Ruddy still had a topaz egg in his hand, when a man suddenly appeared in the doorway of an en suite bathroom that opened onto the hall. The man was clothed in a dressing gown, graying bushy hair, and a face that needed to see a razor. But other than that he was a dead ringer for the man in the picture. Mr. Stevenson’s brother. Ruddy was fixed to the spot. Not wanting to believe what he was seeing. A hundred questions surged through his mind. Where did he spring from? What’s he doing here? Why didn’t I know of it? And most importantly what was he going to do now?
The man’s eyes, were glued to the oak bookcases straight in front of him, when the interloper entered the room. It made sense. He wanted one of those leather bound doorstops to read in bed. Then he saw Ruddy. His eyes locking onto Ruddy’s ginger beard, then onto his right hand still clutching the egg. Ruddy could see the exact moment the man zoned in on what was happening in his absent brother’s den. Ruddy still didn’t feel too bad about what had to happen. His conscience hadn’t been dented in the slightest, as he knew just showing him the gun would bring order back to the proceedings. Stevenson’s brother was just three yards away from Ruddy now. He moving towards the front of the house, surprisingly fast for a middle aged man in slippers and a dressing gown. Ruddy yelled at him, “hold it, Granddad, come back let’s have a nice chat. Just you and me you here,” he paused, “do it or I’ll plug you. Get me?”
Ruddy expected that would stop the man in his tracks, but instead pushed the man on. Ruddy couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Finally, Ruddy started to panic doubting he could control the situation. Yelling again louder, and with a touch more venom, “stop for Christ sake, or do you want a bullet in the back?” All Ruddy could think of was catching and overpowering the man, now preferring to shut him down and run rather than finish the job. The four or five eggs he already had would bankroll him for months. Get him to Kim, and then normality again. He could finally turn his back on the criminal way of life; he just had to catch him fast. Ruddy ran down the long hallway, cold steel in his hand out in front of him. His hands now poured with sweat, making it hard to keep a firm grip. Stevenson’s brother didn’t stop or pause, he just kept pushing forward. As he ran in chase, Ruddy couldn’t help but think about where the man was running to, or what he’d do when he got there. All the time Ruddy kept yelling for him to stop or get shot. But yet, still was ignored. It didn’t take long for Ruddy to figure out where the man was heading, and more importantly, why. While in chase, Ruddy was able to catch a glance over the man’s left shoulder. At the far end of the hallway was a small billiards room of sorts, and Ruddy could figure out once there, he’d go for a window and then for help. Despite the house being a tad recluse it was large and faced the street. By the time Ruddy had gotten into the billiards room and leapt over the table, Stevenson’s brother had already opened the window and had begun to yell for his life.
“HELP,” he bellowed, “FOR GOD SAKES, HELP. POLICE!”
Unfortunately, it didn’t take Jack long to remember the face. Her name was Sandi Kovakx. Jack ‘dealt’ with her brother Eddy a few years back. Unlike her convict brother, Sandi was a writer of news-stand pulps. Apparently, she was quite good. One of the best, so he was told, despite the non de plume of Mark Ross. And after a slight scuffle at her brother’s funeral, where Jack made out he was an associate of her late brother. After that he was glad to put her and that whole Lost Angel Case to bed. He just hoped now a few years had passed. She had forgotten his face, or this could turn uglier than it already was. Either way he was keeping his mouth shut.
“What we got here Decker?” Jack snapped off handedly, “Why’d you drag me here?” he asked the detective now besotted with Sandi and her long pale legs. “We got a call that these two lovely ladies had been attacked by a pair of black gentleman. I thought you’d want in”
Jack took a long moment, “two?”
“Oh yes, Ms. Kovakx and her umm… friend a Ms. Josephine” the naïve detective muttered from a behind a notebook as he made a show of looking over something.
Jack just thought one thing, idiot.
“Yes, Mr. Malone, two women. Sandi here is, shall we say, her lover. Call it what you will, but really is our sexuality an issue here?”
From where Jack stood, he could see Ms. Josephine look him over, like the snake did to Eve that day in the garden. It didn’t take long for Jack to work out this duo was, shall we say ‘Kiki’, either way Sandi defiantly wasn’t wearing the trousers.“No! Ms. Josephine, who you decide to spend your nights with, is no concern of mine. That’s between you two ladies and the Almighty,” Jack said.
