I do not own these characters nor do I make any monetary profit from this story. Peter Gunn and Edie Hart are the creation of Blake Edwards. I'd love to have Pete for myself but that is strictly wishful thinking because Edie would never allow it.
This story is a follow-up to "The Chinese Hangman", S1 EP6 of "Peter Gunn". For the true fan there are always missing scenes or endings for every episode, things we wish we'd seen but realize could never fit into the twenty-five or twenty-six minutes allocated for the action of a thirty minute TV series. As with any story it's always a good idea to be acquainted with the episode it's based on. I would recommend that anyone reading this story watch "The Chinese Hangman".
Sixteen Days
After all that transpired at Unesku's compound I gladly accepted Sergeant Keep's offer of a lift to the 13th Precinct. I sat in Lieutenant Jacoby's office and waited as patiently as I could while the sergeant typed up a quick preliminary statement about what had taken place that night at the Temple of Peace and Meditation. Peace and meditation. It would have been laughable if it wasn't so tragic. I'd sign the statement and then I'd be out of there. I had more important matters to tend to. Of course what we want and what we get are often two different matters altogether. I didn't manage to get away before Jacoby himself made an appearance.
Peter Gunn flipped the cover of Sergeant Keep's case report shut and tossed the manila folder onto Lieutenant Jacoby's desk. The wooden chair he was seated in groaned under his weight as he wearily leaned back and pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes from the breast pocket of his shirt. He lit one, placed the cigarettes and his gold lighter on the corner of the policeman's desk, took a long drag and allowed a stream of smoke to escape through his nostrils. The PI could feel Jacoby's eyes on him but he really didn't feel like talking. No, he didn't feel like talking at all but there were a number of other things he did feel like. He felt like a fool. He felt like a patsy. He felt like a sap. He felt like he wanted to go home and hide his head under a pillow and escape from the world for a while. So he sat there and waited, knowing the other man would at some point open the conversation. And he eventually did just that after flipping through the report himself one more time.
"I can always count on Sergeant Keep to file a good report when I use him." Jacoby tapped the edge of the manila file on his desk to straighten its contents, laid it on the blotter, folded his hands on top of it and looked at his friend. "Is there anything you'd like to add to it?"
The detective stared at the glowing tip of his cigarette and shook his head.
"Are you okay Pete?" the cop asked in his soft voice.
Was he okay? That was a good question. And there were any number of ways he could answer if he felt like talking.
"Sure." He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray Jacoby kept on the corner of his desk.
"According to the sergeant's report you spent quite a bit of time with Joanna Lund." The Lieutenant's contemplative gaze remained on his friend for several long moments. When no comment was forthcoming he shifted and moved his hands and slipped a thick index finger into the manila folder to open it again. "It's a matter of record that you were with her almost constantly for the past week," he continued almost gently. "So it's completely understandable that you would feel some type of emotional..." The cop was obviously struggling for just the right word. "Loss... an emotional loss after forming a relationship with her."
"What's that supposed to mean?" The PI's forehead crinkled in an irritated frown.
"Just what I said, Pete." Jacoby's voice was soft. "If you were having a relationship with the woman it's understandable that-"
"It was strictly business," Gunn replied evenly. "You know me better than that."
"Of course I do, Pete." Jacoby closed the file and leaned on his forearms and clasped his hands again. "But you were three thousand miles away from home in a foreign country with a beautiful woman. Business or not it would have been understandable and no one would have been the wiser. It's the sort of thing that could happen to anybody. No one would know."
Pete stared at his friend for several long and silent moments, wondering what Jacoby was getting at. They'd known each other for ten years. The policeman knew very well what type of man he was. And what type he wasn't.
"I would know."
Pete's lips straightened in a stilted smile as he stood and reached for his cigarettes and lighter, the one going in his left breast pocket, the other in his right pants pocket. He supposed there were other things he could say, words he could use to defend himself from what the Lieutenant was politely implying. You know very well I'm not that kind of man. I never have been. Jacoby knew that. He had to. I'm not a cheater. The policeman knew that too. I'd never risk the life I have with Edie for some quick fling with another woman. Did Jacoby honestly believe he'd do that? Surely the cop was a better friend than that. But he wasn't interested in defending himself to the other man. There were a lot of things he had to do when performing his job, many of which he didn't like. The manner in which he'd had to ingratiate himself with Joanna Lund had been one of those things. Maybe Jacoby saw some of what he was thinking in his face because he quickly stood as the PI headed for the door.
"Pete-"
He heard his name fall from the policeman's lips and from the corner of his eye saw his outstretched arm but he didn't pause. Instead he walked quickly down the short hallway to the flight of stairs that took him to the ground floor. He'd left his suitcases behind at the airport, had instead grabbed a cab straight to Unesku's compound, but the bags could wait until later. There was something he needed to do that held far more importance than left-behind luggage and unfinished police reports and Jacoby's crazy questions.
I was beat and I wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for three days. But there was something I needed even more than that. I needed two arms that I'd been away from for too long. I needed to be held and I needed to hold. I needed to hold on tight. It had felt wrong acting the tourist with another woman, dining and dancing with someone who wasn't Edie Hart. I was a one woman man and always would be. I hoped she knew that. If she didn't, well, that was my fault. Before I did anything else I'd make sure she knew exactly where we stood with each other and that I wasn't going anywhere. I picked up another cab outside the precinct and gave the cabbie the address of Edie's apartment building on Verbena Street.
Peter Gunn leaned forward and peered through the windshield as the cab turned off of Willow Street into the small parking lot of Edie Hart's apartment building and pulled up to the curb. A faint glow of light was discernible in the kitchen window of Edie's second floor apartment, evidence that she was most likely still up. His watch told him it was just a few minutes past four-thirty. She would have left Mother's around two-thirty or three, depending on whether she called a cab or waited to catch a ride with Emmett, and was probably in the process of winding down from singing for the regular Wednesday night crowd. She'd maybe had breakfast already but perhaps still had a pot of coffee brewing. He decided he could use some. The half cup he'd poured himself from Jacoby's almost empty pot had been bitter and undrinkable. Pete handed the cabbie a few bills through the open window of the driver's side, the sweet and relaxing aroma of Edie's apartment invading his senses before he even set foot in the building. Measured strides carried him across the well-lit lobby and up the stairs two steps at a time and then he was standing on the little landing outside No.15.
