I just read this great book...

by an author named Sandra Scoppettone called This Dame For Hire.  The main character is a female PI named Faye Quick and the story is set in 1943.  Her dialogue was just like Rip!  The writer's style is a cross between Janet Evanovich and Raymond Chandler.  I will definitely be looking for more of her work!

New ideas...

Well, my western/Tom Selleck film festival this weekend wasn't a total loss. I didn't do much writing, but I got some great ideas. One thing I've always loved about depictions of the Old West is the way people just shoot someone they have a problem with. Bang! No more problem. I guess that's why they say it was a simpler time.

The Cat's Eye Lounge...

Hmm... I'm wrapped in a double breasted sharkskin suit, blue‑black. The coat is loose enough to hide my shoulder holster and the hair... greased back, mafia style. I don't take any shit off nobody you see? So, I see the skinny dame who was just exercising her pipes coming my way... smiling like a cheshire cat. Coming across that barroom floor in the dark, all I see is teeth and eyes. Spooky like. I get a chill, and decide to 86 that thought for later. I put out my Pall Mall in a crystal, cat shaped ashtray and smile back. Those eyes could make me give up crime... naaaa. Probably just another floozy without two dimes to rub together, attracted by my two‑tone Balis. She makes like to walk right by me, so I grab her arm. Gentlemanly like, see? And I says to her, "That windpipe of yours must go all the way to the bottom, sweetheart. Wanna play kaleidoscope sometime?"…

"Look, mister, I don't know who you think you are, but if you don't lay off me, I'll have one of the boys here call Vito," I said ‑ looking suspiciously at the over‑dressed stranger. Geez, all these jerks want is to grab me, I thought as I tried to take my arm away from his warm, powerful grasp. Then it hit me ‑ where had I seen this guy before? Yes ‑ he was in last week while I was warming up for my first set, asking questions about Danny and that awful murder on 52nd Street. I found him strangely attractive ‑ no, I can't think about that now. But still...
...so this little ball of fire is staring right back at me with those big green eyes. My eyes are doing a little traveling themselves. How does that dress stay up anyway, one of the seven wonders if you ask me. A quick check of my threads, before she pulls her arm away with some lame line about Vito's boys. Hell, I eat guys like him for lunch. Can't blame her though. I must look like a friggin loan shark in this suit (should'a gone with the linen, it's hot as hell in here) and I figure she doesn't recognize me. After all, there was a lot of noise and a lot of lead flying that night over on 52nd... I wonder if she knows I'm a cop? Or better yet, a dirty cop. But wait a minute, was that a tickle of recognition there... Maybe she remembers me. So I says to her "what's the matter sugar, you look like ya seen a ghost. Stick around, there might be a drink in it for ya, maybe more." I let go her arm and smile my come‑to‑daddy smile at her and she softens up a bit. Works every time. Yeah, but this one here is somethin' special...

"I don't believe in ghosts," I said as he let go of my arm. Men like him make me weak in the knees. Just forget him, I said to myself. He's just like every other guy who gets mixed up with the mob. A no‑good, lying, cheating, two‑timing womanizer who might just end up dead. But, then again, I ponder ‑ maybe just one drink wouldn't hurt...
...so I asked her "wha'dya drink? You look like a gin and tonic type to me, or maybe you'd just like a glass to go with that stare." I took another gander at the setup in the white dress. Gams that went all the way up. Just like I like'm. And those hose were real silk with the seam. Not drawn with eyebrow pencil. Hmm... maybe this dame has connections I'd be interested in... among other things.

Against my better judgement, I replied, "Martini, straight up ‑ two olives." There was just something about this guy that wouldn't let me say no. Charlie deftly placed my usual in front of me, on the bar. I picked up the glass and took a sip. What the hell, I thought ‑ maybe I'm wrong about this one. I reached into the glass and fished out an olive. My hair covering one eye, I tilted my head, looked him in the eye and sucked the pimento out of the olive. No reaction... what is this guy made of? Stone?
...over the dame's shoulder I notice some goon in a fez giving her fine little ass the fine tooth comb. All the while she's sucking the pimento from an olive. Jesus I hate pimento. But each to his or her own I always say. Her smile looks like a neon Motel sign to me. Who could ignore those lips, especially when they were connected to those eyes? I keep my cool. Fez starts over this way, so I size him up for his body‑bag. What a time to be getting a hard on. I must be losing my touch.

Damn, thought I had him there with the old pimento trick, I say to myself and turn to see what he's looking at. Probably another woman. Then I see him ‑ that jerk who keeps coming around Rick's bar, asking about me. I thought I'd finally left Chicago behind; but I couldn't shake the mounting fear that Slick had sent this guy after me. I shouldn't have taken the $250,000, but I knew I couldn't live that way forever. Slick said he loved me ‑ ha! All he loved was my singing in that little club that laundered his dirty money. So I taught him a lesson ‑ or so I thought. I looked up at the handsome stranger. Suddenly, as if he'd read my mind, he pulled me behind him and turned to face the goon in the fez...
Fez halted in his tracks. Then approached slowly, looking around like somebody was watching him. I kept myself between the dame and him just in case... what was this? I'm not a guy famous for chivalry, but there was something about her. And I intended to find out what it was. Fez gets a little closer and clears his throat, good thing, as I was gonna cut it for him. He leans in close and says "You two might want to step out the back way... Slick is due in here any minute... I think he means trouble for the lady there." And he was gone, back into the darkness. I gotta admit I was a little surprised. Then I feel a hand on my back and I jump a little. It's the dame. I turn and smile "I didn't get your name, I'm assuming you got one."

"It's Kate," I said, my hand resting lightly on the handsome stranger's back. I wonder if he's feeling the same electricity I am, I thought as I looked into his eyes. "Maybe we could find a quiet table and talk?" I picked up my martini and started to move away from him, letting my fingers trail across his back until I could take his hand...
Kate, huh. That's a nice American name, I was thinking... but my thoughts were drug along by those fingernails across my back. Normally that kind of this would've gone unnoticed. Too many fingernails dug into my back over the years, not to mention more than one bullet. All bringing to mind dark, seedy motel rooms. My life seems to be a string of them, hung together like cheap Christmas tree bulbs. What WAS it about this dame? Something in those innocent eyes telling a tale of something not so innocent. There was a story in there waiting to get out. I decided to act on the warning we had from Fez. I really didn't feel like killing anybody tonight anyway. "Well, Kate, why don't we take our drinks someplace a little more private? There's tables upstairs if we can find the stairs..." Good, she's smiling. And I could use a few smiles right about now.

