The Truth Emerges

 

“Unexpected?” House asks. “I wake up to a head full of gray hair and that’s all you have?”

Writer Lady shifts her weight from one leg to the other.

“You knew about this?” House asks.

“Do you remember last week when you and Mural Man went on your romantic bubble cruise getaway?”

“Yes.”

“While you were in Faerie and separated from your physical body I might have made some changes.” Writer Lady admits.

“Changes what kind of changes?”

Writer Lady doesn’t answer instead she raises an index finger and points to the ceiling.

“The ceiling?” House asks raising her eyes. “My ceilings don’t look any different.”

“Higher.”

“There is a bit of a mess in the attic but not enough to cause something like this.” House says.

“Higher.” Writer Lady says.

“My roof? You changed my roof?!”

“No.” House says. “If you’d added another layer of shingles my hair would just be thicker.”

Writer Lady shakes her head.

“You didn’t.” House says.

 A guilty expression crosses Writer Lady’s face. “I did.”

“How much was torn off and replaced?”

“All of it?”

“You tore off everything and replaced it? Without asking?”

“Kind of? I thought it would be easier if I just got the work done and over with.”

“What color are my new shingles?” House asks.

 House's question is met with silence.

“What color are my shingles?” House repeats.

Writer Lady’s face pales. She points to the hair on the mural.

“You tore shingles off without consulting me and replaced my flowing dark locks with this?”

“Yes?”

“You evil woman!” House screams. “You horrible, evil, spiteful woman! You did this on purpose didn’t you! Didn’t you!”

“No. I got the work done while you were gone so you know… you wouldn’t be here to feel any pain. All those old nails being pulled out and the new nails going in. The sound of creaking wood.”

Ignoring Writer Lady’s response House continues firing out her thoughts. “I’m the house. You did the equivalent of plastic surgery on me without telling or consulting me! How would you like to wake up after getting a nose job that you knew nothing about! Wait...my wood was creaking?”

“A little.”

House’s expression changes from one of anger to one of sadness.

“A house creaks and makes other sounds as it ages. It’s normal.”

“As it ages?” House asks.

“Your paperwork shows you were built some time ago. As you said you know you’re not a new build.”

House’s eyes get a slight glimmer to them. “I’m a modern woman. I’m always in style.”

“House, you’re a mid century modern bungalow built in 1952. You’ve been standing here for the last 70 years.” Writer Lady says with sympathy in her eyes.

“I’m...old?” House asks.

“Not exactly old just not new.”

“So 70 years isn't a long time on Earth?” House asks.

 

 

On the other side of the bathroom door the tip of a large finger taps Spots on his shoulder. Tinkletoes squats down next to the kitten and whispers, “Status report.”

Spots looks at the self-proclaimed mercenary with a puzzled expression.

“What’s happening?”

“House just found out that her hair has turned gray because Food Provider got House’s roof done without asking permission. House said Food Provider is mean and spiteful. Food Provider said she thought it would hurt less if the magical side of House was not here when the physical side was being worked on. That she didn’t want it to hurt House or for House to hear herself creaking during construction. When House asked what Food Provider meant Food Provider told House she was old.”

“Really?” Ray asks.

“She told House that according her paperwork she's 70.”

“Dude...she doesn’t look a day over forty.”

Tinkletoes stands up and looks at Ray. “The paperwork doesn’t lie.” He says tapping Ray on the upper arm. “This is too good to pass up. We’re going in.”

The self-proclaimed mercenary opens the door just as House’s voice emerges from the wall on the other side of it inquiring if 70 years is a long time on Earth. “It sure the hell is.” Tinkletoes says. “A really long time.” Leaving the door open behind him he looks at Writer Lady. “Seventy years is the length of many a lifetime.” He turns to House. “Gray huh? Seventy sneaks up on a woman sometimes. It’s hell gettin’ old isn’t it?”

“This is not the time.” Writer Lady says.

“You may say this is not the time.” Tinkletoes counters "I think this is exactly the time. House has been really obnoxious since the day she arrived.” He looks at Writer Lady. “I think it’s time she got back a little bit of what she’s been dishing out to the rest of us.”

Writer Lady steps forward and reaches out, placing a hand on the self-proclaimed mercenary’s forearm she guides him into the shower for a private discussion. “I know that in your mind you think this is the time for you to launch a tackle or verbal assault or whatever it is you call whatever it is you think you do but…”

“...it’s a counter offensive. It’s called launching a counteroffensive.” Tinkletoes says.

“There is a time and a place for you and House to have one of your little squabbles but this is not it.” Writer Lady says.

Tinkletoes looks at House who is looking sadly into the mirror while Ray, Carp, Dobby Cat and the kittens all take turns telling her how cool her new silver hair looks. The self-proclaimed mercenary turns back to Writer Lady. “I don’t get into little squabbles with anyone. Squabbling is for females. This is war woman and those tanks at the top of the rise," he says gesturing to the ceiling, "they’re reinforcements. From my unit.”

House Finds A Gray Hair

 

This 10^th Anniversary Post is dedicated to the memory of my grandfather who always knew how to attract an audience and never left them hanging and my aunt who could tell stories about everyday life and tell them in such a way that you could barely stay in your chair because you were laughing so hard.

A good storyteller shares a gift in that moment.

A great storyteller shares a gift that carries on long after they are gone.

– HR Apostos

*************************************

“Faerie. The place with the meadows, forests full of magical creatures, villages, flying transport bubbles, jungles, rain forests, talking man size sharks, not to mention a sand bar which literally serves sand is bored?” Carp asks.

TP nods.

“Unicorns. Faerie has unicorns. How can a place with unicorns feel bored?” Carp continues. “And giants. And ogres.”

Writer Lady contemplates what her neighborhood might look like if Gordon returned. What if he brought friends? “Faerie cannot come here.” She announces.

“The por-tal is AL-read-y h-ere.” TP sings. “It’s always been here. It lives in the back yard. Silly human.” The faerie says fluttering across the room to Writer Lady, he stops to hover in front of her face. “You’re stuck with her.” He says with a grin. “Where do you think I came from?” He asks.

“TP, Damon, Diomedes, and House.” Tinkletoes says. He looks at Writer Lady. “He has a point. With the portal being on your property you have an unexpected neighbor.”

“I do have an unexpected neighbor. That was never a problem. It is a problem if the neighbor begins moving property lines for her own amusement.”

TP flies back and forth trying to stay in Writer Lady’s line of sight as she paces. When she stops walking the faerie does a less than smooth figure eight narrowly missing an unexpected trip into Tinkletoes’ ear. “Faerie doesn’t want to take over your Earth. She wants to have a little fun, meet new people.”

“Why doesn’t she turn the door towards the outer edge of the property and grab someone up?” Tinkletoes asks.

Writer Lady looks from TP to the self-proclaimed mercenary. “Because that would be kidnapping.” She points out.

Tinkletoes shakes his head.

“He doesn’t mean that.” Carp says.

“Why doesn’t Faerie make her entrance so interesting someone wanders in on their own.” The self-proclaimed mercenary says.

“Lure them in.” Carp says. “Faerie has had lots of practice doing that. It was the typical way of things in many of the early stories about the fae and their magical home world along with time passing much more slowly than it does on Earth and if the visitor eats or drinks anything they are never able to return home.”

“Like the Hotel California.” Ray says. “The Eagles must have visited some time.” He shakes his head. “History is so cool.”

Writer Lady shakes her head. It was not the time or the place to correct the junk food addicted insomniac.