The PI could hear the sound of the doorbell echo through the apartment as he gave the little button a push, holding it down a moment before releasing it. Half a minute later light steps approached the door from the other side and he heard the chain being pulled back, a slight hesitation evident at one point before it was released. The knob turned and the door opened toward the inside and he took the initiative and reached and gently pushed it open far enough to step through. He saw Edie's sleepy face, her surprised blue eyes, and then she was gasping his name and grabbing his jacket to pull him close as he shoved the door shut behind himself. His arms went around her and he buried his face in the softness of her hair, still slightly damp from her shower and smelling of lavender. Her hands moved upward and clung to his shoulders and he pulled back just enough to see into her face before claiming her lips in a rough kiss.
"You smell good," was all he could think of to say when they finally came up for air and he knew it sounded dumb. But his tired brain didn't seem to be functioning right. It had stopped working the moment he held the woman's warm body in his arms, felt her eager hands grasping at his clothes and heard her delighted laughter fill his ears.
Edie leaned back in his embrace, her hands releasing their grip on his jacket and moving to his face, her blue gaze taking careful inventory. He had a minor scrape on his chin, his hair was uncharacteristically mussed, his jacket was wrinkled at the shoulders and his tie was slightly loosened. Other than those obvious signs that he might have been involved in a tussle of some sort he appeared to be in one piece. But he'd been away on a job for two weeks. More than. How could he have returned unannounced and already be mixing it up with someone?
"When did you get home?" Her eyes continued to drink him in.
"Now." Pete lifted a hand, weaving his fingers into the her tangled hair, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. "Just this minute."
He watched her face, held her gaze, saw the realization of his words hit her, recognized the wonderment as her smile grew. He decided she looked almost giddy and he swore he felt the same way. Then Edie was pulling his face toward hers and her lips were on his again. Her hands slipped to his chest and he felt her fingers at the top buttons of his shirt then further loosening the knot of his necktie. His own hands dropped to her hips and he gently pushed her away, feeling suddenly bereft as their clinging lips separated and her hands fell to his waist. He wanted to go there with her, he really did, but first things first.
"I need a shower." He did. He felt sticky and dirty and... Used. He felt used. There were certain things he'd much rather do at this moment but before he could continue thinking along those lines he had to scrub away the last couple of weeks, the last several days, the past few hours. He would like to erase it all from his memory but had the sinking feeling that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. For now he just wanted to feel clean. "Do you mind if I use yours? I'll try not to use up all the hot water," he wearily teased.
"You know you don't have to ask."
She seemed uncertain for a moment as she looked at him, her fingers absently plucking at the belt of her soft blue cotton robe. Here he was, showing up at her door out of the blue after traipsing halfway across Europe on a job, and the first thing on his mind was taking a shower. Her eyebrows knit in confusion even as she told him there were clean towels in the bathroom cupboard and that he'd have to get a fresh bar of soap from the right hand drawer. She followed behind him to the bedroom doorway, watching as he shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the back of the bedroom chair before toeing his shoes off.
"Do you want some breakfast? Coffee?"
"I want a shower. Then I want–" He turned to face her, dropping his tie after the jacket and pausing in the act of removing his cuff links. She saw the muscle in his jaw work as he stared and then he took the couple of steps that brought him back to her, the grasp of his hands on her upper arms gentle as he leaned in to kiss her.
"Coffee," he said, stepping away and pulling his shirttails from his pants and finishing with the buttons. "I was thinking about coffee on the way over here in the cab."
"Are you all right, Pete?"
The PI removed his trousers and tossed them on top of his jacket on the chair and sat down to take off his socks. For the second time in less than an hour he'd been asked those same words. When they had come from Jacoby's mouth they had been for all the wrong reasons. When Edie spoke the question it reminded him that he was home and that he had a lot to be thankful for and had him telling himself that he'd never leave her for the same length of time again. He tried a smile that appeared to pass muster.
"Sure I am." He just wanted to wash away this job. Everything about it.
He stuffed the black socks into his shoes and tossed his undershirt into Edie's laundry hamper while his white Brooks Brothers dress shirt found a wire hanger and made it onto the hook on the inside of the bathroom door. He pulled open the shower door and reached in to turn on the water then found himself a bath towel in the cabinet.
"I missed you." The words came with that tender yet somehow exasperated inflection in her voice that had become so familiar to him over the past months.
Pete stood with the fluffy white towel in his hand and looked at Edie where she stood just outside the bathroom doorway. Her happiness at finding him at her door had been obvious but now there was an unfathomable expression in her blue eyes that he found difficult to decipher. Rare was the occasion that she wasn't smiling in his presence or teasing him about something, but at the moment he wasn't certain what was going on behind those eyes.
"I missed you."
He saw something shift in Edie's gaze as he repeated her words back to her and she seemed to relax a little, the slight tension in her shoulders disappearing. Had she been thinking back to the telephone calls he'd made to her during his absence? Or perhaps to the ones he hadn't made? He had called four times if he remembered right. He'd known at the time he could have done better. Pete told her as much as he stood there waiting for the water to get warm. He was almost sure he saw the ghost of a smile curve the blonde's lips for an instant before she stepped past him to produce an unopened cake of soap from the drawer. She quickly peeled the wrapper from the pink Camay, handing it to him as he shed his light blue boxers and stepped into the shower stall. If there was a downside to taking a shower at Edie's place – and in all fairness he couldn't think of a downside to anything that went on when he was at her apartment – it would be that he always came away smelling like a girl.
