Philadelphia Noir

by Carlin Romano

  Beth texted back asking for clarification and her phone rang.

  “Hello, beautiful,” Alex said.

  She felt awake again.

  Half an hour later in Rittenhouse Square, she sat on a bench and waited for him, peering into the damp fall air until he materialized on a lamp-lit path. He smiled. His hair was slightly unkempt, making him appear boyish despite his suit. He carried a briefcase, and when he reached Beth, he dropped it to the ground before dropping to his knees.

  “I kept thinking about you,” he said. “I had to travel, unexpectedly, and now I can’t go home, it seems.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He sighed, resting his hands on her knees. “The arrangements I made for rent fell through while I was abroad. A ridiculous misunderstanding.”

  “Isn’t Chloe there?”

  “She’s in France,” he said.

  “You broke up?”

  A smile spread across Alex’s face, emphasizing a slight cleft in his chin. “She’s in France visiting our uncle.”

  “Your uncle?”

  “With our parents gone, he’s our closest relative.”

  “She’s your sister?” Beth asked.

  “Yes, we just get on well and share a place sometimes. I thought you knew that.”

  “No,” she said, smiling too.

  “No?” Alex asked, standing up, helping Beth up, then kissing her. He ran his hands through her hair. “It’s a shame I missed the end of summer with you … So much family business. But the good news is we’re here now.”

  “Just in time for the rain,” Beth said, holding out her hand.

  “I don’t suppose you have an umbrella?” he asked.

  “I know where we can find one.”

  It was a quick dash to the blush-colored suites of Drs. Morris, Kent, and Fleischer on 19th Street.

  “We’ll borrow one of these,” Beth said, indicating the umbrellas stored behind the reception desk. They were pink, large enough to shelter a picnic table, and said, Beautiful dreams come true, in bold black letters.

  Alex eyed them skeptically. “I guess masculine pride will take a hit tonight.” He surveyed the office. “Very pink, but swank. Is this your desk?”

  Beth nodded.

  “Who forgot his clothes?” Alex asked, pointing to the pile of things on Beth’s chair.

  “They belong to a man who died, actually,” Beth said, at which point Alex laughed. “I’m not making it up,” she protested. “The man had a coronary!”

  “Not funny at all,” Alex said, with such seriousness he meant it was. Then his face lit up. “I may have no roof over my head, but I’d like to take you for a drink. Have you ever gone to Nineteen?”

  Ten minutes later, the gilt-framed mirrors of the Bellevue Hotel elevators sent Beth and Alex’s reflection back to them from multiple angles, all bathed in golden light. When they sat down in a love seat next to the fireplace in Nineteen, Beth already felt tipsy. More alive than she had in years.

  They drank until almost two a.m., when Alex made an announcement.

  “Surprise.”

  He pulled out a platinum American Express card bearing the name Gerald F. Mitchell. Beth’s heart began to race. It was the dead patient’s card.

  “How did you get this?”

  Alex looked at her. “You’re not worried, are you?”

  She knew Leah would walk out. Call the police. But Leah wouldn’t be in this bar with Alex in the middle of the night in the first place, and Beth felt a strange, giddy sense of trust in him. If he’d pulled out a gun and said they were going to ditch the check by shooting their way out, she would have been game. Strong choices, she thought, not sure it applied but feeling too elated to question it. With the fire behind him, Alex seemed to possess a kind of glow, and Beth was enveloped in it.

  Alex continued: “I’m sure the widow hasn’t canceled his cards yet. With everything going on, she probably won’t notice extra charges.”

  Beth watched him hand over the stolen card, the waiter bring it back, and Alex devise his best Gerald F. Mitchell signature.

  “By the way,” Alex said to the waiter, “we’d like a room. Can we book one without going down to the lobby?”

  “Of course.”

  They spent the next eighteen hours in a suite, sleeping little, moving from the bedroom, with its red drapes, king-size bed, and countless pillows, to an airy off-white living room where light streamed in from the south and west the following afternoon. Beth had called in sick and now gazed out the window.

