by Larry Flewin
"You know me, laddy buck, the word never gets past me. So, it was Michael trying to talk some sense into you, was it."
"What makes you think that. I was at the opera all last night. Saw Mrs. Butterfly, the madam."
Kelly bellowed with laughter and slapped me on the back hard enough to straighten out my spine. More foam arrived. I pushed his over to him and made sure my hand actually lifted mine up to my lips.
"Is that the way of it, now. Out on the town with the quality, were you. And a grand sight that must have been. You and the likes of Mad Michael Panychkin."
"It's not what you think."
"It never is lad, it never is. Now, come and tell Uncle Kelly all about it." He moved close enough to wrap his tree trunk of an arm around me and pin me in place. It was his way of saying I’m dead serious, talk to me before you wind up dead and I lose the story. He may have had more booze than blood in his veins, but he was a top-notch reporter. Knew the kinds of details about people and places that most people had to kill to get, or to have forgotten. And he was more than willing to share if the price was right.
All I really wanted from him was the story behind the story, or what he might know that I didn’t, and was willing to tell me. You don't say, and dear god in his heaven, was all I got. He gave my clue the once over twice, but no bells went off. Even the bit about the dame in the rain didn't raise more than an eyebrow. He was too tough, and too smart, to start jumping up and down and yelling hurrah every time he sniffed something. For him, there was a promise of something better to come out of all this, so he was going to let me play junior G-man for a little longer before sharpening his pencil.
He seemed genuinely interested though, enough to send some pimple-faced kid up to the archives. Kelly kept the taps busy while I wolfed down breakfast and lunch. All I had to do was say the magic words, Michael Panychkin, and the world was my oyster. Brought a smile to his big fat face. The two of them had their own history together, almost as pleasant as mine. Kelly had his press badge to protect him, but all I had was my forty-five.
The kid came flying back down two rounds later with a long face, and an even longer story. Bottom line, nothing. He had gone through all the files Kelly had mentioned, rifled the photos, and even checked the obits. My man didn't exist, at least in this part of North America. No story meant no photo, and no photo meant no identification, making this dustbowl the perfect place to hide in. That only confirmed my suspicion that I was right behind him and catching up fast.
It was Kelly's idea to tap into the political side of the story. Politicians always liked to have the pictures in the papers, kissing babies, encouraging ditch diggers, and declaring war on each other. My man’s face had to be somewhere, so if I could find it, I could put a name and nationality to him. Best to check with the bright boys, he said, go back to school.
“You heard me, you great oik,” he said. “School. College, University, or whatever you colonials care to call it. The hallowed halls of academia. A place where the likes of you and me would be more welcome in the kitchens, than in the lecture rooms. I may be dead drunk, but I'm also dead serious, go to the University. They know the overseas stuff better than I ever will, if anybody’s to know who your man is, they will. Try the Administration building first, they’ll know where to send you, if not then the library.” And with that he got up and stumbled off into the shadows.
Go back to school, wonderful wisdom for a guy who got kicked out of that part of life. As far as I knew Universities were full of professors and free thinkers, guys who did nothing more than lift a pencil or think a thought to earn their daily bread. A pretty easy life, but you had to have a lot of smarts to be there. Made me think my smarts wouldn’t be too welcome, considering how I’d acquired them.
Still, the odds were better than average that I’d find something since I wasn't about to sharpen a pencil or think too hard myself. All I could do was ask, maybe I’d get lucky, and latch onto somebody who could give me the deal on this mook. And that's when I remembered Velma. Velma Rogers.
She and I went way back, or at least I thought we did. We were kind of an item for a while but hadn’t exactly parted on speaking terms, which meant we weren’t speaking when I’d left her. Last I heard she was doing good things as some sorta research assistant or secretary or something. Looked things up in books and made notes for guys too lazy to do it themselves. Which is exactly what I needed. If anyone would know the ins and outs of the place, she would. She was no Kelly, he didn't have her legs, and she didn't like beer, but they were both good at sniffing out things.
