I woke up with Claudia’s arm draped across my chest. I turned towards her, brushing back her hair from her face. She was at peace, perhaps for the first time in a long time.
I gently moved her arm and got out of bed. I gathered up my clothes and headed for the shower. It was early yet, and though I didn’t sleep for long, I was well rested and ready to go. The hot shower helped kickstart my brain.
After the shower I stepped back out into the office. Claudia had gathered up the sheets and was now hugging them close. She still slept, blissful and content. I gave a half smile as I took her in before I moved to the coffee pot and began to brew some fresh joe on the stove.
As the pot boiled, I looked out the window at the building across from mine. It was a plain brick building with no distinguishing features. Laid out evenly, perfectly, each brick holding up the next, in turn holding up the building. I envied the building; it had all the bricks in place and I didn’t. The case nagged at me the likes of which I had never encountered in nearly ten years as a PI.
“Smells good.”
Claudia had woken up and was sitting up in bed, covering herself with the sheets. She brushed her hair back with her free hand and gave me a wink and a smile that send goosebumps running across my skin.
“I’ll make two cups,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. I usually never got involved with suspects, witnesses, or clients. This was uncharted territory.
“Thanks.”
Claudia gathered up the sheet around her and got out of bed. She strolled over to her luggage and gathered up a fresh set of clothes before she turned and made her way to the bathroom. As she reached the doorway, she looked ever her shoulder at me, a sly smile on her face, then let go of the sheet that was covering her up. I got a glorious glimpse of her bare back, so smooth and creamy white, and her supple bottom. She was playing me like a fiddle, just call me a Stradivarius.
After she had closed the door and I was able to breathe again I poured two cups of java and set them on my desk. I grabbed my pack of Lucky Strikes and lit it, drawing in the first stream of smoke and letting it out slowly. I closed my eyes and thought back on the night we had just shared, the passion, the pleasure, the ecstasy as we explored each other before joining into one. I’m no saint, I’ve had my share of fillies, but Claudia was something else, something beyond the average college girl or young floozy that I had my first experiences with. She was seasoned, well learned. She knew things that I didn’t even know were possible, and damn it if she didn’t teach me.
I sipped my mug of coffee and forced my mind to wander back to my priorities. I needed to visit Harvey and get paid for the day, I needed to figure out why Isadore was visiting the dopers down in the derelict industrial district, and I needed to buy more whiskey. I figured that the former was the easiest to knock out first.
Claudia reappeared from the bathroom. She wore a blue dress with a bow around the middle. Her hair bounced in wavy curls as she did a small curtsey and giggled at me. I raised my mug.
“You look stunning, Claudia.” I tried to hide the schoolboy nervousness in my voice. Claudia had somehow made me into a quivering teenager. I blame her smile. Her body ain’t doing me any favors either.
“Thank you,” she laughed shyly, looking away and brushing her hair behind her ear. She walked over to the desk and sat down, picking up the coffee mug and blowing on it gently.
“What’s on the agenda for today, Clayton?”
I cocked my eyebrow at her. She simply grinned as she sipped her coffee.
“You my new secretary?”
“Just call me your gal Friday!”
She giggled at her own joke. I shook my head, but smiled and chuckled a little to myself.
“Don’t you think I look like Rosalind Russell?”
She pouted her lips and batter her eyelashes at me. I smirked at decided to play along.
“Now listen, you ten-cent glamor girl…” I said in my best Cary Grant impression. We both laughed and sipped our coffees. Suddenly, I felt something run up and down my leg under the desk. Claudia was toying with me now, playing footsie like we were sophomores at a sock hop.
“The agenda,” I stammered, suddenly feeling my heart in my throat, “is that I gotta go visit old Harv to get paid for today. Always get paid upfront, it’s good business.”
“I know that all too well,” Claudia said. I suddenly felt like a real horse’s ass, realizing the implication of my statement, but she didn’t seem to mind, at least not as much as she had yesterday when I was grilling her. I cleared my throat and continued.
“Right. Well, I’ll get the cash from Harvey, then I need to take a trip down Coal Avenue to the old rail yards. Maybe some hop-head will have something to say about our dear Isadore visiting from time to time? Then, hopefully I can get some headway going on where Isadore is.”
I downed the last of my coffee and set the mug down, picked up my hat and stood up.
“But first, the market just yonder across the way is open, and we are short on the old fire water.”
I started for the door. Claudia seemed apprehensive, it radiated off of her. I stopped and turned back to her.
“I’ll only be gone for a minute. The store is just across the street. I promise you, I will hurry back.”
She gave me a doe-eyed pout, but nodded.
“Bring me back some Camels, yeah?”
“Sure thing, kid.”
I left her with a smile.