  “We’re in heaven,” she smiled, polishing off what remained of a room service cheese plate.

  “We’ll have to die more often,” he said. Then his phone rang. He stared at it and made a face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Chloe. About the apartment debacle, I’d guess.”

  “I thought she was in France.”

  “Must have just flown in. She can sort out the problem—I just hate to deal with that now.”

  His phone stopped, then rang again.

  “I should get this. Do you mind? Chloe can get hysterical.”

  “Of course,” Beth said. “I’ll try the hot tub.”

  When she emerged a half hour later, Alex was beaming.

  “I can go home! Not that this hasn’t been a wonderful adventure. Let’s do it again.”

  “When?”

  “When another patient dies and forgets his wallet,” he winked.

  Beth had forgotten they were enjoying this luxury suite on a dead man’s dime and the reminder left her chilled. Alex began gathering papers into his briefcase.

  “Do you have a job?” she asked.

  “In my family’s business, as a matter of fact. My uncle—the one Chloe just saw overseas—he’s well off and wants me to manage his investments one day. Right now I’m managing other people’s money.”

  “Do you have family in England?”

  “Some there, some in France. We’re a bit spread over the map.” He motioned for Beth to sit next to him and put his arm around her. “I do legitimate business. I just thought we’d have some fun on Mitchell because even if his widow catches on, she won’t have to pay for it. You can’t object to nipping a bit out of the credit card companies, can you?”

  Beth shook her head. “They’re kind of douchebags.”

  Alex squeezed her tighter. “You’re not just a pretty face. You’re a potty mouth.”

  When Leah called her that night, Beth recounted her activities of the last twenty-four hours, minus the stolen credit card, in a torrent of enthusiasm.

  “What about Todd?” Leah asked.

  “He’s too boring for me.”

  That night she should have been exhausted but felt too energized to sleep. She couldn’t stop making plans. She wanted to prove to Alex that she could contribute her share to the relationship. He’d shown her a magical night. The least she could do was take him to dinner. With someone else’s money.

  The next day she went to work with a target in mind: Valerie. Her cranky coworker frequently left her purse under her desk. It wasn’t the best spot—if Valerie came back, she’d be caught—but Beth had issued herself a dare and had to go through with it. She found it surprisingly easy to rifle through the bag, fish out a Visa card, and put everything else back in its place so the theft would remain unnoticed.

  Contacting Alex proved more difficult. She called and left a message, saying she had a surprise, but didn’t hear back that evening or the next day or night. The waiting stoked her restlessness. She paced inside her apartment for an hour the third night before putting on sweatpants and going for a run. She took her usual route up 18th Street from Pine, around the square, then west on Locust Street until she reached the Schuylkill River path. She ran for miles. It was nine o’clock when she got home and showered, but she felt stir-crazy again, her mind brimming with ideas. Her phone rang around nine forty-five. It was Todd. She didn’t answer. Then it rang again at ten.

  “Hello, my long l
ost,” Alex said, as if he were the one who’d been trying to reach her.

  They picked up where they’d left off, meeting in the square and heading to Parc, a French brasserie, where they enjoyed a bottle of champagne and some food.

  “Surprise,” Beth announced when the check arrived.

  Alex’s eyes went wide with admiration. “Tsk, tsk.” He took the credit card and examined it. “You’re a naughty girl, Valerie.”

  He leaned against the high-backed banquette and studied her. “Is this something you enjoy?”

  She spent the rest of the month snagging credit cards—often the numbers alone. Alex used some for online transactions, while Beth got her nails manicured, enjoyed massages at Body Restoration, hired a personal trainer, had a makeover at MAC, and bought more dresses and shoes than her closets could hold, even after she discarded old, cheap stuff. She went to Knit Wit, Cole Haan, Anthropologie, and Barneys, and she still had plenty of income to pay down her own credit card debts.

  Her new look attracted attention.

