Author's Note: This was a little idea that struck me a while back, and now I'm finally taking on this little labor of love.

This story is set in the style of classic film noir, so if some of the characters come off as slightly blurred from their personalities, it's just so that it could fit in with the theme and style.

Now sit back guys and dolls as we take a journey back to the late 1940's.

I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

My feet sat perched on the windowsill, legs crossed as I stared down at the dark city below. All kinds of life stroll those forsaken streets. Men with black hearts filled with drink scuttle about as bright faced youths whisk along with nothin' to keep them warm but their dreams. Dreams that haven't been broken by the slap in the face this all too cruel world of ours has to offer.

My attention is drawn to a flickering lamppost. It's been teetering like that on and off for weeks. I wonder when public works will get around to fixing it, but chuckle lightly to myself. That'll be the day.

This city could care less about a busted light, no, they had bigger problems; Besides most officials of any type wouldn't be caught dead in this part of town.

I held the shot of warm scotch in my hand, I always had a bottle stashed away in my desk drawer, right next to my .44. I downed the shot, feeling the slight sting of the cheap booze as it slid down my throat and settled warmly in my chest.

I tossed the glass back into the drawer, turning my attention to my closed door that lead into the outer office.

I could hear the muffled voice of my secretary and business partner Kenzi and she chippered excitedly with another feminine voice.

I heard Kenzi telling the broad that she could head on in, raising her voice for my benefit.

I smoothed out my suit jacket, sitting up strait in my chair. It had been weeks since we had a client and truth be told we could really use the dough. Either that or it'd be a one-way ticket back to Pallokaville for both Kenzi and I.

The outline of a woman shadowed against the frosted glass that read "Bo Dennis, Private Detective" appeared in front of me. The outer office light was sharp in contrast to my dimly lit room with nothing more than a tiny desk lamp lighting the small space. I had an overhead light, but the bulb needed replacing. I chuckled to myself again, realizing that I was no better than the fellas down at public works.

The doorknob turned, and in walks a total knockout. I run my eyes appreciatively down her form. She may not have the curves of a tidal wave, but they're dangerous ones none-the-less. She's wearing a formfitting red sweater, and cream scarf that matches her skirt, which is a few inches shy of where most would like it. Her blonde hair is down, falling in loose waves around her shoulders, and the black hat she wears sits toward the back of her head, and matches her open, long black coat.

I smirk, my eyes finally catching hers for the first time. They're a deep brown and show a sense of innocence long since lost, and a hint of danger. But there's a weary element to them as well which sucks me in, wondering her story.

I realize then that I have been lingering a little too long, but if the blonde notices she doesn't let on.

I gesture to one of the two empty small red, worn leather seats in front of my desk and she sits down before offering me her hand and a polite smile.

I take her hand in mine, marveling at the warmth of it's touch, unusual for such a cold Chicago night.

"The name's Bo, Bo Dennis." I say shaking her hand firmly.

"It's nice to meet you Ms. Dennis. I'm Lauren Lewis." Her voice comes out soft, and almost like a song, with a slight air of confidence.

When our hands part I sit back in my chair, readjusting my shoulders, letting her know that though she may have the floor, I still have all the control here. It's a little trick I picked up back in my WASP and ATA days. Gives the boys just enough to soothe their egos, but keeping the real jurisdiction of the situation in your hands.

I pull a pack of cigarettes out of my coat pocket and fish around in the other looking for my small chrome lighter with my initials 'Y.D.' gracing one of the smooth sides. Standard army air corps issue.

I tap the pack a few times and offer one to the lady who waves them off before sliding one into my awaiting lips.

I flick the wheel of the lighter and bring it close to my face, noticing the blonde turn her head to the side and deeply inhale as I blow the excess smoke out of the corner of my mouth snapping the lighter shut with one hand, extinguishing the tiny flame.

"They say that stuff 'ill kill ya' you know." She says offhandedly in a sultry tone.

A smug smile graces my lips.

"Yeah well, these days, what won't kill ya' sweetheart?" I ask matching her tone.

She sighs and lets out a soft smile.

