The rain wouldn’t let up. It never did. The sky seemed to always be dark any more in this crumbling city. As I gazed out into the void I heard the elevator door chime in the hallway. Someone was coming up.
Odd for this time of the hour since my office was the only one open. The two-bit lawyers across the hall left ages ago but then again, I never leave.
As I glanced to the door my mind wondered who would be knocking at my chamber door. Ah, Poe. This was my life ever more.
Could it be an old woman who needed help proving her old man was creeping in the dark? No, not at this hour. Maybe it was a drunk trying to get out of the rain. I raised my glass of Scotch to toast the fine hobo would be falling out of the elevator in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
Nothing. I could hear the doors open, pause, and close. Well here is to the ghost of Christmas past, I thought as I finished the glass.
The winds howled outside. Another sleepless night. Another bottle down. A crack of light flashed out on the horizon, the thunder rumbled the glass window of the miniature skyscraper.
Sighing I took my seat. My desk cluttered with cases, some solved others collecting dust. The cigar still burning, the bottle empty, the thoughts ever running.
A shadow appeared through the privacy glass at the door. The shadow knocked.
How? I wasn’t drunk. One bottle of scotch couldn’t even affect me. Startled I reached for my revolver, the worn metal felt cold in my hands.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Detective, do you have a moment? A female voice replied.
The mob wouldn’t send a woman to do their bidding, but the bank would I thought. However, the shadow was tall for a woman. Probably in heels.
“Come in and make it quick” I retorted, adjusting my revolver under my desk. If she brought friends, someone wasn’t going home.
The door nob slowly turned.
I cocked the revolver with my thumb.
In came the woman with a large white hat, blonde hair down well past her shoulders. She was about 5 foot 4 plus her 3-inch heels. Her white trench coat was tailor fit with matching white gloves. She had money. Money could pay for more scotch let alone a bill or two.
The only threat possibly was a white umbrella almost half her height. I took the chance and slipped the revolver in the holster under the desk. A man in my profession doesn’t take risks. Well, then again, looks like I do.
“What can I do for you miss”… I paused waiting for her to…
“Miss Waltz” her eyes gazed across the room as she places the umbrella in one hand and began removing her gloves. As her eyes moved, they paused on the bottle and glass before continuing on.
“Well Miss Waltz, what brings you at this late hour?” My eyes fell from hers for just a moment. Whatever she had on underneath was short. Either she was from the main line or…
She blushed. “I need you to find someone for me.” Husband came to mind. “My father.”
“How long has he been gone?” I asked while trying to find the last drop from my glass.
“Two days.”
“Why haven’t you gone to the police?” I asked already knowing the answer. She had the look of money without ever working for it. Her father on the other hand probably made an enemy in which bringing police into would bring them infamy, and the angelic look wouldn’t mix.
“I did. When they called his secretary she told them he was away for business. However, he never told me about it.”
Her hand reaching into her pocket. She wasn’t pulling a pistol out of anywhere as her coat hugged her tiny frame.
“However I found these in his coat pocket” tossing matches onto the desk.
The logo was a scantily clad red-haired bombshell flanked by two dice. Both ones showing. This pack of matches came from a dive bar in the middle of the slums, known for the nefarious acts that occurred around it.
“Lady, you look like a good girl but your father is probably on some trip. I got actual cases” pointing to the dust-covered folders.
Damn. Maybe I was feeling it.
“I’ll pay you, 5 thousand now. If he comes back it’s yours to keep. If not, I’ll pay all your costs and fees to find him.
Five thousand dollars. To listen, check up one lead, and walk away.
“Do you have a picture? Or anything else that would be able to assist me?” I replied.
“Well…” she looked around the room towards a batch of old newspapers. She flipped through them. “Here.”
She handed me last Thursday’s paper. I really should clean up this office.
“Who?”
“Him.” she pointed
The man was Joseph Fredricks, one of the top 10 wealthiest philanthropists in the city. He was in the paper once a month for some charity or donation. He was always going to foreign countries and bringing back rare oddities.
That isn’t Mister Waltz doll. I checked again for a ring.
I am his stepdaughter. Here is the check for five thousand dollars. Call this number if you find anything, it is to the house.
She placed the envelope with the number on it on the desk.
“Very well Miss Waltz, I will begin my search tomorrow morning.” Of course, after I cash this check I thought.
“Thank you, detective. Please find my father.” Her eyes locked on mine as her body turned back to the door. As the knob turned, tears broke from her face. With that she left, her heels clicking down the hall. Down the hall, the elevator chimed.
The doors opened and closed.
It was silent in the building again.
Out of all the doors in this city she walked through mine.
I should have realized there was more to this story just as I should have noticed she was completely dry.
Note: First try and getting in to noir writing theme.