Welcome to this two-shot. It became so long I decided to split it so that the chapter wasn't 10,000 words. Chapter 2 is currently being worked on and posted as soon as I'm finished because two & three-shots now get chapters posted consecutively so that there is no waiting for weeks or months.
Legal ~ I own nothing but the idea.
Important things to know before reading:
*This is a period fic taking place in the late 30s.
*Patterned after the noir detective novels so hopefully it reads that way. This is a complete experiment and could be awful but hopefully you'll all have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
*This is totally A/U no one went to DeGrassi High or Community School but they do all live in Toronto and I used many of my favorite characters.
*The only note on families in this is that Clare is the only child of Randall and Helen Edwards.
*The rest is explained as you read so enjoy.
*The whole is told by Fitz and so is in his pov.
Yes there is a glossary I only did the words I haven't used before I wasn't sure people would know, although most of it could probably be discerned from the context but it's here if you need it. Especially as things like cool are slang today yet mean something totally different.
Glossary:
*Tomato ~ Attractive Woman
*Cool ~ To Kill
*Crumb ~ A fink, a loser by social standards
*City Juice ~ Glass of Water
*Suds ~ Money (no idea why)
*Bleed ~ To Extort or Blackmail
*Abyssinia ~ I'll be seeing you (say the words real fast it will make sense)
*Cadillac ~ One ounce packet of cocaine or heroin
*Apple ~ Any big city
*Twist ~ Woman
*Jack ~ Money
*Torpedoes ~ Hired gunmen/tough guys
*Sawbuck ~ $10
*Buzzer ~ Police badge
This Dame is Dangerous
The fan blades beating through the stuffy humid air in my office did little to cool me down. The hot August Toronto afternoon was almost unbearable. My brown suit jacket hangs loosely on the hook by the door, I couldn't even put it on this morning. I loosened my tie after lunch and opened the top two buttons on my shirt, I wasn't expecting any clients in suffocating heat like this. I lean back in my chair, my feet on the desk, arms behind my head listening to the almost primal hypnotic beating of the fan blades. They beat like an African drum and begin to lull me to sleep, I can sleep off the heat and walk home tonight.
"Fitzy," Emma calls knocking on the door to my office. "Pull yourself together Gumshoe you got a client. A dame," Emma tells me swatting my feet off the desk.
Emma Cameron is my Girl Friday, sharp and independent she's not a woman you mess with. I hired her because she's resourceful and clever, plus she's pretty good at keeping me in line, not an easy task with all my vices.
"A dame huh?" I question sitting up straight. "What's she like?"
"Why don't you see for yourself, come in Miss Edwards," Emma calls.
Emma leaves my office just as the dame walks in and what a dame! A real tomato, a dish I'd like to sink my teeth into. Legs for hours in black stockings, curves like Mae West, like an artfully crafted hourglass. The white blouse of her two-tone daytime dress looks almost drab against her alabaster skin. Yet, she's got it unbuttoned a slight bit, due to the heat I'm sure, enough to see just a peek at her cleavage, and a beauty mark like a bullseye for your vision and mine's shooting straight at it. Lips that look like they were kissed on by a cherub and colored a gentle rose pink by her lipstick. Her hair, ringlet curls chopped to her chin and framing her face under her plumed hat, every curl in place despite the heat. But her eyes, oh her eyes, like two blue diamonds from the heavens themselves.
"Please sit Miss…Edwards was it?" I question pulling out the chair on the other side of my desk for her.
"You can call me Clare," she replies with a tawdry smile, the kind of smile that makes a man go weak in the knees.
"Call me Mark," I grin perching on the edge of my desk just to be close to her. Her perfume smells like roses, I can almost taste it on my tongue. "So Clare what need do you have of a Private Eye?"
"It's my fiancé," she tells me. The word fiancé squeezes my chest like a vice but of course a kitten like her is taken. "Actually ex-fiancé," she corrects and I breathe again, she's not taken, not anymore. "I broke the engagement two days ago and Eli, Elijah Goldsworthy he's my ex, he was very angry. He refused to accept it, told me no woman leaves him. This morning I found one of our favorite paintings was stolen from my home. A very valuable painting on its own but even more valuable because of what was hidden inside the frame."