Edie stood and watched for a moment as the glass shower door steamed up and water droplets began to slide down the inside of the frosted panel. Her eyes followed the PI's movements as he reached for the bottle of her favorite lavender-smelling shampoo on the little shelf and quickly soaped his hair. After a hard and lengthy scrub he bent his head to rinse then lifted his face to the water pelting down on him. As he stood there motionless, appreciating the feel of the hot water as it washed over him, Edie took the opportunity to go to the kitchen to set the coffee pot to brew. Upon her return a minute or so later Pete was busy running the soap up and down his torso, steam rising as the water continued to spray.
"Was she pretty?"
The woman's voice interrupted the man's thoughts, its soft cadence echoing with an odd loudness in the little room, a lilting curiosity behind those three little words.
I never loved a woman before I loved Edie Hart. The moment I laid eyes on her was the last moment I owned my own soul. It wasn't just because she was the prettiest woman I had ever seen in my life. The reasons run a lot deeper than that. Edie Hart is beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. She's complicated, stubborn and headstrong. Funny and compassionate. A sophisticated woman one moment and an unpretentious girl the next. Independent yet vulnerable. She's completely bewitching. She's my girl, my love, my life. She's my home. And she comes with a jealous streak a mile wide.
The PI hummed a noncommittal response that could have been a question or his way of saying he didn't hear her over the thrum of the water or just an avoidance of making any kind of positive reply. Edie wasn't certain either way and knowing Pete it could be any of those or none of them. She watched him through the frosted glass as he used the soap and washcloth on his body and then rinsed thoroughly. Finally he turned off the tap and her eyes followed him as he opened the door and reached around for the towel he'd hung over the side of the hamper.
"The woman you were chasing around Europe. Was she pretty?"
The man paused in his actions and stood motionless for a second or two then gave her a questioning glance as he returned to drying. She was quick on the uptake, there was no arguing that. He rubbed his chest and shoulders with the towel and then brought it up to briskly dry his short hair, cudgeling his brain for the right words. How did she always manage to beat him to the punch? Pete wrapped the towel around his middle, his lips tilting in an amused smile as he took the step that brought him closer to Edie.
"The only woman I ever chase is you," he said in a mildly teasing tone.
Leaning to kiss Edie's cheek, he missed the thinning of her lips and the aggravated scowl that sent gentle furrows across her brow. He did feel the effect of her bare foot as it met his shin in a swift kick and though the contact wasn't painful he let out a surprised ouch at its unexpectedness.
"If that was supposed to hurt..." Pete rubbed the affected spot anyway, "...it didn't."
"Next time I'll make certain I'm wearing heels," came her surprisingly calm reply.
Next time? For some odd reason he found himself both horrified and thrilled at that idea.
"I'm not an idiot, Pete." Her expression was a combination of affection and exasperation. "I could tell by the sound of your voice the last two times you called that something was going on. The only time you ever get that nervous and unsure of yourself is when there's a woman involved." Her eyes narrowed playfully but her gaze was pointed. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Mr. Gunn?"
"How about we discuss it over that cup of coffee?" The PI bent to pick his boxers up from the cream-colored tiles of the floor where he'd dropped them, hanging them on the door knob as he straightened.
"I worried." Somberness shadowed Edie's blue gaze as the man's eyes met hers again, all pretense of amusement now gone. She reached to touch his hand, her fingers curling into his. "I was worried something would happen and you were thousands of miles away and I wouldn't know – "
Pete's hand lifted to cup her cheek then slipped to the back of her neck as he dipped his head to cover her lips in a gentle kiss. Then both arms went around her and he pulled her close in a tight embrace, burying his face in that special curve of her neck and shoulder that he'd become so familiar with over the past five or six months.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to worry." Despite the seriousness of the woman's words he couldn't help but smile into the warmth of her skin. "But I kind of like that you did."
"How can I not worry about you?" Edie pushed slightly away and her hands traveled from his shoulders to the back of his head, her fingers weaving through his short black hair as she stared into his eyes, a little smile playing on her lips. "I love you, Pete. That means I'll always worry, whether you want me to or not."
The PI's lips found hers in another kiss, this one not quite as gentle as the first, but hard and filled with want and need. She sensed the edge of the vanity behind her and then felt Pete's hands slide down her backside as he easily lifted her to sit atop the counter. His fingers loosened the belt at her waist and pushed her robe off her shoulders, allowing it to fall into a soft blue puddle on the floor, never breaking the kiss. She curled her legs around his hips as he pulled her nightgown up, his hands finding the soft skin beneath. Then suddenly those same hands were at her waist and he was pushing away from her.
"Edie..."
"The coffee can wait, Pete. So can whatever it is you want to talk about." She gave him that almost bashful look he could never resist and her hands traveled down his chest and dipped to the towel around his waist. "I don't think I can." That big smile that carried all the sunshine in the world emerged and was aimed directly at his heart.
Pete flinched at the feel of her fingers drifting across his navel. He kissed her lips and enjoyed her ministrations then let his mouth trace a path across her cheek to nibble at her earlobe before it moved down to her neck and the softly beating pulse he found there.
"Do you realize how long it's been?" The woman's voice was a whisper against his ear.
"Sixteen days."
Edie's head drew back and the look she gave him was almost comical, a combination of surprise and wonderment.
"What's the matter?" Pete smirked. "You think just because I'm a man I don't know how to count?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"I can tell you down to the exact hour and minute."
Pete sighed and gave a resigned smile.
"It's always a competition with you isn't it?" he chuckled. "You're such a –"
"Watch it there, Tiger," she warned.
"You're such a girl."
Before she could make further retort his lips were hard on hers, his hand at the nape of her neck holding her there, his other arm pulling her tightly against him, the hardness of his body leaving her in no doubt that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. An involuntary shiver rippled through her as he relaxed his hold and lifted his hands to run his fingers through her hair. He dabbled little kisses along her chin, his breath warm and uneven against her cheek.
"Not here," he breathed into her ear. Stepping back he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to bed.