The street was quiet and I ducked across quickly to the corner liquor mart. I grabbed a bottle of Old Fitgerald and started for the counter, thought twice, and grabbed a second bottle. I placed the hootch on the counter and asked the man behind the register for a pack of Luckys and a pack of Camels. He bagged everything up as I paid, and I hustled my way back.
I came back into the apartment to find Claudia leaned back in my chair, the radio tuned to Dean Martin singing about how memories are made of this. I gently closed the door behind me and moved over towards the desk.
“So,” Claudia said, giving me her best Cagney impression, “you come in here, trying to muscle me around? You yellow bellied rat!”
I placed the sack down on the desk and took off my hat. Claudia snatched it up and put it on her head. She tipped the brim down low, obscuring her face and gave me a “bad guy” sneer.
“Eat lead, punk!”
She pulled her arm up, pointing my gun at me. I had forgotten I had placed it there on the desk last night. I yelped in surprise, and in one swift motion, I had grabbed the gun from her hand and placed it back on the desk.
“Christ, kid, that isn’t a pop gun you had there! That’s real iron!”
I was a bit more stern than I had wanted to come off, but toying around with a gun was no joke. I didn’t feel like getting shot today. I think I scared her a bit, because her eyes were misting up and her lip was quivering.
“I’m sorry, Clayton, I just thought it was all in fun.”
I took my hat off of her head and placed it on the desk. Then I took her chin in my hand and made her look me in the eyes.
“I understand that, kid, but this isn’t a toy. I used this thing yesterday to shoot that creep that had you in a bad way yesterday. I don’t like having a gun pointed at me too much.”
Claudia nodded, embarrassed and upset. I put my hand on her cheek.
“I’m not mad, kid,” I said gently, “you just startled me is all.”
She seemed mollified by my change in tone, and gave me a smile (damn, that smile) and looked at the bag.
“Camels?”
I reached in the sack and produced her box of cigarettes.
“Pretty ritzy flavor, kid. Got me shelling out 30¢ for that box.”
I pulled a Lucky from my jacket pocket and struck a match. I lit my cigarette and waved the match dead. Claudia stood up and plucked the stick right from my mouth. She put it to her lips, took a long drag, and slowly blew the smoke out sensually back into my face, her bosom heaving up and down as she did so.
“Not bad,” she teased as she placed the butt back into my mouth, “maybe I’m due for a brand change?”
I drew on the cigarette and inhaled the precious nicotine, savoring the flavor. I exhaled slowly and gathered my thoughts. It was going to be an interesting day and I needed to be sharp if I was going to get any work done.
“Listen kid,” I began, placing a hand on Claudia’s shoulder, “I’m going to need to be doing some running around, and as much as I like you, and I really like you, I can’t have you around getting caught up in all this.”
I placed my finger under her chin and tipped her head back slightly. Her eyes were shimmeringly verdant pools of melancholy. I smiled and she smiled back, but the sadness in her eyes remained.
“Listen, Fruity, the super, he’s a good guy. I will have him take care of you. He likes me, especially since I’ve paid rent up for the next two months. If you need anything, you just ask him.”
Her emerald eyes dropped to the floor. I knew she trusted me, that she felt safe around me, but today was going to be one that I needed her to stay away from me. Danger seemed to be following me lately, and I wasn’t so sure that I could control the situation if I was needing to also watch out for Claudia. She would forgive me, I was sure of that, but right now she sure as hell wasn’t happy with me.
“If you say so,” came her meek reply.
I put my hands on her shoulders reassuringly.
“I don’t want you hurt, kid, and where I’m going today, what I’m doing, there’s a good chance someone will get hurt. I couldn’t live with myself if it would be you.”
She nodded and smiled at me. God help her, she was trying to be ok, if only for my sake.
“Come on, kid,” I chirped, trying my best to sound chipper, “let’s go meet Fruity.”
I took her down to the second floor to room 203 where Ferdinand Montaño, better known as Fruity, lived (don’t ask me where he got the nickname Fruity). He was a stout little Chicano, slightly balding with a pencil thin mustache and the generic Latin accent. Although he was a bit impatient with the rent, he was a hell of a handyman and superintendent, and was a good guy if you paid up on time.
He lived with his wife Margarita, a pretty little thing who was sure out of Fruity’s league, but was with him nonetheless. He had three kids, Hernan, Ignacio, and Luis, all under the age of eight. His apartment could be a nuthouse at times, and today seemed to be one of those days, as we could hear the frantic noise bleeding through the door and into the hall.
I knocked loudly, and after a long moment, Fruity answered the door, still dressed in his Sunday best after attending 6am Mass. The cacophony of noise from his kids seemed not to faze him.
“Clayton,” he exclaimed, more a question than a statement, “morning. What can I do for you? Radiator on the fritz again?”