"Hey, Katie ‑ where are you going?" Charlie leaned over the bar to get my attention. "The band is back and warming up ‑ you have another set, remember?" Damn, I could never put anything past that guy. I looked up at the handsome stranger and smiled, "You don't mind sitting through a few more songs, do you?" I turned and headed for the microphone, as Jimmy began to hypnotize the crowded, smoke‑filled room with the first few bars of "Sentimental Reasons..."
Wouldn't you know it. The friggin' bartender is a stickler for details... what are the odds? The lady was hired to sing, so she's gonna sing. That's my cue to hang around in the shadows over there, watching the door for that scumbag Slick. Meanwhile, I can check out a little more of this lady's act. Not exactly my thing, but at least she leans into it like a champ. So it's got some punch. And I'm feelin like I got a glass jaw about now. At least for tonight, that is. Tomorrow morning, back on the street. That's a different story.

"I love you - for sentimental reasons..." I searched the crowd for the handsome stranger. Now where did he go? I never should have let him out of my sight, I thought as I mindlessly crooned to the half-drunken crowd. What am I doing in a place like this, anyway, I thought. I let my mind wander over what might be in store for me tonight.... after I finished this set. He's probably ogling some other dame, I mused ruefully. But just then...
... so there I was, cooling my heels at a back table while this Kate dame exercised her lungs onstage. Like I said earlier, quite a set of pipes. Tuned like a church organ, except a little on the tarnished side. I liked that. Perfection makes me real nervous... I'm always waiting for the catch. Cause nobody's perfect, not really perf... suddenly I felt a knife at my windpipe and some thug grabs my hands from behind me. I'd been dozing away listening to the dame sing, instead of watching the door! What a setup. I wonder if she had anything to do with this? I blacked out when a pistol butt sliced in and made contact with my right temple... Parkerized Colt .45 auto... would be my guess... Government issue...sidearm... then pounding darkness.

Just as my eyes found the handsome stranger, at a back table, the lazy calm of the bar was broken as a scuffle began - two men in black pinstriped suits were upon him. What else could I do? I pulled my gun and fired one shot into the air and another at the taller of the two men. I knew that guy - hadn't I seen him with Slick? The bullet hit him square in the chest and threw him back against the bar. I pushed my way through the crowd to the back of the room - to the handsome stranger's side. Oh, God - please let him be alive... The shorter of his two assailants was nowhere to be found...
...I don't know how long I was out. But I wasn't in the Cat's Eye anymore, I knew that much. Unless they had installed mattresses on the floor while I was out. I wondered briefly if I was dead. If I am, then they dish out headaches in hell instead of brimstone. I reached instinctively for my piece... gone. So I opened my eyes a bit... narrow slits of reddish light invaded my aching skull. There was a yellow twinkling, then it went dark. My heart stopped. Then the red light again... the twinkling... then dark again. The Cat's Eye sign. Got to be. Outside the window blinking its tawdry come‑on towards the street below. Many a scumbag was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Muffled piano notes, coming from somewhere below me... I was in a room above the lounge somewhere, on a bed. How did I get here? And are those goons still around? If they are, they sure wear a lot of expensive perfume...

The handsome stranger stirred ‑ finally. "Hey, are you okay?" I asked as I sat on the edge of the bed. I still don't know how I got him up those stairs. I just knew I couldn't take the chance of whoever it was that got away, coming back after him. The dead guy had no ID on him; I probably did New York a big favor when I blew him away. I still don't know how I'm going to explain that to Rick... Charlie, the bartender, called the cops and told them that the guy with the gun got away. The regulars at Rick's know better than to disagree with Charlie...
...that smell... The dame, Kate was her name, was wearing that same perfume in the lounge. Then she spoke, askin' me if I'm alright. That's a laugh... and I would, but my head is killing me. Must be I look better than I feel. When I turn my head she's there, sittin' on the bed. Lit one minute in red, then twinkling yellow, then gone again. Like one of them apparitions in a movie. God damn that's one fine lookin' woman. A sight for sore eyes... I nearly laugh, then think better of it. "You fly me up here yourself, or'd you have help from your buddies down there in the bar?" I didn't trust this dame just yet. Fine or no, this little kitty had something off about her. And there wasn't a perfume made that could cover the smell of somebody on the lam. Not from Rip Jasmine... So now she's looking at me funny, "I think I like you, nice and quiet in bed." She gets up and goes to the window, lookin' down on 135th and Syracuse. "Not that it matters, but I feel a little naked without my gun... how 'bout you?"

"Hmmmm? I'm sorry," I said as I turned away from the window and looked at the stranger in my bed. "I was thinking..." There's so much about me you don't know ‑ so much I can't tell you, I thought. I'd never been undercover this long before. The Director had warned me about getting involved with someone ‑ but since when did I listen to him? Women were a new and rare commodity at the FBI and I intended to do my job as well as any man. That included keeping my cool and keeping my true identity a secret. But why was I taking a chance with this guy? I was sure he'd been there the night Danny was killed over on 52nd Street. I just didn't know if he was the shooter... Danny had been my partner for three years and I was determined to bring his killer to justice...
...Thinking, huh? Probably about how she'd spend the cash that would surely be missing from my wallet. "You can see the Empire State if you look between those two buildings across the street over there." No need to tip your hand before all the suckers antied up... but she's playing it cool, so just roll with it. There's no telling who her friends might be. And they might not take too kindly to a cop, even one with a little tarnish on his badge. But I never done nothing I lost any sleep over... a little grease here and there to turn my head over a little black market gin. No cop I knew was above it. "So... you gonna tell me what's goin' on here or just take in the view all night?" I try to sit up, and my head takes a bad spin... I'm not goin' nowhere yet. Not on two legs, and I ain't gonna crawl. Just relax, pal. "Alright lady, you got me.... now what?"

