Peter Gunn, Edie Hart and other characters from the original "Peter Gunn" TV series unfortunately don't belong to me, nor do I make any financial gain from this story. But that doesn't mean I can't play with the characters and make them do what I want them to do. Most of the time. If I ask nicely. Actually, they usually just do what they want and rarely listen to me.
Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read my stories. I hope you enjoy this one. Feedback is always appreciated but never required. Thanks especially to Melchy, my partner in crime, who has and will contribute to this story whether she's aware of it or not!
That's a Sneaky Way to Propose
Chapter 1: The End in the Beginning
Lieutenant Jacoby stepped through the door of Edie's, his dark eyes quickly scanning the club in search of Peter Gunn. A couple members of the combo were playing around with a snazzy rendition of some tune the cop recognized but couldn't put a name to and didn't have time to think about. He had discovered some disturbing new evidence in a certain extortion case and wanted Pete to talk to a few of his unsavory contacts to help him get a lead on a suspect.
The policeman peered toward the bar but only O'Brien was in attendance there, drying wine glasses with a fluffy white towel and placing them neatly upon a shelf. The PI's pretty girlfriend didn't appear to be around, which meant Pete most likely wasn't either, the two tending to be where each other were when they weren't where you expected them to be. Maybe the couple was outside on the veranda or down the hall in Edie Hart's dressing room. He disliked the thought of interrupting them in either place. He'd been embarrassed on more than one occasion over the past several years by walking in on a private moment out behind Mother's and he'd never even considered encroaching on the woman's personal space, especially here at her own supper club. Why couldn't they keep their billing and cooing at home where it belonged?
Jacoby's gaze finally found its way to the near side of the large dining room and settled upon Leslie, the tall, dark-haired maitre d' who had found a home at Edie's after his own restaurant had been blown to kingdom come by mobsters. Life was funny sometimes, the cop decided, watching the man's arms dance around and his head tilt this way and that as he made motions toward the far wall, as though he was conducting an unseen orchestra. The Lieutenant followed the action with a glance, finally noticing Leslie was directing piano player Emmett Ward and dark-haired head waitress Betty Kendrick in positioning a large red and white banner high up where it would be seen by everyone entering the supper club.
Congratulations Pete and Edie the sign said, the red letters big and bold.
Jacoby raised an eyebrow and looked at the maitre d', impeccably dressed in a black suit and tie and sporting a fresh white carnation on his left lapel. The policeman reached up and removed his hat as he walked over to speak to Leslie, then looked down at his own brown suit and decided he looked a tad rumpled and plain compared to the man standing beside him. He straightened his spine and stood a little taller and ran his palm along his tie to straighten it, trying to be unobtrusive as he did those things but all too aware the other man would notice anyway.
"What's going on? You guys win restaurant of the year?" He offered a cynical smile that slowly faded as Leslie awarded him with an amused stare, brown eyes twinkling with an impertinent brand of humor from beneath arched brows.
"Close but unfortunately no cigar, Lieutenant Jacoby." Leslie motioned for Emmett to raise his side of the over-sized banner, eliciting a wry smile and a roll of blue eyes from the boyishly good looking musician as the maitre d' nodded his final approval.
"So what's the occasion?"
A mysterious smile found its way to Leslie's lips and his facial expression could only be described as smug as he returned his attention to the policeman. I know something you don't know, I know something you don't know his eyes seemed to sing.
"I received an utterly fascinating telephone call late Friday evening."
He paused and thanked Emmett and Betty as they approached, the musician coming to stand next to Jacoby, pulling down the sleeves of his white shirt and buttoning the cuffs before folding his arms across his chest and pretending to examine his handiwork with the banner. Betty was quickly joined by Wendy Iverson and Marge Meadows, the other two waitresses who had come to Edie's from Mother's, and the three began to pull the white covers from the dining tables and replace them with casual red and white checked cloths reminiscent of the club where they'd formerly worked.
"Go on," Jacoby finally said, growing tired of the lengthening silence when Leslie didn't continue and at the same time wondering why he was interested in the other man's weird phone conversations.
"Mrs. Hart called..." Leslie tipped his head toward Jacoby, giving him a look from the corner of his eye while simultaneously keeping watch on the activity going on around them. "Miss Hart's mother," he clarified in his well-modulated voice.
"I figured that one out all by myself." Jacoby's tone was soft and vaguely sarcastic, his brown eyes curious as he watched the almost frenetic activity going on around him. "I may be a beady-eyed cop but I'm not a dumb beady-eyed cop." His gaze landed back on the unperturbed face of the maitre d'.
Leslie allowed the lawman's acerbic comment to slip past unheeded and Emmett reached a hand up to run his fingers through short cropped dark blond hair, his amused blue eyes looking everywhere but at Jacoby.
"Evidently she was unable to get in contact with Miss Hart. There was no answer at her apartment, which was nothing new. Her words, not mine." The maitre d' gave Jacoby a cheeky sideways glance then sighed and shook his head dolefully. "I fail to understand Mrs. Hart's reasoning for continuing up that slippery slope. Miss Hart hasn't occupied that apartment for well over a year and Miss Martel dropped her sublet and moved out two weeks ago. Naturally no one answered the telephone. Neither did Mr. Gunn answer his phone when she very reluctantly called him. Again, her words."
"Leslie..." Jacoby silently counted to ten. It was early in the day for him. He shouldn't be at work yet, he should still be at home with his wife and kids, yet here he was chasing around looking for Pete and having to listen to an inane conversation that seemed to contain no rhyme or reason.