"So, what brings you here tonight toots?" I ask directly as she looks at me with amused eyes. Probably not used to such a brash tone coming from a lady. But I ain't no lady.

"Ms. Dennis, I'm afraid I've come in need of your services." Her tone was steady, but I could see in her eyes that there was a small sense of urgency. "You see I've been working at this club as a singer for the last few years, and well, my contract is up but the establishment recently changed hands, and my new employer won't let me leave, even though I've more than fulfilled my duties as per the contract agreement."

I cock an eyebrow, "And what's that got to do with me baby doll? Sounds more like you could use a lawyer."

She shook her head getting frustrated.

"No, no, I've already tried that. He keeps paying them off to give me the brush off. I've gone through three already!"

Now things were getting interesting.

"Must be some set of lungs on you." I raised another eyebrow allowing a smile to creep into the corner of my mouth. Her eyes met mine, and she readjusted herself in a feeble attempt to cover up her assets, which made me smile more. "Why not take this to the cops then? Possessive boss. It's not anything new to them."

Again the woman was getting exasperated and shook her head.

"Don't you think I would if I could? But I can't." Her voice suddenly became quite. "He's got the police's hands in his pocket."

Now both my eyebrows rose. This was really getting interesting. But something didn't add up. Either this dame was some Billie Holiday, or the fourth Andrews sister, or there was more to the story then she was letting on. Either way I didn't think I wanted any part of it. Nobody's in bed with the cops who doesn't need to be.

She looked at me with pleading eyes. I almost felt a sting for her, but quickly dismissed it. Pressing it down just like everything else.

"Look, I don't know what to tell ya' sister. Sounds like you're in with a pretty bad crowd. You've screamed nothin' but trouble since you walked through my door, and I don't think I need your particular brand of trouble."

Her eyes fell, disappointment clouding her face. But there was something else there. I didn't trust this dame. Hell I didn't trust anyone, but in my experience that's always for the best. Always be on your toes, and keep 'em on theirs.

"Please, I can pay you well. I have a bit of money tucked away. I can give it to you up front necessary." She pleaded attempting to keep an even tone, but her emotions betrayed her.

Offerin' money up front was never a good sign, usually you had to demand at least half up front, and then the rest after, and sometimes they required a little knockin' around even after to get what you were owe. No sir, this had bad written all over it.

"Listen here kitty cat, I don't need your bread, or your troubles." I spouted.

"Please Ms. Dennis, if you don't help me, nobody will!" The woman said with a hitch in her voice as she raised a handkerchief to her eye.

"You can can the phony waterworks doll." I said leaning back in my chair, taking a long drag on my cigarette before blowing it in her direction.

An indignant look crossed her porcelain features as she let out a genuine sniffle in spite of her anger toward my words.

She turned back toward the closed door to my office and took a few deliberate steps before turning back to me, opening her purse and tossing a matchbook onto my desk.

"In case you change your mind detective. I go on at 9 and 11." With that she turned and exited, closing the door briskly behind her.

I heard Kenzi say something of a goodbye as the outer door slammed, and I didn't hear another peep from the blonde bombshell.

I took a heavy sigh before extinguishing my cigarette in the overcrowded ashtray that littered my desk.

I slid open the drawer and pulled out the shot glass and bottle of scotch, pouring myself another and downing it quickly.

I rubbed my face in my hands before rising from my desk, and slamming the contents back safely inside before removing the .44 Smith & Wesson Magnum, checking it and placing it inside my coat's internal pocket.

As I left the confines of my office I glanced over at my secretary. Kenzi was petite with hair as dark as her attitude. She was a scrappy little thing and we got along just fine. We somehow managed to become quick friends after she tried to pickpocket me when I first arrived back here after the war.

Don't ask me how but she knew how to worm her way into your heart, and her background in petty theft lead to good instincts in the sleuthing field.

I shook my head at her. She was wearing a tight red dress and fake pearls, her hair done up, and a dark hat sat with a thin mesh veil just barely covering the tip of her nose.

She was holding one of those damn pulps she loved so much, and I had to admire her for putting fashion before function, because it would drive me mad trying to read through the checkerboard pattern in front of my eyes.