"Did Mr. Goldsworthy know what was in the frame?"
"No he stole the painting because he knew it was important to me. I knew he must have taken it and I called him as soon as I saw it missing. He said I won't get it back unless I go back to him. I need the painting back but I cannot go back to Eli. He's a brilliant writer, it's why I fell in love with him, but he's prone to mood swings and violence," she says brushing her fingers along her jawline. I wonder if she's covered a recent bruise or is just remembering the last one, either way my fists clench and I already want to cool Eli, I always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.
"No tears from those beautiful blues now Doll. Fitzy will get your painting back and take care of that crumb you were engaged to. Now tell me what painting was it?"
"Le Grand Canal by Claude Monet, the last painting my parents ever bought together. My mother died when I was very young and my father passed away three years ago, shortly after his passing I met Eli. Have you ever seen the painting Mark? Le Grand Canal?"
"Sorry Precious I'm afraid I'm not one for art."
"Oh it's beautiful, my father had a special silver frame made for it, intricately carved with a secret compartment. My father is a renowned inventor and he would sometimes spend days locked away in his lab and his study but my parents would leave notes to each other in the compartment in the frame. After my mother died my father and I did the same until I was at boarding school in Italy, and then he began to hide things in there. I didn't know until I returned from school and found them there, he was very angry and told me never to look in there again, that he hid the plans for his most dangerous inventions in the frame so no one would ever find them. Well after he died you see I would often sit and stare at the painting, it was a secret my father and I shared and a way to hang onto him. That's how Eli knew it was so important and why he stole it, why he's using it to bleed me to come back to him," she explains her voice getting more distressed as she speaks.
"Em," I call and she comes in "city juice for Clare," I tell her and Emma nods she leaves my office and returns with a glass handing it to Clare. Emma leaves my office again and closes the door to give us privacy.
Clare raises the glass to her lips to take a sip and I watch perched on my desk, smelling her rose perfume and watching her swallow. If it wasn't hot enough already this dame sets me scorching.
"I want you to find the painting Mark, get it back from Eli, he may have sold it since I spoke to him or be trying to fence it. My father's inventions left me with plenty of suds and I'll pay you whatever you ask. Here's $200 for expenses I hope that's enough to get you started, that is if you'll take the case," she says hopefully as she reaches into her pocketbook and pulls out two C-Notes.
"I'll take the case. Go home and don't fret about nothin', I'll need your address and phone number so I can find you if I need to."
Clare smiles leaning over my desk to get a pen and my notepad. It almost seems purposeful the way her chest squeezes together when she does this, looks like it might burst her blouse and I forget for a moment to breathe.
"Here you go," she says straightening up and tearing off the piece of paper to hand it to me.
"Can you get home alright?" I ask taking the paper.
"I have a car downstairs," she tells me as she stands up and I get up as well, "thanks for taking the case Mark." She walks to the door and I become hypnotized watching her curves move and her skirt bounce. She reaches out for the handle and then turns back to me, "Be careful Mark. Eli can be very dangerous when he doesn't get what he wants, and there's no telling what kind of crumb he sold the painting to."
"Don't worry Precious I'll be fine," I assure her walking over to open the door for her.
"Abyssinia Mark," she grins. I put my hand on hers to open the door, skin like silk she has. This dame is dangerous.
Clare saunters out past Emma's desk, smiling goodbye to Emma on the way out. I watch until she's gone and the door shuts behind her.
"You're drooling Fitzy, don't get dizzy for the dame she's a client," Emma warns me.
"Yeah and she pays well. I need you to find me a current address for Elijah Goldsworthy, he was formerly Miss Edwards fiancé. I'll be back in a couple of hours," I tell her.
"Where are you going?" Emma asks writing down what I just told her.
"Research I need to know what a certain painting looks like," I reply.
I grab my hat and my jacket from my office and leave. It's even hotter on the street, I take my jacket off holding it with a hooked finger over my shoulder. The hat is at least keeping the sun off my face. I brave the humid heat for a couple of blocks before hailing a cab to get downtown.