Pete carefully carried two cups brimming with fresh coffee into the bedroom. It had been late when he woke up, almost noon, and the pot Edie had made earlier had turned dark and bitter. So he changed out the grounds to make fresh and whipped up scrambled eggs and toast while it perked. Edie was still sleeping soundly, curled deeply into the blanket and sheet, her face buried between the two feather pillows in their soft yellow cases. He went back to the kitchen and returned half a minute later with two breakfast plates and silverware, finding a place for both on the dresser by pushing a few things to one side. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he gently brushed tangled blonde hair away from the woman's face and bent to run his lips along her cheek, leaving a kiss at the corner of her mouth then watching with a little smile as she yawned and opened sleepy eyes.
"Move over. I brought coffee." He helped her sit up and plumped her pillow for her and handed her the nightgown he'd retrieved from the floor earlier. He chuckled as she raised her eyebrows in silent interrogation. "It'll keep my mind from wandering."
His eyes followed her movements as she pulled the nightgown over her head and made herself comfortable against the headboard.
"Why are you hogging the entire bed anyway?" he asked, handing her a cup.
"I rolled over and you weren't there." She yawned again and took a small sip of the hot brew and offered him a smile brimming with sweet affection. "But it was warm where you'd been. It felt nice." He eyes were speaking a language of their own but Pete wasn't quite sure he was ready to admit to himself what they were saying.
Edie's gaze followed the PI as he fetched their breakfast plates. As he came back to the bed with them she carefully set her cup down on top of the small bookshelf in the corner between the bed and the wall. With slender fingers she tucked a wandering curl behind her ear and eyed the towel hugging his hips. He caught the laughter in her expression and glanced down at himself as he handed her a plate and set the other on the nightstand beside a book with a worn black dust jacket. Peyton Place. The title graced the cover in large white letters. He raised an eyebrow and his lips twitched but he somehow refrained from commenting.
"You should wear that color more often," the woman teased, looking at the pink bath towel adorned with gray silhouettes of dachshunds and small kittens. It was a different towel than he'd been wearing earlier that morning, which she vaguely remembered had dropped to the floor somewhere between the bathroom and the bed. This one, large and fluffy, was part of a double set she'd found at Chadwick's the previous week when she had been feeling even more lonely and blue than usual and had spent a day shopping with her friend June Holton. June had yet to meet Pete but she managed some empathy for Edie's feelings of – What? Loss? Yes, she'd definitely felt lost without him.
Edie accepted her plate, then quickly lifted it out of harms way next to her coffee on the bookshelf as a little ginger-colored kitten leaped from behind the curtains covering the window sill, sailed over the nightstand and landed on Pete's pillow, his little pink nose sniffing out the food. She gave twelve week old Thomas – the name she and Pete had finally settled on after he'd wangled the little guy from Loretta Gymps – a rub under his belly and a gentle scratch under the chin, wondering out loud where he'd been hiding all morning and being told by Pete that he'd been under his feet begging for morsels for the past half hour.
After carefully positioning his pillow against the headboard, Pete made himself at home on top of the covers, his long legs stretched out in front of him, companionably rubbing shoulders with Edie as they both reached for their plates. They said very little as they ate, just a word here and there as they gave Thomas bits of egg between their own bites until he grew tired and wandered off to find a different kind of amusement. The silence was a comfortable one, brief touches of eyes and hands saying much more than they had the capacity to put into words.
"I worried about you, too." His words came suddenly after several moments of quiet.
Edie looked at Pete over the rim of her coffee cup. He'd gotten up to return their dishes to the kitchen and get them refills and he was now back beneath the covers with her, leaning warmly into her side, the pink towel replaced with a pair of white boxers with green and orange squiggles that he had retrieved from the dresser drawer where she had placed them after buying them on that same shopping trip with June. He seemed happy she'd thought of him and didn't appear put out that she had taken it upon herself to make such an intimate purchase. She had to admit, if only to herself, that she'd felt a little thrill as she wandered the men's aisle and picked out the three-pack. She'd never bought a man clothes before. Unless you counted a tie for Papa at Christmas or socks for Jeff on his birthday. According to Mama a girl didn't buy such things for a man unless he was the one. According to Mama a girl didn't do lots of things for a man unless he was the one. And a good girl didn't do any of it until after she was married. Oh well. What Mama didn't know made all of their lives a whole lot easier.
"I worried about not being here to take you to work after that second time I called, when you mentioned Emmett coming by to pick you up. I should have left my car at Mother's that night and given you the keys. You shouldn't have had to depend on one of the guys to drive you to work or to call a cab at three in the morning to bring you home."
"I've been doing that sort of thing since I was seventeen, Pete. I'm used to taking care of myself. You shouldn't worry about me, especially when you're working." She gave him a smile that flipped his heart and then turned his earlier words to her back at him, "But I kind of like that you did."
She set her half-empty cup aside and her hand drifted to his. He felt so good against her side she could hardly stand it. The masculine tangle of his fingers laced with hers made her feel safer than she had ever felt in her life. Before meeting Peter Gunn she'd had no idea that such a little thing could mean so much. Her gaze drifted to his face as he spoke again.
"Her name was Joanna Lund."
And so began my story of the past sixteen days. I told Edie everything there was to tell, starting with that Sunday night I was rousted out of bed by the big man Clarence and taken to the Temple of Peace and Meditation at the behest of Ahben Unesku, who hired me to track down the woman he said had stolen $200,000 of Temple funds. Edie rolled her eyes as only Edie can upon mention of Jacoby showing up and questioning Unesku about David Bryce's Temple membership and suspected suicide. I told her how I tracked down the photographer who made Joanna's passport picture and how I traced her flight to France with the aid of a friend at the airport. I explained how I eventually discovered Joanna in the little town across the border in Spain, how I managed to introduce myself to her and the manner in which I spent those seven days getting to know her. I gave Edie every single detail of the past two weeks plus two days, leaving nothing out, and I had to give her a lot of credit. She listened attentively until close to the end of my story without interrupting, not a habit the girl comes by naturally.