She noticed me and remove her feet which had been propped up on her desk, and stood to face me tossing the digest onto the desk and slipping her silk hoed feet into tall red pumps that matched her dress and lips.

"So hot stuff, what's the word? Whatcha' seen? Whatcha' heard?"

I couldn't help but laugh. The shorter woman certainly always had a way with words, and quite a bit of moxie.

I shook my head, "I don't know about this one Kenz, nothin' but trouble." I shook my head again. "Nothin' but trouble."

"Oh yeah," the smaller girl flashed dangerous eyes at me. "Well trouble puts food on the table sister, and I for one happen to like food. You know, for nourishment, basic survival."

You couldn't help but love her gumption. And she did have a point.

"We haven't had a case in weeks Bo, it's been nearly a month. Trick's sure to kick us out in the cold if we don't get rent in this month."

I nodded, and smiled a little at the thought of the old man. He was a kind spirit, and an old friend. He had offered for Kenzi and I to share a room in the building he owned that also housed his tavern.

He was something of a father, or grandfather figure to me, and well I knew he wouldn't leave us high and dry, I also knew I needed to get him rent this month since we had missed the last month's … and the one a few months before that, and then another a few before that.

I nodded my head, "I'll think about it kid."

Kenzi relented with a smile sitting back down in her chair.

Now I told her I'd think about it, and think about it I would. But for now I needed to drown my thoughts of the day and of the past.

The nightmares were back, they'd been getting' to me lately.

I chuckled internally. This is why they didn't want women fighting Dennis, why they wouldn't allow it. If you can't handle a simple bail out and a few nights with the boys on the ground in enemy territory by chance, then who could?

Still, it's all over now, and I don't like to talk about it. Hell I wouldn't think about it if I didn't have to. That's where the booze comes in handy. Expensive, cheap, the effects were still the same.

I grabbed my long, tan trench coat from the rack, and then my fedora donning it firmly on my head, pushing down the tight pulled back pony tail I wore my long brunette hair in just about every day.

"Let's hit the Dal kid." I called to Kenzi who was already up jumping up from her desk wrapping herself in a long fur coat. "Say, where'd you get the money for such digs?" I asked nodding toward the new mink I knew I'd never seen before, and on our salary knew she couldn't afford.

She gave me a wink as a cheeky smile graced her lips.

"Oh you know, a girl's got her ways."

I shook my head. "I know all about your ways Kenz, now I'm not going to have some little old lady in here tomorrow hiring me to track this skin down am I?" I asked only half joking.

Kenzi put on a mock offended expression and covered her red lips with a now gloved hand. "Why really, I never!"

I cocked an eyebrow, and she relented.

"My cousin may have intercepted a shipment from New York." She stated waving me off. "I could get you one too you know, I'd even give you the family discount."

I sighed, "thanks kid, but you know fur's not really my style."

She looked me up and down disapprovingly.

"I know, I wish you'd let me do something with what you call style though. All you ever wear is that old trench coat and hat, I'm beginning to think that's all you own for outer wear." She waved a disapproving hand up and down my torso.

"That's not true, and after all these years I think you'd know it." I paused allowing a tiny smirk. "You know I have one in black too."

I could feel her eyes rolling behind me, accompanying the scoffing sound she made as I walked out of the office waiting for her to lock up behind us.

As we reached the outside of the building and shoved open the door we were met by a gust of wind, and an instant chill hit my bones. Braving a few steps into the cold I turned my collar up and held it tightly in front of my face.

Maybe I should take Kenzi up on that offer of the fur. Then again, it may have been a fake that would leave me colder than my trusty trench. Best just to stick to my gut.

As we walked down the near empty city streets in the dark I focused on getting to the warm atmosphere of The Dal.

It was just a small gin joint not unlike any other in this frozen, forsaken city, but it was mine.

I loved the dark wood accents and emerald velvet booths and stools. The walls were lined with old photos of the city, and bookshelves filled with ancient tomes. I could never for the life of me figure out why old man Trick would decorate a bar with volumes upon volumes of old books. The crowd the Dal drew weren't exactly the scholarly type, and after they got a few drinks in them they became even less so.

