The Uninvited Guest, Chapter 12

[edswhackbetas]

Wednesday Morning

By the time Sterling had made his way home, the better part of the morning was already behind him, and he still hadn't had a cup of coffee. As he rounded the corner to his office, Sterling narrowly slipped between an old lady with a cane and a happy couple out walking their newborn in a baby blue buggy, both moving in opposite directions at glacial speeds. The vendors were out in force, and Sterling got a strange sense of déjà vu when he spotted the blond from yesterday morning, this time in a violet dress with vertical pinstripes. Seeing her up close, he had to admit she was a lovely lady, and very well endowed. He had a second to wonder where her friend was hiding as he turned into the alcove and came face to face with her, or more to the point, chest to chest.

"Good morning, Mr. Carcieri," the grinning brunette sang. She gave a brief glance sideways at the frosted glass to indicate how she'd deduced his name, and gave him a winning smile. She was wearing a low-cut navy blue blouse with tiny white polka dots and a pleated white skirt that gave him a fine view of her remarkably shapely legs. She didn't quite step back, her ample bosom still brushing against his arm, which had flown up reflexively and made full contact before he pulled it back slightly.

"Good morning to you too," he grinned sheepishly. "I can't seem to avoid making a complete ass of myself whenever you're near, Miss..."

"Maybelle," she grinned lasciviously. "Call me May. This is my friend Terry. We wanted to ask you a question."

"Yes," her friend called out from behind. "Were you really in that poor girl's apartment last night?"

"Already made the papers, have I? Yes, ladies, I'm afraid I was, and it looks pretty bad for me. I was supposed to be protecting her. Not my best night's work."

"I'll bet you made out alright," May chuckled.

"Or maybe you fell asleep after the curtains went up and you missed the whole show," Terry sniped. "I've known a lot of guys who couldn't make it past the first hurdle."

"Terry!" May chided. "I'll bet Mr. Carcieri here has plenty of stamina. He looks like he could go all night long. He just took a few lumps and needed to sleep it off, the dear."

"The papers didn't mention anything about him fighting anyone off. They said he slept right through her murder," Terry rejoined, miffed.

"Well, for a change, they got it right," Sterling confessed. "I got these lumps earlier in the evening, while doing a job for the lady in question. A creep picked a fight with me in a bar, and then a couple of goons tried to keep me from getting what I was hired to get for the girl. She ended up getting a good scare and asked me to stay the night, but I was so done in, I passed out in the middle of the night and never heard a sound. When I woke, I found her strangled in her own bed, and hardly a clue anywhere that didn't point to me."

"Aw, poor boy," May cooed. "I'm sure you'll beat the rap. You're too pretty to hang. Meanwhile, if you need any help with those bandages, you just call me."

"May!" Terry hissed. "What would Charlie say if he heard you?"

"That bum? He can get one of his little chippies in the steno pool to lick his wounds if he's sore. Besides, Sterling here looks like he could use a helping hand. Couldn't you, dear?" May asked in that way that sounded more like a proposal than a question.

Sterling was flattered, but figured it wouldn't do to be making a date with another man's girl, especially when he looked and felt like chopped meat, and especially while he was at the top of the police's suspect list.

"Ladies, I'm sure it looks worse than it is. I came through the war with worse wounds than these," he said. "Now I've got to get to work finding out who's behind this frame-up, before I wind up in a noose."

"Oh! I'm so sorry," May replied. "Of course you've got a lot to do, clearing your name and all. Just let me give you this," she said, pressing a slip of paper in his hand. "It's my number, in case you, you know, need some help with your dressings. I don't live far from here, and I'd only be too happy to come over and straighten you out," she said meaningfully, and then added, "Call me anytime."

Sterling had the distinct feeling she was still picturing him the way she'd seen him yesterday morning in the front window. He had rarely felt so exposed while fully clothed, and it was affecting him in a most unseemly way. The furtive glances between the girls suggested that it hadn't gone unnoticed, so he smiled lamely and squeezed past May to reach the office door. He felt a hand brush across his backside before he had the door open, and he turned rapidly to fend off a playful grope that surely would have put him in a different frame of mind.

"Thank you so much for your concern, ladies. Feel free to stop by and check in on me again later if you like."

"Oh, I'm sure we will," Terry answered snidely, grabbing hold of May's right arm and tugging her away. May kept glancing back longingly at Sterling, who waited until the girls were out of sight before retreating into the shade of the office, shaking his head. Perhaps it was something in the water. He wouldn't know, because he never drank the stuff if he could help it. Which reminded him, he still didn't have any coffee, and he still hadn't been paid. He'd have to make the courthouse his next stop if he didn't want to keep running up his tab at Sal's.