Pete shifted against the pillow behind his back, feeling suddenly tired and not just a little sore from his encounter with Clarence at Unesku's compound in the wee hours of the night. And that overwhelming desire to bury himself under the covers and shut out the world was rearing its ugly head again. He sighed and turned his head to look at the woman beside him, encountering that same indecipherable expression he'd seen in her eyes in the early hours of this morning.
"I found it harder and harder to believe she was the same person Unesku had described to me," he admitted to Edie. "I couldn't believe she'd stolen the money. She was just..." The PI found himself reluctant to continue and wasn't quite sure why. Was it because he was loathe to admit he might have been fooled by Joanna Lund? Or was he afraid Edie would think less of him because he'd let himself be made a patsy? Because in the very end that's what it had come down to. He'd been Ahben Unesku's patsy.
"Too nice?" Edie softly prompted as the silence stretched.
Pete nodded grudgingly. His thumb made slow circles in the soft skin of Edie's left palm and she gave a light squeeze, moving their joined hands to rest in her lap.
"She was nice," he said. "And she was pretty," he admitted, answering her question from much earlier that morning. His lips tilted in a little smile and his gaze raked the woman's face as his shoulder nudged hers. "But not as nice and nowhere near as pretty as you."
"I think I'm jealous."
So that's what it was, that's what was hiding behind that enigmatic look. Edie Hart could be the most insecure and most possessive woman in the world but usually she was much more obvious about it. Then again – he wiggled his leg to make sure it was functioning – that kick she'd given him earlier should have told him something. He had to chuckle.
"Why?" He was curious despite himself. Edie knew she had no reason to ever be jealous of another woman. He had never given her any grounds to be, at least not on purpose.
"An entire week of dining and dancing and sightseeing." She offered him a wistful look from beneath her lashes. "With Peter Gunn? What's not to be jealous about?"
Pete lifted her hand to his lips then leaned to drop a kiss on her bare shoulder, lingering over the caress as his thoughts returned to the last few days he spent in Spain.
"The other night when I called..." His fingers tightened around hers where their hands rested on top of the quilt. "I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling because I couldn't sleep. I kept wondering what songs you were singing and thinking about how good pie and coffee at three in the morning at Nic's Diner sounded. Or running by Guido's to eat pizza and share a bottle of that cheap red wine he always pushes on us. Scrambled eggs by the fireplace would have tasted better than anything I'd had that evening." His eyes found the woman's as she shifted to face him, her legs tucked beneath her, her warmth very real against his side. "I try not to think about all those things when I'm on a job but that night I missed you so much it hurt."
Edie buried her face against his shoulder and he could swear he felt her smile against his skin. She lifted her head to look at him and he was right, her lips were curved in one of those smiles he loved, a beautiful mixture of bashfulness and wonderment.
"I'm glad," the blonde told him, then she wrinkled her nose. "I don't mean I'm glad you missed me. Just that you feel that way." Her eyes searched his face. "I hope that feeling never goes away."
She could have told him that call on Monday evening had been like a present she hadn't been expecting. She'd been at the bar at Mother's, sipping on a Coke that Barney slid in her direction, when the telephone on the wall behind her rang and she had automatically answered. His "Hello, Silly" had brought a smile that Mother later compared to a flower blooming in the desert after months without rain. But the thing she would never forget, something she would remind him of in the near future, was the "I love you" he'd ended their fifteen minute conversation with. Not because he'd said the words, she'd become used to hearing those over the past couple months, but because it had been the first time Pete had said them first.
The PI's lips tilted in a smile and he leaned in to kiss her. His lips drifted from hers and lingered against the gentle curve of her cheek.
"Fat chance," he whispered, his chuckle sending warm breath to tickle her ear.
Pete's head found that sweet curve of her shoulder that it constantly craved and his eyes closed as he felt her fingers weaving gently through his short hair and then cool against the back of his neck. He had a sudden desire to find sleep again, right there against the headboard, in the safety of her arms. It would be infinitely better than pulling the pillow over his head or hiding under the blanket and it would accomplish the same thing and everything more. Because while a blanket would cover a man, it couldn't hold him, it couldn't wrap itself around him and refuse to let go. And a pillow might block the noise from the outside world for a while, but it could never calm the clamor within a man's mind with gentle touches and tender words.
"Tell me what happened."
His eyes opened at the woman's soft words and he sat up straighter and curved his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer into his chest. He placed his lips against her temple, thinking how good she felt in his arms and how he'd missed her being there.
He told her he'd known he eventually would have to tell Joanna who he was and what he was doing in the little Spanish town, but she'd turned the tables on him, asking him how much Unesku had paid him to find her and saying she'd known why he was there almost from the beginning.
"When I mentioned the $200,000 Unesku told me she stole from the Temple donations she denied it," Pete said. "But something in the way she said it didn't ring true. I asked about David Bryce and she insisted they were just friends but the look on her face when I told her he was dead said just the opposite." Raising one knee beneath the covers he leaned his elbow on it and ran his hand through his hair and gave a deep sigh. "I guess I said a few things she took offense to and she left me standing."
Pete described how he waited around in the hotel bar until closing time, figuring Joanna would have to make an appearance in the dining room sometime during the evening. He wasn't sure why he stayed. To apologize? To try and convince her to tell him where the money was so he could return it to Unesku? He had no legal authority to take her back to the States with him but getting the $200,000 back might be enough encouragement for Unesku to leave her alone.
But Joanna never showed up that evening.
"So I went to her room and knocked on the door," the PI said. "I wasn't sure whether she had skipped out or if she was just trying to avoid me. When she didn't answer my second knock I tried the knob. The door was unlocked and it swung open when I pushed."