A cruel sadistic laugh spat from the snake like woman, “and what the HELL does that mean, gumshoe?”Jack could feel the acrid venom in her voice.
There and then Jack had the urge to slap that face hard. But he was a pro, and he had to act like it even if he didn’t want to at times.
“Like I said Miss. It’s between you and the holy farther, if you still don’t get me, I bet one of them books over there is a good old King James. Why don’t you be a doll and pass it here, and I can tell you a little something?” She didn’t respond, instead just looked coldly at Sandi. Jack there and then felt, or at least he thought he felt, that the Lord almighty himself spoke to him from up on high. He had a mad urge to scream at her and her ‘friend’ Romans 1; 26-27 then just for fun dip into the book of Ruth adding a few choice words, to a few verses the message to nail it home. However, Jack fought the compulsion and held his tongue.
There was a man in the room, too, apart from Decker, who made an off handed sleazy remark under his breath. Jack could tell he was more than just ‘handy’ with Sandi and her long slim gams. It must be a hard life, being a doc, Jack thought.
Jack did not see the diminutive, but gruff, police corporal enters the room holding a flint edged dagger of sorts, wrapped in a cloth
“Hello Detective, I heard from dispatch you were on the Ronson job, looking for any and all Negro’s and ones that looked like Tarzan extras. My partner went to try and have a good old round up, and I called it.”
Pulling a small hip flask full of now cold coffee from a jacket pocket, to keep sleep at bay and help Jack cope with Decker as he tried to play cop. “Nice job, Bronson is it? Anyway, what we got here?” Decker mustering all his thimble full of talent as he spoke.“Burglary, or a half-baked one at any road. Whoever did this was a few cents short of a dollar, if you get my drift. There was two of them, both looked like they came in through the window at the back.”
Josephine spoke up, “Excuse me Mr. Gumshoe, are you telling me we weren’t the only people terrorized by- by these black gentleman?”
Both Decker and Bronson looked at Jack, who correctly assumed they wanted him to take the lead. He was more than happy to oblige, then he may get to put this case to bed and himself to for that matter at a reasonable time.
“I take it Ms. you haven’t seen the tabloids?”
The pulp writer just shook her head, “No sir?”
Jack, clearing his throat, carried on, “well a rather rotund gent paid me a visit at my place of business, Malone and Hammet Investigations and Bond’s, and croaked there and then in the middle of our office lobby. He’d been sliced up his leg, and trust me when I say it was a mess. We believe he tried to stop the blood by a tourniquet. The material used was African. His name was D.B Ronson.”
Both women looked back at Malone blankly, but then Ms. Josephine spoke up, “How shall we describe him more than just large and very, Christ, very sweaty with a ridiculous double chin?”
Jack nodded.
“Richardson” both women gasped, “this man you describe, sounds a lot like our… associate Timothy Richardson,” Sandi told Bronson and Jack while Decker went to go take a leak. Right there and then, sorry Mr. Richardson was here earlier…when…” Sandi stopped sheepishly, looking at her partner.“It’s okay. Go on, Sandi,” Ms. Josephine said sitting across from her on a Davenport.
“Well, Mr. Richardson was here to
day. This evening in fact,” she started to squirm, again unsure how to go on, but her partner calmed her, their hands clasped.
Jack, along with most of this city, may not have completely agreed with their arrangement, but despite that they did seem almost good together. With a new found confidence she continued, “sit down. It’s a long story.” She took a breath, “Timothy, sorry I mean Richardson, sorry Ronson. Whoever he really was-is, came here this evening. It looked like he’d come from a bookmaker, as he had stale beer breath. He’d seemed pretty happy with himself. We’d not clapped eyes on him in well over ten years, but me and Miss Josephine could tell despite his win, something wasn’t right with him.” Jack nodded, putting her at ease as she continued. “He told us he’d been attacked by two Negro’s who were after his winnings, and Richardson, sorry Ronson, had been given a good beating as a thank-you. We let him in, and one of our ladies made him a drink. A rum if I remember correctly. Horrid stuff, but he wouldn’t let us call the doctor or treat him. Even when my partner insisted.”Jack could imagine that witch didn’t like being told no. That must have really ticked the matriarch.