This was one of the few places still showing signs of life in our dark little world, a collection of professors and pencil pushers who could ask the big questions and not get a bullet in reply. I was too lazy to go looking through books so I figured what the hell, get someone not in the line of fire to do the digging for me. And by asking Velma, I could do just that and get up close and personal with a warm body that wasn't going to shoot me, stab me, or throw money at me.
Kelly’s paper, the Independence, was always sending somebody somewhere to report on something, so it didn't take much to hitch a ride south out of town. That got me as far as the front door, the kid driving had to see man about a cow giving black milk, make it back in time for the late edition. I could see those hallowed halls maybe a half mile off, in between which was a whole lot of nothing. At least it was still daylight this time around.
I should have been putting all that cash to use, maybe hiring a ride out here but this whole thing still felt a little hinky. I didn’t want to run all that cash through my fingers knowing Michael might want it back. He didn’t like wasting money any more than I did but he was less understanding if any of it went missing.
Velma had been worth it once before, so I was hoping that twice was the charm. I hadn't paid much attention to her brains the last time, my hands had been too busy. This time I'd be the pretty boy, all smiles and charm, and keep my hands to myself. If she could come up with something, anything, on this guy, it would make the memory of what I was about to do a whole lot more pleasant. I lit a cigarette and got my thumb ready.
That didn't last long. For some reason the road was closed today. No traffic, no birds, no rabbits, no deer, no nothing. Just a long, hot, walk on a long, hot, afternoon. That time of day when everyone indoors wanted to be outdoors, and everybody outdoors wanted to be anywhere else. There was just me, the tumbleweeds, and the gophers.
Used to make a lot of money off of them when I was a kid. Me and my slingshot. Some guys paid by the ears, and some by the tails, but there was plenty of them and plenty of cash for them. A couple hour’s work could scrape up enough coin to get a coupla smokes off the farmhands, or even some of their liquid fixing’s out back. Best couple of summer’s I ever spent. Made going back to my life in the city a little less pitiful.
It seemed like forever by the time I reached the end of the line. And that turned out to be a large collection of brick and stone buildings just plunked down right in the middle of nowhere. A completely different world from the one I was used to, just a lot of thinking making the rounds, everyone and everything quiet as a church. Don’t suppose they ever got many PI’s out this way, but it was like I was a professor or something. Everybody I talked to was smiling and polite, happily pointing out which way to go until I was completely lost.
I eventually find a signpost that seemed to make more sense than the people walking past it. What I wanted, the Administration building, was just around the corner and down the road from where I stood. Velma was no slouch in the brains department so I figured that would be as good a place as any to start looking for her. As I remembered, she had spent our time together reading poetry to me while I spent mine reading the fine print on her buttons. It wasn't exactly a match made in heaven but we got along good. What got us apart I never did figure out, it just sorta happened one day, and that was that.
Found the place alright, some great big stone thin
g, all towers and windows, with a huge lawn surrounding it like a moat. Administration was one of those big long names that meant the same thing in any language, army or civilian. Hurry up and wait. City Hall was like that, loads of dames typing something, smart guys swatting flies, and messengers running memos up and down staircases to nowhere.
It was dark inside, cool and clammy, like a meat locker. Everyone seemed to be speaking in whispers, the only real noise coming from the rustle of unseen skirts and the distant pecking of typewriter keys. My hat was in my hand even before the door had closed behind me. I found the Reception desk, found my seat, and sat for what seemed like forever.
I didn't figure on raising too much of a ruckus. I had come a long way and was in no mood to go any further. Trouble with being polite was there was no one here to appreciate my effort. Reception was out for coffee, or lunch, or whatever the hell they called it. My one trip in ten years to anything close to civilised and it was still the same old story. Wait for us because we don't wait for you.
