Peril By Streetlight | Chapter 3: Scotch and Sunshine

Peril By Streetlight

Chapter 3: Scotch and Sunshine

by Joseph Salvatore Knipper

I stepped into an entry-way lit only by a bare, dim bulb, facing yet a second door. The brown-eyed attendant revealed himself to be a squat, olive-skinned man with a wide face. He wore a billy-club on his belt, but the large, child-like smile gave me the feeling it was mostly for show. He looked at me perplexed for a second, as if trying to fit together a jigsaw puzzle that was all sky. 

“Done staring yet buddy, or can we move on?”

“Ummm...” 

“He's supposed to pat you down, Dee,” said Swipes from behind me. 

“Gotcha. Let me save you the awkwardness, buddy.” I unbuckled my holster and handed him my .44. Of course, I still had the .22 in the small of my back, but no need for him to know that.

Swipes handed Ernie our note from the accountant, whose lips moved while he read it. Then he patted Swipes down and opened the other door.

“This way please,” he said, waving us through.

I stepped through into an honest-to-goodness speakeasy. A bar stood in the middle of a windowless room, attended by round wooden tables draped in checkered tablecloths (empty of course, considering the time). A rail-thin, sallow fellow leaned against the bar; a quick assessment of the folds in his poorly-fitting barkeep's uniform revealed a gun stuck into his belt, which he clearly didn't favor, and two long knives up each sleeve, which he did. So there was the real body-guard.

“With all due respect to Frau Kraus, my 2:30 appointment is lovelier than usual,” boomed a jovial voice behind me.

I spun. There was an alcove to the side of the door with yet another table, a clever way to watch whoever entered the room, and to ensure I couldn't keep my eye on the guard and the boss at the same time. In that alcove sat Don Ucello.

He was perhaps the largest man I had ever seen in my life. He loomed over the table, his head brushing the ceiling. A beak of a nose graced a round head perched on a massive pear-shaped body. He spread his hands in a welcome gesture, and muscles moved beneath a flamboyant suit the color of dusty sunshine.

“Swipes too! Oh-ho! What a treat! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Gotta talk to you about the job, B.B.,” mumbled Swipes.

“Of course, of course! I knew if there were any important developments, you'd come straight to me, and not, say, first hire a consulting PI to clean up your mess.” B.B's smile didn't move, but Swipes froze. “Swipes, please, have a seat. I'm delighted to see you, and in such illustrious company. Please sit down, doll, and tell Bert here what he can fix you to drink.”

“Scotch whiskey, straight,” I said, sitting. “And I ain't your doll”

“You're right. You ain't. You are the famous Dora Marquez, gentlewoman explorer of the Hidden Temple, definitive discreditor of the sorceress Eureka, translator of the songs of Gullah-Gullah,documentor of the geyser of Harajaku. And, more recently, a distinguished private investigator, lately moved to my city under the name of 'Dee Marks'. I am most honored that you would visit my humble establishment.”

Shoot, he had me on the back foot. “Alright, so that I don't waste your time, what don't you know?” I took a sip of the scotch that Bert put in front of me, which was a great deal better than the cheap stuff I'd been getting for myself.

“A real go-getter, just like your reputation says. But, if you'll pardon me, I am accustomed to certain pleasantries before business. What about you, Swipes? What'll you have to drink?”

Swipes sank despairing into the chair next to me. “Nothing for me, thanks B.B.”

“Nothing?! Don't be ridiculous.. Get him some of my stuff Bert. I get it shipped in special from the old country. Top-shelf only.”

Bert put a glass in front of Swipes and poured a generous portion of red wine in it. He then refilled Don Ucello's glass from the same bottle. The don took a sip and closed his eyes. “Ah, reminds me of the time my parents took me back to Italy to meet my grandparents. The last day there, I sat under a lemon tree overlooking the Adriatic and wept like a baby. I was afraid I'd never see a sunny day like that again. We don't get days like that in this city, though I do what I can to bring sunshine into people's lives.” He gestured at his yellow suit. “Tell me, Dora, do you ever feel that? Like the blood in your veins misses a more tropical sun?”

“I grew up in Southern California. I got all the sun I wanted,,” I said. “There's no point in romanticizing the past, Don Ucello. Both our families left their respective 'old countries' for a reason.”

“I suppose, but I hanker for an America where I don't have to make my own sun.” He sighed. “Alrighty, time to talk business. Explain to me why I should not have Bert take Swipes out back and shoot him for losing my painting.”

Swipes flinched, “B.B., I'm--”

BB held up a hand, “Swipes, you brought in a negotiator for a reason. Let her negotiate for you.”

Swipes put his head down on the table and let out a single whimper. Don Ucello turned to me expectantly.

“Because I can get your painting back.”

“No, you can't.”

“Bull. You know my reputation: I tracked the Rock of Fraggle twice, and across three countries to boot. You think I can't track down some opportunistic floozy?”

Don Ucello gave a low chuckle. “A floozy? Is that all you think she was? I see Swipes didn't describe her very well for you. Swipes, why don't you tell Miss Marquez here what your 'floozy' looked like?”

Swipes looked up. “Umm, well, she was a real knockout, yah know. I mean, well, her—ummm..” He glanced sideways at me. “She was just a knockout, you know.”

