I woke up, face down in a puddle of what seemed to be my saliva, although it had a strong aroma of whiskey. My brain was throbbing, but I had to remember the previous evening. I reached into the pocket of my coat to search for a clue, but it wasn’t there. Realizing my current attire was sub par, I searched for my coat, hat, pants and shoes.
I checked the most logical location for clothing, my closet. Fumbling sluggishly toward the closet, I tripped on something. My black dress shoes. They hurt my toes when I wore them, but this was different. I put them aside, and checked my closet for my remaining wardrobe pieces. Opening the door carefully, I reached in to find my caramel colored suit with all the necessary pieces. I slid into my suit like a bar of soap in Crisco, and I stepped through the door into my office. Everything was in order. My desk was neat, as I always kept it. I grabbed my wallet, and went for the door.
On the way to my 1931 Chrysler, I checked my wallet for cash. I had twenty five dollars. I slid into the drivers seat of my car, bouncing my face off of the roof on the way. I was much too tall for the vehicle. I shook off my head wound and checked for blood. There wasn’t any, but my hat was missing. I immediately checked the passenger seat and there it was, every private detective’s necessary wardrobe accessory. Under my hat was a bottle of warm bourbon whiskey. It was almost time for a new bottle.
I started my car and went two blocks to the coffee shop. As I walked through the door, I noticed an angelic young blonde. Her eyes were a perfect shade of blue and her breasts were marvelous, but she was too young for me. I grabbed the three newspapers from the rack and stepped in line for my coffee. As I approached the front of the line, I gazed at the woman’s breasts one last time. I noticed her crooked nametag with “CINDY” printed on it. I approached the counter and said, “Good morning miss” with a forced smile. She replied “Good morning sir, just the newspapers today?” I was enjoying her beautiful eyes so much, I almost forgot to answer. “I’ll have a coffee, as well. Make it black please. No sugar.” She poured me a cup, I thanked her and sat at a table. Thirty three year old men like me shouldn’t look at “CINDY” but I was simply admiring her features. I checked the three newspapers for any unsolved crime in or around Los Angeles. No missing persons, no murder, not even a stolen watch. I finished my coffee and went back to my apartment.
I wandered my way into my office, since I always leave it unlocked, and sitting there before me was a woman with dark brown hair and powder blue eyes. She was clearly dressed to impress. She wore a blue dress that matched her eyes, and it was fitted to her body tighter than a girdle. The dress showed enough of her body to give you a taste, but not too much, in order to keep you guessing.
I sat in my chair and looked her over. Her expression was blank. She seemed upset. “Good afternoon miss, what is your name, and what is the reason for your visit?” I said, attempting to sound professional. She looked at me with sad eyes and said, “My name is Rebecca Feramone. I need your help. My husband has gone missing. His name is Tommy Feramone. He’s been gone for five days now and he never leaves for this long.” I let her settle down for a few seconds. She needed to vent. When she settled, I said, “Do you have a photograph of your husband, Mrs. Feramone?” she fumbled into her purse and franticly placed a medium sized photograph in the center of my desk. In the photo was a tall man with a bigger than average build, in a high class business suit, easily twice as expensive as mine. “He seems to be a classy man. You must have to fight women off your porch on a regular basis.” She said nothing, so I continued. “Does your husband have any enemies that would want to hurt him?” “My husband is a well respected man, Mr. Marlowe. If he had enemies, they were simply jealous.” I stopped her there, and proceeded questioning. “Does he have any friends that he is especially close to?” I waited for her response. She was thinking it over. I almost began to ask something else, when she interrupted with intensity. “YES! He has a friend in Beverly Hills. They play Texas Hold’em together, and they usually play against the local chumps for an easy win. His name is Charlie Rothstein. They tell each other everything. I never got along with his wife, Velma, so I never join them at his house.” “Where does Charlie live, Mrs. Feramone?” I interrupted. “Please, call me Rebecca” I nodded and waited for her answer. “2665, Fourth street in Beverly Hills. Tell his wife to rot when you stop by” I didn’t bother to hide my smile. She is a funny woman. “Before I do that, lets discuss the costs.” I pulled the office bottle of whiskey from the second drawer in my desk, along with two clean glasses. “Do you drink, Rebecca?” I said, smoothly. “Not usually, but this is a good situation for one.” I filled the two glasses, and put away the bottle. “My rate is twenty five dollars a day, plus expenses, for things like gas or bribes, if necessary. I do not accept payment in advance. I always keep my clients identity hidden, if possible. Do you accept my rates?” immediately, she replied “Of course Mr. Marlowe. Find my husband, and I will be eternally in your dept.” “Well then, drink up, Rebecca, and I will start my search right away.” she sipped the whiskey until the glass was dry, and said “Call me tomorrow with anything you find.” She slowly brushed her hand down my neck and slowly made her way into my coat pocket, leaving her card as a parting gift. She started towards the door, said “Good day, Mr. Marlowe.” and left my office.