  “Are you getting in over your head again with debt?” Leah asked. She was sitting across from Alex and Beth at a table at Twenty Manning, where they’d invited her for dinner.

  Alex answered, “With me, she has nothing to worry about.”

  Beth smiled and cut another piece of steak. Leah stared at them as if studying exotic zoo animals, then took a sip of wine and turned away.

  Some time before Thanksgiving, Alex started talking about Christmas plans. He was expected at his uncle’s place outside Paris and might stay as long as three weeks.

  “It’s part business,” he said when Beth looked sad. “I have to show him what I’m doing for my clients so he’ll want me to help him some day.”

  The thought of three weeks without Alex was unbearable. As it was, she had to attend her sister’s wedding alone right after Thanksgiving because Alex had a meeting in New York. But Beth made it through. Her relatives typically asked her questions with caution, always afraid things might be going badly, but her new appearance emboldened them. She exuded energy. She looked beautiful. She felt electric. And she told everyone she’d be going with her boyfriend to Paris.

  Though her mother seemed stunned, her grandmother was thrilled. “It’s wonderful how things have turned around for you.”

  Alex was less enthusiastic.

  “I want nothing more than to have a romantic vacation with you, but this is a family thing—”

  Beth put her finger on his lips. She hadn’t felt this certain about anything in her life. If they loved each other, they could work it out. Especially if they didn’t have to pay for it.

  She told Leah about her plans one Saturday at Miel, a quaint patisserie with bumblebee-shaped door handles. Beth bought two hot chocolates and Napoleons in honor of her announcement: “Alex and I are going to Paris!”

  Leah reacted as if Beth were talking about the moon.

  “How can you object to Paris?” Beth asked. “And how can you be so unsupportive when I finally find a great guy?”

  “Is he great?” Leah asked. She studied her plate. “I don’t know how to say this, and I don’t want to provoke a bad reaction. I mean, you’re handling life really well now. But the thing is, I saw Alex with another woman.”

  “I don’t think so.” Beth tapped her manicured nails on the wrought-iron table.

  “I’m sure of it. He was with a blond woman coming out of the Bellevue.”

  “It’s probably his sister.”

  Leah shook her head. “They were kissing. On the lips.”

  Beth tightened her grip around her empty china cup, stood up from the table, and smashed it on the floor. A girl in an apron rushed out from behind the counter, but Beth dug into her purse and thrust a twenty-dollar bill into her hand.

  She turned to Leah, who appeared stricken, and hissed, “You’re so jealous, you can’t stand to see me happy. You’re toxic.”

  Beth didn’t mention the ridiculous accusation to Alex. They’d spent the evening in bed in her cramped apartment, and now she straddled him, teasing him, bringing him closer and closer to climax and suddenly stopping. She pushed his hands down with her hands.

  “I want to go to Paris.”

  “Let’s talk later,” he said, breathless.

  “I. Want. To. Go.” With each syllable she pushed his hands down harder.

  Alex shook his head no, shutting his eyes tight and scrunching his face, but finally opened them.

  “You can be independent?”

  She nodded.

  “You can see the most romantic city in the world on your own some of the time?”

  She nodded.

  “You can spend some nights alone if need be?”

  She took her hands out of his to slam her fists down on the mattress in protest, but then nodded with a pout.

  Alex shook his head as if unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth: “Come to Paris with me.”

  Beth shrieked and threw her arms around him again.

  “Come to Paris, Beth.” They kissed, and between kisses Alex spoke with some desperation. “Please, just don’t stop what you were doing before.”

  Beth smiled. “No?”

  “No.”

  “No?” She started rocking back and forth on top of him.

  “Never,” Alex said. “Never.”

  They made a plan not to spend their own money for Paris.

  “We’d do best hitting someone who can take a substantial cash advance,” Alex advised.

  This involved knowing someone’s PIN, however, and there was only one person whose code either of them knew: Leah. She’d mentioned to Beth once that she used the last four digits of her childhood phone number, which Beth remembered. So Beth gave an Oscar-worthy performance—actable objective: to make up with a friend. Then she took Leah’s card and scored a $5,000 advance.