Even still the bar had a homey feel, and crammed in one corner was a medium sized stage with matching emerald curtains ballooning down from the rafters. All that sat up on the stage was a lone grand piano and a single microphone, which hadn't been used in almost a year after the last singer left for fame and fortune out in Los Angeles.

But the piano player was a personal friend, and he'd always give Kenz and I a warm grin and a friendly tune when we came in just about every night, so the place was never at a loss of soul.

We finally arrived bursting through the door and into the dim smoke filled bar.

I took off my hat placing it on the crowded rack next to the door, and unbuttoned my coat as I strode toward the bar.

Sure enough as if on cue the handsome dark skinned my tickling the ivories finished up a song, and turned to flash Kenzi and I a grin as we took our usual seats at the bar.

He turned back to his piano and began to play an upbeat tune that I recognized immediately as Kenzi's favorite.

I swung around in my stool to face her.

"I think Hale's sweet on you."

She cast me a smirking glance.

"Oh please, he couldn't handle this." She retorted as she turned back toward the bar grabbing Trick's attention.

The short distinguished looking older man approached Kenzi and I quickly a smile planted firmly on his weathered face.

"Hey dolls, what'll it be the usual?" He asked already knowing what the answer would be.

"You know it Trickster!" Kenzi replied making a clicking sound with her mouth as she winked and pointed a finger at him.

A minute or two later he reappeared in front of us sliding our drinks into our eagerly awaiting hands.

"Any leads?" He asked conversationally.

I sighed, "maybe."

He rose his eyebrows and nodded.

"Yes sir, now we just have to convince this gal over here to take the job so that you don't throw us out on our bottoms!" Kenzi said draining her drink in practically one gulp and motioning to Trick for another.

When Trick returned a second later with the bottle of vodka and topped Kenzi off he turned his focus back on me.

"You know I'd never toss you gals out on the streets. Besides I know you're good for the rent." He gave me a reassuring wink before his face turned more serious. "Why the hesitation on taking the case?"

I sighed again.

"I dunno. Could be a simple rough up case, could be more."

Trick furrowed his brow.

"I don't like the thought of you two getting caught up in something rough."

I smiled at his paternal-like protectiveness.

"Have you forgotten already that I was a golden gloves boxer for the WASPs?" I put up my dukes in a mock fighting stance.

He smiled, "That may be, but dame fighting and real fighting are two different things."

My face dropped in annoyance as I took a long swig of my drink, stinging my throat all the way down. I slammed the glass back onto the bar top with a loud thud and rapped hard indicating another round.

"I'm sorry Bo, you know what I meant. I know you can hold your own, I just worry about ya' is all." Trick said as he grabbed a bottle of light golden liquid pouring a generous amount before adding in a splash of soda water.

I nodded and returned to my drink and my troubles as Trick left us to tend to a couple that had just saddled up to the counter.

"Eh, don't mind him Bobo," Kenzi said slapping a hand firmly on my back. "He knows you could clock him one square in the kisser and be knocked off his tiny feet."

I almost choked on the sip I had just taken of my drink dribbling a little down my chin.

"Careful how you talk about our landlord kid! He's the only thing keeping us from having to share the couch at the office!" I retorted grabbing the cocktail napkin and patting at the wet spot.

Kenzi just rolled her eyes and returned to her drink mumbling.

"Yeah well, if we actually paid the old man on time there's nothing he could do."

I studied my glass, watching the last few remaining ice chips slowly dissolve in tiny ripples in the soft amber liquid.

Maybe it was just a quick job. Maybe I could rough up the owner a little and that would be that. But I didn't like what the dame had to say about the coppers. With their fingers in his coin purse, who knew what I'd really be getting into?

I placed my hand in my pleated pants pocket drawing out the matchbook Ms. Lewis had given me. I flipped it open and shut. Twirling it around in my fingers, willing it to give me the answer I needed.

Who was I kidding? I was trying to show restraint. While I didn't trust that broad as far as I could throw her, there was something in those big doe eyes of hers that called to my very soul.