As soon as the door shut, I lit a cigarette, and loaded my gun. It was a .38 revolver. I tucked it in my coat pocket, and left. I headed for Charlie’s house, 2665, Fourth street, Beverly Hills. I parked across the street, far enough to hide my car, and went for the door. I knocked politely, and waited for an answer. After a few seconds, a mans voice came from behind the door. “Who_ who’s there?” “I’m a friend of Tommy’s. He’s gone missing. May I come in to ask you some questions?” There was a short silence, and then, a click. He poked his head out the door, and the smell of gin blasted me off the porch. “You must be Charlie. I’m Philip Marlowe, a friend of Tommy’s.” He looked me over carefully. “You talk like a cop.” I smirked. “I break the law too much to be a cop, but I can help you find your friend.” I pushed my way in and stood next to the couch. It was a nice place, well decorated, but there was a large bottle of gin on the table and only one glass.
There was nobody in the house, except us. He sat down and filled his glass. “Why are you drinking alone so early in the day?” I said, as if I didn’t do the same. “My wife is gone, too. A man needs a drink sometimes.” I interrupted his depressed babble. “Where do you think she went off to?” He went into his kitchen and said nothing. I put my hand on my gun, incase he tried anything funny. He came back into the room with a card. He handed it to me and said “Tommy owns that place up in Bay City. I found that card in my wife’s drawer a couple days ago. You don’t think__.” I stopped him there. It was a card for the Bay City Inn. A shady little place in a shady city. It was apparently a decent money maker for Tommy. “Give me a photo of your wife, I’ll look for her along the way.” He went into another room and came back with a photo. It was a light haired woman, with bigger assets than Rebecca, but in a smaller dress. “She’s beautiful. When I find her, you should probably keep a tighter leash on her. What is her name?” He didn’t like my joke. “Her name is Velma, now get out.” I took the photo and went to my car.
The sun was peaking through the clouds. It was still early in the day. They wouldn’t be at the hotel yet, so I drove up to Bay City and scoped the place out. It was a nice place, for the neighborhood, anyway. I parked across the street, towards the back of the Inn, and went to the check-in office. Inside, was a malnourished young man, listening to the radio, ignoring my presence completely. I slammed the door to get his attention and said: “Excuse me young man. Have you seen my sister, Velma?” I slid the photo of her onto the desk and continued lying. “She’s been missing for five days. If you’ve seen her, please let me know.” The young man hesitated to answer. He looked at the picture and said: “She’s a regular here. She’s always with the boss.” I jumped towards him, filled with fake excitement, saying “Has Velma been here in the past five days?” “Well… yeah. All five, actually. They used to come once a week. They always had the same room.” before he finished his sentence, I got closer and said “And what room would that be…?” His eyes got wide. He backed away, shaking his head. “No way, pal. I can’t tell you that. The boss would fire me. I helped you enough. Your sister is fine. Now scram.” I love being told to scram. It makes me feel welcome. “Ok, well thank you. You’ve been more than helpful…” right after I said that, I jumped forward, pressed the side of his face to his desk and put my gun to his temple. “So what was that room number you were going to tell me?” “Uhhh… uhhh… 115! 115! it’s the double room on the first floor. The suite! Don’t shoot me!” he said, sobbing like a toddler. So I put my gun away and headed for the door. “Thanks for your help. Oh and if your boss finds out I was here, you’ll get to know the taste of gun powder” I smiled and went outside.