Carp ignores the comment and looks at Tinkletoes. “We both know from experience that eating or drinking in Faerie does not keep you there forever.”

“Public gathering places can't use the kind of magic." TP says. “In private homes, anything goes. You got lucky, silly.”

Carp thinks back to his own time spent in Faerie. Being attacked by a silver unicorn with red eyes in what should have been a completely innocent walk through a meadow with Black Buck a talking antelope who was also visiting at the time. The assassin-in-training pales slightly at the thought of spending an eternity avoiding the large angry beast. Tinkletoes’ only indication of discomfort is the momentary shifting of weight from one leg to another.

“Oh no! My hair!” Echoes through the house.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Carp observes.

“Now what.” Writer Lady says.

A strange sound that seems to fall from the ceiling echoes through the house and the heads of all of the living beings currently inside it.

“Is that sobbing?” Carp asks.

“It sounds like it.” Writer Lady responds as she exits the bonus room. Carp, TP, Tinkletoes, Ray and Dobby Cat all follow. “But who’s upset?” She asks.

The group enters the living room as the picture window begins to rattle. The sobbing grows louder. Water begins to run down the outside of the window. Writer Lady looks outside at the front yard, the driveway and the street. All appear to be dry. It's not raining.

“Dude, it’s your house. She’s crying.” Ray says.

Writer Lady looks at Ray. Her brow furrows with concern. “We hear her. I don’t see her mural.” She says as she continues looking around.

Dobby Cat crosses the living rooms and sits next to his adopted mother. The ginger tabby’s ears turn in opposite directions listening closely. “Try the bathroom.” He says.

Writer Lady exits the living room stopping at the end of the hall. She gives the door a gentle knock. “House?” She calls.

“Go away!”

“Would you tell me what’s wrong?”

The voice on the other side of the door softens. “It’s all so sudden. I don’t understand why this happened to me.” House sobs. “I know I’m not a new build and I’ve been standing for a while but my mural is an enchanted rendering. It is supposed to appear the way I picture myself. When then sun was going down I looked like me and when the sun rose I looked like this.” She explained. “I don’t understand.” The sound of crying resumes.

“If you could please let me in so I can see what you are talking about. Please? House?”

The knob on the bathroom door turns. The door opens. Writer Lady enters the room to find House’s mural on the wall opposite her mirrored medicine cabinet. The pictorial rendering of House is the same willowy woman with soft amber eyes. Her skin appears flawless, not a single wrinkle appears near her eyes or mouth. Her luxuriously long auburn locks have changed in color and are now a soft silvery gray.

“I have gray hair! Gray! My life is over!” House cries out.

Guessing what must have happened Writer Lady pales. “This is unexpected.”

TP Didn't Do It

Writer Lady takes an offensive stance and waits for Tinkletoes to start explaining.

“Well?” She asks.

“I don’t know what happened.” Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady shakes her head. She continues waiting for real information.

“I reviewed the mission and what actually happened several times. I don’t how what happened happened or why.”

“What happened exactly.”

“We did what I said we were going to do we took books to the old folks’ home down the street. Carp and Dobby Cat entered first heading straight for the common area in search of Mr. Sweets who had already arrived. Sweets was visiting a friend. Some guy who keeps going on about having to live without his cat. Misses his baby, best bud, companion in life.” The self-proclaimed mercenary shakes his head. “Some crap like that.”

Writer Lady mentally rolls her eyes at Tinkletoes’ inability to see any parallels between himself and Mr. Sweets’ friend.

“Ray and I drop off the books at the front desk and continue to the common room to meet up with Dobby Cat, Carp, Mr. Sweets and his friend. We get in there and this old broad is trying to make a group of people sitting in a circle take turns reading from some kind of print outs. She didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Ray and I were kinda standing around...”

Ray looks at Tinkletoes. “I said, ‘Duude...help where you can.’”

“Ray jumps in.” Tinkletoes says. “I stood back watching, I was on the verge of nodding off when I felt something tap against the back of my leg. Some old guy wanted help with a word or two. I helped him. Got tired of waiting for him to catch up with me and started to read ahead.”

“That’s when things got really interesting.” Carp says.

“I told the bossy woman it was boring.”

“Nana.” Writer Lady corrects.

“Yeah. Her.” Tinkletoes continues. “I said if you want these people to read to you why don’t you give them something less you know...boring to read.”

Writer Lady looks at Carp for a moment who nods.

“I’m not a big reader, some of those people have lived a long time shouldn’t they get to read something a little more interesting?”

“Sexy.” Carp adds, stirring the pot.

“Nana said it was a Bible study group. I’m sure the goal is to bring comfort to the residents.”

“All I heard was talk about anger and death and piles of salt. All it did was make me thirsty.”

“So one of you thought it would be funny to change the story? Add naked women and such?”

Tinkletoes’ expression grows dark. “You haven’t been listening.”

“I have been listening, you just haven’t said anything useful.”

The self-proclaimed mercenary shakes his head.

“What did you do?” Writer Lady asks.

“Tinkletoes didn’t do anything. None of us did.” Carp responds. “Dobby Cat and I saw everything. When the story got better we joined Tinkletoes and Ray at the edge of the circle to see what was going on. A lot of people did. Residents, employees, visitors. The dirty text the residents were reading was printed on the pages they were holding.

“He’s right.” Ray says. “But the text looked different.”

“The font?” Carp asks.

Ray nods, “It was the same color and type but it wasn’t in bold print like the rest of the text was.”

“So any who,” Carp continues. “when the messenger was replaced with a brooding aristocrat on a mountain…”

“The old guy just kept reading.” Tinkletoes finishes Carp’s sentence.

“After the angel disappeared and was replaced with the female ghost whose nightgown disappeared in the light of the full moon, no one wanted to stop reading after that.” Carp looks at Writer Lady. “It kind of reminded me of your latest story. Is it online?”

Writer Lady shakes her head. “You said you knew an editor who might be interested. I have kept that story under lock and key and dragon.” She thinks for a moment. “Would you recognize what you heard if you saw the text?”

“I think I would.”

“Come with me.”

Writer Lady leads Carp back into High Command. Diomedes is standing in front of Writer Lady’s desk when they enter.

“Who goes there?” Diomedes growls at Carp.

“Carp Fischer.” Carp responds.

“You are not allowed to access this computer without the proper escort.”

“It’s okay Diomedes. I’m here.”

“He has your permission?” The dragon asks.

“Yes.”

“You are not in any distress?” He asks giving his best look of intimidation to Carp.

“No. Thank you for protecting my work Diomedes. You may stand down.”

“Very good.” Diomedes steps away from the desk. House’s walls shift revealing a cozy corner for the dragon to nap in. Diomedes curls up and closes his eyes.

“I was writing this morning.” Writer Lady says as she logs in. Reaching around for the mouse she scrolls up revealing her latest chapter.

Carp begins reading. “Wow. This is so much better than what I was listening to at the assisted living facility.”

“Does it look like the same story?”

“Ye...um...I think so.” Carp responds. “My transitioning from auditory to written has always been on the weak side. You really need someone who was looking at the copy the residents were reading from.”

Writer Lady makes a face.

Carp puts both hands up, gesturing to Writer Lady to wait. The assassin-in-training leaves the room. Writer Lady hears a loud whistle and a call for Ray. Carp returns with him. Tinkletoes is not far behind. “Does this look like what you saw?” He asks showing him the new chapter.

“That is totally it man.”

“Let me see if I have this straight so far today my latest chapter has found its way out of my computer, has been printed on to Bible study pages and taken to an assisted living facility in town, TP has appeared to someone outside of House, and changes were made to the outside of House that cannot be easily explained to an outsider. Is TP’s magic changing?”

