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trancer21Title: The Naked Detective, Chapter Three
Fandom: Original Fic
Rating: R
Genre: SciFi, Action, Mystery
Word Count: 2179
Summary: When a gangster’s moll hires detective Betty Noir to find out who’s blackmailing her, things go from bad to worse with no easy way out.
Chapter Four
Nightingale
**
It was half past three in the morning by the time I made my way to the Red Light District, a ten block stretch sandwiched between the Factory, Refinery, Port and West Down Town. The East Side may have been locked up tighter than a duck’s ass but such restrictions had yet to take place on the West side, if they ever would.
I parked my vehicle under one of the few working street lamps. I found a street kid, no more than a day older than Tinema with bright green hair that jutted from her scalp in pointed spikes, and handed her a fifty with the promise of another one to keep an eye on it and make sure no one touched it.
The streets were still alive with people milling about. Small crowds gathered around garbage cans, warming their hands over the fires within. Street barkers called out to passerby’s with promises of every sin and accompanying beverage known to woman. There were strip clubs, bars, street vendors selling everything from purses to food.
Between the broken buildings, dim street lights and cracked streets stood ‘The Nowhere Lounge’. They should have been closed hours ago. But the sign made of colored and lamps twisted into the shape of a widened glass still glowed brightly. One of the few holdovers from the old days.
I stepped onto the covered deck with furniture made of wicker and wood, overcrowded with women drinking, smoking and dealing the kind of deals found only in the Red Light District.
At the entrance stood a door keep. Almost seven feet tall with arms the size of my legs, her dark skin contrasted with the white chaps, and white gloves that went all the way up to her elbows.
“You’re new,” she smiled politely while her eyes determined whether I was a patron or trouble.
“So are you,” I smiled back. It had been over a year since I’d been to The Nowhere. I’d never been a regular, the clientele was always a bit too upscale for my tastes. But, I’d been around enough to match the names to the faces.
“You carryin’?” Part of the Nowhere’s popularity was its Neutral Territory stance. In any other bar, one could walk in carrying with no questions asked. Sixty years ago, matron Pappa Denia had made deal with the encroaching gangs. A deal that stood the test of time. Sure, the Nowhere was in Ledo territory now and, therefore, under their protection. Here, the ‘old ways’ worked in their favor. Less fights meant more patrons, more patrons meant more protection money for the Ledo’s.
I opened my coat, twisting my hips left then right to give her a good look. She had hands twice the size of my own that could probably break me in half. There were worse ways to go but I wasn’t interested in a fight or a fuck. “No.”
She pursed her lips, sucking air through her teeth, a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes. She then took my money and waved me through. I stepped through the black curtain that hung over the front door. The air was warm and sticky. It smelled of cigarette smoke, flowery incense and the intimation of sex.
The hallway opened up to the Main Room. The place was packed. Filled almost wall to wall with women. To the left was the bar where it stretched out to the far wall. Half the room was filled with circular tables covered in red tablecloths. On the other half was the dance floor of polished wood. Behind that sat the stage, the curtain drawn.
“Haven’t seen you here in awhile?” The bartender Clari, one of Deni’s many grandchildren, smiled at me with perfect white teeth. “You bring that pretty bird with you?”
“That pretty bird flew the coup.”
“You never could keep a good woman,” she shrugged. “What can I do ya for?”
“I’m here to see Nightingale.”
“Yeah, you and everyone else.”
“This is business, Clari.”
She snorted. “Like I said, you and everyone else.”
I grimaced, reaching into my pocket to pull out a hundred and set it on the counter. Clari’s smile widened like a cat eyeing prey. She took the hundred and replaced it with a drink. “Sit at the table there. When it’s time, I’ll find you.”
I took my drink and headed towards my table. It sat caddy corner to the stage and gave me a nice view of both it and the dance floor. A typical crowd for a weeknight, mostly regular Jane’s and their dates dressed to the nine’s and out on the town for some fun. There were a couple minor gang members puffing the chests like preening birds claiming their territory. Despite the presence of the gangs, the air was relaxed.
The lights dimmed, the crowd hushing in quiet anticipation. Then the curtain opened and ‘she’ walked out onto the stage. I’d seen her in the pictures Iruska gave me. It still didn’t prepare me for the real thing. She was tall with a lithe and lean frame that gave her an almost delicate appearance. Hair, as black as midnight, pulled up and off her face and held together with two ornate pins. An angular face with soft features, full lips. A black dress clung to her frame in a sheer see-through material that left nothing to the imagination. Both come hither and look but don’t touch.