If I know adultery-loving couples, they will be in the room by eight o’clock, and they won’t be out until morning. Since its two o’clock, I have a long stake out ahead of me. I went to the back of the Inn, and looked for a window to the suite in room 115. I counted sixteen windows. Fifteen of them were rooms, the other was the office. I found the suite. It was three rooms away from the office. I opened the window, to see if it was locked, it wasn’t. I climbed into the window, which put me in the bathroom. I took the lock off of the window, in case somebody decided to get smart. I proceeded into the suite. It was a fairly large room, larger than my apartment bedroom. There was a love seat near the door, a recliner next to that, and a massive, king sized bed in the center of the room. There was a table beside the bed, with a heavy lamp on it. I looked in the bed side table for some belongings. There was a cigarette case made of tin. Inside were six cigarettes and a ten dollar bill. I put that back and went out the bathroom window, closing it behind me.
I went to my car and waited. I was in a perfect spot to watch the door and not be seen. I sipped my whiskey to pass the time, occasionally checking my watch. A few hours went by, and my bottle was almost empty. It was getting dark. A cab pulled into the parking lot, and a man got out, holding a barely dressed, dirty blonde woman. I knew where they were going. I let them enter the suite, and make themselves comfortable. After a few minutes, I went to the bathroom window. It sounded like they were occupied, so I climbed in, silently and readied my handcuffs. Cheaters who don’t want to be caught, tend to be feisty. I positioned myself behind the door.
More time passed and I heard someone coming towards the bathroom. I waited until they sounded close enough, and jumped out in front of them. I hoped it was Velma, but I wasn’t so lucky. It was Tommy. He was wearing his birthday suit, and carrying a lamp. I tried to cuff him, but I was struck by the heavy lamp, and knocked unconscious. I awoke handcuffed to the sink. My head was foggy, but I heard yelling. It was two male voices, and a female. I only recognized one voice, Charlie. He sounded angry. “Hey! I’m in here, Charlie. Un-cuff me and we can settle this over a drink.” He laughed and said “This can’t be settled with a drink, my friend.” Three shots were fired, and there was still movement in the room. “Charlie?” I said, hoping I was correct. “Yeah.” said Charlie, from the other room. “Grab the keys from my coat and unlock these cuffs.” He said nothing, and proceeded to do as I asked. “Thanks, Charlie.” I said in relief. We both walked into the suite. There was a large man, wearing undergarments, with two bullet holes. One in his chest, and the other in his face. The dirty blonde was wearing nothing. She had a bullet in the back of her head. “Nice shootin’, Charlie.” as I said that, Charlie put his gun in his mouth. Before I could try to talk him down, the gun went off.
I jumped out the bathroom window and ran to my car. I went back to my office, and called Rebecca to give her the news, but there was no answer, so I had a drink of whiskey and went to bed, it was a long day. When I woke up, I could hear the rustling of a person in my office. I went in to check it out. It was Rebecca. She was sitting in a chair, waiting for the news. I sat in my chair, and before I said anything, I put the office bottle of whiskey on the desk.
“Listen, Rebecca. What I found out for you is not good. I found your husband. He was at his Inn, in Bay City.” she looked at me and said “Well, what’s the bad news?” I poured two glasses of whiskey, and said “Your husband was at his Inn, with Velma. They ran off together. Charlie followed me to the Inn and killed them both, then killed himself. I’m sorry, Rebecca.” She drank her whiskey down, and smiled.
I looked at her in confusion, and stood up to comfort her. She stood up as I did and grabbed me by my tie. She began pushing me back into my apartment when I said “Are you okay, Rebecca?” She smiled again, and kept pushing me further into my apartment. Her stare was intimate as the back of my legs hit my bed. She said “I’m a free woman, Mr. Marlowe.” as her dress hit the floor.
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