Tinkletoes shakes his head. “TP’s old. He’s always had a lot of range. The little guy just hasn’t been using it.”

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes.

“He did re-route a helicopter just to bring you a gift.”

“He did. That was a long time ago and everything has been so contained lately. The magic has stayed inside House. It’s been so neat and tidy.”

“Maybe it’s like a car. Sometimes you just have to get out on the highway and open her up a bit.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

The faint sound of giggling can be heard. Several pair of eyes search the room until a hole in the ceiling opens up and the faerie flutters out. “TP didn’t do it. Faerie’s bored. She wants more room to play. Silly humans.”

She Can Hear A Mouse Fart

“I don’t know where they are now. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“The tall one is here all the time. Some of your neighbors say he lives here. If a man spends that much time in a woman’s home she must know where he prefers to wander.” Nana says.

Writer Lady makes a face.

“Are you feeling okay?” Tony Johnson a.k.a. The Window Weather Woman asks. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine.” Writer Lady responds. “It’s just that my Dobby Cat and I live here with the kittens. Tinkletoes comes to see Dobby. He doesn’t live here.”

Nana raises an eyebrow, “With all of the wild stories that circulate the neighborhood about this address you expect us to believe that it’s just you and some cats?”

“Yes.”

An irritated ‘hmm’ erupted from her lips. “Your neighbor, Mrs. McGillicuddy has mentioned all kinds of strange business happening over here.” Nana says as she points to an address two houses down and across the street from Writer Lady’s home. The address rock sitting in the front yard is etched with the name McGillicuddy. “That nut job Tinklefeet tearing up your yard, putting barbed wire fences up all around, shooting things. She says some days there’s a fog so thick surrounding this place that no one can see the house or its inhabitants for days at a time.”

“It is true that Tinkletoes does spend time here. He’s friends with Dobby Cat. It’s also true they do things they really shouldn’t at times. Strange fogs surrounding this house for days making it invisible? If that were true wouldn’t someone be stopping by and asking questions? Wouldn’t the fire department want to check things over if that were the case?”

“Mrs. McGillicuddy says that’s what she saw.” Nana responds.

Writer Lady looks from Nana to Tony and back again.

“What are you up to?” Nana persists. “No good if today’s events are any reflection of what goes on in this place.”

Growing tired of the onslaught Writer Lady interrupts. “You know what? I don’t give a flying fig what Mrs. McGillicuddy saw. If the woman took interest in something other than what her neighbors were doing she might be a happier person who doesn’t waste their days circulating ridiculous stories.”

TP pops up behind Nana’s shoulder. The faerie is dressed in the same tailored pants, dressy blouse and flats as the octogenarian. He raises his hand and points at Writer Lady, mirroring Nana.

“Whether you agree with someone or not you need to always show respect for your elders. Suggesting someone is a busybody is not respectful.”

TP checks his hair a moment before Nana raises a hand to her own. When Tony Johnson, The Window Weather Woman looks at Writer Lady with an ‘Are you seeing what I’m seeing?’ look, Writer Lady realizes she could have a bigger problem than what she started with.

While Nana’s attention is still focused on Writer Lady, Miss Tony reaches behind Nana and tries to touch TP. The faerie disappears in a puff of smoke. As the smoke dissipates a banner appears in its place that reads:

No Touchie Touchie!--

Thank you.

Management

 

The banner disappears the moment it has been read. Tony Johnson looks at Writer Lady. It is the first time anyone outside House’s walls has seen one of the magical creatures that reside within her.

“Do you have any idea what happens when young people do not respect their elders?” Nana asks.

Writer Lady whispers, “Things get worse with each passing moment.”

“Exactly.” Nana says. She leans in closer to Writer Lady. “You didn’t think I could hear that did you? I may be getting up there but my mind and my ears are sharp as ever!” She proclaims. “I know when people have critters in their homes.” Nana nods. “I can hear a mouse fart! It’s not a pleasant sound.”

“That’s good to know.” Writer Lady responds nodding. She looks at Tony Johnson who is no longer looking for TP. The woman has turned her attention to House. Writer Lady can tell the wheels are turning in the weather woman’s brain. She’s thinking about what Mrs. McGillicuddy saw and is wondering if there might actually be something to it.

“Are you going to give up those perverts or not?” Nana asks.

“No.” Writer Lady responds. “They are not perverts. They are odd. They do things which aren’t too bright sometimes. I’m sure this has been some kind of mix up or misunderstanding. I will find out what happened and see to it that it never happens again.”

Miss Tony sees something above Writer Lady’s head. It inspires her to make a hasty retreat. As she reaches out for Nana and gently guides the older woman to the car parked behind them she says, “As long as they apologize and make amends for what happened, that’s what matters. We’ll be going now. Thank you.”

Writer Lady watches as her visitors prepare to leave. She finds herself wondering about Tony Johnson’s need to lower the visor on the passenger side of the vehicle obscuring Nana’s view of House. Once the car is out of sight, Writer Lady steps outside to find a sign posted above her door that reads:

Tony Johnson, Window Weather Woman touched my bum!

“TP!” Writer Lady calls out. “Take it down! Now!”

House’s mural image appears in the storm door glass in front of her. “You wanted them to leave. TP made sure they did. It’s pretty creative if you ask me.”

“They’re gone.” Writer Lady says to House. “According to our agreement no changes can be made to your outside that are not reasonable and easily explainable in my world. Take it down. NOW!”

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to yell.”

The sign disappears. Turning around Writer Lady checks to see if anyone else has had a chance to see the sign before it was removed. She looks in the direction of the McGillicuddy house and sees that the vehicles are gone. All appears to be quiet. Breathing a sigh of relief she goes back inside to find three stooges standing in her bonus room. “What?...Why?...HOW?” She asks.

Tinkletoes gestures to the door still standing open behind him. “Back door.”

Writer Lady growls in exasperation.

Ray looks at Tinkletoes. “Duude, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

When Three Stooges Volunteer

The house is quiet when Writer Lady sits down in the Big Writing Chair. It is finally writing day. The first one she has had to herself in a very long time. Opening a Gothic ghost story she started working on several months ago she gets back to work. She begins her session playing up details as Carp suggested earlier in the day. As she works on the story the night sky becomes darker and more cloudy. The lighting strikes during a storm are brighter. The romantic encounter between the brooding lord of the manor and the mysterious she ghost much more intense. When Writer Lady first delved into the world of (coughs) erotic stories she felt strongly that it was a genre she wanted to stay away from but on that particular day one self-proclaimed mercenary needed to be taught a valuable lesson. Although the lesson was over the story had taken on a life of its own.

 Today her eyebrows lift and she giggles to herself as she types. “I might have a gift for this," she mutters smiling to herself.

Writer Lady turns her head to find Smudge facing her. He is sitting in his most formal pose. The kitten with the large brown smudge painted across his nose looks at her expectantly. 

“Hi Smudgie.”

The kitten approaches taking a seat next to her feet and stares up her.

“You’ve already had breakfast.” Writer Lady points out as she continues typing. Feeling the pair of feline eyes have not yet moved she says, “Second breakfast has already been served as well.”