"Damn." I shook my head as I checked my wristwatch, and then glanced over the address on the card again.

Kenzi gave me a sideways look, and I stood and nodded toward the door.

"I'm heading out to the Nighthawk to see the dame from today, you commin'?"

No sooner had the words left my mouth the small dark haired beauty was on her feet and grabbing her coat from the vacant stool next to where she had been sitting.

The joint was across town and it was hell finding a cab at this time of night. I'd have taken my own rusted out yellow jalopy if it hadn't been in the shop. Waiting for our next payment so that I could go and retrieve it and pay for it's much needed overhaul.

Kenzi had told me numerous times to ditch the old rust bucket, but I had a soft spot in my heart for that car and even when we did have the means could never bring myself to give her up.

The taxi pulled up in front of a swanky looking nightclub which read "The Nighthawk Lounge" in bright neon pink lettering with a turquoise blue boarder in the shape of a bird incasing the words.

As we paid the driver the taxi sped off into the night and we took in the outside of the club for a moment. The building was along a strip with other businesses attached that looked like they had been there for some time, but the club's façade looked shiny and new with it's curving white on white new wave architecture.

"Well, I'm ready to paint the town, seems like my kind of racket!" Kenzi said excitedly drinking in the aura of the place.

"We're here on business." I replied with a slight smile.

"Correction honey, you're here on business, and I'm here on business." Kenzi said with a twinkle in her eye that I always knew meant she was up to no good.

I shook my head and removed my hat as we walked into the establishment, a tall muscular bald man opened the door for us and gave us a nod as we stepped in.

I could hear an audible hitch in Kenzi's breath as we entered. Hell even I was impressed, and I wasn't one for fancy ambience. As far as I was concerned as long as the drinks are cool and the jazz is hot that's all the frills I needed. But I could see the draws of this place.

It was at least three times larger than the Dal, with lots of table and booths alike all surrounding a dance floor and grand stage in a semi circle. The bar was a light teak wood, and the chairs and booths alike boasted the same bright turquoise as the sign out front, with a smaller accent of yellow plastic around the base.

The stage had a full band set up, and multiple microphones for the potential of back up singers, though right now only the piano, bass, guitar, and horn section seemed to be up playing a slow tune I recognized as a Glen Miller ballad.

I checked my wristwatch again, we were a little early and I opened my coat, however did not bother to remove it as Kenzi and I sauntered up to the bar. We ordered our drinks and I turned to survey the crowd, my eyes stopping when I saw the face of a familiar blond.

The athletic, pretty in a slightly rough around the edges kind of way woman was talking up some fellas, but when her eyes met mine she gave a smirk and excused herself from her group, heading my way.

Kenzi looked up just in time to catch the woman's approach.

"Don't look now Bobo, but here comes trouble." She whirled back around on her stool, concentrating heavily on her drink.

I sighed.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Dick Tracy and the Wonder Kid as I live and breathe." She announced stopping right next to me.

"Ah the hot shot wise cracking reporter. Shouldn't you be buried in ink somewhere?" I returned mimicking her stance.

She smiled. "It's been a while Bo. What's the matter, the old man finally come to his senses and kick you out of his saloon?" She cocked her head to the side studying me.

"Nah, just visiting a pal." I returned with a neutral expression.

She narrowed her eyes at me, "So then, what's the scoop?"

I could see the reporter's intuition kicking into high gear, and shrugged in bogus ignorance.

She cocked an eyebrow not believing me for a second, but decided to pull up the stool next to me signaling for the bar keep.

We sat in silence for a moment while she ordered. Once she had her drink in her hand she turned to face me.

"So then, a social call?" She rose her eyebrows, "you still with that scruffy little pup? The cop?" She asked raising her eyebrows.

I smiled. "Nope. Haven't been for months."

I thought back on Dyson. He was a good man. But we were just too alike and too different for it to work. We were the kind of people who should have worked out but our temperaments got in the way.

"That's too bad." She mused almost to her self, "he was a dashing fella."