He paused in his narrative, his eyes finding the little ginger-haired kitten that had found his way back into the bedroom and was busy chasing shadows along the floorboard near the bathroom door. Edie gazed at Pete's face as he remained silent, seemingly in a world of his own, lines of concern crinkling her forehead as she watched the tic of the muscle in his jaw. She felt a sudden dread, the shiver of a goose walking over her grave as her Grandma Hart always put it, and wasn't certain she wanted him to continue. Not just for her, but for him.
"Pete..."
"She was hanging from the rafter," he said. "Just inside the door." The woman saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed and he was quiet again for about half a minute and then he was telling her about reaching for the telephone to call the police. But with the receiver still in his hand he had noticed the stool, and how it was too short by a foot for Joanna Lund to have stood on to hang herself.
"It was just too much of a coincidence. First David Bryce..." He paused. "She told me he would never have committed suicide. Then Joanna. And suddenly the light bulb came on in my head and I knew why Unesku hired me. And I called myself all sorts of names for being such an idiot not to have realized it before."
And just as suddenly, just like in those old midnight movie mysteries, the phone rang. It was Mother asking Edie why she wasn't at work yet and was everything all right. I had a feeling Edie was ready to ask for the night off so to forestall her I got up and found my clothes and began to get dressed. While she was in the shower I called a cab and after dropping her at the club, with a promise to be back to take her to supper, I headed to the airport to pick up my suitcases. Then I went home to my own apartment where I shaved, took another long hot shower and put on a fresh suit. Looking at myself in the mirror I decided I felt almost human again.
Pete didn't bother to glance up as Mother settled her tall body into the chair across from him, his dark gaze remaining instead on Edie as she sang one of his favorite songs, all about charms and arms and lover's knots and wonderful you. He decided he could sit in that same spot and look at that girl forever and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist. If only other people would let him. Mother must have realized his melancholy because she just smiled toward him, took a sip from her wine glass and leaned her forearms on the table and turned her gaze in the same direction as his. Pete clapped as the song came to an end, his lips turning upward in a smile as Edie bowed her head to the audience and glanced his way as she drifted past the combo and headed toward her dressing room. He retrieved his cigarette from the ashtray and took one last long drag before extinguishing it. After taking a sip from his short glass of ginger ale he told Mother he'd be taking Edie up the street to Nic's Diner for a quick supper.
"I'll have her back before her next set."
"Take her somewhere nice for dinner and then take her home." The woman waved away his words. "That girl's been moping around for the last couple of weeks like she lost her only friend. Coming in early, staying late..." Mother shook her head mournfully. "I don't think she knew what to do with herself without you hanging around like a lovesick pup."
When the PI acted offended by her description of his behavior she whacked his arm.
"Don't give me that look." She stood up and looked down at him from her height. "Give the girl some attention. We all of us need it at one time or another."
Pete watched with amused eyes as Mother meandered through the smoke-filled crowd, pausing for a word with the dark-haired waitress Betty before settling herself beside the cash register at the bar. Edie appeared seemingly from nowhere and he stood and took her hand and leaned to kiss her cheek, telling her Mother was giving her the rest of the night off and was there anything she needed to go back to her room for. Fifteen minutes later, after Edie changed clothes and told Emmett she was leaving, they were at Guido's – most likely not what Mother had in mind when she told him to take Edie somewhere nice, but one of their favorite places nonetheless – seated in the back at a corner booth where they could sit close to each other at the small round table.
They chatted about this and that until Guido himself brought their order – Veal Cutlet Parmigiana for Pete and Chicken a la Cacciatora for Edie, both served with sides of spaghetti, rolls and butter – and smiled at each other when the ubiquitous bottle of red wine made its appearance. They ate their meal at a leisurely pace, quiet conversation passing between them as music played softly from a jukebox in the far corner.
Sensing the man beside her was dawdling with his food, Edie glanced up to find his gaze resting on her and her own eyes crinkled with a smile.
"Why are you staring at me?"
"Because I like to," Pete shrugged. "Because I can." He stopped twirling the last vestige of spaghetti around his fork and set it down and pushed his plate away. Leaning back on the curved bench seat, he reached for her hand at the same time, lacing his fingers with hers. "Because I have two weeks of not staring to make up for."
Edie's hand tightened on his and she gave a smile that told him he simply had to kiss her and he did, and he was still doing it when Guido popped back in with an offer of dessert. The little man grinned and nodded knowingly when Pete requested a Dutch Apple pie to go. They found their way to his apartment and settled in the living room with coffee and pie, sitting comfortably on the floor in front of a warm fire.
Pete decided not only was it good to be home, it was very good to be home. And if he could help it he wouldn't set foot out of town job-wise for more than a day any time in the foreseeable future. He smiled at the woman beside him, his eyes taking in the soft blonde hair resting on her shoulders, the sweet curve of her cheek where a soft tress lay against it after escaping from behind her ear. He reached and tucked it back in place.
"It's nice having someone to come home to."
His face held a serious expression but his eyes were giving Edie that tender smile that made her heart do somersaults. He held her gaze and looked like he wanted to say more then leaned in and kissed her. The woman's lips smiled against his as she enjoyed the taste of apple pie spice and coffee in his kiss and breathed in his scent of cologne and tobacco.
The kiss ended and Edie's eyes searched Pete's face as he dropped his gaze, his attention returning to his dessert. He dipped his fork into the juicy apples that had escaped the pie crust and lifted them to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he moved some bits around on his plate. He glanced up at her as she reached her hand out to his to still its restless movement.
"I read in the evening paper that Mr. Unesku was killed last night." Edie's eyes followed the PI's movements as he lay down his fork and pushed his plate to one side. "You don't need to tell me about it," she hurriedly continued. "The newspaper didn't even mention your name but I – " She bit her lip nervously before gently continuing. "I'm just glad the policeman was there."
Pete gave a snort.
"The policeman dogged my every step the last few weeks," he grumbled. "I took him to be Unesku's man. Turns out Jacoby put him on my tail."
"Remind me to thank the Lieutenant."
The man's lips tilted in amusement and he leaned back against the sofa, the smile fading as he turned introspective.