Her most striking feature was her eyes. Blue and pale as a glacier, with the dark coal painted around her eyes, with the spotlight solely upon her, gave an almost glowing appearance and just as hypnotic.
The audience clapped enthusiastically. Nightingale pulled the microphone off its stand as the band began to play. Her voice was a throaty smooth, dark wine and honey, with a pleasant timbre. She strode across the stage, hips swaying, making sure she had everyone’s attention.
Then, her eyes fell on me and I knew why Nightingale was so popular. The song was nothing new, a tale of love and loss, sorrow and heartbreak, with a voice that didn‘t just sing the melody but had lived it. And when her eyes fell on me, I felt something warm and tingly grip my insides, as if I were the only person in the world who could take her pain away.
Just like that, the moment was gone and Nightingale turned her head to focus on another.
Clari tapped me on my shoulder and I followed her to the back of the building. She lead me towards Nightingale’s dressing room. Passed another burly guard who stood sentry before the door.
“You owe me big for this,” Clari nodded the guard away and opened the door.
“Anything in particular?”
“A pretty bird’s number.”
“Right,” I reached into my pocket. “How about another hundred.” It was Iruska’s money but, still, less than a day’s work and this case was costing me.
“That’ll do,” Clari snatched the bill from my fingers and closed the door behind her.
Nightingale’s dressing room wasn’t anything particularly special. Nothing I didn’t expect. An office space turned dressing room, the bricked walls painted a deep burgundy color, floors lined with various rugs, racks over filled with dresses of every color but mostly black. On the left wall sat a vanity with a rounded mirror surrounded with tiny butterfly shaped lights. Opposite it was a chaise lounge draped in red fabrics.
The room was bisected by a vanity screen of wood, a mountain landscape painted on the pale screen. I stepped around it. There was a single unkempt bed, dark blue sheets. Nightingale either lived her, or she’d recently had company.
I stepped back around the screen just as Nightingale entered the room. She paused momentarily before closing the door behind her.
“You a cop?” She asked.
“Nope.”
“You look like a cop.”
“Name’s Betty Noir, I’m a Private Detective.”
“A Private Detective? Sounds exciting.”
“Not really.”
She walked towards the screen, tossing her head dramatically towards me. “Would you mind?”
I stepped behind her, unfastened the buttons at the top of her neck then worked on the zipper. She kept the dress from falling by folding her arms modestly across her chest then stepped behind the divider. “So, Betty Noir, Private Detective, what are you detecting?”
“Just wanted to ask you a couple questions.”
“About what?” Behind the screen, she was all silhouette and curve. I stood in the middle of the room watching her undress, quelling the urge to step behind the screen and see what I was missing.
“Someone you’re seeing.”
She paused, turning her head towards me. “I see a lot of people.”
“Okay. Someone you’re having sex with.”
She stepped out from behind the screen. Gone was the slinky black dress, replaced with a slinky peach colored robe. The belt drawn loosely enough to show skin from her neck to her navel, but nothing more. As if she were still on stage. She continued walking into the room, pausing long enough to draw a finger across my jawline. “I have sex with a lot of people.”
I waited until Nightingale sat down at her vanity and began the process of removing her makeup. “Iruska Ziron.”
“What about her?”
“So you’re not going to deny having a relationship with Iruska? The wife of Devushka Ziron?”
“No,” she shrugged. “If you know we’re having an affair, there’s no point in denying it.”
For a moment, I was stumped. Most people deny or obfuscate their illicit relationships, Nightingale either had the brass ones of a bull or was completely suicidal. “How’d you two meet then?”
“Devushka introduced us. She likes to watch.”
“So you’re Ledo clan?”
Her eyes went cold. Shot me a deadly glare. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. Just figured Devushka isn’t the type to watch just anyone fuck her wife.”
“True.”
“If it’s any consolation, you hide it well.”
“My family came over when I was five, to escape the clan wars. I thought we‘d left it all behind.”
Dasi’s didn’t look that much different from Terrans. Easy enough to blend in. Most, but not all, of the immigrants escaping the clan wars changed their names. A way to get a clean slate and a fresh start.
“How’d she find out?”
“The list.”
“The what?”