She tries to ignore the eyes boring into her skin and continues typing. Giving up the ghost, so to speak, Writer Lady turns and faces her visitor. “What is it kitty?” She asks as she reaches down to pet the kitten. Smudge comes closer and leans into her hand as he purrs. “You’re very affectionate.” She looks at the clock. “You’re usually napping by now. What’s going on?” She asks. Writer Lady begins looking and listening for anything that does not look or sound as it is supposed to. Living in a house with a cat, a pair of kittens, a baby dragon, another much larger dragon, with regular visits from gamers (one a self-proclaimed mercenary), a demon, and a mischievous faerie, along with other random magical beings in a house that has been enchanted, well, it takes a lot for something to be off in a place such as this one.

Smudge continues to purr. Closing his eyes, the kitten begins to drool. The air conditioning kicks on and he tenses in response.

“It’s okay kitty. Mom’s got you.” Writer Lady looks out the windows to check the sky and wonders if a storm is brewing somewhere just out of sight.

Boom.

Smudge wakes and leaves High Command quickly walking with his stomach low to the ground.

Boom.

“It wasn’t a need for attention but a desire to feel protected.” Writer Lady watches as the kitten makes his exit. She turns her head and listens. “That sounds like something is going on in the bonus room.”

Boom.Boom.Boom!

Heading for the bonus room, Writer Lady stops at the window and looks outside to find a pair of women standing at her door. 

 “Hello?”

“Are you Writer Lady?” The first woman asks.

“Yes.”

“The one with an orange tabby named Dobby?”

“I have a tabby named Dobby Cat.” Writer Lady looks at the women. Both seem pleasant enough but the second woman who she guesses in her eighties seems a bit tense. “Is something wrong? Did he bite somebody? He doesn’t usually do those things. I can assure you that he is up to date on all of his shots. I have the receipt from the vet’s office and the rabies tag. I know that he should be wearing it but I can’t seem to keep a collar on him. He really doesn’t like them.”

“No Baby. He didn’t hurt anyone.” The first woman says.

Writer Lady looks at the younger woman more closely. “Have we met before?”

“No but you’ve probably seen me. Tony Johnson, Window Weather Woman. I can look out the window and tell you what the weather’s gonna be.”

“You’re on television.”

She nods. “The station right here in town. CLUELESS.”

Writer Lady begins to say something.

“I know that those are not the call letters. It’s just my special name for them.”

“‘Cuse me.” The older woman says looking at Tony, “Are you gonna get to the point? Ever?”

“I believe that is what we’re doing here Ma’am.” Tony says. Turning back to Writer Lady she continues, “What is your cat doing today?”

“He's volunteering at the assisted living facility on the other side of town. Dobby was invited to act as an emotional support cat while some friends were helping out.”

“The three stooges?” The older woman asked.

“The friends are men and I have to admit they are a bit odd.”

“Odd?” The older woman glared Writer Lady. “Young lady, they are worse than odd. They’re goddamned heathens.”

Unsure of what do Writer Lady tries to get her visitor to take a step back from her anger. “I’m not sure we’ve met. My name is Writer Lady and you are?”

“Maeve, Maeve Dupree.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Dupree.”

“Nana. People call me Nana.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“No. We just want to know where your cat is?” Nana announced.

“He’s not here. He’s with the stooges?”

Nana looked at Tony. “We are not getting anywhere with this one.”

“I would be happy to help if you could just be a bit more specific regarding the nature of the problem.”

“Your friends came out to the assisted living facility today with reading materials for the residents which were appreciated. They stayed for a bit and even helped with the Bible study class. Nana was filling in for her neighbor today who has not been well. It seems changes were made to the text that was embarrassing for all.”

“Embarrassing is too gentle a word.”

“The class was taking turns reading out loud. It helps the residents keep their comprehension and elocution skills sharp. What the residents were reading..." Tony placed her hand to her chest,"...Miss Tony doesn’t judge. We all like to read something spicy once in a while but several families with children were walking down the hall and heard bits of it. There are several unhappy people in the lobby.”

“So you are suggesting…”

“That those stooges you call friends replaced bible verses with smut. Not just smut. Filthy smut.” Nana leaned in close. “I demand to know where those perverts are. NOW.”

What's It Like Being A Writer?

 

A writer lady watches as her cats sit on a window sill and study a bird during the final moments of daylight. She walks through her home checking doors and windows. She closes the blinds. Turning off the television, she walks into her writing room, High Command. Stepping in front of the window, the wall falls away, as she turns to look behind her, she hears someone calling.

“Mom?”

Turning her attention to its source, Writer Lady finds Dobby Cat, her beloved ginger tabby in the yard waiting. “Come On Mom. The party’s over here.”

Night has fallen. A large white circus tent stands in the yard. Catching up with Dobby Cat, the pair walk up the path past torches on poles. Pixies flutter in the air surrounding her as kittens weave around her feet.

A fire eater releases a brilliant blaze as she reaches the tent. He holds the flap open for her inviting Writer Lady to enter. She looks at Dobby Cat with a quizzical  expression.

“Diomedes made a new friend.” He explains.

She nods.

The interior of the tent is alive with all of her characters. She sees Furnatche, a baby dragon. Carp, the retired romance novelist turned assassin-in-training. Carp's weapon of choice, a crossbow, not the best weapon for a man who suffers from carpal tunnel. Tinkletoes, a self-proclaimed mercenary who works for baked goods and lives to kill ninja-zombies and space aliens. Aunt Purdy and the twins, Peter and Paige along with little Dylan. Diomedes, the most courteous dragon one could ever hope to meet stands next to Ray, a junk food loving insomniac who has clearly been out in the sun waaaaaay too long. Calliope- The Lady In Waiting with her vibrant red tresses is talking to The Lady With The Long Golden Hair, her beloved champion, Pirate stands close at hand. Writer Lady spots The World Famous Faraday, the much loved but generally overlooked gumshoe of her most recent story, standing along a tent wall. When the mysterious Wild Card enters her field of vision with Wise Woman, Writer Lady wonders if he ever settled on a first name. Standing in the middle of it all Tony Johnson, Window Weather Woman is the circus ring master. Tony is currently reading the names of Writer Lady’s characters off a scroll that grows longer with each passing moment.

Scotch?

The spy holds up a glass from the bleachers.

Pen?

Scotch’s partner, who is sitting next to Scotch, nods at Tony.

Francesca?

A stunningly beautiful blonde assassin in a flattering black dress and blood red Jimmy Choo heels raises a hand.

Daemon?

A demon with a large pair of longhorn antlers releases a high pitched sound.

Tony reads more quickly no longer waiting for a response.

TP?

Pixie One?

Pixie Too?

Vin?

Ernest?

Trudy?

Tessa?

Charity?

Monique?

Kelly?

Pin-Up Man?

Mr. Sweets?

Ty? Ty Betterman?

Tony, looks up from the scroll at all of the bodies in the tent. “Am I ever going to be done with this?” She asks. Noticing movement in her peripheral vision Tony looks down to find Dylan with a box of fireworks. “Where are you going with that?”

“Out front.” The boy responds.

Tony looks at the entrance of the tent just as the fire eater exhales another blast of heat. She looks at the boy. “No Baby. No. You are not taking those fireworks to the entrance. The fire eater is not your personal lighter.”

“What good is fire eating if you don’t torch anything?” Tinkletoes asks as he bites into a cupcake.

“Dude is right.” Ray agrees. “Fire eaters should light stuff.”

Tony looks at all three and says. “No Babies. No.” She takes custody of the box, without looking at who is accepting it from her, she hands it over to TP.

The faerie who is well known for his mischief sits the box on the ground and with a bit of magic lights up the entire lot creating an explosion of color and sound within the tent. The ceiling of the tent burns away revealing Aurora Borealis moving along a star filled sky. Fireflies, faeries and pixies flutter into the tent from above, flying in every direction.