I couldn't help but smirk and raise my eyebrows. "He's all yours Tamsin, if you want him."

She thought for a moment before crinkling her nose, "nah, a fella like that's only good for one thing, and I ain't the marrying kind."

I had to agree with her there. Tamsin and I may have our differences, and may come up at times on opposite sides of the moral compass, but we were more alike than I cared to admit.

Just then a group of sailors came bursting through the door and all three of us turned at the commotion. I looked from Tamsin to Kenzi and back, both of them taking in the small group of attractive young men in their crisp white bellbottom uniforms, and hats.

"Well toots, it's been swell, but I believe my ship has just arrived." Tamsin said not even glancing back at me as she made her way through the lounge to the group of sailors who sat down at a table at the far end of the stage quickly making room for Tamsin as she approached with a hand on her hip.

"Listen honey," now it was Kenzi's turn. "If you need anything, anything at all, I'll be over nibbling on something yummy." She stated licking her lips. "Just say your prayers that that muckraker doesn't make any moves on my candy, or you may have to break up a fight for once!" She giggled and cast me a wink as she quickly made her exit toward the group, sliding into the booth next to a dark haired beefcake.

I sighed and rolled my eyes turning back to my drink.

I hadn't thought about Dyson in a while. I had noticed that he wasn't frequenting the Dal as much as he used to, and I wondered if that had something to do with me, or if he too was on the take for this place.

My thoughts were interrupted when a larger man in a white tuxedo jacket, matching bowtie and black dress pants that matched the little thinning hair he had left on his head and pencil thin mustache on his upper lip came to the microphone and announced the main event for the night,

"And now The Nighthawk Lounge is proud to present the graceful, the charming, the songbird that is the lovely, Miss Lauren Lewis."

The stage lights dimmed and out strode the supple, blond who had visited my office only hours earlier. As she reached center stage and placed a white gloved hand around the microphone and the spot light hit her drenching her in a pure white light.

I couldn't help the catch in my breathing, or the skipped thud of my heart as I took in the splendor on stage.

He hair was done up in light finger waves, and she wore a headband with a veil that shaded her forehead to the bottom of her powerful brown eyes.

She was wearing an elegant floor length white gown that had a sash of sequins stretching from one exposed shoulder and traveled down her breast to her stomach, and trailed off at the opposite thigh.

My eyes took in her angelic beauty and fell on her blood red lips as she began to sing.

I was completely frozen in the moment. For just a second I forgot about the impending case, I forgot about Tamsin and Kenzi and their buffet of sea-fairing men, I forgot about any troubles I may have had with Dyson, as I was lost in the motion of those lips and the voice coming out.

It was in that moment, studying that mouth that the thought ran through my mind of what I wouldn't give to kiss it. To feel those lips on mine. For her to trail red stained kisses down my neck as I returned the favor.

I quickly shook the feelings off.

She was a client, not even a client yet! And certainly one I wasn't sure if I could trust let alone get involved with. I tried to return my attention to my drink, but when I snuck a glance back, our eyes met.

She held my gaze, it was as if she was staring into my very soul and singing only for me.

I let out a slight shutter, I wanted desperately to turn, to break the contact, but it was as though she wouldn't let me. I was completely enchanted, and in that moment she had me at her mercy.

Finally she finished the song and broke the contact, giving the now roaring applause of the audience a breathtaking grin before nodding to her band to start the next number.

I chugged down my remaining drink in one gulp, and tapped the counter again indicating another, never taking my eyes off the blond.

As she began the next song her eyes met mine again, and I was again needing to gasp for air. I soon found a cold glass placed in my outstretched hand, which I raised to my lips, taking a long, slow sip, my eyes never breaking their gaze into hers.

And we went on like that through the rest of her set.

What was this hold she seemed to have on me? No man or dame had ever had this effect on me, it shocked and bewildered me, frustrated me to my very core.

When she finally gave a slight bow to the uproar of applause after the final number and headed back off the stage I picked up my drink, placed my hat on my head, and made my way through a sea of dancing people back to the roped off dressing room area. It was time I had another one on one with Ms. Lauren Lewis.