“A couple years ago, Devushka’s minions broke into Immigration. They stole a list of Dasi citizens who’d changed their names. I don’t know how many names they found, but it was enough. It’s how they recruit. It’s how they found me.”
“Gods,” I ran a hand over my face. A list like that in the hands of a Gangster like Devushka. “Have you thought about leaving?”
“And go where? This is my home.”
“What about protection? The police?”
She pulled a silver cigarette case off the vanity. I stepped close enough to offer her a light. “You’re sweet. It’s not as bad as it sounds. We have an arrangement. I give them what they want,” she paused leaning forward to light her cigarette, gazed up at me with smoky and seductive eyes, accenting her point. “They give me what I want. Soon enough, Iruska will get bored of me and Devushka will pull another name off her list.”
“Fair enough,” I tucked my lighter back into my pocket and took a step backwards. I had enough problems, giving in to prurient urges would only complicate the situation. “Who else knows about this arrangement?”
She smiled, knowing she‘d put me on the defensive. “No one, as far as I know. Iruska calls me and we meet. They’re all very clandestine. Iruska’s last affair didn’t have quite a happy ending.”
“Dead?”
“Disappeared. Never to be seen again.”
“And no one knows about this arrangement? And you’re still admitting to sleeping with Iruska?”
She rose from her seat, turning around to face me and leaning against the vanity. “You’re not the only one with intuition, Private Detective Betty Noir. If you’re here asking questions, that means only one of two people would have sent you - Devushka or Iruska. And Devushka’s not quite so subtle.”
“Fair enough,” I reached into my pocket and pulled out one of my cards. “If you can think of anything else, give me a call.”
“Anything?” She smiled coyly.
I tipped my hat and headed for the door. “Goodnight, Nightingale.”
**
Outside, Green-Haired Girl was still sitting on the curb watching my thankfully intact car. I handed her another bill and she bounded off down the street. I quelled the maternal instinct that wondered where her parents were or what she was about to do with the money I just gave her. I had enough responsibilities.
I slipped inside and pulled out my phone. I had a bad feeling. I always got bad feelings regarding cases but something about this felt off. Nightingale wasn’t lying, but she wasn’t telling the truth either.
Then again, neither was Iruska.
I tapped a message into my phone and hit send.
‘We need to talk, Noir’
END CHAPTER FOUR
Fandom: Original Fic
Rating: R
Genre: SciFi, Action, Mystery
Word Count: 2179
Summary: When a gangster’s moll hires detective Betty Noir to find out who’s blackmailing her, things go from bad to worse with no easy way out.
Chapter Four
Nightingale
**
It was half past three in the morning by the time I made my way to the Red Light District, a ten block stretch sandwiched between the Factory, Refinery, Port and West Down Town. The East Side may have been locked up tighter than a duck’s ass but such restrictions had yet to take place on the West side, if they ever would.
I parked my vehicle under one of the few working street lamps. I found a street kid, no more than a day older than Tinema with bright green hair that jutted from her scalp in pointed spikes, and handed her a fifty with the promise of another one to keep an eye on it and make sure no one touched it.
The streets were still alive with people milling about. Small crowds gathered around garbage cans, warming their hands over the fires within. Street barkers called out to passerby’s with promises of every sin and accompanying beverage known to woman. There were strip clubs, bars, street vendors selling everything from purses to food.
Between the broken buildings, dim street lights and cracked streets stood ‘The Nowhere Lounge’. They should have been closed hours ago. But the sign made of colored and lamps twisted into the shape of a widened glass still glowed brightly. One of the few holdovers from the old days.
I stepped onto the covered deck with furniture made of wicker and wood, overcrowded with women drinking, smoking and dealing the kind of deals found only in the Red Light District.
At the entrance stood a door keep. Almost seven feet tall with arms the size of my legs, her dark skin contrasted with the white chaps, and white gloves that went all the way up to her elbows.
“You’re new,” she smiled politely while her eyes determined whether I was a patron or trouble.
“So are you,” I smiled back. It had been over a year since I’d been to The Nowhere. I’d never been a regular, the clientele was always a bit too upscale for my tastes. But, I’d been around enough to match the names to the faces.
“You carryin’?” Part of the Nowhere’s popularity was its Neutral Territory stance. In any other bar, one could walk in carrying with no questions asked. Sixty years ago, matron Pappa Denia had made deal with the encroaching gangs. A deal that stood the test of time. Sure, the Nowhere was in Ledo territory now and, therefore, under their protection. Here, the ‘old ways’ worked in their favor. Less fights meant more patrons, more patrons meant more protection money for the Ledo’s.