“No. Well, yes, but that’s not why I’m here now. I have a favor to ask, Fruity.”
He stepped to one side of the door.
“Come on in, pal. Don’t mind the noise, the boys are a little spunky this morning.”
I nodded thanks and walked right in, Claudia following apprehensively behind. The boys were running around playing with toy airplanes and trucks, their mother simultaneously cooking, cleaning, and barking out threats and commands in Spanglish. I was always impressed with her ability to keep command of a situation while being engaged in several other tasks. Margarita looked up to see us enter the apartment.
“Morning Clayton, how are- Hernan! Stop hitting your brother, or I swear- how are you?”
I looked over at little Hernan, who was still taunting his brother Luis. I looked back at Margarita with a shrug.
“Good, I suppose. I see things this morning are a bit hectic?”
Margarita transitions smoothly from scrubbing a cast iron pan to flipping over a tortilla on the griddle, then back to the sink.
“Aye, God help me,” she said as she crossed herself, “these kids.”
She looked at her sons, who had now settled down a bit and were now playing quietly (for the most part) on the rug. Although there was a look of exhaustion on her face, the light in her eyes shone brightly as she beheld the flesh of her flesh. A mother’s love. She then looked back at me before her eyes darted to Claudia. She looked her up and down suspiciously before she smirked.
“And who is this young lady that you bring to our humble apartment?”
Her voice was teasing, but I could see that she liked Claudia from one look. It must have been her genuinely quiet nature and Margarita’s natural maternal instincts. In any case, I drew Claudia closer to reassure her.
“I forgot my manners. Margy, Fruity, this is Claudia Noe. She is a friend of mine and needs a place to stay while I go out to work a case.”
Fruity was hungrily picking eggs and potatoes out of a pan on the stove and popping them into his mouth. He quickly walked over to the dinner table and pulled out a chair, gesturing for Claudia to sit. Margarita smiled warmly at Claudia and wiped her hands on her apron. I continued the introductions.
“Claudia,” I said as she walked timidly to the chair, “this is Ferdinand and Margarita Montaño.”
Fruity pushed in Claudia’s chair as she sat down.
“Call me Fruity,” he said as he shook her hand and then sat down across from her at the table. Margarita came over, still drying her hands on her apron.
“Pleased to meet you, Claudia.”
She took Claudia’s hand and patted it, as if to say that everything was alright now. Claudia smiled at Margy and seemed to get a little more comfortable. Margy went back to the stove to finish cooking and spoke over her shoulder to Fruity.
“Que chica más linda, no?”
Fruity chuckled and responded.
“Sí, que linda. Lo que ella ve en él, no lo sé.”
They both laughed. Claudia smiled nervously, unsure of what was said and hoping it was good. I had picked up enough Spanish in my years to know that they approved of her, and that they had a little fun at my expense. In any case, I knew she was in safe hands.
“They like you, kid,” I said as I walked over and picked up a fresh tortilla from the steaming stack. I tore it in half and gave part of it to Claudia. She took it and nibbled it quietly.
“Put some butter on it,” Fruity said, sliding the butter dish toward her, “it makes it better. Muy sabroso, very tasty.”
I needed to get going. It was already well past ten and I still had things to do. I took a large bite out of my breakfast and put my hand on Claudia’s shoulder.
“Margy and Fruity will keep you safe, kid,” I said as I began to leave. She nodded and looked at the couple. They both smiled and nodded knowingly. Claudia settled in, taking a bigger bite of her now buttered tortilla. I turned to leave. As I went out the door, I could hear Margy offering Claudia breakfast. I knew she would decline, but it was less an offer and more of a statement that she would be fed regardless of her appetite. I chuckled to myself and closed the door behind me.
I hopped into my ride and eased her into traffic. I made my way to Harvey’s place, downtown by the university. It wasn’t a long drive, but it was enough time for me to smoke a cigarette. I pulled up in Harvey’s driveway and put the car in park. I readied myself to deal Harv some bad news, then stepped out and made my way to the door. It opened before I was able to knock. Harvey had been waiting for me.
“Mr. Lane!”
He practically shouted as he opened the door. He looked around then, not seeing Isadore, dropped his head. I walked past him and into the house. He followed me, and we made our way to the sitting room.
“Harvey,” I said as I took a seat in a high back armchair, “obviously, I haven’t been able to locate Isadore.”
Harvey settled into a loveseat opposite me and heaved a great sigh.
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t have, but I got my hopes up.” He looked off into space, his eyes welling up with tears. I hated when men cried.
“Listen, Harv,” I interjected, hoping to keep the waterworks from starting, “I have some questions for you, and I’m hoping you might help illuminate some holes in my investigation.”
Harvey nodded. He slowly turned his head to face me, but his eyes were still miles away.