Music begins to play and everyone gets moving. The ring quickly fills with dancers, crowding the weather woman out. Writer Lady and Dobby Cat find their way through the crowd and greet Tony.

Tony looks around. “There sure is a whole lot going on here.”

Writer Lady nods.

“It’s a real bear to organize.” The weather woman observes. “How many more characters do you have up there?” She asks pointing to Writer Lady’s head.

Writer Lady’s eyes grow big, she’s afraid to answer.

Diomedes does it for her. “A writer’s imagination is infinite.” The dragon says as he approaches.

“This crowd is going to keep growing? Forever?” Tony asks. “I barely made a dent in the list as it is.”

Diomedes nods. “It will continue to grow for as long as Writer Lady is with us.”

Tony Johnson pales, “I don’t know how many more I can handle. Where did that bitch with the high heels go?” She asks looking around. “She knows how to kill people.”

Writer Lady looks at Tony, “And I’m standing right here.”

“Then I guess you won’t be surprised when old High Heels comes for you will you now?”

What’s it like being a writer? It’s like hanging out with a bunch of circus performers, when they’re at a rave.

The fire eater enters the tent and releases a blast of fire in front of Writer Lady.

Welcome to my world.

Faraday Gets Her Man

 

I grabbed my bag from the foyer and looked at the apartment’s floor plan. I located where the storage area should be then high tailed it to the master bedroom. Checking the linen closet off the master bath first and finding nothing, I opened Pin Up Man’s walk-in closet. I moved the clothing away from the back wall and got to work. Or expected to get to work. I didn’t need the screw driver or the lighter. The flashlight app on my phone revealed something out of place along the back wall. A door that was still slightly ajar.

“That’s how he got in here.” I muttered as I stepped into an empty room. I found a light switch next to a door on the far side of the space that would not open but nothing else. Not a single valuable waiting to be carried off. Then I saw the staircase leading up. “Time to find out why Dante left.”

I reached the top of the curving staircase only to find the door at the other end wide open. This guy wasn’t one for covering his tracks. Not today at least.

Putting everything except the phone and the screwdriver back into my bag I turned off the flash and took as many photos of the room I would be entering as possible. If someone was in the room there was a chance I would see them first. I checked the pictures and confirmed it was empty.

I found myself in what appeared to be Dante’s bedroom. It was as big as my office (if two of them were set side by side) as well as a good chunk of my apartment. Most people could live in his master bedroom suite quite happily and never feel a need to leave. I noticed a desk on the far side of the room near a window. It appeared Dante enjoyed working from home.

The modern décor in the room was high end and complimented the space (if you like that sort of thing). I looked at the bed as well as the area surrounding it. All I found was a wallet and a set of keys laying in a tray on the nightstand indicative of a man who was home for the day and not planning on going out again any time soon.

There were no bloody clothes or weapons sitting around. No victims of the organization laying dead or dying. No innocent women tied to the bed for Dante’s own perverse use.

 Pin Up Man will be so disappointed.

I checked the bathroom and found nothing of interest in that room either. I turned my attention to the desk. It was situated in a private corner away from the flow of traffic. Anyone who saw anything on the desk would have to go out of their way to find it, increasing their chances of being caught snooping.

 Luckily I was one of the only people who knew that the owner of said desk and its contents’ spirit was no longer on this Earth.

I looked at the area near the desk. I didn't see any cameras around it which made me wonder if there were other people in the penthouse. I stepped into the middle of the room and closed my eyes listening for any sounds indicating the presence of others. Satisfied I was alone, I double timed it back to the desk. I found a cell phone sitting on it. It didn't take long to find a text message time stamped about twenty minutes before Pin Up Man arrived at my office.

Nonna G. knows what happened with Enzo. She’s on her way. --R.E.

I racked my brain, trying to come up with who R.E. was, but without my file I was at a loss. I took a quick picture of the text with my cell phone and continued looking. I was not getting far when I saw a framed photo sitting on the far corner of the desk, it was edged so far back the frame could have easily fallen to the floor, and gone unnoticed in the darkened corner. Dante and another man who looked like him stood on either side of a young man wearing a graduation cap and gown. The young man held an embossed diploma case out in front of him. An older woman who resembled Dante stood on the far right, a fancy corsage was pinned to the shoulder of her dress. She was beaming at the camera. Reaching out, I picked up the picture. Taking a quick pic of the photo, I was then able to zoom in on the image on my phone and take a closer look. Both the graduate and the older woman wore pendants. The young man wore a St. Michael’s medal, the woman’s pendant was a match to the distinct piece of jewelry currently cradled in my pocket. “Bingo.” I whispered. I continued searching and found a brief note scrawled in the opposite corner.

Me, Enzo, Raul and Nonna G. June 2017

Raul? It was possible the text from R.E. could be traced back to him. 

Knowing who Dante Vitale was and what he was capable of, the possibility that Dante had something to do with his brother’s untimely demise was not surprising to me. I could see the mafia leader choosing to go into hiding if he was tipped off that someone in his own organization was looking to claim his title or another family was trying to take over his territory, even the FBI getting too close might encourage a guy to keep a low profile. As it turned out, the truth was not nearly so dramatic. Dante Vitale was simply hiding from his nonna. I guess even the toughest of tough guys have at least one person they’re afraid of. Nonna G. was his.

I quietly crossed the room and left the penthouse through the private entry in the closet descending the hidden staircase as I closed the door behind me. Stopping half way down, I began texting someone in the Homicide division at my favorite precinct to let them know I solved another one of their cases before they were ever aware there was a body when I realized I wasn’t quite done.

I had Raul’s text and a copy of the picture on my phone which clearly identified the owners of the pendants Dante had been holding in his hand when he died. I realized I was assuming that Raul was the killer because who would want to kill their own grandchild? Thinking about it, if Nonna G. decided to resume control of the family out of anger regarding Dante’s behavior why get your own hands dirty? Isn’t that the point of being in charge? Someone else does the dirty work?

I decided to hold firm, Raul was the best suspect at the moment. Unfortunately, I had no proof he was in this building today much less in Pin Up Man’s apartment. If he took the hidden staircase as I was now no one would have seen him. On the other hand this area was built for the storage of valuables. I looked at the walls around me. Hearing a faint sound I looked up, and noticed a small camera mounted next to the door to Dante’s bedroom. I finished descending the stairs at record speed and located a camera next to the door at Pin Up Man’s end. Using the flashlight app on my cell phone I read the label affixed neatly to the camera's side. “Bingo.”

*****************

“Boss?”

Detective Bohannon turned towards the uniformed officer speaking to him. Ramirez was one of the new kids but he was smart and thorough. The detective liked him. "Have they picked up Esparza?" 

"Raul Esparza is in custody. He is cooperating fully and interested in negotiating a deal."

Bohannon nodded. “That's it then." The detective said. “Everyone’s free to go.”

The uniformed officer nodded but lingered.

“I have my car. I’ll be along.” He looked at the kid. “Tell the concierge we’re done for now. He’s welcome to come and lock up the place in fifteen.”

Ramirez nodded and left.

The detective turned his head slightly at the sound of my footsteps. I have to make an effort to make noise when I walk but he startles easily and what can I say, I kind of like the guy. “How are things going Detective?” I asked.

“I was hoping it was you Fiona.”

I stepped out into the light where he could see me. “A dead mafia kingpin, an unconscious antiquities dealer, a hidden passageway and all of the evidence the authorities need to catch the killer lined up on the dining table neat as a pin. Who else would it be?” I asked.