I opened my coat, twisting my hips left then right to give her a good look. She had hands twice the size of my own that could probably break me in half. There were worse ways to go but I wasn’t interested in a fight or a fuck. “No.”
She pursed her lips, sucking air through her teeth, a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes. She then took my money and waved me through. I stepped through the black curtain that hung over the front door. The air was warm and sticky. It smelled of cigarette smoke, flowery incense and the intimation of sex.
The hallway opened up to the Main Room. The place was packed. Filled almost wall to wall with women. To the left was the bar where it stretched out to the far wall. Half the room was filled with circular tables covered in red tablecloths. On the other half was the dance floor of polished wood. Behind that sat the stage, the curtain drawn.
“Haven’t seen you here in awhile?” The bartender Clari, one of Deni’s many grandchildren, smiled at me with perfect white teeth. “You bring that pretty bird with you?”
“That pretty bird flew the coup.”
“You never could keep a good woman,” she shrugged. “What can I do ya for?”
“I’m here to see Nightingale.”
“Yeah, you and everyone else.”
“This is business, Clari.”
She snorted. “Like I said, you and everyone else.”
I grimaced, reaching into my pocket to pull out a hundred and set it on the counter. Clari’s smile widened like a cat eyeing prey. She took the hundred and replaced it with a drink. “Sit at the table there. When it’s time, I’ll find you.”
I took my drink and headed towards my table. It sat caddy corner to the stage and gave me a nice view of both it and the dance floor. A typical crowd for a weeknight, mostly regular Jane’s and their dates dressed to the nine’s and out on the town for some fun. There were a couple minor gang members puffing the chests like preening birds claiming their territory. Despite the presence of the gangs, the air was relaxed.
The lights dimmed, the crowd hushing in quiet anticipation. Then the curtain opened and ‘she’ walked out onto the stage. I’d seen her in the pictures Iruska gave me. It still didn’t prepare me for the real thing. She was tall with a lithe and lean frame that gave her an almost delicate appearance. Hair, as black as midnight, pulled up and off her face and held together with two ornate pins. An angular face with soft features, full lips. A black dress clung to her frame in a sheer see-through material that left nothing to the imagination. Both come hither and look but don’t touch.
Her most striking feature was her eyes. Blue and pale as a glacier, with the dark coal painted around her eyes, with the spotlight solely upon her, gave an almost glowing appearance and just as hypnotic.
The audience clapped enthusiastically. Nightingale pulled the microphone off its stand as the band began to play. Her voice was a throaty smooth, dark wine and honey, with a pleasant timbre. She strode across the stage, hips swaying, making sure she had everyone’s attention.
Then, her eyes fell on me and I knew why Nightingale was so popular. The song was nothing new, a tale of love and loss, sorrow and heartbreak, with a voice that didn‘t just sing the melody but had lived it. And when her eyes fell on me, I felt something warm and tingly grip my insides, as if I were the only person in the world who could take her pain away.
Just like that, the moment was gone and Nightingale turned her head to focus on another.
Clari tapped me on my shoulder and I followed her to the back of the building. She lead me towards Nightingale’s dressing room. Passed another burly guard who stood sentry before the door.
“You owe me big for this,” Clari nodded the guard away and opened the door.
“Anything in particular?”
“A pretty bird’s number.”
“Right,” I reached into my pocket. “How about another hundred.” It was Iruska’s money but, still, less than a day’s work and this case was costing me.
“That’ll do,” Clari snatched the bill from my fingers and closed the door behind her.
Nightingale’s dressing room wasn’t anything particularly special. Nothing I didn’t expect. An office space turned dressing room, the bricked walls painted a deep burgundy color, floors lined with various rugs, racks over filled with dresses of every color but mostly black. On the left wall sat a vanity with a rounded mirror surrounded with tiny butterfly shaped lights. Opposite it was a chaise lounge draped in red fabrics.
The room was bisected by a vanity screen of wood, a mountain landscape painted on the pale screen. I stepped around it. There was a single unkempt bed, dark blue sheets. Nightingale either lived her, or she’d recently had company.
I stepped back around the screen just as Nightingale entered the room. She paused momentarily before closing the door behind her.
“You a cop?” She asked.
“Nope.”
“You look like a cop.”
“Name’s Betty Noir, I’m a Private Detective.”
