Death Checks In

by David S. Pederson

  “Pardon my staring, but you’re Miss Eye, aren’t you?”

  She looked over at me and smiled, obviously pleased to be recognized. “Why yes, that’s right.”

  “We met at Blount’s yesterday afternoon. I was the gentleman looking at ties. You suggested I try Wieboldt’s on State.”

  She nodded. “Oh yes, that’s right. Did you?” She pushed her plate away and crossed those killer legs in my direction.

  I shook my head. “No, I bought at Blount’s. It was just easier.”

  “Your loss, mister.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure. Foolish is the man who ignores advice from a beautiful lady, as my father always says.”

  “Your father is a wise man.”

  “Yes, I’m beginning to realize that. I’m Heath Barrington, from Milwaukee. This is my friend, Alan Keyes.”

  “How do you do? Gloria Eye, as you know. This is my fiancé, Walter Gillingham.”

  The man with the eye patch nodded in our direction as he swallowed his last bite of breakfast.

  “Ah yes, the trumpet player, correct?” I said.

  He looked surprised. “Gee, that’s right, how did you know that?”

  “Mr. Blount likes to talk.”

  “I don’t like him much.”

  “With good reason, dear. He’s rather a nasty little man,” Miss Eye added.

  “You don’t care for him, Mr. Gillingham?”

  “He isn’t very nice to Gloria,” he replied. “He needs to be cut down to size. I plan to pay that little weasel a visit.” He slapped his fist into the palm of his other hand.

  “Careful, Mr. Gillingham. He mentioned to us he keeps a gun in his desk in the back room of his shop,” Alan said.

  “Guns don’t scare me much. I was a Marine.”

  “It’s all right, Walter. We’ll soon be done with him.” Miss Eye reached out and put her hand on his arm.

  “Mr. Blount gave us the impression you and Miss Eye were regulars, among his best customers, Mr. Gillingham,” I said.

  “Walter likes to dress well, Mr. Barrington,” Miss Eye answered for him. “Good men’s clothing stores are hard to find.”

  “Really? I should think a city the size of Chicago has hundreds of them. You yourself mentioned Wieboldt’s.”

  “Blount’s is convenient, as you said, Mr. Barrington. We live nearby and work in the hotel a lot.”

  “And yet I heard you tell him that you’re basically through doing business with him.”

  “My, what big ears you have. You heard that from way over by the tie display?”

  I smiled, somewhat embarrassed. “It’s not a big store, and my hearing is quite good. I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, I assure you.”

  “I see. Well, then you heard Mr. Blount has been increasing his prices to the point we can no longer afford it, so yes, Walter and I are, shall we say, discussing other options.”

  “Mr. Blount seems to think you will reconsider.”

  “That little weasel thinks a lot of things. He needs a good pop,” Mr. Gillingham said, once more slamming his fist into the palm of his other hand.

  “Walter,” she said firmly, reaching across the table and touching his arm.

  “Sorry. It’s just that Gloria is a lady and deserves to be treated like one. Mr. Blount doesn’t see that. He sees only dollar signs when he looks at her. He takes advantage, and I don’t like that.”

  “Understandable, Mr. Gillingham,” Alan said.

  Gloria looked over at us and asked, “What do you two do in Milwaukee?”

  “I’m a police detective. Mr. Keyes here is a police officer.”

  “Oh. I see. Just here for the weekend?” She uncrossed her legs and then crossed them the other way.

  “Yes, a little time away,” Alan said. “I’ve never been here before.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll both come to the Sky Star Ballroom tonight. Walter and I will be performing there. We’re rehearsing all day today.”

  “We wouldn’t miss it, Miss Eye,” I said.

  She smiled, her red lips revealing lovely, straight, white teeth. “Good. I hope you’ll enjoy yourselves. Walter plays a mean trumpet.”

  Walter cocked his head. “Oh, Gloria, I don’t play anywhere near as well as you sing.”

  “Perhaps we complement each other, my love,” she said.

  “Well sure, that’s what we were doing, weren’t we?” Walter replied, looking a little confused.

