter returned and we placed our order.
“Ten. That should be the entire commission, but there are still several chairs empty. What gives?”
I was talking out loud, not realizing it. Claudia answered my question.
“Maybe there will be more people showing up? More bigwigs?”
Just as she finished her thought, in walked J. Howell Madden, chief of the state police, along with the state attorney general. This was a high power dinner, and I was starting to feel like a minnow in a tank of sharks. If what I thought was true, this thing was well beyond my scope.
Still, after the arrival of the police chief and attorney general, there were still about six chairs unfilled. I sipped my wine and watched the table carefully. I couldn’t make out the chatter, but I caught bits and pieces; Madden was going to trial on torture charges against a black war veteran he had accused of rape and murder of a diner waitress and several of the commissioners spoke passionately about ‘that goddamn Jew family’ that had blocked their attempts at fixing the 91st district roads.
Our food was served, and I’d be damned if my order wasn’t just a steak covered in a pepper cream sauce and fries. Claudia had ordered coq-au-vin, whatever that was, though it looked like a hot mess. We dug in, and I had to admit, the steak wasn’t half bad.
I kept looking up as we ate. The table was served drinks, mostly expensive cognac and brandy. The police chief passed around cigars and everyone began to smoke and drink, the conversation now becoming hushed and secretive.
I was halfway through my steak when Isadore walked in. She wore a scintillatingly tight green dress with pearls on her neck and in her ears. She was followed by five young women, all probably no older than eighteen or nineteen. They each wore scandalously low cut dresses and were coated in dazzling jewelry. Claudia noticed her as well.
“Izzy,” she gasped. The look on her face was not of shock or fear, it was of disappointment. She looked as though her heart had been broken as she beheld her former friend dressed in green saunter over to a table full of powerful men and plopped herself down in the lap of Chairman Coyle.
As the women entered, the men let out a raucous cheer. They began to pat the empty chairs next to them, beckoning the women to keep them company. Isadore teased Chairman Coyle for a bit before gulping down his cognac and then standing up to walk to her seat. As she did, her eyes wandered over to our table, the only other customers seated in the area, and she caught sight of Claudia. There was a brief flash of dismay, but she quickly masked it as she looked away and sat down.
Tracey and the waiter returned and took drink orders from the women and food orders from the men. As Tracey took Isadore’s order she conspicuously pointed our direction. Tracey looked over at us, I nodded, and he whispered something to Isadore. She thanked him and sent him off. After a moment, she excused herself from the table and headed towards the hall to the bathrooms. As she did, she glanced back at me and beckoned me to follow.
“Claudia,” I said as I took a sip of wine, “it’s time I get to the bottom of this case. I will be back.”
“I’m coming with you.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t think you-”
“Don’t tell me what I think, Clayton.” Her tone was fierce and furious, and she had a countenance of resolve in her eyes. “I deserve answers as much as anyone else. I want to know what she has been up to and why she disappeared out of nowhere.”
I saw there was no changing her mind, so I shrugged and headed off to follow Isadore, Claudia in tow. We found her at the end of the hall in front of the ladies restroom. When she saw Claudia with me, she became irritated.
“I only meant for you to follow,” Isadore barked, “not her.”
Claudia clenched her jaw.
“I think I deserve to know the truth as well as he does, Izzy.”
“Oh, don’t call me that, Claudia. You’re not a goddamn kid anymore, so cut the shit.”
Isadore produce a cigarette and lighter (from where I dare not ask) and began to smoke. She blew her smoke into my face before looking me up and down.
“Not bad for a hard boiled type,” she said shrugging, “I’ve definitely seen better, but there are worse out there, too.”
I took out my pencil and notepad.
“Isadore Jensen?”
“Leclercq. I won’t go by that sad sack’s last name.”
“Fine. Isadore Leclercq. I’m Clayton Lane, private investigator. I’m working for your husband, Harvey Jensen.”
Isadore scoffed and took another draw on her cigarette.
“Harvey is a schmuck,” she spat out, “and he knew that one day I was going to take off and not come back. He’s pathetic, and if he was smart, he would just stop trying to find me. Go back to him and tell him that I don’t want to be found. Our marriage was a sham, it’s not valid, he can go on looking for a new wife for all I care. I got what I needed out of it; a ticket out of Canada and a new lease on life. Write that down in your notes, and you tell him that Isadore is gone for good.”
I eyed her suspiciously.
“So that’s it? Just ‘so long, jerk, see you in the funny papers’?”
“What else do you want?”
Claudia spoke up this time, anger rising in her hushed voice.
“I want to know what you’ve been up to since we came here, Isadore! I want to know where you’ve been running off to while I stayed at home scared for my life.”
Isadore turned an icy cold glare toward Claudia.
“Poor little baby doll, I had forgotten just how much you needed to be coddled. Let me guess, this slab of man came running in to save the day so you threw yourself on him with the only reward you know how to give?”