I turned to look at the handsome stranger. Part of me wanted to trust him ‑ but still, I just didn't know. That little voice inside me whispered, "Time for a leap of faith..." and I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "How do I know I can trust you?" I asked, looking into his eyes. "There's so much I..." I looked away and blinked back the tears that began to fill my eyes. He would never understand ‑ no, he couldn't understand. Suddenly, I felt his hand on mine...

...so I ask myself, what's the story here anyway? This Dame has got a real way about her, but she's so cagey she's got to be trouble. And she sure don't talk much for a woman. Not that I'm complaining you understand. Actions speak louder than words in my book. I hear a lot of talk in my business, and most of it is nothin' but hot air. Some scumbag using up my oxygen.
Anyway, she comes over and sits on the bed and starts to cry. Wants to know why she should trust me.... so now she wants to talk, eh? Well, I think I'll let my actions speak for themselves... I touch her on the hand first. She don't jump, that's a good sign. But she's still lookin' the other way, soundin' like a kid with a runny nose, so I roll over and put my left hand on her hip. So far so good... I run that hand up her back to the zipper on that outfit she's wearing. Then take hold of her arm with my right hand so she don't go for a gun. I slowly start to run that zipper down...

"Wait," I whispered and looked into the handsome stranger's eyes. "There's something you should know. I..." My confession was interrupted by the loud crash of the door being kicked open by two of my fellow FBI agents. "Are you all right, Kate?" Skinner asked as Davis stared angrily down the barrel of his gun at the man in my bed. "We've been watching you," Davis snarled at me. "Guess we got here just in time - before this guy got too friendly with you." I looked down - I wanted to explain - but...
So there I am... I got the dame's zipper halfway to paradise and the door comes cavin' in. I gotta admit, I nearly pissed myself. Instinctively my hand went for where my gun shoulda been and came up with thin air... Wait a minute here, this ain't none of Vito's boys, this is some kind of boy scout rescue squad... and everybody seems to know each other. Hmm... the one on the right with the artillery aimed my way don't look happy. I give'em my best smile "Excuse us boys, but the lady here was just about to tell me somethin..." I say. "So you two run along now, maybe you can help her cross a street when she's a little older, right Katie?" I wish I had a camera, the look on their faces was classic. "What?" Tough guy on the left says, like suddenly he ain't so sure he's got the right room. "Didn't your momma tell you not to go in a bedroom when grownups have the door closed?" I say. The other guy drops the gun and says "Katie? What's he talking about?"...I don't really care who these guys are, or what she's a part of right now. Anything can be fixed, if you use the right tool. It ain't always a gun, neither. The dame's still lookin' at the floor deciding what to say... this should be interesting.

Was this guy quick or what? I decided to follow his lead. "Skinner, Davis ‑ do you guys mind?" I looked at them indignantly. "For God's sake, put those guns away. What did you think you were doing?" I glanced at the man in my bed ‑ maybe this wasn't such a good idea, playing along with him on this one. But, still... "I told you if I needed your help, I'd let you know," I said ‑ in the general direction of my associates. Davis reholstered his gun and stepped toward the door. I wasn't so sure about Skinner, though; he gave me that "are you sure about this" look and thoughtfully turned his gun in his hands as if examining it for some imagined defect. "I'm fine ‑ you know I can take care of myself," I reassured them and moved toward the door as if to usher them out. "I'll be in touch tomorrow ‑ same time, same place, okay?" They both turned to leave, giving the stranger one last foreboding look, and I watched them descend the stairs. Can I really take care of myself? I thought, and closed the door.
...we're all Bozos on this bus, as I always say... Jeezus that was close. So the dame ushers her pals out the door like a coupla prankster kids.... tails between their legs. Now she has some explaining to do, and we both know it. They weren't cops, and they weren't robbers. That much was pretty damn clear. So it's just a question of which bunch of Feds she's running with. And why... But when she looked at me from across the room in this dim light just now, I didn't really want to know just yet. Afraid of what you'll hear Jasmine, old boy? I ask myself. Shut up, cocksucker... I answer in there somewhere. Jeez, this dame's got me talking to myself already. "So, you were saying?" I smile, cool as a cucumber. "And while we're playing footsie, I believe you're still holding something of mine. You mind giving it back?" She comes closer in the light of the winking Cat's Eye sign outside the window... and suddenly I feel like I'm sixteen again...

"Your gun? What makes you think you'll be needing that?" I asked and sat down on the end of the bed. "I suppose you're wondering about those two..." I searched the stranger's eyes for a sign - for some glimmer of understanding. Can I trust this man? I thought to myself - for the five hundredth time. He hadn't really tried anything yet - maybe it was safe to share my secret with him. At least until I found out what he knew about who killed Danny. "I work for the FBI and I know that you were there the night my partner was killed - over on 52nd Street. I saw you. Now tell me what you were doing there..." He looked away. So - he does know something. And if it took all night, I was going to wait for an answer.
...Funny how life has a way of kicking you in the head to get your attention. My grand dad once had a mule that decided he wouldn't pull the plow an inch. So Gramps goes in the barn and comes back out with a three foot long 2 by 4. He walks straight up to that mule and coldcocks him between the eyes with it, just as calm as a blue sky. Then I heard him say "Now that I've got your attention, I believe we have work to do." The mule plowed, and everybody was happy ever after. Now it looks like I'm gonna have to do a little plowing.... So this dame ain't a dame at all, she's FBI. And the feds don't got dummy's working for'em. But she seems nice enough so far. Must have been her who brought me up to this room and watched after me till I came around... I guess I owe her one after all... "You're right on the whereabouts, I was in the warehouse that night. But I don't know who pulled the trigger" I say. "Sounds like your partner went fishin'." She don't say nothing. "Izadore Fishman, that's one of his warehouses you were outside of." Still nothing... "So many people go in there and don't come out, at the precinct house we got a name for it 'goin fishin'.' If it was me, I'd start there, but I wouldn't go alone if I were you."