"I took a cab straight to Unesku's compound from the airport. I wanted some answers and I wanted..." Pete sighed and reached to the ceramic humidor on the coffee table for a cigarette and dug his lighter out of his pocket. After lighting up he took a long drag and then exhaled a stream of smoke and watched as it slowly dispersed. He rested his elbow on the sofa and stared at the glowing tip of his cigarette. "I wanted someone to be held accountable. For Joanna. For David Bryce. Whatever they might have done, neither one deserved what they got."
Edie turned to face him, leaning sideways against the sofa. She took a sip of coffee from her brown stoneware cup then wrapped both hands around it as she held it in her lap, her gaze on the PI's face.
"Turns out Unesku was right behind me everywhere I went." He swiped at some ash that drifted to the carpet and ground out the forgotten half-smoked cigarette. "From here to Paris to Spain. And I never noticed him. That's another thing I can't help beating myself up about. I picked up Sergeant Keep right away but I never noticed Unesku. I suppose I decided in my own mind that Keep was Unesku's man and I didn't think beyond that." He heaved a sigh. "I won't make the same mistake again."
"Did she take the money, Pete?"
Finishing her coffee, Edie set her cup aside and shifted closer to the man beside her. One hand found his, fingers tangling, and he felt her eyes search his face as he thought about how to answer that question. Did he have an answer? Was there an answer? Unesku had continued to insist that Joanna had stolen the money even after tacitly admitting that he'd called upon Clarence to kill her just as he'd killed David Bryce. Why perpetuate the lie once the truth of the two murders was made known? Unless it wasn't a lie at all. He said as much to Edie, finally admitting to himself that Joanna Lund had most likely stolen the $200,000 from the Temple funds. He didn't like it, and he didn't have to like it, but it did seem obvious considering all the facts.
"Unesku said Bryce was the real thief," Pete quietly said. "He told me Joanna only took money, but Bryce took Joanna." He lifted his gaze to meet Edie's eyes. "For about five seconds I actually found myself feeling sorry for him."
"Why?"
"I guess because maybe in his own convoluted way he loved her."
"And because he couldn't have her anymore he killed her?" Edie seemed dubious. She'd seen and heard snatches of the odder sides of some of Pete's jobs but somehow couldn't envision a man being so jealous and so possessive as to kill a woman because she didn't want him. She wondered aloud what kind of man would do that.
"You'd be surprised," Pete informed her. "Men can be just as possessive as women when it comes to those things they think belong to them."
Edie was relieved to see one of those little teasing smiles find its way to the man's face. Maybe the funk that seemed to grip him at times since he returned home was beginning to cast itself off.
"Are you, Pete?" She tilted her head as she gazed at him and her lips curved in their own smile. She reached a hand to straighten his collar, thinking not for the first time just how sexy he was with his tie loosened and his shirtsleeves rolled up. "You're a man. Are you possessive about things that belong to you?"
"I suppose it depends on how important those things are to me." His gaze dropped to her fingers as they loosened the knot in his tie the rest of the way. "Most of the things I have don't mean much at all." His eyes softened. "There are a few I'd have a hard time living without."
Her own smile grew as he pulled her onto his lap, her arms slipping around his neck as he leaned his forehead against her temple. There was silence for several minutes as he continued to hold her, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, the wonderful weight of her body on his. Eventually he lifted a reluctant arm to take a look at his wristwatch and frowned at the time, then placed a lingering kiss on Edie's forehead.
"It's getting late. Take you home?" He hoped she'd say no but he tried to keep that hope out of his voice. There was nothing more pitiful than an over-eager man. But he wanted her to stay, he wanted to hold her as she went to sleep and wake up with her in his arms. And he thought there might also be some other hidden motive that he didn't want to give voice to. The thought of waking alone from a nightmare of Joanna Lund hanging from the rafter in that hotel room with her feet dangling above the floor, to the sight of her limp body after it was lowered to the floor by members of the local policia, came close to scaring him. Maybe he was being selfish for wanting Edie to stay but he couldn't help himself.
"Don't be funny."
She placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him. Her lips were moist and warm against his and he felt her smile as his hand drifted to the nape of her neck to hold her there, his other arm tightening around her waist, the room fading away as the two of them became lost in each other. When they finally came up for air the blonde chuckled and ran her thumb along the man's mouth, wiping at the traces of light red lipstick she'd left behind. Then her expression became serious and Pete could see the wheels turning round and round in her head as her fingers lingered at his chin.
"I like that I belong to you, Pete. Not as a possession," she quickly continued before he could interrupt. "I know you don't think that way. You're a very good man." Her hand dropped to his shoulder, his eyes following along then rising up to meet hers again. "I belong to you because that's what I want. My heart belongs to you. My body belongs to you." She held his gaze at that last but he noticed the slight pink that colored her cheeks. "Everything about me is yours. And I'll always be here for you if you need me. If you need to talk, if you want me to hold you. If you want to hold me." Her lips curved in a slow smile and she touched her palm to his cheek. "Everyone should belong to someone. There should be a law."
"How'd you get to be so wise?" An amused smile tilted the PI's lips and he gave a little chuckle at her last words.
"I read a lot."
That brought a real laugh from Pete. He shifted and Edie slid from his lap as he got to his knees and stood up, reaching for the cups and dessert plates on the coffee table.
"Wait right there. I'll be back in a minute."
Edie heard the china and silverware rattle as Pete set everything in the kitchen sink, then followed his movements with her eyes as he walked by and into his bedroom. Her gaze drifted to the embers crackling in the fireplace, the cheery blaze Pete had started earlier having dwindled to an impatient flicker. She glanced toward the bedroom, listened as the closet door opened and closed, turned her gaze back to the little flame and found herself empathizing with it. A brief moment later she felt Pete sit back down beside her and a small box was placed in her hand.
"What's this?" she smiled.
"Something for you."
"Why?" Edie teased. "What's the occasion?"