Don Ucello signed. “I ain't always a gentleman, Swipes, but I can at least remember more about a woman than how she made me feel, even when drunk. I saw her leave your apartment window, the painting rolled under her arm. Want me to describe her?”

Swipes started. “What? You saw. Ummm, why didn't you stop her?”

“Why didn't I stop her. Well, that's the million dollar question, ain't it. I ain't an educated man, you know, but I'm told there are frogs in the jungle that, instead of trying to blend in, wear bright colors to let predators know they are poisonous. That woman is a poison frog.” He paused thoughtfully.

“How do you mean?” I prompted.

“I'll tell you why I didn't stop her. I know her by reputation, like I know you by reputation, Dora. The woman left Swipe's apartment window...” he paused again, taking a breath, “...wearing a bright scarlet trench coat and a matching wide-brimmed hat. Get the picture?”

I loose with a curse so vile that the last time I used it, a beau dropped me for being too foul-mouthed. Swipes jumped.

“You're pulling my leg!” I said to Don Ucello. “It couldn't have been her."

“I ain't.”

“She's way out of your weight class,” I said.

“I know,” said the Don. “She's out of yours too.”

I twirled my whiskey and stewed. “No, she ain't,” I said speaking directly to the glass.

“You'll never catch her,” said the don. “You're a smart and dangerous women, but she's smarter than you. She's more dangerous than both of us put together. That painting is gone.” He turned to Swipes, who was twisting his neck furiously trying to look at B.B., Bert, and me all at once. “I'm sorry Swipes. You're a good guy and all. But I can't just let a slip-up like this go.” 

The don nodded to Bert, who came up and put a hand on Swipe's shoulder, almost comfortingly. “Come on, Swipes,” he said. “Let's take a walk out back. I promise I'll make it easy as possible for you.”

“Give her a chance, will ya!” screamed Swipes, standing. “You don't know how good she is! She can take whoever this is!”

Don Ucello looked pained. “Please, Swipes, you're just embarrassing yourself.”

“She can do it! She can do it! Please, I have a daughter!.” Bert began guiding him away from the the table.

“I can do it,” I said quietly. “I've dealt with her before.”

Bert paused. Don Ucello looked impressed. “Oh, this I had not heard. Please, tell me the story.”

“It was during the 20s. You know how King Faisal hired me to get the Rock of Fraggle back from the Turks after the war?” B.B. nodded. “Well, she stole it from him a few years after I did. That's why I had to track it down a second time, bushwhacking my way from the coast to the middle of the Amazon jungle, and during the Armada Revolt to boot.”

“I didn't know she was the gal who stole it from King Faisal. Interesting. But if memory serves, you never got it back.”

“No, I snuck into her camp at night to reclaim the gem, and we had a tussle. But I. Found. Her.” I said, emphasizing every word. “How many people do you know that can say that? Plus, I fought her. True, I lost, but I survived.” Don Ucello seemed to be on the fence, so I pushed ahead. “Look,” I said, “I know it's long odds. But you won't find another person in the world more qualified to get your painting back than me. Kill Swipes, and you're wasting a loyal soldier. Hire me, and you have a chance. You can always write off your losses later if I fail.”

Don Ucello pensively sipped his wine. “If you fail, she could come for me.”

“Nah, she won't. That isn't her style. She'll kill somebody as soon as look at them if they're in her way, but if she has what she wants she doesn't waste time on petty revenge.”

Don Ucello stared hard at me for a beat, and then broke into a wide grin. “Alright! Let's do it. It's been a while since I bet on the long odds.” He nodded to Bert, who pushed Swipes back into his chair. Don Ucello lifted his glass “To your success and survival, Dora Marquez.”

“I'll drink to that,” I said, draining my own glass.

“Anything you need, talk to my accountant. He'll get you some cash for expenses, and also get you the dish on the painting itself in case that's helpful. If you succeed, I'll throw on a bonus to what Swipes is paying you. If you fail, well, you'll probably be dead, so no need to pay me back.” He grinned again.

I stood, “Thanks, Don Ucello”

“Please call me B.B. And yah, I suppose you'd better get going. If you do succeed though, you got an open invite here. I'd love to have a longer drink with you. We could talk about sunshine.”

“Perhaps,” I said grabbing a blubbering Swipes by the arm and dragging him towards the door. “Nice ta meet ya.”

“The same, Dora Marquez,” B.B. said, but I was already out.

Out in the street, I let Swipes sink down on the sidewalk and sob for a bit. After about five minutes, he caught his breath. “Thanks Dora,” he said, “You're a real—a real lifesaver.” That set him off again. I had a smoke while it passed. Finally he stood, wiping his eyes with an overused hanky. “So, where to?”

“To the accountant,” I said. "I need to learn more about this painting."

“Any idea why this Argentine doll would want it?”

“Probably just for its own sake,” I said. “She ain't poor. She steals for the fun of it.”

This idea seemed to perplex Swipes. “For the fun of it? Who the heck is she?”

“Nobody knows her real name,” I said, “But she goes by Carmen. And despite what I told the don back there, I have no idea where in the world she is.”

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This is a work of parody based on characters not owned by Joseph Salvatore Knipper, but all original aspects are owned by Joseph Salvatore Knipper. Thanks for reading. Please don't forget to follow our Facebook page and subscribe to this blog.