“What happened tonight?”

“The client shows up in my office, says there’s a dead guy in his apartment, he shot him, it was self-defense. He thought it was a burglar but after he shot the guy he looked around and didn’t find any evidence that the intruder was in the process of taking anything. He wanted to know who the guy was. I took the case and found Dante Vitale on the floor. Dead.”

“That’s when you're supposed to call the cops.”

“He was dead but he was newly dead.”

The detective made a face. “Meaning?”

“My client showed up at my office an hour earlier. Dante's soul wouldn’t have been passing when I looked at him if had died an hour earlier. He also had a second bullet hole in his chest instead of just the one my client swore he was responsible for.”

The detective shifted.

“I know what it sounds like but when I looked at Vitale I heard Nonna’s voice and I knew. I knew he looked the same way so many had all those times I took a peek while she was working. He had just passed away. My client couldn't have killed Dante. I felt like I owed it to the guy to find the killer before I called you if I could.”

 "Okay then." Bohannon nodded. “You going to see him again?”

“Who?”

“Your client? He's an attractive guy. There was a pillow under his back and he was laying on his side when we got here.”

“I needed him to shut the hell up so I could get to the bottom of things. I knocked him out with the vase. I didn’t know how hard I hit him so I put him on his side to keep the guy from choking or something. He can’t pay me for my work if he’s dead. ‘Sides, he’s not the most honest person. I prefer to set my sites a little higher than someone like him.”

“Choose to take on different clients?” The detective suggested. “You’re never gonna meet a nice man if you spend all of your time with criminals.” A smirk crossed Detective Bohannon’s lips as he said it.

“Thanks Nonna.”

He stepped forward. “The old girl does have a point.”

“Nice men are a dying breed.” I said shaking his last statement off.

“There are one or two left.” He countered.

I looked at the detective. “It’s all smoke and mirrors Detective. Smoke and mirrors.”

He stepped closer, into my space. Talk about nice men tends to make a nice man feel braver than usual.

“It’s getting late.” I pointed out.

“It was late two hours ago. Can I walk you home?”

“What are we, twelve?”

“Can I walk you home?” He asked a second time.

“First of all, I’m a big girl. Secondly, I’m not going home.” I responded taking a step in the direction of the front door.

“Where ya headed?”

“I need to eat.”

“A hungry girl is a cranky girl.” He said.

I said nothing choosing to respond with a warning glare.

“Hangry girls don’t meet nice men.” Detective Bohannon continued teasing.

“You have been spending way too much time with my nonna.”

“She’s a fun gal.”

I made a face, clearly the nonna he spent time with and the one I spent time with were two completely different animals. I decided I was too tired to go there. “Like I said I’m hungry. I’m heading over to The Five and Ten.”

“The Five and Ten is always packed. They’ll never see you much less take your order.”

“No one ever sees me. It’s what makes me so good at my job.”

The smirk returned, “Yet you always manage to attract the bad guys.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift.”

“Nonna says it’s a curse. A really old one.” He looked me in the eye, challenging me.

“Nonna needs to relax and get out more.” I said as I continued my walk towards the front door of the apartment.

The detective fell into step next to me. “Maybe she would relax if...you met a nice man.”

“I met a nice man?” 

We said at the same time. 

 I responded with a ‘see what I mean?’ look.

“The Five and Ten might be a nice change of pace.” He agreed.

“I’ll see you there.” I responded reaching for the doorknob.

Detective Bohannon reached out brushing his hand against my forearm. “We could go together since we’re both headed in the same direction.”

I shrugged. “Yeah well, I guess I wouldn’t want you getting lost at this late hour.”

The detective grinned. He followed me into the hallway closing the door behind us. 

 

Another case closed.

 

For now anyway.

Pin Up Men and The Detectives That Work For Them

I stood in the bathroom a few more minutes to contemplate where I might get my much needed information. I texted Pin Up Man’s address to Monique on the off chance she was copying the Vitale file and might drop it off.

I could just call the cops and leave the whole mess with them. I thought about Dante Vitale’s body in Pin Up Man’s hall. If I call the cops without the name of the real killer Pin Up Man was as good as in custody and hours away from his own untimely demise once word hit the street of the mafia don’s passing which would be a waste. The man is awfully pretty.

By the time I left the bathroom and walked through my client’s office he was waiting for me at the door.

“Checking to be sure I hadn’t trashed the place?” I asked.

He paused before responding with a “Should I?” I watched as Pin Up Man perused the room looking for evidence I had been snooping, hoping I didn’t know what he was doing. “I came to tell you the coffee is ready.”

I followed Pin Up Man back to the dining room and began perusing the paperwork for the apartment building while he poured. “It’s highly possible Dante Vitale was the VIP who owned the penthouse upstairs.” I announced. I looked at Pin Up Man when he stopped pouring.

“A mafia don has been walking around above my head?”

“The most feared and one of the most brutal mafia dons in the city.” I added.

“And he was?”

“Doing very bad things?” I offered.

Pin Up Man looked at me.

“It’s an apartment. He probably slept, ate, showered, had women over, the same stuff anyone else does in their home. That’s not important. What we need to know is why he came to this apartment and more importantly how he got in.”

Several minutes had passed when Pin Up Man wondered out loud how much it would cost for me to arrange the relocation of Dante’s body. Preferably back to the penthouse from whence it came.

I pretended to not be listening. I draw the line at moving dead people, even if I didn’t, Pin Up Man couldn’t afford me. I had finished reading on the amenities in the units and was studying the floor plans when I found something. “Bingo.”

“What?” Pin Up Man asked.

I made a “come here” gesture and pointed to the layout of Pin Up Man’s unit. “What’s this?” I asked pointing to an unlabeled area.

“An additional storage closet. It is usually. See?” He said pointing to another diagram of the units on his floor.

“You don’t have one?”

“No. It was another benefit to buying this apartment. The one on the other side of my apartment was allotted to the penthouse above. This apartment cost five thousand dollars less because of the missing storage unit and an additional $1500.00 was taken off its yearly maintenance fees. ”

“To not have an extra storage closet?”

He nodded.

“Did the agent you spoke to say what the space was used for?”

Pin Up Man pulled a sheet from the back of the folder. “Items that require secure storage but do not fit into the apartment’s wall safe. The resident also has the option of installing a panic room provided construction stays within the dimensions of the current space.”

“Time to get a look at that closet.” I said.

Pin Up Man shook his head. “Breaking into or defacing another resident’s property will result in immediate eviction of the perpetrator from his or her residence at which time he or she will be delivered to law enforcement by the concierge.” He quotes.

“Says the man who sells less than honestly procured objets d’art.” I looked at Pin Up Man. “You have a dead body in your hallway and this is what you’re scared of getting into trouble over?”

He shook his head. “If I got picked up for B & E my customers would question how long I have been doing it. Some will become concerned they are in possession of stolen property. Some of my customers are unwavering when it comes to keeping their reputations in good standing. If they think I have jeopardized their reputations in any way...I’m out of business.”

I looked at Pin Up Man, I was becoming irritated with his lack of flexibility. I tried another approach. “There is a dead mafia leader laying in your hallway. Getting caught with that body and no plausible cause for his demise other than a bullet from your gun is a lot worse for your reputation and your health than some stolen goods.”

“I disagree and I’m the customer so you’ll be doing things my way.”

I picked up my coffee. Sitting back, I glared at my client over the rim of my cup before taking a sip. “No B & E. Got it.” I responded. A new smell wafted to my side of the room, I returned to the apartment layout I had been studying previously and waited.