"Hi Fitzy," Anya smiles when I walk into the art gallery owned by her family, "been a while. You miss me?" She slinks her way across the marble floor of the gallery like a kitten stalking a saucer of milk.
"Always Red but right now I need a favor," I tell her hanging my jacket and fedora at the door.
"Why don't you ever come around to take me to the jazz club no more Fitzy?"
"Because last time I took you out I found you with Cadillac and I won't be around anyone on that stuff. I didn't come here to talk about the past I need to see a painting, know what it looks like, it's for a case."
"What painting?" She questions.
"A Monet, something about a canal," I reply trying to recall what Clare said but all I can remember is the way Clare's dress was painted on her curves and made my office smell of roses.
"Le Grand Canal, we don't have it in the gallery but there's a photo in one of father's books. Come on into the back, it's so hot out no one's coming in." She turns around quickly and I follow her into the back of the gallery. She pulls a large book off a shelf putting it on the table and begins flipping through it. "Here it is," Anya says when she gets to the right page.
She moves away and I look at the picture. My idea of art is the posters at the movie house but it's a nice painting, I can see why a high class dame like Clare would appreciate it. I study the painting until I'm sure that I'll know it when I see it again and then I close the book.
"Thanks Red I'll see you around," I tell Anya and start walking for the door.
"Fitz," she calls and I turn back, "this case it involves a dame doesn't it?"
"How'd you know?"
"The smile on your lips when you were trying to remember the name of the painting. She must be pretty," Anya comments and I grin, "and a damsel in distress. You just can't say no to a damsel in distress can you?"
"I couldn't say no to you, not until you got hooked anyway."
"Be careful Fitzy, stick to the case don't get your heart broke," Anya warns me.
I simply wink and walk out. Anya follows me to the front of the gallery, I put my hat back on and hook my jacket over my shoulder again. Anya blows me a kiss as I walk out the door. I hail another cab and take it to my apartment, I've nearly sweated through my shirt and I need a shower. I take a quick one and get out when I hear my phone ringing.
"Mark Fitzgerald Private Eye," I answer.
"It's Emma I've been calling all over for you. I have a current address for Mr. Goldsworthy."
Em gives me the address and I write it down. I thank Emma, hang up and get dressed, it's almost evening and it's beginning to cool down a little but I still don't take a jacket. Cotton slacks and shirt with a knit vest Emma bought for me, she buys most of my clothes or I'd only have two suits in my wardrobe. I put on my fedora and one last thing for safety before I leave my apartment
It's still humid but not quite as hot, Eli's house is a few blocks away and I decide to hoof it. Eli lives in a row house, they're everywhere in this apple. White with green trim and a green door, a garden that isn't kept but there's a statue of a black raven on the steps to the front door. I ring the bell and wait a moment and when it opens I take a good look at the man on the other side of the door.
He's shorter than I am by about three inches, dark hair that needs a trim, an angular face with sharp features and haunting green eyes. He's dressed in black slacks, white shirt and a black vest, he resembles a funerary director more than a writer. Then again given the raven statue in the front his literary influences seem to run to the macabre so apparently do his clothes.
"Elijah Goldsworthy?"
"Yeah, who are you?"
"Mark Fitzgerald, Private Eye. I've been hired by your ex-fiancé to retrieve a certain painting," I inform him.
I watch his face, his lips curl into the grin of the Cheshire Cat, he knows he got to her. And then he looks at me, really looks at me and his green eyes narrow in jealousy.
"I'll get the painting back for her when she takes me back. I never did understand why she liked that painting so much. She gave me back my ring, said she didn't love me anymore well I won't let her leave. She wants the painting back then she takes back my ring and she marries me. No twist breaks up with me, not ever. I thought she'd beg me, she used to just sit and stare at that painting, but when she called this morning she told me no and now I find out she went and hired a sap flatfoot to retrieve it for her. Well I don't have it, I sold it to a rich couple for a lot of jack. You can try and track it down but if Clare isn't going to come back to me then I'm going to pay her a visit tonight," Eli says with a grin that would give the devil chills.