So I was right ‑ this guy was at the warehouse the night Danny was killed. But why? And what's this fish story he's giving me? We'd had a tip that a big shipment of guns was trading hands that night. Too dangerous for a woman to go in ‑ they'd made me wait in the car. I was always the wheel man and I was tired of it. Danny had been a great partner, and I'd learned a lot from him ‑ but secretly I thanked whoever it was that was looking out for me that I hadn't been in Fishman's warehouse that night. Or I might not be sitting here with this handsome man... I was lost in thought, but the stranger was waiting for a response. "....but I wouldn't go alone if I were you." I looked up. "Are you offering to help me?" I asked ‑ hoping that we were going to work together on this case.
...I thought a minute, just watching her watching me. Waiting for an answer. I could get up off this bed and walk right now, and have nothing to worry about but a bump on my head. Just stroll out and leave this woman, agent, superspy, whatever she was... but looking at her... I knew I wasn't gonna do that. Jeez, I'm gettin'soft in the head. Been downtown too long, I guess. I answered "Yeah, I guess that's what I'm sayin, you look like you need a little help." True or not, that's what came out of my mouth. So I'm gonna roll with it. I was magnetized by this broad, and I wasn't gonna let her out of my sight. No way. "At some point I'll need my piece back, but if it makes you feel better to hang onto it for now, I ain't gonna rock the boat." Now I know I'm goin' soft. I ain't been through the door unarmed in years. I sat up on the bed for the first time... my balance was not what it should have been, but I was okay. "First we need to see a pal of mine at the docks... you goin' dressed like that?" I wished she would, but it ain't really practical where we're headed. We didn't need to attract any more attention than we had to.

"Oh, thank you!" I half-whispered and stood up. I took a step toward the stranger in my bed and extended my hand. He took it, probably expecting me to help him to his feet, but instead I leaned down and kissed his cheek. I looked into his eyes and saw myself. And something more. Still holding his hand, I leaned close again and kissed his lips. What am I doing? I thought. "Isn't it a little late to see your friend at the docks yet tonight?" I murmured in his ear. "It could wait until morning, couldn't it?" Waiting for an answer, I looked into his eyes again. I was still there - along with something else I didn't quite recognize. Or did I?
Just when I thought I had a handle on the situation, this dame lays a kiss on me. I gotta admit, it was welcome. And at first I didn't respond... I was too shocked. Her lips were soft... and her smell. When she bent closer and kissed me again on the mouth, her smell was heaven... I felt myself falling down those long steps toward the basement. She was looking right into my eyes, and I saw something there I'd never seen before. It was like me looking back into my own eyes. Eerie, like we were two of the same bird. One minute we were strangers, the next we're joined permanently. My hands moved on their own... slowly pulling her closer and down on the bed where I was. She came gladly, without a bit of hesitation. Once she lay back on the pillow, I rolled over next to her and looked down into her eyes again... and kissed her for the first time. And it was like I had never kissed a woman before. Tumbling down a few more steps...

His kiss was gentle, as sweet as the innocent kiss of a child. I closed my eyes, savoring his touch. The warmth of his lips on mine was brief. Surprised, I opened my eyes to find him gazing down at me with a curious expression on his face. He touched my cheek, brushed his thumb over my lips and smiled. I wondered if he could feel my heart pounding. Who is this man? I thought. It was almost as if, no - it couldn't be. The dreams, those dreams which came and went. The man whose face I'd seen so many times but yet could not remember. I looked into his eyes and slipped my arms around him, pulling him closer. In an instant, his lips were on mine again, more urgently this time. I pressed my body hard against him, my arms around his neck. I responded to his kiss with parted lips and his tongue found mine. Suddenly, he broke our passionate kiss and shook his head as if he were coming up out of water. He looked into my eyes again and smiled - a smile I somehow knew very well. Laughing, he began to kiss my neck and shoulders. I still clung to him, drowning in the feel of his body against mine. There was nothing in the world for me but the sensation and the feel of him.
I was falling down those stairs so fast my head was spinning. I had never been with a.... woman.... with as much pure animal magnetism as this... I wanted to say dame. But that wasn't right somehow. A dame was somebody you wanted to fuck and toss aside. This lady was no dame. So I kissed her again... feeling her arch her body against me, and pull me close with her arms. Her chest was pressing mine, melting me. It was a giddy feeling... like the goofballs we got when I was a kid on the streets. I kissed her over and over again, her cheeks and neck....grinning like a fool. What was the magic she had over me to make me lose my cool this way? Me. Rip Jasmine. I didn't know... and I didn't care right that minute. Losing myself in the smell and taste and feel of her... and then I had a thought... I slowly stopped kissing her and leaned up on my elbow, looking at her face. She looked back at me with those big green eyes, waiting. "I hate to say it Katie, but I could probably use a quick shower before this goes much farther... had kind of a rough night, you know?" She looked away, thinking... I hope I hadn't said the wrong thing. But it was like I wanted to wash my old life off my skin before I touched her. "I'll just be a minute." I smiled my crooked smile, and she looked back up at me...