Claudia was not fazed by the harsh words, but her eyes began to well up with tears. Regardless, Isadore continued.
“You jumped right into the sack with this gumshoe and now that you have his protection, you are suddenly miss ‘I ain’t afraid of my own shadow anymore’? Am I right?
“But you are still just the weak little girl who needed someone’s company to make her feel safe. I remember those nights you would creep into my room in the big house and-”
Claudia, in a move so fast I nearly missed it, reached out a slapped Isadore across the face hard. It stopped Isadore cold, and she was taken aback at the sudden rash reaction elicited from her former friend. Claudia now looked in charge and she stepped up to Isadore.
“You listen to me, you bitch,” she growled through gritted teeth, “I suffered through being abducted off the street, being whored out by men who would be more than willing to kill me as blink, married an insufferable, abusive asshole, nearly getting strangled to death by a mafia hitman, and then killing the same hitman just hours ago today. I have been through hell and I have come out smelling like roses, so I will not stand idly by while you berate and ridicule who I was because I have found the strength I didn’t know I had and I will not tolerate any more abuse. Do you understand me?”
Isadore was gobsmacked and stood silent. Claudia calmed herself down and continued, this time in a more genial tone.
“Now answer the question. What are you up to? I think I could hazard a guess, but I want to hear it from you lips to God’s ears.”
Isadore nodded, signaling her approval of Claudia’s new attitude.
“Sure thing, Claudia, I’ll answer you question, but you won’t like the answer. I’ve been keeping myself busy, making moves, climbing the social ladder, and making my way to where I am now.”
I chimed in.
“And you did this how?”
“You tell me, honey,” Isadore said, striking a seductive pose, “I think you know how. I used my body and my feminine wiles to gain access to the most powerful men in the city and keeping them right in the palm of my hand.”
I jotted some notes then continued my line of questions.
“So you have been spotted at Gino’s from time to time picking up young women. What exactly is your angle there?”
“Well, gumshoe, if you must know, I would take them back to my hotel room. There, I would judge them, give them a thorough looking over and test their… prowess, as it were, to see if I could use them.” She winked playfully at Claudia, knowing that this must have conjured up some memories. I pressed the issue.
“Used them how?”
“As prostitutes you dope. I would find the prettiest girls in the place and take them back to see just how open they were. In any case, I would tell them about how much money they could make if they were willing to do the work. I told them that they could make $100 a night by letting some sad, pathetic man wriggle on top of them for five minutes. That’s a far sight more money than they could make than working as a secretary for the same man.”
“And what about the girls from skid row? The junkies you were taking from the old rail yard?”
Isadore chuckled.
“Oh, them,” she laughed, “they were just there to fill out the ranks. I didn’t want to forget the everyman, that’s lost wages, so I picked up a few hopheads from the skids, clean them up, control their supply and they fall right in line and comply once they figure out that I have control of the junk. It’s amazing what a little street kitten can pull in.”
As she quipped the last sentence she reached out and tapped Claudia on the nose playfully. I saw from the corner of my eye that she was about to strike, so I reached over and firmly placed my hand on her shoulder and shook my head. I set my eyes on Isadore.
“So you are willing to give yourself up, to give up your freedom and your integrity for money?”
At this Isadore laughed out loud.
“Clayton, you slay me,” she wiped tears away from her eyes, “you truly believe that I’m so submissive and subordinate for selling sex for money, but I can tell you that you are dead wrong. I control everything about the encounter; who I fuck, when and where I fuck, what is allowed or not allowed, and the best part is that the men fall all over themselves to whip the cash and their peckers out of their pants. You see me as some damsel needing saved like Claudia, but honey, I don’t need saving. Hell, those men need saved from me.”
Claudia was shocked. She shook her head in disgust.
“You’ve become a monster!”
Isadore shook her head and stamped her cigarette out on the wall.
“No, I’ve become the most powerful person in the goddamn city. I have the chairman of the city commission, the chief of the state police, the attorney general, all of them at my table begging to pay me for just a few minutes with one of my girls. I rule this city, and if any one of those idiots gets voted out, then I just move on and take control over the next idiot.”
Isadore was about to leave but then checked herself.
“Speaking of police, you mentioned something about a fatal little incident that you were involved with Claudia. I will speak to Chief Madden for you. I will get you off one more time, for old time’s sake.”
With that, Isadore winked and blew a kiss at Claudia and sauntered back to her table. Claudia and I remained in the hallway, flabbergasted and at a loss for words. It was Claudia that finally broke the silence.
“We still have a dinner that’s getting cold, Clayton.”
I nodded, put the notepad back in my pocket, and escorted my date back to our table. We finished our meal and I called for the check. Tracey came over and informed us that our meal was taken care of and motioned to Isadore who took her glass of champagne and gave us a little salute. I nodded back and left the joint with Claudia, went back home, and spent the rest of the night in the arms of a beautiful, deadly woman that seemed to find me interesting despite my rough exterior.