The last thing I remember was that I was sitting at the corner table with WillyJ, drinking his cheap whiskey and admiring his dame's photo. I thought I had convinced him to do the right thing, give me the names of the DIS Coners...... I was wrong, so very wrong. Just when I let my guard down, just when I thought I could trust the dirty little rat........
What little bit of sun there was and what could break through the grit on the windows of the gin joint, woke me up. I had a head that felt the size of Jupiter and the ache that one gets from standing too close to a speeding train..... It was 1:00 in the afternoon. The rat had slipped me a Mickey and then he slipped away.
I stumbled to the bathroom, where it was evident that WillyJ had neglected to clean up before he did his disappearing act. I lost my cookies..... and my gin. I was best friends with the porcelain throne for close to 30 minutes. I tidied myself up and glanced in the mirror - there were several hickeys on my neck and I shuddered to think of the scums in the bar who were winking and leering at me all night. So, you got some freebie hickeys, you slimeballs - but I'll be sending some of the precinct's best over for a little payback. You know what they say, 'Payback's a b****." Ain't it the truth....
I called in my report and hit the streets to do a little gumshoeing..... First on my list was a trip to WillyJ's doll, one Maggie Malone. Maggie lived in a respectable neighborhood (how she ended up with a rat like him is beyond me.) She lived on the third floor. The stairs were steep. I finally made it to the top and rang her doorbell. I had to ring it several times. Finally the dame answered the door. She was clearly agitated and nervous. I flashed my badge (I love to do that!) and asked to come in. She didn't like that, she didn't like it at all. I told her we could take care of this here or she could take a ride downtown in a squad car. She let me in.
Maggie Malone was all legs - they had to have been a mile high. Classy dame - some guys have all the luck. She said she worked as a showgirl in an uptown joint called "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes." Figures. I'd never get hired there, I'm short, brunette, and have flat feet from walking the beat all these years. Some dames have all the luck.
I had obviously surprised Maggie. She had several trunks spread throughout her place and she was packing as though she was planning to bolt town on a very short notice.
Oh - she was a cool one that, Maggie. Got tears in her eyes and talked about having to tend to her sick Granny in Boise. Funny, I thought to myself, it's kind of cold in Boise right about now - so why was she packing all summer things.......
I give the dame credit - she wouldn't crack. Said she had broken it off with WillyJ about a week ago. I gave her my card and the standard spiel that she was to call if she heard from him. She assured me she would, but that she was planning on being in Boise indefinitely.
I walked down all those flights of stairs and hid in the alley around the corner. I have the patience of a cat stalking a mouse.......... The dame didn't disappoint me - less than an hour later, a hack pulled up in front of her place and loaded all her trunks into it. And Maggie herself, with a nervous look backward, climbed into the cab and told him to take her to Grand Central Station.
Where was the dame going ....... and more importantly, would WillyJ be at the train station?