“A Private Detective? Sounds exciting.”
“Not really.”
She walked towards the screen, tossing her head dramatically towards me. “Would you mind?”
I stepped behind her, unfastened the buttons at the top of her neck then worked on the zipper. She kept the dress from falling by folding her arms modestly across her chest then stepped behind the divider. “So, Betty Noir, Private Detective, what are you detecting?”
“Just wanted to ask you a couple questions.”
“About what?” Behind the screen, she was all silhouette and curve. I stood in the middle of the room watching her undress, quelling the urge to step behind the screen and see what I was missing.
“Someone you’re seeing.”
She paused, turning her head towards me. “I see a lot of people.”
“Okay. Someone you’re having sex with.”
She stepped out from behind the screen. Gone was the slinky black dress, replaced with a slinky peach colored robe. The belt drawn loosely enough to show skin from her neck to her navel, but nothing more. As if she were still on stage. She continued walking into the room, pausing long enough to draw a finger across my jawline. “I have sex with a lot of people.”
I waited until Nightingale sat down at her vanity and began the process of removing her makeup. “Iruska Ziron.”
“What about her?”
“So you’re not going to deny having a relationship with Iruska? The wife of Devushka Ziron?”
“No,” she shrugged. “If you know we’re having an affair, there’s no point in denying it.”
For a moment, I was stumped. Most people deny or obfuscate their illicit relationships, Nightingale either had the brass ones of a bull or was completely suicidal. “How’d you two meet then?”
“Devushka introduced us. She likes to watch.”
“So you’re Ledo clan?”
Her eyes went cold. Shot me a deadly glare. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. Just figured Devushka isn’t the type to watch just anyone fuck her wife.”
“True.”
“If it’s any consolation, you hide it well.”
“My family came over when I was five, to escape the clan wars. I thought we‘d left it all behind.”
Dasi’s didn’t look that much different from Terrans. Easy enough to blend in. Most, but not all, of the immigrants escaping the clan wars changed their names. A way to get a clean slate and a fresh start.
“How’d she find out?”
“The list.”
“The what?”
“A couple years ago, Devushka’s minions broke into Immigration. They stole a list of Dasi citizens who’d changed their names. I don’t know how many names they found, but it was enough. It’s how they recruit. It’s how they found me.”
“Gods,” I ran a hand over my face. A list like that in the hands of a Gangster like Devushka. “Have you thought about leaving?”
“And go where? This is my home.”
“What about protection? The police?”
She pulled a silver cigarette case off the vanity. I stepped close enough to offer her a light. “You’re sweet. It’s not as bad as it sounds. We have an arrangement. I give them what they want,” she paused leaning forward to light her cigarette, gazed up at me with smoky and seductive eyes, accenting her point. “They give me what I want. Soon enough, Iruska will get bored of me and Devushka will pull another name off her list.”
“Fair enough,” I tucked my lighter back into my pocket and took a step backwards. I had enough problems, giving in to prurient urges would only complicate the situation. “Who else knows about this arrangement?”
She smiled, knowing she‘d put me on the defensive. “No one, as far as I know. Iruska calls me and we meet. They’re all very clandestine. Iruska’s last affair didn’t have quite a happy ending.”
“Dead?”
“Disappeared. Never to be seen again.”
“And no one knows about this arrangement? And you’re still admitting to sleeping with Iruska?”
She rose from her seat, turning around to face me and leaning against the vanity. “You’re not the only one with intuition, Private Detective Betty Noir. If you’re here asking questions, that means only one of two people would have sent you - Devushka or Iruska. And Devushka’s not quite so subtle.”
“Fair enough,” I reached into my pocket and pulled out one of my cards. “If you can think of anything else, give me a call.”
“Anything?” She smiled coyly.
I tipped my hat and headed for the door. “Goodnight, Nightingale.”
**
Outside, Green-Haired Girl was still sitting on the curb watching my thankfully intact car. I handed her another bill and she bounded off down the street. I quelled the maternal instinct that wondered where her parents were or what she was about to do with the money I just gave her. I had enough responsibilities.
I slipped inside and pulled out my phone. I had a bad feeling. I always got bad feelings regarding cases but something about this felt off. Nightingale wasn’t lying, but she wasn’t telling the truth either.
Then again, neither was Iruska.
I tapped a message into my phone and hit send.
‘We need to talk, Noir’
END CHAPTER FOUR