Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red by Catt Ford Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Catt Ford
to put him off the scent.
“You’re not kidding; he’s straight as an arrow. Just in it for the dough. Always has a stable of beautiful dames on a string. Runs a bunch of clubs, remember?”
38
CATT FORD
“Yeah, I remember.” I got up and walked out with Reggie. I’d had enough smoke and mirrors for one night. I was not running away.
“When can I have them?” I asked once we were outside. The clear, cool air and silence were refreshing after the atmosphere in the club.
“Stop by the precinct in the morning. Around ten o’clock, my coffee break. If you lay off Jazz, I might let you see the photos from the crime scene.”
“I’ll be there.”
Reggie turned and walked off to where his car was parked. I heard the slam of the door and the motor turning over. The sound of his engine faded into the night, and I walked over to a building across the way, leaning against the wall. I could have told myself this was research.
I could stand here and wait till Jazz Morgan came out and tail him home. Or I could just look him up in the phone book later, assuming he had a phone. I could wait until the owner, Phil Martin, came out, but he probably had a limo pick him up after hours around back. Or I could wait for that sarcastic number and show him the back of my hand.
Reggie might be right about his friend Jazz, but he had no proof.
And I had to wonder how come he, a cop, felt comfortable enough to sit around in a queer bar at night. And even more, how he got so hand in glove with the straight club owner that he was taking photographs for him. Maybe Reggie had concocted some story about being a photographer by day, which wasn’t such a bad cover story at that.
Everyone knew that fellas in the artistic pursuits were a little limp in the wrist, and he got to earn some extra dough on the side.
I’d have to ask him. Having decided that, my thoughts were free to roam back to Mr. Martin, AKA Mr. Beautiful. I had a feeling he was trouble with a capital T. Trouble for me. A club for queers run by straights, first the bartender and now the owner. Of course, it didn’t make good business sense to squeal on your clientele, and I imagine that Mr. Martin, AKA Mr. Big, had plenty of practice keeping mum if he had connections.
I hadn’t had such a yen for a fella since the service, and I thought I’d put all that behind me. First finding the disc with the symbol, then Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
39
the club where I felt right at home, and then seeing Mr. Big, a guy who was way out of my league—it got me off balance. And that’s part of why he’d made me so nervous.
I still had a job to do. I pushed myself off the wall, realizing I was sporting some wood. Seeing a guy that tasty will do that to you. I was tempted to whip it out and jack off right there, in a back alley in the train yard. I could nip behind a building, and no one would be the wiser.
But I wasn’t twenty anymore. I could control myself. Time enough for that when I got back to my place. I looked down to see that I had traced the sign of the Lambda in the dirt by the wall with my shoe. Hastily, I stamped on it to erase the drawing. Talk about the subconscious.
The moon was only a crescent in the sky, and it was on the move, the roaming hunter of the night, sending long shadows over the deserted streets. It was dark as I walked back to my car, and the darkness had a gnawing hunger. You could hide from it in the light, but at night it calls to you like a siren on some desolate rocky shore, luring you to your doom.
I had a feeling it would be better if Mr. Big and I didn’t meet again, no matter how much he knew.
I stuffed the hunger back into the box and locked it. Then I started my car, driving for home.
It felt like the shine was gone from this job, but I was no quitter. I would solve it somehow.
40
CATT FORD
Chapter 3: You Have to Know Charlie
IT SEEMED to me that a little research was in order, which meant
“You’re not kidding; he’s straight as an arrow. Just in it for the dough. Always has a stable of beautiful dames on a string. Runs a bunch of clubs, remember?”
38
CATT FORD
“Yeah, I remember.” I got up and walked out with Reggie. I’d had enough smoke and mirrors for one night. I was not running away.
“When can I have them?” I asked once we were outside. The clear, cool air and silence were refreshing after the atmosphere in the club.
“Stop by the precinct in the morning. Around ten o’clock, my coffee break. If you lay off Jazz, I might let you see the photos from the crime scene.”
“I’ll be there.”
Reggie turned and walked off to where his car was parked. I heard the slam of the door and the motor turning over. The sound of his engine faded into the night, and I walked over to a building across the way, leaning against the wall. I could have told myself this was research.
I could stand here and wait till Jazz Morgan came out and tail him home. Or I could just look him up in the phone book later, assuming he had a phone. I could wait until the owner, Phil Martin, came out, but he probably had a limo pick him up after hours around back. Or I could wait for that sarcastic number and show him the back of my hand.
Reggie might be right about his friend Jazz, but he had no proof.
And I had to wonder how come he, a cop, felt comfortable enough to sit around in a queer bar at night. And even more, how he got so hand in glove with the straight club owner that he was taking photographs for him. Maybe Reggie had concocted some story about being a photographer by day, which wasn’t such a bad cover story at that.
Everyone knew that fellas in the artistic pursuits were a little limp in the wrist, and he got to earn some extra dough on the side.
I’d have to ask him. Having decided that, my thoughts were free to roam back to Mr. Martin, AKA Mr. Beautiful. I had a feeling he was trouble with a capital T. Trouble for me. A club for queers run by straights, first the bartender and now the owner. Of course, it didn’t make good business sense to squeal on your clientele, and I imagine that Mr. Martin, AKA Mr. Big, had plenty of practice keeping mum if he had connections.
I hadn’t had such a yen for a fella since the service, and I thought I’d put all that behind me. First finding the disc with the symbol, then Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
39
the club where I felt right at home, and then seeing Mr. Big, a guy who was way out of my league—it got me off balance. And that’s part of why he’d made me so nervous.
I still had a job to do. I pushed myself off the wall, realizing I was sporting some wood. Seeing a guy that tasty will do that to you. I was tempted to whip it out and jack off right there, in a back alley in the train yard. I could nip behind a building, and no one would be the wiser.
But I wasn’t twenty anymore. I could control myself. Time enough for that when I got back to my place. I looked down to see that I had traced the sign of the Lambda in the dirt by the wall with my shoe. Hastily, I stamped on it to erase the drawing. Talk about the subconscious.
The moon was only a crescent in the sky, and it was on the move, the roaming hunter of the night, sending long shadows over the deserted streets. It was dark as I walked back to my car, and the darkness had a gnawing hunger. You could hide from it in the light, but at night it calls to you like a siren on some desolate rocky shore, luring you to your doom.
I had a feeling it would be better if Mr. Big and I didn’t meet again, no matter how much he knew.
I stuffed the hunger back into the box and locked it. Then I started my car, driving for home.
It felt like the shine was gone from this job, but I was no quitter. I would solve it somehow.
40
CATT FORD
Chapter 3: You Have to Know Charlie
IT SEEMED to me that a little research was in order, which meant
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