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing," I said, running my hand down his chest. It was a fleeting thought, though, as the moment was shattered by the sound of machine gun fire in the street below. He was off the bed like a shot and I followed him to the window. Bullets sprayed from the open windows of two cars into the street - into the Cat's Eye Lounge. My heart was in my throat as I clutched the stranger's arm. Skinner, Davis - no. "No," I gasped and grabbed my gun from the dressing table. I turned toward the door- but a strong arm caught me around the waist. "I wouldn't go down there," he said quietly against the side of my face. He held me close and kissed my cheek. Tears streamed down my face and I began to sob. Uncontrollably. Why was this happening? First Danny, now Skinner and Davis. I was bad luck; I was convinced of it. The guy in the fez was right: Slick was headed this way. And he meant business. I had no right to involve this man in the web of deceit my undercover assignment had woven. I was in deep and I couldn't see any way out. But I was in almost as deep here - and so suddenly it surprised me. No, terrified me. I put my hand on his. "Don't leave me," I whispered. "Not tonight..."
It was a long moment there by the window... everything seemed to slow down. I saw people down on the street below running to see what had happened. Some were smiling and laughing... some with looks of horror, seeing the bodies on the sidewalk. The squad cars arriving...everything was in slow motion and very quiet... muted by the feeling I had while holding her close to me...hearing the sorrow in her voice... feeling the sobs in her chest against mine. Time slipped away. There was nothing we could do down there... no way to help. I closed the blinds slowly and led her to the bathroom by the hand. We needed to wash all this away, both of us. And not care about anything. I wanted to stand under a pounding spray of hot water with this woman. Just hold her close and let the water do its work on our bodies... and souls. Maybe we could start over then... at least a little. It seemed odd that I'd have that feeling at this terrible moment... but then I have a lot of odd thoughts. Sometimes they turn out to be not so crazy at all. I never said a word as she followed me into the small, tiled room. A big, clawfoot tub stood at one end, surrounded by a white curtain... it looked like any other shower in any other hotel in any other city. But I knew this one was special... it just had to be.

I stepped out of my shoes as he led me toward the bathroom. My hand felt so safe in his and I wasn't sure why. Why wasn't I afraid of this man, afraid of going somewhere I shouldn't be going? I didn't even know his name, yet I was willing to entrust my very self, body and soul, to him. For safekeeping. Odd, but that's what I was doing. Giving my self over to a man I somehow knew could take care of me and get me out of the mess my life was in. He knows who I work for, but he doesn't know about the money. Or about those years in Chicago. Would he understand? I didn't know, but just then I didn't care. All I could think about was how much I wanted him. How much I needed to feel his strong arms around me, telling me that everything would be all right. And somehow I knew he'd understand and that's exactly what he would say. I could feel it. I reached up and started to undo the knot in his tie...
I never knew I had a heart. But this scrappy kid from Brooklyn was finding out fast that he did. It was pounding like I just ran a friggin' race. Don't get me wrong... I ain't no pansy. I've had my share of the dames in this town, and left a few cryin' too. But this was something different. She was untying my tie, looking up at me.. shorter without the come‑on heels. I tried to think of something suave to say, usually not a problem...but all I could manage was "My name's Rip, just in case you was wonderin'." I put my hands on hers, and held them together like we was prayin' or something. I think she thought the same thing. She was just looking at me, smiling. Those eyes were something else. "I better start the water, we ain't real interested in a cold shower." I finished taking off my tie, turned the HOT knob and turned to face her. I took off my shirt, leaving me in just my string t-shirt, pants and socks. She was looking at the tattoo on my right arm. "Don't sweat it... happened a long time ago," I said, smiling, "Let's get you the rest of the way out of that dress." I moved toward her as the little room slowly filled with steam...

I surrendered willingly as his arms went around me. I closed my eyes and put my head on his right shoulder, my hands on his waist. He slowly unzipped my dress and held me tight against him. There was no need to talk; we both knew what was going to happen. Something just felt too right. Almost as if we'd been here before. I whispered his name and kissed his cheek - ever so gently. His lips were on mine again while my dress slowly fell to the floor. I kicked it away as I felt his hands on my back. I opened my mouth to him and his passionate kiss took my breath away. Pulling him closer to me, I returned his kiss, never wanting it to end. I wanted to feel his strong arms around me forever - I wanted him to make me forget the past. Did I feel the promise of tomorrow in his kiss? Tears filled my eyes and time seemed to stand still as we held one another in that steamy room above the Cat's Eye Lounge.
Within minutes, the steam was so thick I could barely see her beautiful eyes. But I soon realized that it didn't matter. We were in another world where touch takes over for sight. Was she crying behind that curtain of steam? Or an illusion caused by the moisture and low light... maybe I'll never know. I quickly slipped out of my clothes while she held my free hand. And finally we stood naked, facing each other. She had been nude under that slinky dress, and her smoothly curving form was there in front of me, hazy, undefined. Otherworldly. I pulled her close against me, feeling her large breasts press low on my chest. "Come with me," I said softly into her ear, and gave it a little kiss. I moved to the shower, stepped into the big tub, and adjusted the water to merely warm before helping her in with me. She closed the curtain behind her and we embraced again under the spray. Rip old boy, where is this world? In a dream? No. Can't be. My dreams were never this clear... and never felt this good. And in my dreams... my eyes never teared when I kissed a woman. So we moved together, a slow dance before joining together forever.

I awoke with a start. While my eyes adjusted to the hazy sunlight coming through the blinds, I pulled the sheet around me. Last night... I turned my head to look at the sleeping form beside me. He was lying on his side, his head on his outstretched arm. His right hand was under my pillow, barely touching my neck. In his sleep, he smiled that endearing, crooked smile. Still clinging to the sheet, I turned onto my side and reached out to touch his face. "Rip?" I whispered, not wanting to wake him. Not just yet, anyway. I wanted to watch him sleeping next to me. I moved closer to him and let my head rest on his arm. He stirred and pull me close to him. "Katie." I felt his lips on my skin and his arms held me tight against him. I had never felt so warm, so protected. So loved.
When her eyes opened, I closed mine. I had been lying there, watching her sleep soundly for an hour or more. Memorizing her face and neck...and touching her with one finger occasionally... to be sure she was really there with me. I didn't want her to know I'd been staring at her, so I looked asleep. A kid game that I never lost the knack of. She had made small noises in her throat while she slept, as though she were talking to someone in a dream. I wondered who it could be. She was an agent of the Effa Bee Eye, as the Italian stevedores said down on the docks. So it could be just about anyone... I knew nothing of her past. All I knew is, I wish I'd been there. She woke and turned to me, whispering my name. So I pulled her close and said "Katie." And lying this close, she felt even better than I'd remembered from last night. I knew it now. I was shot through the heart. Mounted and stuffed. It happened to cops sometimes. Career shot dead by some luscious dame... move to the suburbs and have kids... end up a delivery driver for a laundry. If she'd have me, I'd drive that diaper truck too. Whistling all the way. Here lies Rip Jasmine, former NYPD Detective. All I lacked was the lily on my chest.