That's one thing I learned over there. A live doughboy is a patient one, and so is a good PI. You should never be in a hurry to get killed. My old Sarge used to say, patience is a virgin, but she ain't in a hurry and neither should you. Your time will come, and if patience doesn't get you, somebody's bullet will. I snapped a match off the wall and lit a smoke. It was going to be that kind of a day.
"Ahem."
Reception was back, all of five foot nothing of her, black dress, black boots, and pearls. Grandma’s hair was fixed in a tight bun at the back of her head, and her temper was fixed squarely on me. She had a pretty evil stare for such a nice little old lady. Maybe her bun was too tight, or maybe she didn't like my lack of a tie, but clearly she didn't like me.
"Ahem."
I got up. Her hands, curled into fists, went to her hips.
"And just what do you think you’re doing?”
"Just looking for someone, a friend of mine. Maybe you can help me out."
"I most certainly will not. You can help yourself, and that filthy habit of yours, right back where you came from. Now shoo, shoo." And she waved me out the door like I was someone who hadn't had a bath in a week.
"Look, honey, I...."
"Don't you honey me, young man. I do not tolerate tobacco in any form. Now, kindly leave, and take that evil weed with you". She marched smartly around the desk and started shoving me back out the door. She musta been pals with my Gran, she didn't put up with tobacco, or alcohol either. Grandpa and I spent a lot of time out in the woodshed fixing things. That's where I learned to savour the smooth taste of a good malt liquor, and how mints could become your second-best friend.
"Hey, what are you doing,” and then I was out the door. She stood in front of it, arms crossed, daring me to do something, anything. I 'd been thrown out of better places, but not by anyone so small or determined. I knew all about the anti-tobacco leagues from Gran. She didn't seem to mind Grandpa and me smelling like mint juleps, but anyone else was fair game for her sharp tongue, and her heavy black cane. She'd never been arrested, but enough cops had bruises on their arms to know better than to try.
I finished my smoke with a lot more pleasure than usual. It had been a long time since I'd been given the bums rush from such a classy joint. I lit another smoke, tipped my hat to Max Baer’s sister and went looking for another way in. I couldn’t see myself going ten rounds with her, that look of hers alone might deck me. So, as easily as going around the corner and coming up behind a coupla students I was back in. And what did my wandering eyes behold the moment I walked in the door, but the very behind that I had come all this way to find.
She was dressed in a tailored little something that emphasised everything she owned, plus a few more things that gran would definitely not have approved of. I stubbed out my smoke and wandered over to casually said hello from behind. She jerked upright, papers flying in all directions. She spun around with look of complete surprise on her face, which changed into complete fury the moment she saw it was me the slap she said hello with would have knocked out Max Schmeling. She hadn't changed a bit.
"You've got a hell of a nerve," she hissed.
"You've got a hell of a right."
"What are you doing here."
"Looking for you, doll, surprised to see me?"
"So you found me, now what do you want, I’m busy." The fire in her eyes matched her flaming red hair and set off her navy suit to perfection. I always did like a girl in a uniform.
"Listen, sweetheart, I....."
"Oh, don't you give me that." And with that she brushed past me and made tracks for the door I had just come through. I chased after, part of me disappointed that her welcome wasn't, and partly to escape all the faces staring down at us. I caught up to her at the door, grabbed her by the arm, and whispered at her fiercely.
"Will you wait a minute. I haven't even told you why I'm here. This is business, doll. I need you."
She stopped and shook my hand off her arm.
"What do you mean you need me. You drop out of sight, without even a goodbye and then you show up again and expect everything to be lovey dovey? I haven't time for this. My first decent job in weeks and now you show up. I could get fired because of this." She seemed pretty anxious for working in such a quiet little corner of the world, but if granny was any indication, her bosses must be real sticklers.
"Okay, okay, I get the message. Look, just take a gander at this and tell me if it rings any bells in that pretty little head of yours.” I whipped out my mystery man and gave it to her to look at. "I'm trying to find him. Don't ask me why, it's confidential, but.... hey!"