She continued, “Ronson told us he’d promise to see a doctor after he’d done a little business. In fact, that was why he’d come over. He wanted to ask us to hide something, something someone was after. All he said about whoever was after him, was that he was on loan from some Havana mob family. We didn’t push any more on that. We didn’t even know what it was, it being wrapped in a brown paper bundle. After his drink he didn’t talk much. He was in a rush and looked like he was in pain. I didn’t pry with more questions. We had agreed to help him, despite the fact that knowing Ronson, it was illegal, and more than likely risky. “He’d saved both our lives once or twice a long time ago. Down in West Germany, during the war, me and Miss Josephine were arrested and sent to Spandau Prison. Back then the Germans didn’t like the fact that we were lesbian’s, but left us alone. Until one day in Weimer we were selling handmade patisseries on a stall, when a German panzer officer, a lieutenant, clapped eyes on me while Ms. Josephine was out collecting more cakes from our makeshift cottage bakery outside of town. While she was away, the officer came to our stall asking to see our paper’s ‘Verpassen Sie Bitte Papiere’ (*Authors Note: Show me your Papers) He kept shouting it again and again.”
Jack didn’t speak German despite all that time overseas fighting for Uncle Sam and the man next to you. He just nodded hoping it would say he understood. Sandi continued, “thinking I was refusing him, he shouted at me ‘Lesbisch Hündin” (*Authors Note: Lesbian Bitch) Jack didn’t need to be fluent to understand those two words. he had an odd feeling he knew where this was going.
“He slapped me, dragging me by the hair to a disused building. He threw me to the floor and screamed with venom ‘Streifen’. Strip, if you don’t know what it means, gentleman. I fought him off as best I could, gaining myself a black eye for my troubles. I screamed, but well…”
Miss Josephine held her close, “Detective, is this really necessary? You can see Sandi is more than upset, going over all this.” Looking at his watch, Decker didn’t seem to give a crap, but ever the Christian Jack did.
“Ms. Kovakx you don’t have to carry on doll, not if you don’t want to.”
Fighting back the tears, she just smiled, and Jack was pleased that she was stronger than she looked.
“No it’s okay. I’m fine,” taking a breath she carried on, “he took out a knife forcing me back against a wall, as he cut my clothes off, then holding it to my throat he…he… violated me. Once he was done I was on the floor bleeding. He was about to do it again, when he fell to the floor. Cold as ice, he was dead. Shot by Miss. Josephine, but her shot brought friends. Two Panzer soldiers came running, knocking Miss Josephine unconscious. I quickly covered up before I was out cold too. When we both woke, we were in a cell, in the hell that was and is Spandau Prison, we’d been denied a defence and even a show trial and left forgotten.”
Sandi took a moment, the memory clearly bringing things back. Jack asked “Miss Josephine, to save Sandi from more upset, do you think you could continue?”
“Mr. Malone, please listen, as your partner clearly doesn’t seem to care. We had the fortune then to meet Ronson. Timothy as we knew him then. He was much thinner man back then, a standard G.I, he was on a work party, cracking rocks in a chain gang. We’d been put in the laundry line, cleaning the warden’s soiled uniforms and more. It made me sick, but anyway, I digress.
We got to talking during activity time and struck up a friendship of sorts. Grabbing a moment when we could. Two months into our sentences the prison was attacked by British Troops and eventually liberated. The three of us then headed to Switzerland. At least, that was the idea, but by the time we got to Wüstermark, things changed fast.
“We’d taken refuge at an inn, when a group of locals got to talking to Ronson. Cards and alcohol were everywhere. Sandie got tired and went to bed. I stayed, back then these were my kind of people. Anyway, by the end of the night Ronson had snatched the pot. Thanks to a newcomer winning, and an American to boot, tempers were brewing. Nothing happened, thankfully, but we were both rather merry and despite my love for Sandie, Ronson and I made love, but not wanting it to bite me in days to come, told Sandie the next day. She hated me for it, we fought and in the argument Sandie stepped into the dirt road. Life seemed to slow as I saw Ronson jump out, tackling her to the ground and saving her from near death. A day or two later we parted company, until months later, when I found out I was pregnant. I’d found out he was back in the rank and file and we started to correspond. I told him about the baby, Jenna. He promised to meet me in Central on his next furlough. After that, he’d come to the house for birthdays and the odd Thanksgiving or Christmas. Then, after Jena's fifth birthday, he disappeared, until tonight that is.” It was a lot of information to take in. Decker now deciding to do his job, “that’s all nice, but can we get back to tonight’s activities? Tell me again, and don’t leave anything out.” He said sitting down and loosening his tie. “Actually, ladies, before you do, you spoke of a package. Tell me about this package?” Finally, a useful question from Decker, the P.I thought.
