Perry Mason
The Case of the Throwback Thursday
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters from shows are not mine. The other characters and the story are! This was inspired by, of all things, the theme song from the 1970s series Ellery Queen. I envisioned a parody of film noir/detective shows with Steve Drumm at the helm, and this happened. The mysterious woman is a character from Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?, and she was the final puzzle piece towards making this fic happen. Also, Happy Birthday to the awesome Richard Anderson! I wanted to have this done on the 8th, but that didn't quite work out. I will post it in several chunks since it's rather long for a oneshot (even though that is what it was intended to be).
Lieutenant Steve Drumm gave a tired sigh as he leaned back at his desk and placed his hands behind his head. Another grim homicide case had wrapped up and he was alone with his thoughts. In the middle of the night, as it was now, the police station was fairly quiet. There were still officers on duty, of course; crime never stopped, no matter the time of day. But with his door shut, at one o'clock in the morning it was as silent as the grave.
Not a good analogy, really. But a detective in the Homicide division had to end up at least a little bit cynical.
He yawned and leaned forward, replacing some loose papers in their folder and closing it. The logical thing to do now was to go home and right to bed, especially since he would need to be at work much sooner than he would really like to be, considering the late hour.
He was putting some other items back in place on his desk when a knock at his door jerked him to attention. "Yeah?" he called.
The dark silhouette of a woman with a floppy, wide-brimmed hat decorated his door for only a moment before the knob turned and the mysterious being walked in. "Lieutenant Drumm," she said in a sultry, throaty voice, "I am in need of your services."
Steve stared at her in disbelief, oddly aware that it almost seemed that when she had walked in, the lights had dimmed. "I'm sorry, Miss," he started to say. "I'm just about to leave for the night. Surely someone else can help you, if this can't wait until morning?"
"It can't wait," she replied, and only came closer. She was dressed mostly in a sharp black suit and beige gloves, though her hat was gray and her blouse was white.
Feeling the long hours of sleeplessness nearly ready to overtake him, Steve sighed in his mind and tried to will himself to stay alert. "What is it then?" he asked. "This is the Homicide division, so I assume your case has to do with a homicide."
"You're right." The mysterious woman opened her purse and took out a piece of paper. "This morning, I received this in my mail."
Steve took it and fumbled for his reading glasses in order to read it. "'I'm warning you for the last time, make your brother stay out of matters that don't concern him if you want him to still be alive and well tonight.'" He looked up sharply. "Why didn't you report this in the morning?!"
"First I had to find my brother and try to talk to him," she answered. "In previous notes, they've warned me not to go to the police."
"But now you have." Steve set the note on his desk. "Is your brother dead?"
"I don't know." Her dark eyes filled with urgency. "When I returned home tonight, there was a broken window, blood all over the living room carpet, and no one in the house. Clearly there had been a fight of some kind."
"Just when did you get home?" Steve frowned, whipping off his glasses.
"Less than thirty minutes ago. I came straight here." She looked at him pleadingly. "I know people aren't considered missing until they've been gone for 24 hours, but considering all the evidence, that could be too late. Won't you start looking for him now?"
"I'll put someone on it," Steve promised. "But there's really no telling what happened at this point. Your brother could have surprised an intruder and wounded him. Maybe he went out chasing him down. If you go back to your house right now, he might be there, alive and well."
"I've been trying to call him, without success." Her attention turned to the telephone on his desk. "May I try again, on your telephone?"
"Go right ahead," Steve gestured.
She tried three times before giving up. "There's just no answer," she fretted. "If the situation is as you say, Lieutenant, he's still out chasing the intruder."
"What's your address?" Steve asked. "I'll see if there's a squad car in the area that can be radioed."
"725 Sunset Canyon Road," was the reply.
"There should be a car around there somewhere," Steve nodded. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll find out." He got up and crossed the room, opening the door into the outer office. "Sergeant Brice?"
His faithful partner, who was still filling out his report on the evening's events, looked up. "Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Find out if there's a squad car on Sunset Canyon Road," Steve directed. "If so, tell them to go to 725 and see if anyone's home. If no one answers, they're to patrol the area looking for any suspicious activity. Someone threatened to kill one of the occupants of that house."