  “Yes, dear. Walter was in the war, of course, a Marine as he said. He was hit by a mortar shell and lost his eye. Rattled his brain a bit, too, but he’s really a sweetheart.”

  “I wanted to knock the hell out of those Nazis.”

  “Yes, of course. I’m glad you made it home alive,” Alan said.

  “Me too. Mostly in one piece. Except for my eye, you know. But I can still blow.”

  “I’m sure,” I said.

  He nodded. “When I was discharged, I came back home here and looked up Mr. Storm—he’s the bandleader, you know.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of him.”

  “I played for him before the war, but I wasn’t lead. He lost a few of the boys over there, so now I’m lead.”

  “And a very good lead trumpet player, Walter,” Miss Eye said.

  He grinned. “Ain’t she something?”

  “She is indeed, Mr. Gillingham. You’re a lucky fellow.”

  “You got that right, mister. And she can sing like a nightingale. She’s even cut a couple records with us.”

  “Golly, that’s wonderful,” Alan said.

  Miss Eye looked at each of us and laughed. “Please, gentlemen, you’re embarrassing me.”

  “It’s all true, Gloria,” Walter said.

  “I’m sure it is,” I said.

  “Well, you can judge for yourselves this evening,” she said.

  “Fair enough,” I replied.

  The waitress dropped off their check. “Pay at the register, at the counter by the door. Enjoy your day.”

  “Thank you, miss,” Walter said as she walked away.

  Miss Eye picked up her handbag. “Well, we need to get upstairs and rehearse, gentlemen.”

  I nodded. “Yes, and we need to order and be on our way. It was a pleasure meeting you both.”

  “Likewise.”

  Alan and I slid over to stand, but Miss Eye waved us back down. “Don’t get up, gentlemen. I look forward to seeing you both this evening.” She turned and walked away, Mr. Gillingham following like a puppy dog, swinging his instrument case.

  “The Eye of the Storm,” I said, moving back over to the center of the booth.

  “What?”

  “The band she and Mr. Gillingham are in is called the Storm Clouds, so she bills herself as the Eye of the Storm. Blount mentioned it.”

  “Oh. Clever. I don’t get why they shop at Blount’s when they both clearly dislike him so. Sounds like they’re going to try and finagle some better pricing, but still…”

  “Mr. Bennett doesn’t care for Blount either. Very curious indeed.”

  “There you go again, Heath, getting all curious. Forget I said anything. I’m starved, let’s order.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard to turn off the detective part of my brain.” I smiled and waved for the waitress, who came over and took our order and poured more coffee. I admit I was famished myself.

  After a hearty breakfast of hotcakes and eggs, along with two orange juices and lots more coffee, I paid the bill and we stepped out onto Michigan Avenue in the mist and fog. “Perfect day for the museum, Mr. Keyes. Adventure awaits.”

  We rode the L to the Fifty-seventh Street station and walked the rest of the way under my umbrella, arriving at the museum only slightly damp. We spent nearly the entire day there, Alan snapping photographs, some of me, some of the exhibits, and one of us together that a nice lady offered to take for us. It was nearly six thirty before we got back to the hotel, as we had stopped for dinner at a little café we had stumbled upon
on our way back to the L station.

  As we entered the lobby and headed for the elevators, I stopped short and turned to Alan.

  “Hey, we totally forgot to pick up your tux today.”

  “Jeepers, that’s right. What time is it?”

  “Almost closing. We better get it now.”

  “Right. Do you have your checkbook?”

  “I do. Good thing we got back here when we did.” I led the way back to Blount’s, pushing open the glass door, the bell jingling. Mr. Blount was behind the counter folding a shirt. He looked up at us and smiled that thin smile of his.

  “Good evening, gentlemen, I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten.”

  “The day got away from us, sir. We’ve only now gotten back.”

  “I hope you had a good day.”

  “It was a wonderful day,” Alan said, beaming. “This is a wonderful city. We’ve been on the go all day.”

  “I am so happy to hear that, monsieur. I have had a busy day, too.”

  “Good to hear,” I replied.