Lying close to him, feeling the warmth of his body against mine, I thought about the gentle way he had touched me the night before. It was like the first time. Like I'd never been with a man. I was willing to forget the past and let him be the first, the only one. I wondered if he was willing to walk away from his life too. Or if there was someone waiting for him at home... It would be so easy; I could tell him about my "trust fund" and we could sail away to some island in the South Pacific and leave this place and our complicated lives behind. What was I thinking? I barely knew this man; I'd just given in to a night of passion with him. My logical mind was screaming at me: what do you think you are doing? But my heart was softly whispering: love this man forever, Kate - he's the best thing that ever happened to you. I wondered if he could hear those voices in my head... I kissed his cheek and he smiled. I looked into his eyes and said, "You know, you're the first man I ever actually spent the night with..."
...We lay there, eye to eye for a long time. Each of our minds racing with the possibilities born of the night before. Our arms and hands touching, remembering the feel of each other's skin. ...and the intense, blinding pleasures we had shared during those last hours of darkness. Usually this would be as far as I'd get with a woman. Not that there had been a shipload of them. My work for the department kept me from meeting many women I'd let tie my shoe...at this point, I'd usually get dressed and get on with my job. Balancing good against evil, without much thought towards meeting again. But the feeling that showed in her eyes was impossible to ignore. No. She wasn't a needy, love sick puppy. There was an assurance behind her manner that told me she didn't really need me. Rather, she was debating choosing me over something or someone else. God knows why. I wasn't rich or particularly handsome... I couldn't tell you the difference between caviar and fish bait. My charm, what there was of it, probably resulted from too many years on the rough side of life. The side she no doubt avoided. Years of being beaten to a pulp and humbled by my own mistakes, and living to tell about it. That carried more value than riches to some people. Maybe by some queer twist of fate she was one of them. She was still looking me in the eyes, running her fingers over my strange tattoo... I could see her mind working all the while. Balancing, balancing. Walking that emotional tight rope. I wondered if she knew I'd be there to catch her if she fell...

He was staring at me. Just lying there, touching my hand on his arm, staring into the very depths of my soul. He didn't say a word. Normally, having a man stare into my eyes while I was lying in bed with him would have been disconcerting; but somehow the way he was looking at me wasn't. All I could see in his eyes was myself. And that strange familiarity. I couldn't figure it out. This had never happened to me before. Not that there had been that many men. I could count them on one hand, with a finger or two left over. But this one - he was so different. He made me feel... well, I wasn't sure what I was feeling. But it wasn't love, I told myself. No, definitely not love. I'd fallen in love once and had skidmarks on my heart to show for it. Never again, I'd vowed. No man was ever going to get that close to me again...
...I pulled this woman closer to me and closed my eyes. What had we done to ourselves. Or what had been done to us, either by fate, or the whims of nature. I didn't have the answer to that. I was breathing into her neck and shoulder, "You know, I don't know anything about you, aside from that little thing with the FBI. I think maybe you left something out." She was silent. Her trust was slow in coming. Smart. "Well, since I'm doing all the talkin', I have a confession to make." She pulled away, watching my face, making it harder to bare my soul. "I... I don't want this to end, not here... not today. Give me a chance with you." Her eyes never moved from mine, and she remained quiet. "I just wanted to say that." I sat up in the squeaky bed, the sheet bunched at my waist, and looked out the dirty window. Out there, my crazy world went staggering by without me. And from where I sat, I didn't miss it a bit.

I lay there quietly for a moment. Somehow I was more to him that just one night above a sleazy bar. Isn't that what you want, Kate? I thought and smiled to myself. My heart's voice was whispering words of assurance to me, drowning out the ever logical voice of reason. Holding the sheet over my breasts, I sat up and touched his arm. He turned to me and the look in his eyes brought forth a torrent of words from somewhere deep inside me. "I always wanted to work for the Bureau, from the time I was in school. I wanted to be Eliot Ness. And I worked so hard to prove myself. But it's just so complicated, Rip. My first assignment was in Chicago. I was young and naive and didn't realize that I was in over my head with Slick and his mob. The Director warned me about getting involved but I didn't listen. Slick seduced me with his charm and money and soon I wasn't sure about who I was really working for. He used me, I eventually realized, and that's when I filed my final report with the Bureau and they tried to take him down. Slick got away, but so did I. With $250,000 of his dirty money. The Bureau reassigned me to Atlanta for a while and then here to New York. I thought I'd escaped Slick for good, but Slick never forgets when it comes to money." He listened silently and gently took my hand in his. "Oh Rip, last night... I don't know what I was thinking. I'm not really that kind of girl." I looked away as tears filled my eyes. "I just don't know what to do anymore, where to run - there's nowhere to hide." I leaned against him, wanting to feel safe again. "I don't want this to end either. Can't we just run away together?" I looked into his eyes - waiting for an answer.

...I listened to Kate talking about her past with a mixture of concern and mild amusement. She had gotten in over her head on her first assignment. I guess the Bureau believes in trial by fire. And so she got her cute little tail feathers scorched. But she's right about one thing... those bums don't forget. It's an honor thing among those families. If you're bested, the other families lose respect for you. And those dagos take it seriously. Stupid, and childish, but it's what they got. And so now she's sitting on a pile of dirty dough. Ain't that a picture... trying to decide where to run next. Well, Rip Jasmine doesn't run. Unless he knows the odds are too heavy on the other side. If that clown that got away last night really works for Slick, then we'd better get to a safer vantage point. "Right offhand I'd say forget Fishman's warehouse, you have bigger problems." I turned and put my feet on the floor. I wanted to make love again in the morning light, but a sense of urgency was coming over me. And I learned to listen to my instincts a long time ago. If we played our cards right, there'd be plenty of time for bed later. "I don't care what you do with the money. But I'm not going to leave you alone in this." I would never be comfortable with the idea of running, so I had to get in as deep as she was. Then find the weak spot, strike, and be done with it. I felt her leaning against my back, warm. It was all I could do to stand up and start dressing. "You'd better get dressed, we've got to move..."