"The poor woman is living in a fool's paradise. She's smitten with the irrational delusion that what she knows is going on isn't actually going on." Leslie's tall forehead creased in a perplexed frown. "There's undoubtedly a psychiatric term for that."
"...do you happen to know where I can find Mr. Gunn?"
"Not precisely."
"What does that mean?"
"If you would listen as I try to explain instead of continually interrupting–" Leslie gave the policeman a dark look and sighed as Emmett snickered, "–you would most assuredly see the light, Lieutenant."
"Fine." Jacoby made a surrendering motion with the hat in his hand. "Continue."
"Since she couldn't locate her daughter at either apartment she called here looking for her. I informed her that Miss Hart wasn't here and that I didn't expect to see her until at least the first of the week but I would be more than happy to take a message in case she happened to call. Then she asked me if it was true."
Leslie exchanged an amused glance with Emmett over Jacoby's right shoulder, watching the blond musician bring a hand up to cover the smirk he couldn't contain.
"I don't think I understand." The policeman's already threadbare patience was beginning to wear even thinner.
"Mrs. Hart asked me if it was true." Leslie made a face indicating he'd been confused by his caller's question. "When I told her that I had no idea what she was talking about she asked was it really true that her daughter had married that man? I must admit to being at somewhat of a loss for a brief moment." His lips curled in what might have passed for a grimace. "But I was quite intrigued. I decided to attempt to pry as much information as I could from her without being too obvious about it. I informed her that it wasn't my place to spread gossip or hearsay. That Miss Hart, being my employer, would be quite put out if I did such a thing and I could only imagine what Mr. Gunn, also being my employer, might do to me." Leslie paused reflectively. "I don't believe it ever crossed her mind that Miss Hart and Mr. Gunn own this establishment together."
Jacoby was very obviously nonplussed at the surprising words from the maitre d'. For a brief moment he was hit by the disconcerting sensation that someone was playing a joke and he was the butt of it. But Leslie wasn't a prankster.
"Let me get this straight," he eventually said, the soft words sounding forced. "Mrs. Hart asked you if her daughter and Mr. Gunn were married? Whatever gave her that idea?"
"I asked her that very question, Lieutenant."
Again silence.
"And?" The policeman was beyond exasperated.
"She informed me that she and Mr. Hart received a telegram late Friday afternoon, along with an extremely large bouquet of flowers and a box of cigars. She read the telegram to me over the telephone, the salient points anyway." Leslie folded his arms and put his left index finger to his chin and thoughtfully raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Married... hope we have your best wishes... will call in a few days... etcetera, etcetera... Pete and Edie." Lowering his gaze to Jacoby, he clasped his hands behind his back and offered another of his cheeky glances, dimples scarring his cheeks as he smiled with unbridled humor. "I find it quite amusing that they put his name first on a telegram to her parents."
The Lieutenant stared at the maitre d' and slowly shook his head, an expression of dour disgust mixed with annoyed resignation crowding his dark brown eyes.
"Why am I always the last one to find out these things?"
His tone was softly pleasant but his gaze said otherwise. He hadn't found out about his friend Peter Gunn's relationship with his girl singer until three months after they'd begun seeing each other, long after everyone else was clued in. Two weeks had gone by before he'd been made aware of the couple's short-lived breakup of two summers ago. And he hadn't known the two were sharing Pete's apartment until at least a month after the fact. Of course when one took into account that the woman was almost always there anyway it made that last one easier to stomach- er, explain, than the others.
Jacoby slapped his hat hard against his thigh then brought it to his head, giving the brim a couple of agitated tweaks to settle it firmly upon his balding pate. He turned to leave, taking a few steps toward the door before turning back around to face the other two men again.
"Did Mrs. Hart happen to mention from where the telegram was sent?"
Leslie promptly answered the policeman's question almost as if he knew it was coming, the name of a mid-size town about a two hour drive away in a neighboring state rolling blithely off his well-educated tongue. Folding his arms across his chest, he allowed a soft smile to turn the corners of his mouth as he rocked back on his heels and stared serenely at the banner hanging upon the wall across the room.
"The perfect destination for lovers in love." He cocked his head toward Jacoby and gave a knowing lift of dark eyebrows. "It would seem quite obvious that our enamored moth and his equally besotted little flame meandered across the state line, secured a marriage license and paid a perfunctory visit to a justice of the peace. There's a waiting period of twenty-four hours after acquiring a license before a marriage can take place in said state, which would most likely explain why they didn't return home until today."
Jacoby gave him a blank stare.
"Weekend honeymoon," Leslie explained with a knowing smile. "Short but sweet, one might say."
"Kind of late in the game if you ask me," Jacoby muttered with a roll of his eyes. "And how do you always know these things?" he grumped in annoyance.
The maitre d' gave the cop a blandly amused look.
"Let's just say our Mr. Gunn isn't the only man in town who cultivates friendships." His raised fingers gave quote marks to that last word. "Upon garnering the information from Mrs. Hart pertaining to when and where, I simply placed a call to a locally well-known purveyor of wedded bliss and asked about the rules of marriage in such circumstances."
Leslie looked quite pleased with himself, the expression of delight on his face bringing an irate frown to that of the policeman. Jacoby glanced back up at the banner hanging from the ceiling, his lips pressing into a firm line as he pointed a rigid forefinger at the celebratory red words dangling for all to see.
"I sincerely hope Mrs. Hart has all her facts straight," he ground out. "Because if she's wrong and they walk in here and see this sign and – " He waved his arm distractedly to the hubbub that was going on around them, "– I don't think you'll have to imagine what Pete will do to you! There will be a chalk outline of your dead body on this very floor and I'll be here investigating your untimely death!"