  “Yes and no, monsieur. Lots of last-minute Father’s Day shoppers, and as usual on my busy days, especially Saturdays, Mrs. Gittings came in, clucking away.”

  “Oh my,” Alan said.

  “Oui. It was after lunch, so she no doubt had a few drinks in her. The store was full and I was busy trying to hem up a pair of trousers. She started sputtering about evil, the evil eye, and whatnot.”

  “Did you call the police?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. As I said, she is a nuisance, but nothing I can’t handle. I tried to ignore her, that is, until she went in the back room.”

  “What for?” Alan said.

  “I have no idea. I didn’t even see her at first. As I said, I was trying to hem a pair of pants for a customer. But suddenly I noticed she was no longer in view, and the bell on the front door hadn’t jingled. I got up rather quickly and investigated, finding her talking to my dress form in the back room.”

  I laughed in spite of myself. “The headless one?”

  “Oui. It can’t talk back, and it has no ears, a perfect companion for Mrs. Gittings. Perhaps I will gift it to her. Maybe it will keep her out of my hair.”

  “Perhaps,” Alan said with a smile.

  “So you did indeed have a day, Mr. Blount,” I said.

  “Oui, yes. Mrs. Verte stopped by late in the day, too. She asked me to hem a dress she bought this afternoon. While she was changing in the back room, Mr. Bennett stopped by. I think he must have seen Mrs. Verte come in. Romance is definitely blossoming.”

  “How nice for them,” Alan said.

  “Oui, and nice for me. While Mr. Bennett was here, I got him to purchase a new suit.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You are quite a salesman, Mr. Blount. I got the impression last evening that Mr. Bennett was through buying new clothes.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t like me, nor I him, but it is a business relationship. You understand, no?”

  “No.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “As I said, some things you will not, cannot understand, monsieur. But he bought a new suit, tried it on, I will alter it, and it will be ready Tuesday along with Mrs. Verte’s dress.”

  “Whatever works for you, Mr. Blount, and clearly it does work. You seem to be doing quite well, as I said last night.”

  He smiled thinly again. “I manage, I diversify.”

  The bell jingled behind us, and Miss Eye entered, looking radiant in a navy blue skirt and jacket with a white blouse underneath. Atop her blond tresses was a yellow hat.

  “Ah, good evening, Miss Eye. It’s ten minutes of seven, you know,” Mr. Blount said.

  “I can tell time. I sent you a message telling you I’d be late, didn’t you get it?”

  “Oui, I received your message, but I still close at seven.”

  Alan and I tipped our hats. “Hello again.”

  She glared at us. “Oh hello, the men from the coffee shop, of course.”

  “Yes, that’s right. I’m Mr. Barrington, and this is Mr. Keyes.”

  “Forgive me, I’m terribly bad with names.”

  “No apologies necessary, miss.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to barge in like this but I need to pick up my dress. I want to wear it this evening.”

  Blount smiled his thin smile. “Of course, Miss Eye. I have it right here. I’m glad you made it before closing. Let me just finish with these gentlemen.”

  “I’ve been rehearsing all day, and I’m short on time,” she snapped. “I’m going to try it on first, so finish with them while I do that.”

  Blount looked surprised. “I only steamed and pressed it, Mademoiselle. There is no need to try it on.”

  “Nevertheless, I am going to. I don’t trust you and I don’t like you.”

  He shrugged. “As you wish. However, these gentlemen were here first. Mr. Keyes needs to try on his tuxedo, and I close in less than ten minutes.”

  “And I go on at eight, so let’s not waste any more time. Just give me my dress so I can try it on.”

  Alan smiled. “I’m sure the tuxedo is fine, Mr. Blount. I’ll just take it and go, I don’t need to try it on. Besides, it’s late, so if something wasn’t quite right, you wouldn’t have time to fix it now, anyway.”

  “As you wish, monsieur. I will just bag it. I have your stud set, shirt, and bow tie here as well.” He handed me the bill and then picked up a dress from the rack behind the counter. “And Miss Eye, here is your gown.”