"No occasion," Pete told her, trying to hide his own smile. "Just something I found that reminded me of you and I wanted you to have it." One arm found its way to rest on the sofa cushion behind her back and the other lay casually on his bent knee. "It's just my way of telling you that I love you and I was thinking about you."
"You didn't have to do that, Pete." The expression on her face bore a certain tenderness reserved only for him.
"I didn't?" His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise and he reached for the box. "Well in that case maybe I'll – "
"Don't you dare!" the girl threatened, snatching it away and holding it out of his reach.
"Has anyone ever told you you're wishy-washy?" He chuckled at her glare.
"Watch your language." She was giving him one of her best narrow-eyed looks even as she began to remove the lid from the box. "Wishy-washy is a woman's prerogative – "
A gasp escaped Edie's lips as her gaze found the pair of earrings that lay against the aged cream-colored velvet interior of the small box – French clip cluster earrings, each with what appeared to be a center emerald, surrounded by small diamonds, and another small diamond topping the ear stud. Surely they couldn't be real. They looked real. She ran her finger along one member of the pair then looked at the man next to her.
"Pete..."
"They were in the window of a little antique store up the street from my hotel in Paris. I saw them and all I could think of was that green dress you were wearing that night I saw you for the first time at Mother's." His lips tilted in a reminiscent smile as he caught her gaze. "I'd only been away a few days and they reminded me that I was already missing you. I thought of how pretty they'd look with that green dress and I wished I was there at Mother's watching you on the stage and listening to you sing."
"They're beautiful, Pete." Her soft voice was accompanied by an affectionate smile. "I'll wear that dress tonight and you can tell me if they look as pretty as you imagined."
"I know they will," he said. What he didn't say was that there was a matching necklace to the earrings, but it wasn't in the same fine shape the earrings were. It needed cleaning and the clasp had to be repaired. He'd take it over to Mayfield Jewelers sometime in the next day or two and have his friend Bobby Mayfield take a look at it. It would wait for another time, maybe Valentine's Day or her birthday in May. There was no hurry. He'd be there and she'd be there and he'd pass it along to her and be gifted with that smile he loved. Pete lifted his hand and brushed his fingers gently across the woman's cheek and leaned forward to kiss her.
"Why don't we call it a night, hmm?"
He reached and took the box from her hands and replaced the lid before setting it aside on the coffee table, then grasped her hand and got to to his feet, bringing her with him. Her fingers remained tangled with his as they wandered through the apartment turning off lights and making sure the door was locked.
Pete's hand tightened around hers as they entered the bedroom and he paused next to the bed to pull her into his arms. They stood quietly and held each other beneath the narrow shafts of moonlight that filtered past the window, a slight breeze ruffling the material of the curtains as it drifted lazily through the open space.
He began to undress her, slowly and with meticulous care. It was something he hadn't done in more than two weeks and he took his time. Then between the two of them they got his clothes off and crawled beneath the covers, limbs tangling and bodies straining as they made unhurried love. Unlike the previous morning, when they had twice rushed for that sweet climax, they took their time enjoying each other, relishing the tender touch of hands and lips and the warmth of skin against skin. And then they slept.
I walked into Mother's that night at the exact same hour I had back on that first night of April. April Fools Day. If anyone asked I'd pretty much have to admit I became the fool that night, a fool for a pretty blonde girl singer. It was hard to believe seven months had passed since I'd stepped through that door and laid eyes on Miss Edie Hart for the first time. I sat down at the same back table, finding Mother herself already sitting there in her regular chair, a large glass of red wine at her elbow. I guess when it comes right down to it we're all creatures of habit. She smiled and I gave her a friendly nod and lit up a cigarette as Marge stopped by with a cup of coffee I hadn't ordered but appreciated anyway. And suddenly there was Edie up on the stage wearing that green dress, singing the same song she'd sung that night and sending those same smiles in my direction. And yes, the earrings were as pretty as I thought they would be. But it wasn't because of the way they matched the dress. What made them pretty was the woman wearing them.
Mother took a sip of wine and set the glass back down, raising a knowing eyebrow at the besotted look on Peter Gunn's face. She knew better than to say anything as he listened to the girl sing so she patiently waited until the song ended and Edie stepped away from the microphone.
"Did I remember to tell you it's good to have you back home where you belong?" Her scratchy voice finally broke into the younger man's musings and her face split into one of her rare broad smiles.
"I think you might have mentioned it a few times," the PI chuckled, mirroring her grin.
Pete noticed – being the sublime private investigator that he was – that the woman was already wearing the chunky brass Art Deco bracelet and the equally gaudy ring with the over-sized pink stone and diamond-like rhinestones he'd given her earlier that evening when he dropped Edie at work. She'd been thrilled at the idea of wearing some "foreign fancies" from Spain. Barney, Mother's trusty bartender of more than twenty years, had been equally happy with the unopened bottle of Estrella Damm beer and the fancy brass bottle opener he'd picked up for the man's collections. Edie's eyebrows had risen at the bottle opener.
"And where, pray tell, were you snooping around to find a bottle opener in the shape of a nude woman?" She'd offered him her best narrow-eyed look.
Mother reached over and gave the PI a light chuck under the chin then gave her attention to the stage as Edie returned to join the combo for a final song before her break. Pete put his cigarette out in the little glass ashtray and leaned back in his chair to listen. Halfway through the song he stood and slowly wound his way through the smoke-filled crowd to the front door of the club. He turned, caught Edie's eye and held up three fingers before stepping outside and closing the door behind him. He had work to do, a job that would keep him busy the rest of the night. But he'd be back by to take her home. He dug in his right pants pocket for his lighter, lit up a Lucky Strike and slowly crossed the street to the big Chrysler DeSoto on the corner, the sweet sound of his girl's voice mingling with a jazz beat following along behind him.
The PI opened the car door and then paused for an instant, his gaze on the tall neon sign that spelled out Mother's. He smiled. Mother had told him she was glad he was home.
So was he.
~ The End ~