Knowing he means to hurt Clare I curl my hand into a fist and sock him as hard as I can right in one of his bright green eyes. He stumbles back and goes unconscious on the floor, I step into his house and close the door looking around for a phone. He has one on a table in the living room and I dial.
"Yeah?" Owen answers.
Owen Milligan and Lucas Valieri are two torpedoes I keep on the payroll, never know when I might need some backup. Or in this case protection, only it's not for me.
"I need you and Lucas to get over to 7072 Cavell, ring the bell and tell the broad you're there for her protection and I sent you. Don't let anyone in besides me and Emma got it?"
"Sure thing Fitz we'll leave now," Owen replies and hangs up.
I set the phone down and hear Eli groaning as he begins to come around. I take out the colt from my ankle holster and step on Eli's chest just as his eyes open. I have the gun trained right between his eyes.
"Touch Clare again and I'll cool you understand?"
He doesn't say anything just sneers at me, I lift my foot off his chest and kick him in the face. He's only dazed but it gives me enough time to get out and get away before he gets any ideas. I know Owen and Lucas will keep Clare safe so I catch a cab back to the office, coming in just as Em's getting ready to leave.
"Rough afternoon Fitz?"
"Nothing I can't handle. When you get in tomorrow I need you to find out which wealthy couple Eli sold the painting to. He didn't tell me any details just that it was a wealthy couple and they paid a good price. I'm going to Clare's and staying the night there," I tell Emma and she gives me a look. "Eli threatened her, I've already got Owen and Lucas there to watch her but I'm going too."
"Getting involved with clients is dangerous Fitz, even for a dame like that."
"I'm protecting the client not getting involved," I respond but Emma only shakes her head like she doesn't believe me.
She puts on her coat, hat and gloves and I walk out with her locking up the office. Emma gives me a lift to Clare's house and I wave to her as I get out of the car. Clare's house is nice, not opulent but a single home not a row house, a little garden and a gate. It's almost romantic like an English cottage and it suits her. I walk up the garden path and knock on the door, Lucas answers ready to hit or shoot whoever was at the door but grins when he sees me and lets me in.
"Just who are these goons and why are they holding me prisoner in my house?" Clare's voice snaps and I look up to the top of the stairs to reply but the sight before me steals my breath before I can.
Her hair is pulled back ever so slightly and revealing her cherub face. Her eyes still bright blue like diamonds from heaven currently hold a bit of contempt for me and her current situation, but it doesn't take away from her beauty. Her lips are painted deep blood red, Chinese red I think it's called, like two lights screaming for me to kiss them. Her dress, her dress I could write a poem about and I'm not writer, it's a thing that men dream of. Made of silk it drapes from the back of her neck crossing between her breasts and even from here I can see she's not wearing a brassiere. The silk cascades over her curves like water over the rocks of a waterfall, down to the floor and hides her shoes yet I know she's wearing taller heels than this afternoon. White silk that shimmers like diamonds against her milky alabaster skin.
"She wanted to go out, we told her no," Owen says from an armchair in the living room where he's reading the paper. His voice snaps me out of my daze.
"Eli threatened you, I sent them here to keep you safe. It's not a good idea for you to go out tonight, not with Eli out there and we don't know who has the painting yet. He did sell it and if whoever he sold it to finds your father's inventions they could come looking for more. Emma will track down who bought the painting in the morning and when I'm sure that Eli is no longer a threat I'll send Owen and Lucas home," I tell Clare and she grimaces at me.
She walks down the stairs, walk is the wrong word she glides down the stairs and right over to me. Her eyes lock onto mine, she looks upset but her beautiful blues could hold me prisoner anytime.
"I hired you to get my painting back Mark not to tell me what to do," she seethes with angry annoyance before turning around quickly but I grab her arm to turn her back to me. She spins, the dress spins with her and I smell roses again.