“Do you smell something?” He asked.

“I might be a little gassy. Sorry about that.”

“No this is something else.” Pin Up Man stood, walked to the entryway, and sniffed in the general direction of Dante’s body. He left the room.

I waited for the screaming to commence.

It wasn’t a long wait. I put down my coffee cup, picked up the floor plan of the apartment, and reached out to snatch up my client’s overpriced vase on my way through the living room. I found Pin Up Man in the hallway standing next to Dante’s body, waiting.

“It’s coming from him.” He said.

“After a person dies the muscles relax. Sometimes the bladder and the bowels empty because there’s nothing to, you know, hold it in.”

Pin Up Man looked at me with surprise. Apparently this information was new to him.

“Relax.” I said. “He hasn’t started to decay yet. Decay smells way worse than the dirty diaper pail odor that’s in the air right now.”

“It can’t stay here.”

“You can’t move him. The police are going to be looking at you closely enough without making a mistake like that.”

“So you won’t move the body but B & E is okay?” He asked, his voice rising.

“I can handle the smell for you but you’re stressing me.” I responded. 

"I'm stressing you?"

 "Let's take a minute and close our eyes. Breathe in and out. I want you to picture your favorite place.”

Pin Up Man didn’t see the vase coming at him. The fancy crystal met with my client’s head and he fell to the floor.

I moved him to the living room as best I could and breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally. Now maybe I can get some work done.”

A Spoon A Spear and A Saint

 

There had to be something else. I squatted next to Dante’s body. I looked more closely at the gunshot wounds then moved my eyes down to his hands. I peered at the one with the pinky ring on it then turned to the other hand, something was in it. I listened for Pin Up Man’s return as I reached down and slowly pulled a necklace from the late Don's hand. I had returned to a standing position and was facing the direction of the room Pin Up Man had disappeared into with the necklace safely tucked in my coat pocket by the time he reappeared.

“Here it is. The paperwork must have gotten buried during the move.” He said as he handed a folder to me.

As I began to review the paperwork Pin Up Man shifted uncomfortably.

“Would you like to look at that some place else?” He asked.

I looked at Pin Up. He nodded in the direction of Dante Vitali’s body.

“Uncomfortable?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go to another room.”

“There’s a dining area on the other side of the living room. We can work in there.” He said walking through the apartment, quickly. “I’ll make coffee.”

Pin Up Man making coffee gave me the opening I needed. “Great.” I said. I followed him through the apartment and waited for him to show me into the dining room before asking about a restroom.

“Sure. My office is on the other side of the hall. It has one.” He said pointing in the general direction I needed to go.

I set the folder on the dining table and said, “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

“Sounds good.” I responded. He hightailed it to the kitchen and I headed for the restroom to make my call. My secretary, Monique picked up on the third ring. “Great I caught you.” I waited while she told me how this was not a good time. “Which date is this? You really should make him wait ten minutes.”

“This guy is new. It’s not nice to keep a man waiting.” She protested.

“Keeping him waiting is important. It’s a great way to find out how controlling he is.”

She kept talking. Monique must like this one.

“I’m your boss. If he gets obnoxious about your boss keeping you an extra ten minutes on the third date he’s probably a dick.”

“And we have bullshit logic again.” Monique said.

“Okay, it’s bullshit logic but I am hiding in a client’s bathroom and there is a dead guy laying in his hallway so a bit of help would be nice.”

I held the phone away from my ear as Monique freaked out for a bit. “I could get out of here faster if you would please reach into my desk and pull out the Vitali file. The second drawer on the left.”

“What do you need to know?” She asked.

“Good question.” I reached into my pocket with the other hand and pulled out the necklace. “The dead guy was holding a necklace with two pendants on it. One is a medal, a St. Michael's. The other looks like the Vitali family crest with something in front of it.” I studied the pendant closely. “It’s a symbol with a spear at the base and the top is the end of a spoon? Is there any information about symbols for the family other than the crest?” I listened as Monique turned pages. “Do any of the family members have an individual symbol? What about Santino? He was the one who established it.”

I listened as Monique read what she found. “During the earliest days of Santino Vitali’s leadership the mafia Don would leave a calling card on the bodies of those who had betrayed the family. It was left as a warning to others. There was nothing on the face of the card other than the Vitali crest with a symbol in front of it. The symbol depicted a spear coming from its base, a simple chalice with blood dripping from its edge showed at the top.”

“The one I'm looking at could be some variation of Santino’s symbol.”

“Who else would have a special symbol...” Monique contemplated.

“Another founding member of the family would be my guess. How many pages are there?”

“Too many for me to stand here and read it to you.” She responded.

“It sounds like I’m going to have to find another source of information.”

“It’s only been six minutes, you want me to call the cops before I leave?” She asked.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you alone in an apartment with a stranger and a strange body? People tend to call the cops when a dead body is in their general vicinity. Normal people do anyway.”

“No. I know who shot the victim the first time and I've already identified the body.”

“The first time?” Monique asked. “This doesn’t sound good even for you. The victim isn't one of the Vitalis is it?”

“It is.”

Monique sighed and made this grumbling noise in the back of her throat. A noise she only makes when she’s talking to me about a case. “I’m not going to tell you to call the cops and get the hell out because I know better. I do have a question for you, if you die what do I tell your nonna?”

“Tell Nonna I died doing what I love, hand her the paperwork and the lawyer’s business card then say ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’”

“I’m sorry for your loss?”

“Nonna knows you wouldn’t say that because you would be every bit as broken up as she is. They are my words, Nonna would recognize them. It means I lived my life my way and she shouldn’t blame anyone else for when or how I died.”

“You are messed up boss lady, really messed up.” I heard papers shuffling and the drawer slamming as Monique put the file away. “Time’s up. I’ve got to go.”

“Me too.” I admitted. “This guy is going to think I fell in the toilet and drowned.”

“A bad case of diarrhea would get you out of there quickly.” Monique suggested.

“Nice try. Have fun with the new guy.” I said before ending the call.

May This Godfather Rest In Peace

Pin Up Man followed me to the far end of the hall and his recently deceased guest. I looked down. I saw expensive shoes, a pair of trousers, and a shirt. My eyes stopped at the left hand and the distinct ring on the dead guy’s pinky finger, holding back the urge to question Pin Up Man’s story I continued my assessment. There were two gunshot wounds to the chest. The man died with his eyes open. His face frozen in an expression of surprise.

I heard Nonna’s voice echo through my cranial cavity. Che il viaggio dell’ amina abbia successo.

I looked at Pin Up Man. “You never mentioned you worked with the Vitali family.”

“I don’t.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, pulled up a recent news article and showed it to him. “This is Dante Vitali the head of the Vitali crime family. He is laying on the floor in your hallway. He’s dead.”

Pin Up Man looked surprised, almost as surprised as Dante.

I continued. “Which is the bad news.”

“The good news?”

“...you didn’t kill him.”

Pin Up Man stared at me for a moment like I’d lost my mind. “There are two bullet holes in this man and I told you I shot him.” He pushed on Vitali’s leg with his foot. “He looks pretty dead to me.”

“Che il viaggio dell’ amina abbia successo.” I said repeating my grandmother’s words.

“May the journey of the amina be successful?” He asked.

“You speak a little Italian?”

“This is New York, I’ve picked up a few bits and pieces.”

“May the journey of the soul be successful. It’s something my nonna says when someone has died. That is what told me you didn’t kill Dante.”

Pin Up Man waited for the rest of the story.