“During my investigation at Gino’s, I learned some interesting information. Turns out that Isadore had been spotted there as recently as this past Thursday. That, however, is not the interesting news; the thing that I can’t quite understand is that the guys who work there said that she had been frequenting the joint here and there and was in the habit of… picking up other women.”
Harvey’s eyes snapped back to reality and he looked at me with the most horrified expression on his face. He shook his head in disbelief (or denial) and started to get angry.
“No. No, no, no, no, no. No! No, no, no! She isn’t that type of girl! She isn’t a dyke! I swear she isn’t!”
I put my hands out trying to calm Harvey down.
“Take it easy Harv,” I soothed, “I never confirmed anything like that. That was what the boys that work at Gino’s told me. Said she had started coming in without you a few months back and would watch the room and go talk to some random floozy and leave with her. It sounds pretty damning, but until I prove anything, that simply remains hearsay.”
Harvey was still livid, he clenched his jaw and was ringing his hands furiously.
“Did you ever suspect that Isadore might-”
“No, goddamnit! I told you, she isn’t a goddamn dyke!”
I flinched at Harvey’s sudden outburst. He hadn’t been one to get upset or use profanity, so his dramatic personality shift was jarring. I leaned forward in my seat and got very serious.
“Harvey,” I spoke sternly, “I think you know something about her past that you are trying to pretend never happened.”
Harvey was breathing hard through his nose, still fuming and agitated. He refused to look me in the eye. I continued.
“I spoke with Ms. Claudia Noe,” that caught his attention and he shot his eyes back on my, a look of fear and anger boiled behind them. I continued, this time carefully choosing my words.
“Claudia told me about their shared past, and about their shared intimacies. I need to know if you were aware that Isadore serviced women as well as men, and I’m fairly certain that you were well aware.”
Harvey composed himself before he spoke.
“Isadore was straight with me from day one. She told me about her age, her situation, the involvement with organized crime, her-” he stopped short. I could see the veins in his temple pulsing in anger.
“We had been together for two years and she had been starting to act strange. She became restless and irritable. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that she felt trapped. She began to discuss the idea of running away to America, Europe, anywhere to get away from the mob.
“One night, after we had, eh, made love, she told me, point blank, that she had begun to service the factory women. She told me it was no big deal, that they paid better than the male customers. SHe told me about how she and Claudia had been an item for a time, but that it was only a long term fling. I didn’t know what to say. I knew she would, eh, service other men, but to know that she was sleeping with women too...”
He trailed off and shook his head, looking off at nothing in particular.
“It isn’t natural, Mr. Lane,” he stated, cold and deadpan, “it isn’t natural at all. Men with men, women with women. Where is the decency, where is the dignity?”
Harvey locked eyes with me, and I could see that they were clear, focused, and in pain.
“God didn’t make men to be with men, it’s goddamn sacrilegious. We fought a war to defeat a maniacal tyrant, hellbent on taking over the world and eradicating the hebes, bohunks, bootlips, and gypos, and now these Nancy-boy queers want to try and ruin this country by allowing commie sentiment to run wild.”
I could see that Harvey’s resentment toward the gays was deep set. I wasn’t really here to unpack his baggage, I just wanted some answers. I tried to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand.
“Harvey,” I began sternly, “is there any chance that Isadore had a girl on the side?”
Harvey leapt out of his seat, toppling the armchair over.
“No, goddamn you, no! She was married to me! She loved me! She would never-”
“She walked out on you, Harvey,” I interjected, myself now up on my feet and screaming. “She walked out on you time and again and catted around for skirt. She was playing you, she played you from day one. I knew if from the minute you came into my office. She used you to get a ticket out of Montreal and a new start, then she made her move and is leaving you behind.”
Harvey opened and closed his mouth several times trying to get the words out, but he just couldn’t.
“I know that there is some little bit of you that knows the truth, Harv, that Isadore was a wild horse who couldn’t be broken. She used you for her own gain and now she doesn’t need you anymore. I told you when you came to me to not get your hopes up and expect the worst, and I have a feeling that the worst is the case.”
I smoothed my hair back and regained my composure.
“I have a feeling I know what’s going on, or at least something close to it. There are still a few questions I need to find answers to, but Harvey, I’m telling you that I can almost guarantee that you will not be happy with the resolution to this case.”
I started for the door. Harvey remained rooted in place, breathing heavily and choking back tears. As I placed my hand on the doorknob, he called out.
“Mr. Lane?”
I stopped but didn’t turn around.
“She loves me.”
There was no conviction in his voice. This wasn’t a statement for me, Harvey spoke these words to try and convince himself that it was true.
“Sure, Harv,” I said as I opened the door and walked out of the Jensen home.
“Sure she does.”