"If Eli hurts you then what's the use of finding the painting, you hired me and now you're stuck with me Precious I'm going to keep you safe. No going out tonight and the three of us are staying here in case Eli still decides to drop by as he threatened to do," I assert. For a second her face stays angry, her eyes narrowed at mine and then she relaxes and smiles, her scarlet colored lips curling up and once again calling to me to kiss them.
"Well if you're going to be so insistent I suppose I'll behave. If everyone is staying then we'll need something to eat, not much in the kitchen I'm afraid. Lucas would you run down the street to Simpson's Grocery and get some cold cuts and bread, we'll make sandwiches. You'll need to get all the fixings. There's a sawbuck in the desk there that ought to cover it," Clare says.
I let go of her wrist while Lucas goes to the drawer and gets out the cash. He puts his trench coat on and his fedora before leaving. It's dark now and the night is just beginning to get cold. Lucas leaves and Clare turns walking back toward the stairs.
"Where are you going?" I question.
"To change of course, if I'm staying in for the night then I'm going to change into something more appropriate for a night in," she replies with a playful grin.
"Owen keep an eye on things down here I'll be upstairs with Clare just in case," I instruct. I follow Clare up the stairs watching her dress sway, watching her milky skin as she moves because the dress has an open back. I follow Clare to her room but I wait outside the door, leaning against the wall alert for anything out of the ordinary.
"Mark," Clare calls to me like a siren's song luring the sailor to his doom but I still open the door.
"Are you alright?" I question. She has her back to me and is holding her hair up.
"There's a clasp on the back of the dress would you mind?"
I take two steps and close the gap between us, my hands take hold of either side of the clasp and I feel her skin. Silky and white, softer than the silk of her dress, a man could get lost in her skin and spend days feeling every inch of it. I open the clasp and step away before I do something I'll regret like kiss her.
"Thanks, you can wait in here I'll only be a moment," she says holding her dress up and stepping into the dressing room.
She closes the door and I look around her bedroom. She has some art hanging and a picture of her and an older gentleman, I assume to be her father, on the desk. She also has a lot of books, more books than I've ever seen outside of a library.
"There now I'm dressed for the night," Clare announces coming out of her dressing room a few minutes later. She's changed into a soft pink nightgown with a sash and billowed sleeves, trimmed with lace it goes to the floor. She has house slippers and I can see her painted toenails. She's taken off her lipstick but her lips are still screaming to be kissed.
"You're not going downstairs like that are you?"
"I'll put my robe on."
"You're quite the woman Clare, I'm beginning to see why Eli won't let you go."
"Are you? And how long will I have your protection?" She asks stepping right up to me. Roses, I smell roses again. I can't help it, my internal devil takes over, I cup her face wrapping an arm around her lower back and crush my lips to hers. She grips my vest with one hand and clasps the back of my neck, her lips parting just slightly. I taste roses now, she tastes of roses and I could kiss her all night, I could kiss her forever. I might have too if we weren't so suddenly interrupted by a noise outside the window.
"Stay here," I tell Clare letting go of her to go to the window. I don't smell roses any longer now I smell blood. I look out the window but see nothing so I turn back to Clare. "Get your robe on let's go downstairs."
Clare turns around to get her robe, she grabs it, turns back and her face changes to fear, "Mark!"
I turn back around to the window just in time for Eli to leap in and tackle me to the floor. Clare screams as we begin to struggle and I hear Owen running up the steps at the sound of her scream, or maybe the sound of Eli and I hitting the floor. Eli has the upper hand for the moment, on top of me he sits up and punches me, right in the eye to give me a shiner like his. It's enough time for me to grab the gun from my ankle holster. Eli tries to punch again but I hold the gun to his stomach and pull the trigger, Clare screams once more as Eli slumps forward and just as Owen runs in.
"Get her out of here and get on the horn to the police," I tell him.
Owen nods and picks Clare up to get her out of the room quickly. When they're gone I push Eli off me, he falls to the floor, his eyes are still open and I have some of his blood on my hands and my clothes.
"I warned you to stay away from her, and what would happen," I comment to Eli's corpse.
"Clare's on the chaise and the cops are on their way, you should probably come down," Owen tells me.