  I wrote out a check for the balance as Gloria Eye took the dress and brushed past us into the back room.

  Mr. Blount sighed. “Miss Eye, it seems, is more the storm itself rather than the eye of it.”

  “She does seem to have a temper,” I said.

  “Oui, and a short fuse, as they say. If there is a problem with the tuxedo, monsieur, please call me. I am closed tomorrow and Monday, but I will reopen on Tuesday.”

  “I’m afraid we’re checking out on Monday, but if there is anything wrong, I can call you from Milwaukee.”

  “I am sure it will fit like a glove. I pride myself on my work.”

  “Of course.” I handed him the check, and he wrote out a receipt, which I put in my wallet. Alan took the garment bag and the smaller bag containing the studs, shirt, and bow tie as Miss Eye came out of the back room, her gown in hand.

  “It’s fine. I need to get back upstairs and change. Here’s fifty cents.” She dropped two quarters onto the counter and swept by us toward the door before turning on her heel. “I’ll see you gentlemen up top?”

  “You can count on it, Miss Eye,” I said, smiling.

  “I hope you’ll enjoy the show.” Then she pushed through the door, the bell jingling once more.

  “We’d better get changed, as well. Are you going to the Sky Star this evening, Mr. Blount?”

  He shook his head. “Mais non. I have work to do, still. When one owns the store, one cannot just go home at closing time. But enjoy, gentlemen, bon soir.”

  “Good night.”

  He walked us to the door and let us out, then locked it, turning the Open sign to Closed. I nodded once more to him through the glass, and Alan and I made our way to the elevators, where we rode up alone and were able to hold hands. Maybe there was something to this automation after all.

  Chapter Eight

  Once back in our room, Alan undid the garment bag containing his tux, shirt, and bow tie and opened the stud set. “I might need your help with the tie, Heath.”

  “Happy to be of service, but we’d better hustle.” I changed into my own tux, then helped Alan with his tie and cuff links before standing back to admire him. I whistled. “Handsome.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself, mister. I only have my black oxfords I wore on the train to wear with the tux, though. I guess I should have bought the new shoes, too.”

  “They’re fine, and they still have a nice shine to them.”

  “I guess so.”

  “With a h
andsome man like you, no one will be looking at your feet, believe me,” I said.

  “No one but Mr. Blount.”

  I laughed. “He’s working late, he won’t be there.”

  “I suppose so. The pants on my tux are a bit tight in the seat, though.”

  “Hmm, perhaps Blount did that on purpose.”

  Now Alan laughed. “I guess I should have tried them on, but he wouldn’t have had time to fix them.”

  “Just don’t bend over and you’ll be fine.” I chuckled. “Come on, handsome, the ball awaits.”

  “I’m coming, but I’m telling you this tux is definitely tight.”

  “In all the right places,” I replied, and I let out a wolf whistle as I stepped into the hall. I glanced toward the elevator and saw Mrs. Verte. I hoped she hadn’t overheard our conversation or my whistle, but she probably had. She looked winded, and her hair was a bit out of place, a strand of it having come loose, but she was dressed to the nines in an off-white cocktail dress, long white evening gloves, and a beautiful sapphire blue necklace and earrings, her cheeks rouged and glowing.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Verte,” I said, somewhat embarrassed at the thought of her overhearing our conversation.

  But if she’d heard, she did not let on. “Oh, good evening, Mr…” she responded, tugging up one of her gloves.

  “Barrington.”

  “Oh yes, that’s right. Forgive me.”

  “No forgiveness needed, madam. My name seems to have slipped the minds of many. Heading out?”

  “Ah yes, heading up, to the Sky Star.”

  “How nice.”

  “I’m more than ready to start the night, Mr. Barrington.”

  “Planning on doing a lot of dancing?”

  “Oh yes, I am. I want to dance tonight—dance, dance, dance. I’ve been dancing to the radio by myself in the room for the last hour, and I’m getting impatient for George.”

  “George?”

  “Mr. Bennett. I ran into him in Blount’s shop this afternoon. I invited him to the Sky Star tonight.”