He started for his desk and was just reaching for the phone when it burst into cacophonous life. He flinched, but decided it couldn't be any worse than last night's activities, and so picked it up. A second later, he almost regretted his decision.

"So, lover boy," Jeannie carped, "had a rough night, did you?"

"Seems you and everyone in town knows more about it than I do," he groaned.

"Well, I told you to stay out of trouble. Clearly, I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on you if I want you to live long enough to repay me for all those dinners I've bought you."

"You're probably right, there."

"So, what actually did happen? The papers are making it sound like you did the girl in yourself. I figure you're more the love-'em-and-leave-'em type, but if you really did strangle the girl, you'll understand if I cancel our date."

"Hmmn. The reporters got their story from the head of the investigation, who has decided I'm a perfect fit for the crime, since there are no signs of forced entry and no usable prints other than hers and mine. Whoever did this was good, and they knew I was there, or they might have made enough noise to wake me."

"So you really were on the sofa sleeping?" she asked. "I'd have thought you'd have been snuggled up next to her."

"No, hon. She was a little bit rambunctious earlier in the evening, but I settled her down and tucked her in before stretching out on the couch. Then what with the cuts and bruises and the sweltering heat, I must have dropped off without the slightest idea that there was anybody else in the apartment. I looked the place over when we got there, but I figure I must have missed something. It was pretty dark."

"Ever heard of electricity? It's the stuff they use to work the lights and such."

"Yeah, smart girl, I've read a pamphlet about it back in the army. Problem was, after the night we had, I didn't want to announce to anyone that she was home. Looks like they knew anyway."

"Okay, I'm sold this time, Casanova," Jeannie replied. "Looks like you could use someone in your corner right now, anyway. The rest of the city is going to think either you're a murderer or an amateur. I figure I've got to protect my investment."

"Thoughtful as ever, darling. So, do I have any messages, or has the whole city already blacklisted me?"

"Oh, your social calendar is looking quite active at the moment. You may want to grab a pen and paper for this," she advised, and then waited.

Grabbing his legal pad and fountain pen, he pinned the receiver between ear and shoulder and muttered into the mouthpiece, "Fire away."

"Right. You got a reply from Zane Askew, who claims not to know what you are talking about. He seems to think you've already been paid, and demands you bring him his film reel before he notifies the police that you stole it yourself and tried to blackmail him. I suggested he might want to reconsider bringing in the police, who might actually want to see what's on the reel, and he suddenly became much more polite. After that, he asked that you contact him to come to some mutually beneficial arrangement. Do you need a callback number?"

"No, I think I've got his card here somewhere. What's the next message?"

"So impatient. I hope you're not like this on our wedding night."

"Oh no, I'll be taking my sweet time with you, dearest."

"Probably take your sweet time getting to the altar, too. Okay, next up was a very unpleasant heiress I'm quite sure you haven't slept with, or you might not be so broke. She insists I remind you that Mr. Fino is expecting you for lunch. She sounded like she intended on serving you up herself. I trust she's not one of your jilted former conquests."

"Kerry Fino? No, I prefer my ladies warm blooded. That lady only runs boiling hot or ice cold, kind of like a cheap hotel I stayed in once. Any other messages?"

"Yes, you got a call from a woman who wouldn't leave her name or message, but was asking if you'd had any contact with that woman from last night. I guess she hadn't read the morning edition yet. I told her I didn't have that information, so she asked if she could meet you at the office later this afternoon. I took the liberty of scheduling her for four o'clock. Think you'll be available?"

"Four? I have no idea. I might be downtown giving a deposition. Was that it?"

"Nope. You had a call from Frank Briscoe, asking you to stop by to receive a subpoena, or he'll have you served. He didn't sound too happy, but he wasn't surprised to hear you weren't in yet. You also had a call from a guy who called himself Mick. He told you to pick up a newspaper and read the Classifieds carefully today. Nothing else. I'd have thought he was a bookie trying to get you to check the race scores, but then I remembered you don't like horses or dogs."

"Truth and beauty. You really are the woman of my dreams. Any more messages?"

"Saved the best for last. Lia Morgan wants a word with you about the Wooldridge case. She sounded like she wanted to serve you up for dessert. I didn't think you were her type. What did you say to her yesterday? You didn't promise her the moon and the stars, did you? I thought you were saving those for me."