She wasn't paying attention. She was already out the door and halfway across the lawn, reading as she went. That's what I liked about her the most, she wasn't all just good looks. I hustled along after her as she continued to read on the run. When she finally looked up, I could see that she believed me this time, and she knew something.
Velma smiled thinly, still as a statue and just as lovely. "Look. I'm sorry about all that back there. It's just that...Well, it is good to see you. How have you been."
"Yeah, well, you know how it is. I get by," I said.
"Yes, I know how it is, or I thought I did."
"Listen, sweetheart, I..."
"What's a girl supposed to think. I mean... I thought... well."
I could see her point, kind of. I was asking a lot, just showing up at the end of the day, after being gone for six months or so. And I did kind of leave in the middle of things, but what was I going to do. It was either her life or mine, and I thought she deserved better than mine. Maybe it wasn't the best way to handle things, but it was the only way I knew how when things ever got serious. You make a hard decision, you make it fast, and you live with it.
"So, what do you want me to do, apologize. Okay, look I'm sorry but you know how it is with me. I’m crazy about you, but you could get killed just standing beside me. I just figured you could do better."
"So, leaving me without even a goodbye is your way of doing better for me? Better than what, you?" She was still not impressed with me.
"Well, you don't seem to bad off down here”, I said. "Got some new clothes, got some new friends. You're doing better than a lot of other people I could name right now."
"Maybe so, but I'm still mad at you. Don't you forget that," she said, pointing at me with a manicured finger. In fact, she poked me in the chest just to emphasise the point. Not too many people did that and walked away.
"I won't I promise, so how about it."
She looked at me, looked down at the newspaper, looked up at me again. The smile was missing, but not the determination. Her eyes told me that much. I was halfway forgiven, halfway home.
"Come on sweetheart, just this once, for old time’s sake?"
"Oh alright, just for old time’s sake. But just this once, okay, after this it’s all over.”
"Thanks doll. I owe you."
>
She scowled at me, "More than you know”.
She took me carefully by the arm, and we were off. She begged me to keep my usual good nature out of sight, and as usual, out came the story of her life to date. She had this friend Patty who knew a guy who needed a secretary, but he kept pinching her ass, blah blah blah, it got the point where I started counting the blades of grass as we walked along. In truth, she was onto a really good thing out here, and didn't want to do anything to jinx it. And that meant me. Which is why we were walking and talking fast.
Velma didn't work in Administration, but next door in the Library. She just happened to be standing there, signing for something, when I got bounced by Reception. Came my turn to talk and I pitched the rest of the story at her. She seemed to be interested enough, but after all this time, she could be walking me up to the nearest cop. Leaving her like I did hurt a little, but at the time I didn't think I had much choice. I didn’t want her in between Mad Mike and me.
Then we were going up a short flight of steps and into another dark and gloomy place, the Library. No granny at the door this time but I figured even a loud breath could get us in Dutch, so I played dumb, and humbly followed the leader. But even with my head down, I couldn't help but notice all the books, I couldn't see the sky they piled were that high. And that smell, old and dusty, like the back of my closet.
With a whole library to keep her busy, she shoved me into a seat in a corner, and left me to watch the cobwebs grow. It came with another strict warning to keep my big yap shut, and my hands to myself. That was my Velma, all business. And wouldn't you know it, just as she was walking off into the sunset, she mentioned that she might know how the guy was. Figures. The only person who hadn't shot at me, tried to run me over, or teach me how to fly, knew what everybody else didn't.
It wasn't long before those gorgeous gams were back. Turns out next door wasn’t all that far away. Velma had wiggled her way into an older section of the library. She had one of the filing clerks back there wrapped around her little finger so all she had to do was show him a little leg, and the weasel would let her have anything she wanted. Today, she gave him all the leg he could handle, and trudged back with half a filing cabinet under her arm.