Brice nodded. "Right." He reached for the radio.
Steve shut the door. "That should take care of it," he said. "If anything's going on, Brice will find out."
"Thank you," the woman said in relief. "I won't forget this, Steven."
Steve stared at her. "Just Lieutenant will be fine."
She nodded. "Lieutenant."
"Where is it you work, anyway?" Steve wondered. He went back to his desk, perching on the edge of it.
"At the Play It Again, Sam Club," she told him. "It's a nightclub with a 1940s theme."
"I see." Steve scratched that down on a piece of paper. "Is there any chance your brother could have gone there looking for you?"
"I doubt it," she objected. "He would know I would be off my shift by now."
"What's his name?" Steve asked. "And your name too, come to think of it."
She sat down in a chair facing him. "His name is Carson Brill. I'm . . ." But she stopped herself as the door opened.
"Lieutenant?" Brice was leaning in. "Reed and Malloy are in the area, so they've gone over to look at the house. And I think we'd better get over there right now."
"Why?" Steve frowned, while the woman tensed.
"They found a body."
Immediately Steve looked to his guest. "What does your brother look like?"
She stood, already walking in determination to the door. "He's tall with dark brown hair, slightly messy."
"I'm not sure we'll be able to tell much about this guy's hair," Brice said, looking to her with kindness and concern. "Reed said his skull was bashed in."
She paled, but only clutched her purse tighter.
Steve was wide awake now. He got down from the desk, taking long strides to the door. "If it isn't your brother, he most likely did the damage," he said.
"It would have been in self-defense, Lieutenant," she replied calmly.
"Unless it was a case of mistaken identity," Steve grunted. "He could have hit the guy thinking his intentions were murderous when they weren't."
"We'll know soon enough," she said, walking into the office and past Sergeant Brice, who looked back to Steve with raised eyebrows.
"Don't look at me," Steve shot back. "You're the one who let her come back here."
"Actually, I had to go talk to Lieutenant Tragg," Brice said. "I wasn't here when she came through."
Steve shook his head. "I really know how to pick 'em," he growled. "First it was just a missing brother. Now it's homicide." He hurried past Brice, chasing after the mysterious woman. "And I still don't have her name."
Brice grabbed his fedora off the desk in the outer office and followed. "I thought you usually ask for that first thing, Lieutenant."
"Usually I do," Steve agreed. "Somehow I didn't get a chance to this time." He scowled. "These late hours must be really starting to get to me. You know what else is wild?"
"What's that?" Brice asked.
Steve pushed open the door to the outside. "When she walked in, it seemed like the lights dimmed. Can you beat that?" He stepped into the night air, chuckling to himself.
"I guess when you're tired, you can see a lot of strange things," Brice offered.
"You sure do," Steve muttered.
xxxx
Reed and Malloy were uneasily waiting by the time Steve and Brice drove up in the unmarked police car and the mysterious woman pulled up behind them. She was the first to alight, hastening across the front lawn to where the two officers were standing over a body underneath a broken window.
"I live here, Officers," she said. "Have you found out who the dead man is?"
The policemen exchanged an uncomfortable look. "He didn't really have any identification on him," said Malloy. "Just a business card for a place called the Play It Again, Sam Club."
Hearing that as he exited the car, Steve rushed over with Sergeant Brice in tow. "What?!"
The woman, seemingly not bothered by that particular news, was studying the body. "It isn't my brother," she declared.
"How can you tell?" Malloy asked, grimacing over the gruesome state of the corpse.
"I can see enough. Anyway, he wouldn't have any reason to carry one of my club's business cards. He already knows where it is." She straightened, tossing the end of her wrap over her shoulder. "More than likely, this is the man who was coming to kill him. He could have visited the club, knowing he might find my brother there, and taken a card in order to remember the address."
"That's possible," Steve admitted. "But if your brother did this, he's still killed a man and we have to find him."
"I agree. But Lieutenant." She looked to him, her eyes boring into his. "It would have been self-defense."