“Nonna has a gift for seeing souls. She has watched as many souls have left the body to begin their journey.”

“To heaven?”

“Not necessarily. The soul has to be weighed and judged before it moves on to Heaven or Hell. But Nonna always wishes them well. She’s been doing it since she saw her first soul.” I looked at Pin Up Man. “Nonna says the soul leaves the body within the first thirty minutes of death.”

Pin Up Man looked at the face of his Jaeger-LeCoultre, “I left for your office over an hour ago.”

“You shot him but you didn’t kill him.”

“When I left he was still alive?” Pin Up Man’s face paled. “I could have called for help.”

“When the ambulance arrived there would have been two bodies.” I pointed to Dante Vitale’s body. “That shot to his heart killed him immediately meaning it was a professional hit. From the look of surprise on his face, it was someone he knew and trusted who killed him. Someone like that would not have left any witnesses behind. Leaving the apartment was the smartest thing you could have done.” I studied the hallway. The walls, the floor, I opened all the doors and looked inside. Every room off of the hall was a potential access point. This apartment is near the top of the building where could Pin Up Man's unexpected visitors come from? I continued walking around. “Do you have neighbors on both sides?”

“Yes."

"Do you think they might have heard something?”

Feeling a cool draft on the back of my neck I turned around and looked up. “Who lives in the penthouse above you?”

“Some VIP no one mentions. It’s all very hush hush. Come to think of it, I was told if I bought a penthouse in this building I could be put on a special list for an extra fee.”

I returned my attention to Pin Up Man. “Meaning?”

“For the extra payment, which is substantial, they provide you with a butler, a cook, daily housekeeping, priority use of any of the building’s other amenities along with their privacy package. The privacy package is a doozy. It includes a Service NDA. Everyone who works in the building is bound by a non-disclosure agreement. They would not be able to confirm or deny that a purchaser of that privacy package lives here.”

“What happens to deliveries, packages, mail that sort of thing.”

“If the person is a resident the concierge delivers it. If they do not a courier delivers it where it needs to go. I decided I wasn’t interested in the VIP package and chose a more modest floor plan. I’m a bit of a minimalist.”

I looked at Pin Up Man.

“I still work for a living.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“A few months.”

“Do you still have the info they gave you when you were buying the place; floor plans, amenities that kind of thing?”

“I think I do.”

Pin Up Man went into his office and I took another look at the stiff. I checked for a wallet there was none suggesting that I was right, Dante was living here somewhere in the building or visiting someone. He had emptied his pockets as many men do when undressing or getting comfortable because they are in for the night. I was already wearing gloves so it was easy to pick up his hand and get a better look at the pinky ring. The Vitali crest was prominently displayed across the face of the ring. I knew Dante wasn’t a kid anymore but he wasn’t middle aged either. I also knew from word around town he chose to live more quietly than those who worked for him. I patted the body down as gently as I could and found no weapons, but living quietly didn’t make him any less of a bad guy. The stories of his brutality were well known which made me wonder what could make a man like Dante Vitali want to flee his own home? Where a guy like him would go when he left it.

Dead Men Tell No Tales. Strange Men On The Other Hand...

 

I looked at Pin Up Man’s watch and his clothes a bit more closely before committing to taking the case, I didn’t see anything that stood out about the clothes. There was a slim possibility Pin Up Man was bluffing about who he was. He could be the intruder, having killed a guy in his own apartment, switched clothes with him and cooked this whole story up to cover his own butt. What are the odds an intruder would break into a place where the resident happens to be his exact same size.

Not likely. If that was the case it would be premeditated murder and not the unanticipated mishap story Pin Up Man was telling. He smiled at me. His eyes looking a bit brighter. I raised an eyebrow in response. Apparently he thinks flirting a little will help sell it. I needed to find a way to coax any bullshit to the surface quickly. As an idea came to mind, I could feel one corner of my mouth begin to turn up in a grin then reversed the movement quickly before he had the chance to catch on. I reached into my desk and pulled out a clean contract. Filling in a couple of blanks, I turned the page upside down and presented it to my new potential client.

“I charge two hundred fifty dollars a day plus expenses. If I get stabbed, choked, shot at or end up in or near any explosions there is a $5,000.00 charge...for the first incident. The charge increases by another $5,000.00 for each subsequent incident.”

“So if there are three incidents?” He asked.

“It’s an extra $30,000.00 on the bill.” I respond.

It was a gamble, but I figured if his story wasn’t quite the complete truth or if he was in trouble with any business associates and was looking for some idiot to be a human shield he’d be motivated to go looking for a cheaper option. One of the petty thieves he admitted to fencing stolen goods for perhaps.

Pin Up Man nodded. The dollar amount didn’t seem to phase him. “Hazard pay.” He said, signing the contract.

“Someone’s got to look after Nonna.”

He reached into his pocket, unfolded a stack of bills, and began counting. “This should cover your first day’s work.”

I said, “Thank you for your business,” as I deposited the contract and the money in another drawer. Closing the drawer, I grabbed my keys and began walking towards the door.

“You’re just going to leave that in a drawer?” He asked.

“My secretary will take care of it when she gets back.”

Pin Up Man rose from his seat, falling into step beside me.

“Upper East Side.” I said, confirming our destination.

“Upper East Side.” He repeated. A look of surprise crossing his face briefly.

“If I didn’t have an inkling of who might live where in this city I wouldn’t be much of a detective now would I?”

“Probably wouldn’t.” He admitted with a grin.

I locked the door before pulling it shut behind us.

Traffic being no worse than usual we made it to Pin Up Man’s place in less than twenty minutes. He unlocked the apartment and we both entered.

“If you’ll wait here I’ll turn some lights on.”

I agreed to wait, mentally counted to ten and quietly followed.

A light came on in the opposite corner of the living room as Pin Up Man said, “I’ve never known a detective to be afraid of the dark.”

“Maybe I have a mutation that makes my eyesight better in the dark.”

“An unusual superpower.”

“World famous detectives usually have an eccentricity or two.” I responded.

“Like Hercule Poirot or Sherlock Holmes?”

“Those guys aren’t real.”

“Bur you are and have better eyes than the rest of us.”

“Maybe. That wouldn’t be the only reason I might follow someone into a dark room. There is already a stiff somewhere in this apartment.”

“And you’re afraid of what? Ghosts?”

“No but sometimes people forget to pick up random things before company arrives.”

“Like the strange man who came to your office recently, confessing to having killed an intruder. A man you have never heard of before today and know little about.” He said looking at me.

“I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Yet you don’t trust me.” Pin Up Man said.

“I don’t know you.” I responded. I crossed the room, standing in front of him, and looked in his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I can sense that you aren’t telling me everything. When someone’s not telling you everything it’s usually because they have something to hide.”

“I told you my name, what I do for a living and that I killed a man. I brought you to my apartment to look at the body, what would I be hiding that could possibly be any worse?”

“Let’s take a look around and find out.” I looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished. Full of dark furniture and expensive items designed to look unpretentious but screamed, “Expensive. The owner of this item paid ten times what it is actually worth. Maybe more. Envy them.” Quite frankly I never understood why people have to get so fancy about the basic things in life. Sometimes a vase is just a vessel for holding flowers. You know it’s good because it isn’t leaking any water. Keep it simple folks. Keep it simple. Stopping at the window I checked out the view Pin Up Man’s money afforded him. It was beautiful, also a long way down.

“The body is in the hallway?” I asked.

He nodded and gestured for me to follow. We walked into a long, narrow hallway, at the end of it was a dead body.