'Wild Is The Wind'

I wrote this short today due to the combination of these factors- boredom, copious amounts of tea, the painting 'Nighthawks at the Diner' as my desktop background, love of film noir and private detective characters and listening to lots of Nina Simone.

The suit was too small for the man. I don’t know how he had managed to squeeze into it, and how it had managed not to tear apart at any second. He must have been about 6 foot 7, he had to duck to avoid hitting the door frame when he came into my office. His hair was a little wavy, and his ape like face clean shaven.
“Please,” I said, “Sit down.” But I was a bit worried that the chair might break under his bulk.
“Thanks.” He said, but his voice didn’t match his looks, it was a little on the high pitched side.
“So, Mr…” I took a quick glance at the appointment note I’d made, “Watson. How can I help you.”“Well,” he started to play with his cotton cap, rolling it around his palms, “I’m looking for somebody… do you… look for people?”
“Congratulations, you’ve come to the right place.”
His eyes narrowed, “You being funny?”
Bad mistake to be sarcastic to him. He looked as if he’d knock me unconscious before I could stand up. “No.” I said hurriedly, “Who is it you want me to look for?”
He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph. He looked at it for a few seconds, as if he had forgotten that he had intended to pass it over to me. Then realizing, he passed the photograph over the desk. It was of a girl, maybe 20, with blonde hair in a bathing suit. “She’s gone missing.” He said glumly.
“Right.” I said. “And when did you last she her?”
He tugged at an earlobe. “She used to write to me.”
“Well, when did she last write to you?”
He shrugged, “’Bout… three years ago…”
“You haven’t seen her in three years?”
“No.”
I leaned forward on the desk, “When did you start looking for her?”
“Last week.”
I nodded, “So why look for her now?”
“I’ve been away. Working.” He refused to make eye contact. He didn’t have to tell me the truth, he might as well had it stamped on his forehead- he’d been in jail. Big, tough guy like that, the suit he had might have fit him several years ago. Yes, he’d been in jail alright.
“Ok then. Where was she living when she last wrote to you?”
“Here. In London.”
“And in her last letter, did she perhaps, give an indication she might be moving, or not writing to you anymore?”
“No.” He said sharply. “She would’ve said if she didn’t want to speak to me anymore.”
“Ok. Tell me about her. Anything. I could use to find her.”
“Her name’s Bethany. I call her Kiki.” How he got ‘Kiki’ from ‘Bethany’ I couldn’t figure out. I thought it not best to question the logic. “She’s from Texas.”
“An American…”
“All Texans are American. I’m not thick.”
“No,” I said, “That’s a good thing. Yanks over here stick out like a sore thumb.”
“You think you can find her?”
I shrugged, “I’m not sure. It’s been three years. She could have gone back to America.”
“She wouldn’t have. She loves England.”
I nodded. “Fine. I’ll take it.”
His eyes lit up. “You’ll find her?”
“I’ll look. No promises.” For missing people I normally had the rule that after two weeks without a sign of them I gave up. I let him know the costs that my service would demand.
“I can pay.” He said firmly, “I have money.”
“Good.” I stood up and offered my hand.
“Thank you.” He said crushing my hand within an inch of its life.
“Come back in two weeks, Mr. Watson.”
“Just call me Bruce.”
I manoeuvred around my desk and got to the door and opened it for him. “Well… Bruce, good afternoon.”
“Goodbye.” He said and left. I went back to my desk and collapsed into my chair. This was going to be difficult.

I waited till it was late and I went down the road to the Victory Club. I went around the back and knocked at the door till Bill turned up. “Alright.” He said.
“Is she in?” I asked.
“Yeah, she’s not on till ten, but she’ll be in her dressing room.”
“Cheers, Bill.” I normally slipped him a fiver, but tonight I was a little low on funds. I went down the corridor till I reached the right door. I opened it and just walked right on in.
The woman inside turned around on her chair, but upon seeing me gave me a small smile. “Oh, it’s only you.”
I sat myself on the sofa in the corner of the dressing room, “Don’t sound so disappointed.” I took my fedora off and put it down next to me.
She turned around so she was looking into the mirror. She was applying her face before she went on stage. She was looking very good tonight. She had her blonde hair draped around her shoulders. She asked, “How’s work?”
“Not too bad,” I said. “I’ve got a new case to work on.”
“Anything exciting?”
“Not really. Just a missing persons.”
In a dry voice she said, “Positively thrilling.”
“It really is, Kiki.”
She spun around on her chair to face me, “What did you just call me?”
“Oh, nothing. Just a nickname I heard somewhere.” I leaned forward and rested my hands on my chin. “Now what part of America did you say you were from?”
She flashed me a wide smile, “You should know that one.”
“Indulge me.”
She turned back to the mirror. “Texas.”
“And if I ever asked you if you knew Bruce Watson you would say…”
In the mirror’s reflection I saw her smile falter. “Never heard of him.”
“That’s funny. This Bruce, he’s a big guy. Looks like he got stolen from the zoo as a child. Anyway, he turned up in my office today, says he’s looking for his ex.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He gave me a photo of her. Must have been about, say, 5 years old, but I’d recognize your face anywhere, Beth.”
“I told you, Jack. I’ve never heard of… what did you say his name was?”
“Bruce Watson. He’s really desperate to see his Kiki again. Am I right in thinking he just got out of jail?”
Her smile flashed bright in the mirrors reflection, “I have no idea what you are on about, you strange man.”
“Now, Beth, I don’t like turning away clients. It’s not exactly as if they’re battering down my door. Bruce really wants me to find his girl.”
“And will you?” She said in a quieter voice.
I shrugged and grinned at her, “Can’t say I’ve decided yet.”
“Well, when you do, just let me know.”
“He doesn’t seem like a nice sort of bloke at all. Bit rough. Not your type at all.”
She raised her eyebrows and said, “Oh yeah? And what is my type? Penniless detectives?”
“Private detective. And I’m not penniless.” I folded my arms, “I’m low on funds.”
“Same difference.”
“The question is, my dear, what do you want me to do about him?”
“Oh, let me guess, I pay you to get rid of him?”
“Now why should I suggest such a thing?”
She stood up and began to pace the room, “Because you’re low on funds?”
“Now, I could see Bruce in two weeks and tell him I haven’t found you. But, he’s most likely to hang around London, and, well, sod’s law dictates he‘ll probably see your show or something.”
“Or?” She said.
“Or, I could just tell him that I picked up a little bit of a trail in Scotland, but I’m not willing to touch it.”
She stood still, “Why Scotland?”
“Because if he thinks about looking for you it’s far enough away from here.”
“And if he doesn’t go?” In response to her question I could only shrug. So, she moaned. “Oh, you’re a great help.”
“Hey, I could have not told you and had Bruce turn up here instead!”
“How come you didn’t?”
I stood up, and said, “Guess I must like you. Why did you finish with him anyway?”
“Jail relationships aren’t my idea of fun.” She said.
“When you on tonight?”
“I go on at ten. You going to stick around?”
“Maybe. Depends. What you doing after you’ve performed?”
She returned to her make-up chair. “I’m going home.”
“Need an escort?”
“And how much would that cost me?”
“A cup of tea, maybe?”
She smiled, “What a shame- I have no money on me.”
I picked up my hat off the sofa. “Do I get a cup of tea if I get Bruce Watson out of the way?”
“Sure, Jack.”
I put my hat on and opened the door. “Goodnight, Beth.”
Without turning she said sweetly, “Goodnight, Jack.” I took that as my cue and left the same way I came in.