I knew he was right. It was time to stop running and get my life back. He was turned away from me, putting on his clothes. I pulled the sheet around me and slid off the bed. He turned to look at me as I was fumbling with the sheet, trying to walk. He smiled and then began to laugh as he walked toward me. He put his arms around me and kissed me gently on the lips. "Everything will be all right, Katie," he said. "Now get dressed. I'll meet you downstairs." I watched him until he quietly closed the door behind him. I stood in the closet door for a long time, staring at the clothes hanging there. I had a feeling I wasn't coming back to this place. I pulled the grey flannel jacket and pants down from the hanger. The white silk blouse wasn't practical, but that's all I had. It would have to do. In the bathroom, I looked at my reflection in the mirror for what seemed like an eternity. Something in my face was different. Calmer. I didn't know what it was, but something had changed. I splashed water on my face and pulled my hair back into a clip. From sultry lounge singer to plain Jane in one fall swoop, I mused. Wait until he gets a load of this, he may not want to help me after all...
I headed down the stairs... accompanied by the odd sensation of not remembering getting up them. I remember being in the bar alright... smoke, booze, dark jazz... a lifetime ago. I reached the bottom landing, moved to the phone and put a dime in the slot. Three rings later I was checking in Downtown. Two messages from my Captain. Fuck him, I won't be in for a while. One message from a bimbo I had flirted with at a murder scene last Tuesday night... forget her too. Things have certainly taken a left turn, Rip old boy. Armed with the knowledge that the world was still turning out there, I hung up and stepped into the bar. The morning regulars were already there, hunkered over the bar or waving half‑empty glasses at each other. Solving the world's problems while compounding their own. Fuck them too. My eye caught the bartender motioning me over, so I moved to the side‑bar by the swinging top. "You're one lucky bastard, I suggest you lay low for a few days," he says under his breath, then turns and walks back down the bar. I was still staring at his back when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I wheeled, reaching for my piece. A soft hand caught my wrist, pulling me up short. "Jumpy this morning, aren't we?" Katie said. "Yeah, I guess so," I was a little embarrassed. "What say we pay my old pal Fishman a little visit?"

Rip was silent during the drive to Isadore Fishman's warehouse. I looked over at him and wondered if he was feeling the same thing I was. Probably - or else he wouldn't have tried to pull his gun on me in the bar. It's just nerves, I told myself. We could have been killed last night; instead you made love until the early morning hours with the strange man you dragged up the back stairs. And you still don't know much about him; sure, he's a cop and his name is Rip. And he made you feel like no one else has ever made you feel... but that's still no reason to really trust him. "Look familiar?" he asked as he pulled up in front of the dingy grey building. There was no one around. I nodded and turned to face him. He took my hand and held it softly for a moment. "Let me do the talking," he said. With my hand on the gun under my jacket, I followed him in the direction of the dark warehouse.
The place hadn't changed a bit. The dingy walls still blended in with the neighboring warehouses on either side. The only distinguishing feature was a peeling sign over a huge wooden door. The grotesque half fish‑half human logo on the sign was enough to keep the squeamish away. I suppose if you looked at it in the sunshine it might have been different, but in the grey morning... no way. The smell of the waterfront was strong here too. And industrial noises from invisible machines echoed down the canyon of high, windowless walls. I looked at Katie. She was surveying the scene from her window. Her body language told me she would get out of the car only if she had to. Well, she had to. Somebody had to watch my back, and she was elected. "This place ain't gonna tell us anything from this angle, let's do it." I got around the car and reached to help her up the tall curb. Something caught my eye and I turned to see... there next to the door was a tiny, dark window I hadn't noticed before. The glass was so crusted with filth that I barely saw the mooning face slide quickly from view. So much for the element of surprise... Fishman. Suddenly these walls looked a lot like the sides of a grave seen from the bottom... a bead of cold sweat rolled down my spine. "On second thought, stay in the car... and keep it running," I said, and walked toward the door.

"No," I said. "I'm not your damned wheel man." The last time I'd waited in the car, my partner had been killed. I wasn't going to let that happen to Rip - whatever kind of partner he was or would turn out to be. "I'm going with you." I looked him determinedly in the eye and saw his face soften. "Yeah, well, let me do the talking," he muttered and walked toward the door. As we reached the entrance, where it seems that more people walk in than walk out, I turned to look behind us. Good, it's just us and whoever might be inside the ominous grey building. With his gun drawn, Rip slowly opened the door and even more slowly stepped inside. A second later, his left hand grabbed my arm and pulled me along with him. Putting his finger to his lips, he mouthed the word "quiet" and started along the hallway, never relinquishing his grip on my right arm. I let my free hand rest lightly on the handle of my gun in its shoulder holster. It was silent, with the exception of the barely audible sound of our feet on the dirty concrete floor. The smell of fish was overpowering and I fought back the urge to retch. I swallowed hard and stopped. What was that sound? Rip turned to look at me and suddenly...
I tell Katie, "Get against that wall." And push her back with one hand while pulling my gun with the other. The freight elevator near the back wall had come to life. And as well as I knew this place, I knew whoever was on that elevator would have a clear shot at us in a matter of seconds. "Move! That door!" I indicated an ajar office door to Katie's right and followed her inside. It was dark, the only light coming from the hallway. I could feel her behind me as I backed in, keeping my eye trained upwards toward the rising elevator. Her chest pressed against my back, only serving to remind me of the precarious position we were in. And our problems were only beginning... whoever was riding it would soon reach the second level and Fishman's office. From there, Fishman controlled any number of trap doors and booby traps throughout the warehouse... not to mention some nasty thugs capable of anything...even with me. My association with him was an old one, older than anyone suspected. But even that was no guarantee he wouldn't kill me if he thought I had come to take him down. I needed a plan to get to him without putting Katie in an accidental line of fire.