Steve looked back. "Unless you're a mind-reader, you can't know that for sure. And I still need your name!"
"Find my brother. Then we'll talk." With that the woman moved back across the lawn in the direction she came.
Steve gritted his teeth. "I don't trust her," he said. "She could have killed this guy herself and made up the story she told me. Reed, Malloy, I want you two to follow her. Don't let her out of your sight!"
"We won't, Lieutenant," Reed vowed.
"I'm going to get another Homicide team out here to handle this," Steve continued, looking to Brice. "I still think we should check that club to see if her brother went there."
Brice nodded. "I'll get Lieutenant Tragg." He checked his watch. "Most clubs close at two A.M. If we hurry after the other team gets here, we should still be able to make it before the Play It Again, Sam Club closes."
"Good," Steve barked. "Let's get to it."
xxxx
The Play It Again, Sam Club was a bit like a time capsule. As soon as Steve and Brice showed their identification at the door and were admitted, it felt as though they had been transported back to the 1940s. The club was classy and retro in design, costumes, and entertainment. A blonde woman was crooning on the stage, backed by a jazz band. Cigarette girls milled among the crowd—albeit they weren't actually selling cigarettes. The customers talked and laughed, some seeming nostalgic, some fascinated, and others, right at home.
Steve suddenly stiffened as a dark suit caught his eye. "Holy . . ." He stared in disbelief as a woman dressed like the one in his office slinked out from a corner. Another was over at the bar, and a third was on the stairs.
Brice raised an eyebrow, but otherwise showed no real reaction. "It must be a costume the hostesses wear," he suggested. "It kind of reminds me of Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca."
"Or any of countless other mysterious women from the Golden Age of Hollywood. I feel like I'm in the middle of a detective film on the late show," Steve groused. But, shaking himself out of his shock, he headed for the bar.
The woman there turned as he approached, regarding him questioningly. Although she wasn't the one who had visited him, she was strikingly similar in hairstyle and facial features.
"Excuse me, Miss," Steve said, taking out his badge. "I'm Lieutenant Drumm, LAPD. This is Sergeant Brice. We're looking for Carson Brill. Has he been here tonight?"
"No, but you're not the only ones asking about him," she replied.
"Oh? Who else has been asking about him?" Steve asked as he stuffed his badge back in his pocket.
She nodded to an unfriendly group moving slowly among the table. "They have. When I told them he hadn't been here, they said they'd wait. I don't want any trouble, Lieutenant. Their kind could really turn this joint inside-out and backwards if they have a mind to."
"We'll try to see to it that doesn't happen," Steve promised. Weaving around the tables himself, he soon caught up with the grisly gang.
They noticed him as soon as he approached. "What do you want?" the one in the lead snapped.
Again Steve introduced himself, staying on guard for any sudden attacks. "I'm looking for Carson Brill," he said. "I understand you're also trying to find him. I'd like to know why."
"We don't have to tell a cop anything," was the sneering response.
"If you have something to hide, I'll find out about it," Steve snapped. "You'd do well to just tell me now."
Their response was for someone behind the leader to lunge and try to throw a punch. Brice caught the fist in his hand. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he cautioned. "Especially not in here."
The thug looked at him with smoldering eyes. "We'd be happy to take it outside," he snarled.
"I don't want to see any trouble on the property at all," Steve retorted. "If you won't tell me about Carson Brill, we'll leave it at that. If you try to pick a fight, you'll all end up in jail. I can promise you that!" He stood his ground, looking to each member of the gang. "Well? What's it going to be?"
At first they actually seemed to be backing down. But the moment Steve started to relax, one of them leaped forward in an attempt to tackle him to the floor. Steve retaliated by judo-flipping him over his shoulder and to the floor. Several nearby customers cried out in shock.
"If anyone else tries that, they'll get more of the same," Steve vowed. "I suggest you take your friend and get out."
Apparently the leader was of the same mind. With a silent gesture to the others, he came forward and had two of the other lackeys haul the dazed thug to his feet. Now shamed in the eyes of all the staring patrons, the group slowly slunk towards the door.