“Can’t really say much about Ronson’s package, sorry. It was about the size of a box of Whitman’s chocolates, and weighty. I could just about make out a spine under the wrappings. I thought it might be a book or something like that, but like I said being wrapped I couldn’t really tell. Oh it did have a German stamp on its wrappings, it was red. Faded I think it said something like Privat (*Authors Note: Private) and what looked like Buchhaltung”(*Authors Note: Accounts) so maybe a black book or a ledger. Could money be the dam motive in all this?” Jack was going to listen, and hope to figure it, as he could tell the cop had gotten lost. Well cave men are like that, he told himself.
He repeated it, three more times. Each time louder than the last. He made so much noise that a passer-by may hear, even if it was late. Ruddy was starting to wonder if he could even hear him and his threats over his own shouting. He was almost next to the window when he realized there was only one thing to do. Only one way to bring this ass hole to his senses, hopefully, making him realize the real trouble he was in. Ruddy held out his gun in his sweated hand, wrapping his forefinger around the gun’s small trigger. Taking a quick breath, he squeezed off a shot. Letting lose a silently round from the chamber. The small whistle of air killed the clap from the shot. Aiming as best he could in his panicked state. Toward the right side of the billiards room far window. That’s would bring the old fart around and tell him how serious Ruddy was. And that he would KILL him if he had to.
Then things happened very fast. Stevenson’s brother had turned and ran through a side door and back onto the hallway. With Ruddy back in pursuit, as fast as he could. When, suddenly, he found himself tripping over him, sending Ruddy headlong through an upstairs sitting room doorway. Ruddy picked himself up and around, not really sure what had just happened. His gun was missing probably under
a cabinet somewhere. He saw Mr. Stevenson’s brother lying prone on the floor, head turned to the left as if it had been k nocked of his shoulders. His arms out at his sides. Ruddy noting the man on the floor was silently mouthing words as if still asking for help. It was then Ruddy saw the growing red pool growing square in the man’s back. The horror of what he must have done was now clear in Ruddy’s face. Both hands were trembling. He had put hot lead somehow into the man. Just like he’d ideally threatened, but with a runaway shot and not a bullet with a purpose. Extremely bad luck, plain and simple. The bullet a ricochet from the warning shot, was now embed deep in his back.
137 Rosenberg Drive.
West Pine
Coast City
U.S
OCTOBER 25 1948
Dear Collin,
No, my dear, I don’t mind if you call me your little rose bud. I think it has a nice ring to it, and it took a real gentleman like you to think up the term. To be totally honest, my dear, it makes me feel wanted and safe. Oh my- I’m blushing- but you make me feel like I can do anything. I’m not scared of how I feel for you either, or how I hope you feel for return. My life was empty and bleak before I wrote to you. But now, it isn’t. I really do appreciate the picture you sent, and you didn’t have to apologize because of how old you look in it. Frankly, I find think silver hair quite regal and attractive. I stare at your picture a lot and feel I know you inside and out. A real connection that is rare in today’s mad corrupt world. Those eyes of yours peer deep inside me and stir something in me I’ve never felt before. I was right, Collin, when I said you were a man of the world. Nobody could swindle or take you, no sir! And that is the kind of friend I want in my heart and life.
My dear sweet Collin, I’m going to place your picture right on my bureau amongst my most precious things. So it will be the last thing I see at night, and the first in the morning. I’ll tell you a secret. I think a lot about you and your picture. They are both so nice, that when I get into my nightie, I think I’m going to bed with you and blow you a little kiss. You make me feel like a goddess in the making. And then believe you feel as strongly for me as I’d for you.
Welcome To Central City Page 11