The elevator was moving; someone was inside the warehouse. Rip nudged me toward a slightly open door to my right and followed me inside. Standing behind him, in the dark, I couldn't see anything. I couldn't hear anything either, just the sound of my own heart pounding. The warehouse was dark. Very dark. With the exception of a small, bare bulb in the hallway near the outside door. Then the realization hit me. How did Rip know... 'What say we pay my old pal Fishman a visit?' he had said. Old pal was right. I slowly drew my gun and pressed the barrel squarely against Rip's back. "Don't move," I said. "Unless you'd like to be carried out of your old pal Fishman's warehouse in a body bag." He drew a deep breath. "I'm not nearly as stupid as I may look," I continued. "Now tell me just what the hell is going on here."
"Don't do anything rash," I said. Trying desperately not to smile. "If that thing goes off, you really will have a problem." I heard the freight elevator grind to a halt at the second floor. A steel catwalk from the elevator led to offices that ran along a balcony across the back of the warehouse. And I heard the heavy footsteps creaking across the catwalk... only a few seconds till Fishman knew he had company down here. And she wants to play Nancy Drew. "If we don't move, we could be sealed in this room, unable to do anything...Fishman has this place rigged like some kind of Dr. No's hideout," I whispered. I waited till I heard a shout echo from somewhere high in the warehouse. "Katie?" I whispered, more urgently. Suddenly I was aware that the gun was no longer at my spine...and that Katie was gone. Then the lights went out.

Hmph. I already have a problem, I thought. I couldn't wait to hear just how he happened to know Fishman's warehouse so well. But suddenly, someone or something grabbed me from behind; a gloved hand over my mouth and a strong arm around my waist, pinning both my arms against my body. I couldn't move. I couldn't make a sound. I couldn't see anything. Where was Rip? I was disoriented; had my feet had left the ground? I was moving. Up. Silently moving upward toward what appeared in the dark to be a catwalk. I had stopped struggling. It wasn't doing me any good. Whoever or whatever it was that was holding me was a lot bigger than me, and a hell of a lot stronger. As quickly as I had begun to move upward, I stopped. Suspended in midair, above the dark and gloomy warehouse. The big thug, or gorilla for all I knew, pulled me onto the catwalk along with him and began to move forward, pushing me along. Trying not to stumble, I looked around - barely able to make out the floor below and a balcony in front of me. Concentrating on the space ahead, I could see an empty landing. This might be the only chance I had to get away. I stopped walking and threw my head back as hard as I could into my captor's face. Stunned, he reeled and let me go. I turned and struck him in the temple with the barrel of my gun. I lost my balance and felt myself falling as I watched him topple over the edge of the catwalk toward the dirty concrete floor. All I could do was scream, "Rip!"
I swung around, hoping Katie had just stepped back... but she was gone. In the pitch black of the empty office my heart sank like a stone. Then the fear... knowing what Fishman was capable of, froze that stone in suspension. A block of ice in my gut. There was literally no time to lose. Suddenly, somewhere overhead I heard a brief scraping and scuffle. Shoes on the steel of the catwalk. Then a piercing scream...it took a second to put it together...Katie screaming my name. I had time to think, I never heard her like that....before something very solid hit the ceiling of the office from above, crashing through with a splintering thud. Sending the overhead light fixtures into a frenzy. When they flickered on, the crazy wheeling light drunkenly showed me a heaped man, dead of a broken neck not three feet in front of my pointy Florsheims. Katie screamed my name again....still above. Thank God. Somehow she had bested this goon and was now high above the floor. Time to pay old Fishman a visit, before things went any more astray. "I'm here! Stay put!" I screamed back up through the hole in the ceiling. She said nothing...smart. I then spoke calmly to the microphone that was almost certainly hidden in the room, "I know you can hear me... so you listen carefully. The woman is a sworn Federal agent. She's also a good friend of mine...capiche? She has a few questions she wants the answers to, and you're going to give them to her. If anything happens to her, if anything so much as irritates her... I'm coming for you. All bets are off. Do I make myself clear? Oh, by the way, sorry about Murray here," I smiled, "he always was a klutz."

I half-expected my life to flash before my eyes as I felt myself falling, following the gorilla who had grabbed me to certain death on the concrete floor below. Instead I saw my future, if you could all it that, along with the railing support along the side of the catwalk. I flailed wildly with my right arm and managed to catch the steel bar. Damn it all, I thought, I am not going to fall; I am not going to die in this place. God, it hurt like hell, but I frantically wrapped my arm and elbow around the support, holding on for dear life. I didn't dare drop my gun for fear I'd need it to shoot Fishman, who would surely appear above me on the catwalk to finish me off. I'd be waiting for him. "Rip!" I shouted again, if you could call it that, to let him know that I was all right. Over the sound of my pounding heart, it sounded more like a squeak. I heard him scream something at me, but I couldn't understand the words. I was afraid to answer - afraid that Fishman, or another one of his goons would find me and send me plummeting to the warehouse floor. I hung there, trying not to move, for what seemed like forever. The pain in my arm was incredible; I knew I couldn't hold on much longer. I needed both hands to pull myself to safety. But I didn't want to drop the gun; what if it went off when it hit the floor and hit Rip? I couldn't move enough to reholster the forty-five; I decided to slip it into the waistband of my trousers. If I accidentally shot myself, it wouldn't matter. I'd be dead either way, I thought with an ironic grin and a wince as the pain in my arm intensified. Slowly I raised my left arm and slid the barrel of the gun between the silk of my blouse and my trousers. So far, so good. Just then my right arm began to cramp and I realized I was losing my grip...

Moving slowly...

I was doing really well (or so I thought) with writing a little bit every night - but I've had my mind on other things for the past week and I have gotten nothing done. I have learned not to bounce my ideas off anyone else, because the story is somehow lost in the telling. Does that make any sense? It's like once the words are out of my mouth, I can't get them back to put on paper (or computer screen, as it were). Anyhow, when I was looking for some stories about my mother-in-law, I ran across a mystery I started several year ago - written in two voices and I've never been quite sure what to do with it. I'd be interested in comments.

Need a last name!

I need a last name for a mysterious, hit-man character in my work-in-progress. Any suggestions? His first name is Jack. Think tall, dark, handsome - yet nondescript enough to blend into a crowd.