"The moon and stars are reserved for my first ex-wife. Lia Morgan merely has the rights to my firstborn. Incidentally, if she was pleasant with you while talking about me, it couldn't have been the same Lia Morgan. More likely she wants me off the case after reading the news this morning."

"Nope. She knew all about it, and sounded horrified that they were treating you like a criminal. I think she's sweet on you, Sterling. Certainly explains why she was so mad at you for not believing her yesterday. I'll be checking your collars when you come back from her place from here on out."

"You must know something about women I don't, sweetheart. If ever there was a woman who wanted less to do with me right now, I wouldn't know what she looked like."

"Poor baby. It must be all these women throwing themselves at you. You're having trouble telling when a woman is sincerely interested in you."

"I wouldn't even know you were interested in me if you didn't keep telling me so," he chuckled.

"Ha. I'm only after your money. So you'd better start making phone calls and run your business right, brother."

"Ah, now you've got me thinking of you as a sister. That sound you just heard was my heart breaking."

"Sounded more like a tire deflating to me. Give me a call later. I want to hear all about your meeting with the Ice Queen and Papa Fino. And I will be checking your shirt collars, Sterling."

"Good. Heaven knows the girls at the cleaners have been getting the starch in my collars all wrong for months. Maybe you can talk some sense into them, because they won't listen to me."

"If this is part of those duties you'll be expecting me to take on when I take over your office, you can start looking for another girl now, because I don't do dry cleaning or windows."

"How do you feel about office hanky panky?"

"Oh, I'm all for it. If there weren't so many women in this building, I'm sure I wouldn't be waiting for you to make an honest woman of me."

"I can't even make a dishonest woman of you."

"Sorry, there seems to be some interference on this line. Please hang up and try your call again, handsome."

"Seeya later, gorgeous."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Somebody has to."

"Oh, I'm sure there's a line forming, now that you're front page news."

"Maybe, but I'll bet you're the only one who will be at my funeral."

"I'll be right there in the front row. at your hanging, that is."

"Ouch."

"Poor baby. If your ego still smarts later, I'll kiss it better for you. Go get paid and take me to dinner."

"Yes ma'am."

The line went dead, and Sterling found himself frowning. Jeannie was always teasing him, but this felt more personal, like she was genuinely upset with him. She hadn't even asked if he'd slept with Dorinda; in her mind, it was probably a foregone conclusion. There were days when he almost suspected she was falling in love with him. Then there were days like this when he was certain of it. Now if only he could decide if that was a good thing or not. Jeannie was wonderful, and he could certainly do a lot worse than settle down with her, but it would make doing his job just that much more difficult. He didn't actually make it a practice to sleeping with every female client who came through the door, but his job often placed him in compromising positions that wouldn't go over too well with a wife. If Jeannie was actually getting serious about him, he was afraid that he was going to wind up disappointing her before too long. If she wasn't already.

Still, she didn't seem to think he was guilty of murder, so that was something in his favour. He looked around for the clock and made a note that it was coming up on noon. With all of the calls he had to make today, he thought it might be a good idea to hit the bank first.

Then perhaps the florist's shop. Something told him this was a dozen rose situation.

* * *

Sterling carefully parked the De Soto between a Packard and a rather swank looking Mercedes. He wondered if he knew the owner.

Making his way back up the steps, he was gratified to see people coming and going, and began to entertain visions of actually having a decent meal for a change. He also started entertaining making a stop at the liquor store, but decided it would probably be inadvisable until he figured out who tried to put the collar on him. Anyone who could read a newspaper would know how to find him if they decided to get him out of the way for good. He still didn't know who all the players were, but he was beginning to do the math, and the numbers were worrisome.

Stepping into the courthouse, he glanced at every window along the far wall on the off chance that Kathy was in, though he wasn't sure if he was looking forward to another encounter with the lady. He'd begun to suspect that he was putting out the wrong message to women in general, as most of them were responding to him much stronger than he was used to. He'd rarely had trouble finding a dance partner when he felt the need for company, but this business of women approaching him with that glint in their eye before the third cocktail was something he wasn't prepared for. and Kathy was old enough to be... well, to have changed his nappies in any case. Perhaps that's what she had in mind for him now. She struck him as the kind of woman who had unhealthy sexual appetites. She must have to be looking at him.

Making his way to the front of the line, he was greeted by an intense old lady with thick bifocals and the sort of dress his grandmother would have pronounced 'quaint'.

"How may I help you, young man?"

"My name is Sterling Carcieri. I believe there should be a pay voucher in my name for a case I recently solved for the court."

