1. Raymond Chandler
It was one of those wet London evenings, the sort for which hot tea and toast had to be invented to let the English survive in this filthy climate. Any more water around and I might have believed they had dropped me off the ship mid-Atlantic. I didn't want to be here, but a job's a job and even a British pound is cold, hard cash. I wore a borrowed suit which itched, and a gun for which my fingers itched more. I didn't trust these stuffed shirts with titles, and the punk who had hired me was more stuffed than a turkey at Thanksgiving, with an accent to match. Yep, Sir Anthony Strallan was trouble alright, but trouble was my business, my stock in trade, my bread and butter, and, more to the point, my slug of bourbon.
The butler looked down his nose at the puddle I'd made from the English rain, as though I'd done it on purpose. Then he looked back up at me.
"May I take your coat, sir?"
"Thanks. Try coming to LA someday, Bub: they pay good money for water there. You'd make a fortune."
Longnose raised an eyebrow, and showed me into the library. Boy, do they read a lot in England! I guess it's the only thing to do to pass the time until the next cricket match.
Sir Tall Blonde Teddy Bear turned to me.
"Ah, Mr Marlowe. Good to see you. Thank you for coming, especially on such a nasty night. Would you care for a cup of something?"
"I'd be happier with a glass of something."
I'll give it to His Fuzziness, it took no more than a split second for him to catch my drift and nod to Longnose to give me a tumbler of Scotch. A complex language of eyebrow-waggling also instructed him that the measure should be a triple. I began to like this Sir Bear.
"So, who's the dame?"
"I do beg your pardon?"
"In these sorts of cases a woman is always involved...at least in my experience."
"Have you had much experience in...these sorts of cases, Mr Marlowe?"
"Let's just say I ain't yet met the dame who wasn't trouble, or the one who was remotely worth it."
"Oh, Lady Edith is worth it" he sighed, staring into his own glass.
This broad had broken his heart, that much was obvious to a blind man in sunglasses. He'd got it bad, worse than I'd ever seen. When I left, an hour and half a bottle of Scotch later, I had my assignment: find this Edith lady, or Lady Edith, check out that she was happy, and use a fine-toothed comb on the background of her new beau, some character called Gregson, just to make sure the male of the species wasn't going to go ruining her life a second time.
Finding out about him was a breeze. Even finding her was not difficult, even in a place as lousy with toffs as London. The offices of The Sketch were a bit more respectable than I expected. There again, I'm used to newspapers in the States: grimy, grubby, and gruesome. I asked for Lady Edith and was pointed in the direction of a small, glass-panelled office. I stuck my nose in through the door where it probably wasn't wanted. It's what I do best.
"Lady Edith Crawley?"
She looked up, smiled pleasantly, pausing in her writing.
"Yes, what can I do for you?"
"Everything, angel" I answered.
Now, I know blondes: blondes so stupid they forget what name they're going by this evening; blondes with breasts so big they don't need to have a name to get what they want; and blondes so deadly you don't want to know where they hide their Derringer .41. Lady Edith was…everything Sir Anthony had said she was. No wonder he was so cut up.
She was looking at me with polite confusion, and I realised with a shock that it was genuine. The pass I'd just made at her had missed by a mile. How these Brits ever got around to procreating was the mystery to me. I sure would lose my fee on that case.
"Sorry?"
"May I come in, I'm a private detective."
"Oh. Oh yes. Please take a seat. You're American, is that right?"
"Sure. It's the shoes that give it away, huh?"
She laughed a shy, tinkling laugh. She was ridiculously charming, and plainly utterly innocent. I may not be a Valentino, but I think I know a girl what has from a girl what hasn't. Lady Edith had all blossoms intact. That answered one of Sir Teddy Bear's questions.
"Actually, my mother is American. I've always wanted to go."
"Oh, you should, you should. You'd be a big hit."
"Really? Do you really think so, Mr…?"
"Marlowe, Philip Marlowe."
"So, what's your case, Mr Marlowe?"
That put me on the spot. Boy, was this girl good, she'd lured me in and slammed down the trap. But I haven't survived twenty years on the streets as a gumshoe without a few aces up my sleeve.
"Actually, it's a bit underhand, and…well, I ain't all that happy with it. But it's a serious issue. I've been asked to investigate The Sketch, well, more to the point, certain people who work here. Some ex-employees, some lady ex-employees, have approached a rival newspaper making accusations, and I've been brought in to see if there is any truth in them. They couldn't give the story to any of their regular hacks; they might be colluding. If this makes you at all uncomfortable, I will leave now and you can forget all about it."
The appeal to her sense of honour worked. These nobles are so…well, noble: it was like stealing worms from blind hens.
"No. Tell me, what is the nature of these accusations?" she said straight-up.
"That the editor, Mr Gregson, makes improper sexual advances towards female members of staff, with no honourable intentions."
She went quite white, and I learned something about the British stiff upper lip. It isn't that they don't feel anything. They do. They just refuse to show how much it hurts. She seemed to analyse her options and decided on one.
"And you want to know if this has happened to me?"
"Only if you want to tell me."
"Well, Mr Marlowe, let me tell you this: what your informants tell you is true, and Mich…Mr Gregson has it down to such a fine art that I didn't really realise what he was doing until you came into my office just now. If what you are doing will prevent some other trusting young lady falling into his clutches then please ask me any questions you wish: I will answer them."
She had guts alright. But it was a struggle for her. There was a better way to do this, and she was playing right into my hands.
"Lady Edith, I fear I have put you in a difficult position. You didn't know that this had happened before?"
"No." Her angel's eyes were so wet with tears I could swear I saw rainbows.
"Would it be better if we left this for now? Or perhaps you'd like to leave the office? Let me buy you a drink; I think you could use one."
"Thank you, Mr Marlowe, that's very thoughtful."
She tidied her papers away in a drawer and locked it, then picked up her bag and coat. We left the building and I walked her over to The Café Royal. Once she was sat down at an alcove table, and I'd ordered a brandy and soda for us both, she began to sing like a canary.
"He's married, you know, Mr Marlowe. But his wife is committed to an asylum. At least, that's what he told me. I suppose those might be lies as well. I can't trust anything he says, can I?"
She turned from me and sobbed. I felt like a heel, but I consoled myself with the thought that I wasn't the married man taking advantage of a damsel in distress.
"I'll give you a little privacy, Lady Edith. I just want to visit the cloakroom, and I'll be back."
I heard a muffled 'thank you' from behind a handkerchief as I scuttled out of the alcove over to where I'd told Sir Teddy Bear to wait.
"What have you told her? Is she alright?"
"I ain't told her nothing, Boss. I just asked questions and she gave herself the answers. Now get over there and comfort her if you are man enough!"
I hadn't seen a man unfold himself and draw himself up to his full height with such breeding before. He looked down at me like the worm I am. It might even have been impressive if I hadn't been the object of that steely blue stare.
"I am not a 'man', Mr Marlowe. I am a gentleman."
The badass baronet of Locksley walked over to the other side of the room as casual as you please, stopping only when he heard a woman weeping. He looked in asking something politely, stopped talking as though someone had swung a baseball bat at him, and then disappeared into the alcove. I couldn't have given a better performance myself.
I knew everything would be okay now, and that included receiving my fee.