The woman at the bar nodded in approval. "And don't let any of them back in, Pierre," she said to the maitre-d.
"I certainly won't, Madame," he assured her in nervousness, pulling on his tie and anxiously looking about.
With the crisis passed, the customers began to return to their conversations. On stage, the singer resumed the song she had paused in singing. Looking down at Steve, she tossed him a smile and mouthed Wait here during a brief instrumental break.
Brice followed Steve's gaze. "What are we going to do, Lieutenant?"
Steve sighed. "That singer acts like she might have some information for us. We'll wait." He sat down at an empty table just to the side of center stage. Brice sat down next to him, setting his hat on the table.
It didn't take the woman long to wrap up her number. As the band started to play an instrumental jazz piece, she bounced down the steps and over to the two policemen. "I heard you were looking for Carson Brill," she said.
"That's right," Steve said, starting to take out his notepad. "Can you help us?"
She placed a finger to her chin. "Well, he did call me tonight," she said. "I'm kind of his girl. He acted scared about something."
"Did he say what?" Steve pressed.
"He said someone was after him and he couldn't tell me why." She frowned. "Then he said something that didn't make sense."
"That might be a clue to his whereabouts," Steve said, perking up. "What was it?"
"Let's see. 'Where the mountain meets the sea, a deadly blossom grows.'" She made a face. "Does that make any sense to you?"
"It's an expression that means something like 'Beautiful things can hold danger'," Steve said. "Do you have any idea why he would say that?"
"No, none." She looked at him pleadingly. "You will find him, won't you?"
"We're trying our best," Steve promised. "But you say you're his girl? Funny his sister didn't mention anything like that."
"His sister?!" Now she stared in bewilderment. "He doesn't have a sister!"
"We've met the sister," Brice spoke, stunned. "She's the one who put us on to the case."
"Yeah? Well, I don't know who that could've been, Honey, but it wasn't a sister." The singer placed her white-gloved hands on her hips, her silver sequined dress glittering under the bright lights. "What did she look like?"
"She was dressed like these women in black around the club," Steve said. "She said she works here."
"Oh." The singer shrugged. "That could be any of a dozen women then. Carson's always hanging around here and most of them like him."
"But why the sister ploy?" Steve frowned. "She could have just as easily said she was a friend."
"Maybe she thought we'd be more likely to investigate if we thought there was a familial connection," Brice suggested.
"That's possible," Steve agreed. To the girl he said, "It would be helpful if we had a list of all the women in black who work here."
"Talk to Milly at the bar," she replied. "She runs this place."
"Really?" Steve raised an eyebrow. "Then why does she dress the same as some of her employees?"
"She likes to blend in and observe things without people knowing she's the big cheese," the singer said. "It helps her spot trouble a lot easier."
"I can imagine," Steve mused. "And what's your name?"
"Carla Darling," she said with a flip of her hair. "Call me anytime you want more information. Or when you've found Carson. I want to know at any hour of the day or the night. Got it?"
"We'll do that," Steve said with a curt nod.
"Good." Carla smiled at him and Brice before hurrying back to the stage, apparently hearing some cue from the band.
Steve sighed, leaning back in the chair as he finished scrawling down the notes from their conversation. "Let's talk to Milly and get that list," he said. "I want to know who that woman is."
"What about Carson Brill?" Brice asked.
Steve gazed off into the distance, pondering the strange words that had been given to Carla Darling. "'Where the mountain meets the sea, a deadly blossom grows.' I wonder if he could be hiding out in one of the caves along the coast. Say, maybe around Malibu Canyon?"
"I guess that's possible," Brice mused. "But there's probably hundreds of those caves, Lieutenant. How would we narrow it down?"
"Maybe all the caves where something poisonous grows right nearby?" Steve suggested. "Poison oak, lupine . . ." He sighed, tapping the notepad with his pen. "I know that might not narrow it down enough, but it's something."
Brice nodded. "I'll call the station and have them make a list of every area that would fit," he offered.
"Good," Steve said in approval. "I'll get that employee list from Milly."