  Alex was impressed. “With friends like you, who needs thieves,” he said one night over dinner, contemplating Beth with what seemed like wistfulness. “You really are amazing. A quick study, I might add. A cut above the rest.”

  Alex was handling the tickets, taking some of the cash to New York when he went on business and going through an old friend, a trusted travel agent. He’d get back on the 22nd or 23rd and they’d leave December 24th.

  Beth had never been happier. She bought gifts for family and friends, including Leah, who was dealing with the headache of identity theft, and gifts for herself. More dresses, more shoes, even a cute fox-trimmed jacket from Jacques Ferber.

  “Wow. Are you moonlighting to buy all these clothes?” Valerie joked on their last day at work before the holiday.

  “Trunk sale,” Beth answered without looking up from her computer screen. But then she got scared. Police showed up at Morris, Kent, and Fleischer around noon and Beth had no idea what they were investigating. Valerie’s card? Gerald Mitchell’s? Someone else’s? At one point the cops questioned Beth and Valerie together. A young blue-eyed officer with a mustache leaned toward them with an air of confidentiality.

  “Notice anyone around the office who’s been acting different lately? Dressing different?”

  Beth’s chest tightened.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” Valerie said, then looked intently at Beth.

  The officer looked at Beth too, waiting for her to speak.

  “Nothing unusual,” she confirmed, adding, “I’m famished. Could I go to lunch now?”

  The cops left, but the bad news didn’t stop.

  “I’m stuck in New York another day,” Alex said when he called. “Possibly two.”

  “But we leave in two days!”

  “There’s nothing I can do. Family stuff. I’ll explain later. In Paris, mon amour.”

  That night Beth stole the show with her performance as Princess Kosmonopolis, in a state of nervous collapse when Chance threatened to leave her for his true love, the younger Heavenly. The acting teacher loved it. Everyone had drinks at Good Dog after and talked about local a
uditions Beth might consider come spring.

  She couldn’t wait to tell Alex, but he wasn’t answering his phone then or the next day. It was December 23 and she walked around the neighborhood aimlessly, past the beautiful red doors of St. Mark’s Church on Locust Street, then up 17th Street past Little Pete’s, the Plaza-Warwick, and Sofitel. She strolled along Chestnut Street and looked at the windows of discount shoe and clothing stores, glad she never went there anymore.

  That night she managed just a few hours of sleep, and the next morning saw she’d missed a text from Alex. He was still in New York but had both their tickets. He’d go directly to the Philadelphia International Airport from there and meet her by the counter at six-fifteen for the eight o’clock flight. Thrilled, Beth sprang into action. She started packing but her suitcases looked shabby, so she headed to Robinson Luggage on Broad. It was a cold day under a bright sun, and the streets were crowded with last-minute shoppers. When she finally arrived at the store, she heard a familiar voice and spotted a woman with blond hair.

  “I’ll call as soon as I land,” the woman said into her cell phone. “Nothing more depressing than an airport Christmas morning.”

  It was Chloe. Beth hadn’t seen her since their first meeting in August because Chloe was always out of town or wanted the apartment to herself. But Chloe was practically her sister-in-law. Shouldn’t they get to know each other?

  Beth approached her. “Hi. It’s Beth. Remember, from the night with the sprinklers?”

  “Of course,” she smiled warmly. “How are you?”

  “Great. I’m going to Paris so I can’t complain, right?”

  “Paris? I’m traveling there myself.”

  “Really?”

  They stood there a moment before Chloe continued: “My flight’s tonight and I have so much to do, I should be on my way.”

  “I guess Alex and I might be on your flight.”

  Chloe sucked in her breath. She looked at the ceiling, then seemed to cave in to the inevitability of doing something she didn’t want to do.

  “That’s unlikely. Alex is already in Paris.”

  Beth leaned for support on a glass case filled with wallets and passport holders. “But he’s got my ticket. He texted me to meet him at six-fifteen.”