I nod and follow him downstairs, Clare sits on the sofa, she's not crying just staring off into nothing. She's in shock, I see a quilt on a chair and put it around her. The door opens and Lucas comes in with the food.
"What did I miss?" Lucas questions.
"Eli came in through her window and I shot him, the cops are coming," I inform him.
Lucas takes the food to the kitchen and a few minutes later there's a knock at the door. I open the peephole and the coppers flash their buzzers at me. I open the door and see two faces I recognize.
"Seems like you're always around when there's trouble Fitz," Spinner comments pushing his way past me to get in.
"It goes with the job of a P.I. Spin," I reply. His partner Peter follows him in and sees the blood on my clothes.
"So what happened Fitz," Peter asks.
I tell them that Clare hired me to get back the painting Eli stole to get her to come back to him. When I went to see him he threatened her, I sent Owen and Lucas over to protect her and came over myself and when he came through the window we struggled and I shot him. Owen and Clare tell them the same thing, it was self-defense and Eli broke in so no charges and they call the coroner to take Eli's body.
"We're all set Miss Edwards, do you have the number of his next of kin?" Peter asks as Eli's body is taken away.
"Yes, his parents live in Hamilton," Clare replies getting up and the quilt falls away revealing her robe and nightgown, she seems to have forgotten she's wearing them but everyone is now mesmerized by her, or at least the sight of her in the sexy nightgown. She pulls an address book from the drawer and writes a number down handing it to Peter.
"Do you need us to call anyone for you Miss?" Spinner questions and Clare shakes her head. The coroner leaves and then the cops.
"I should go back to my apartment and change," I remark looking at my blood stained clothes.
"Mark please don't I want you to stay. I have some old clothes of my father's you can wear. I don't want to be alone tonight," she pleads gripping onto me.
"I'll stay Precious don't worry those pretty blue eyes of yours."
"I'll get the clothes for you. You fellas should eat, I'm not hungry but make yourself some sandwiches and help yourselves to anything in the kitchen and pantry," Clare tells us.
She gives me a grateful look and goes upstairs. I go into the kitchen with the boys and make a sandwich, Clare still hasn't come down by the time I'm done eating so I go upstairs.
"Clare?"
"In here, I've laid out some clothes they should fit alright. I wasn't sure what you wanted so there's a pair of slacks, shirt and a sweater and some pajamas, slippers and a robe. I'm going to take a bubble bath," Clare tells me.
She disappears into the washroom and I hear the water running. I go back downstairs before I change, the boys are just finishing eating.
"You two can go on home there's no threat now that Eli's dead. Swing by the office tomorrow and I'll pay you for the job," I tell Owen and Lucas.
"Sure thing Fitz, take it easy on the girl she's had a rough night," Owen says.
They finish their sandwiches and leave their dishes in the sink, gather their stuff and leave. I lock the door after them and go upstairs to the bedroom Clare was in earlier and where the clothes are that she's left for me. I decide to change into the pajamas, robe and slippers, they're high quality and very comfortable. Most of my clothes are probably ruined but I still fold them up, I'll take them to the laundry tomorrow they might be able to get the stains out.
When I hear the washroom door opening I look over and Clare comes out. Her pajamas and robe back on, her hair pinned up still from the bath. She's washed off all her makeup and yet is somehow more beautiful without it but I see something else too, a bruise on her jawline. The one she brushed her fingers over in my office this morning but has been concealed by makeup all this time.
"You look nice in those," Clare says with a soft smile. I walk over and gently brush my thumb over her bruise. "That's when I kicked him out and broke the engagement," she tells me and her voice cracks with sorrow.
"He'll never hurt you again Clare, you're safe now," I assure her.
I gently kiss the bruise and then she crushes her lips to mine in a passionate kiss. Her lips hold all the fervor of a raging fire and I hold her tightly. Now that we're alone I might just kiss her forever.
It's not over, Fitz hasn't gotten the painting back yet and there's more characters to introduce, a gangster and seductress and of course the rich couple. Chapter two will be the next thing I post, probably Monday or Tuesday.