"Oh yes, the private investigator. I'll notify Judge Armstrong, who wishes to have words with you."

"Would it be possible to meet with him on another day? I have a number of appointments to keep today."

"I'm sorry, sir. The judge insisted. I can't release your cheque until he signs off on it, and he won't do so until you take a meeting with him."

Sterling looked around the room and found a large clock that was uncomfortably passed noon. He decided that money would have to wait.

"What time do you close today?" he asked impatiently.

"We close at five o'clock, sir. However, the judge will most likely be gone by four o'clock. You'll have to meet him before then."

"I have an appointment at four. I'll have to try back in a couple of hours, if I can get free. Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome, sir. Next!"

If he weren't so put off at being dismissed so blithely, he might have felt relieved that the woman hadn't offered to take him home and feed him soup and sandwiches. He supposed his charms couldn't work on everyone. He also supposed that was to his benefit, even if it was a bit of a letdown.

He nearly made it to the door before he heard a deep voice call out behind him, "Not so fast, Carcieri." He turned back to find Judge Abraham Armstrong making his way down the oak staircase.

"Judge Armstrong," Sterling began, but didn't make it to the next line.

"Sterling," the old man returned, "I know you're pretty busy right now, and I've got a pretty good idea of who it is you're going to meet next."

"Well, how can you..." Sterling sputtered. Armstrong pulled him aside and cornered him against one of the polished cherry wall panels.

"Never mind that," the old man shushed. "It's my job to know things, and I know a great deal about what goes on in this city. I know for instance that you're innocent of those charges that pencil neck Hoeschler is trying to pin on you. I know something about the people Clarence worked for, and I know what they're capable of. That business in the security vault has your calling card all over it, though I will say, it was a bit messier than I expect from you. Don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. You can jerk that flatfoot around, but I know better, Sterling. As far as I'm concerned, you were just taking out the trash. They won't be missed, and you won't be coming before me for merely doing your civic duty."

"I also know you've taken the case for Myles' wife, which I appreciate. Anything I can do to help you track down the missing goods, just ask. What I don't appreciate is that you're going to be doing that dirty bastard Fino a favour in the process. I never liked Myles getting mixed up with that foreign sonofabitch, and I don't like the idea of you getting involved, either. Find the goods, find Junior, take care of Lia. But don't go getting involved with Mauritius Fino. I've never been able to make anything stick on that bastard, but I know he's dirty, and I'll ruin him if it's the last thing I ever do on this bench. Mark my words."

"Judge, I have no intentions of getting caught up in Fino's web. I don't know the man that well, but I do know he's got enough clout to make my life a misery. So I'm going to be courteous and do my job and let him think he's got me doing his laundry for him. But I won't be letting him get his hooks in me. I read the news, and I don't plan on making the headlines as another mysterious death, the way most of his associates do."

"Good," Armstrong said, patting Sterling's shoulder roughly. "I won't ask you to stick your neck out where Fino is concerned. I'm just warning you. The man is poison. Stay clear of him as much as you can. Now, if you want, Ethel will cut you that voucher now. You do good work, Sterling. Keep it that way, and keep out of trouble."

The old man made his way back up the stairs. It occurred to Sterling that it wasn't just a little suspicious that the old man knew he was there, but he supposed there had been runners on the lookout for him. Sterling wasn't sure he bought the old man's grandfather shtick, but it was interesting that the old man thought it important to make Sterling aware that he knew how far in it Sterling already was. A smart man would take it as a sign that it was time to pack his carpet bag and find a new town to call home.

Problem was, Sterling wasn't very good at playing it smart, and he knew it. A victim of his own damned curiosity. He had to know what was really going on, and didn't like the idea that everyone else knew more about his business than he did. It rankled him that the codger had him pegged so neatly. If the old windbag knew so much, why the hell was Sterling sticking his neck out? That kindly old coot was having a good chuckle at his expense, thinking he'd just stolen up and given Sterling's cage a good shake, but he'd be damned if he was going to squawk for the bastard.

Looking at the clock, he glanced over at Ethel, who was carefully pretending not to be watching him from the corner of her eye. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that she had been working for Armstrong since she was young enough to bat an eyelash and get her way with any man who was fool enough to cross swords with her. What she had lost in charm she had clearly gained in guile and force of will. Still, Sterling was short on time, and didn't plan on putting himself at the tender mercy of another elderly despot. At least, not yet.

Instead, he indicated his missing wrist watch to her and strode off to have lunch with one of the most dangerous men in town.

~Ed.