TITLE: Dames
Chapter 2: Stepping Out With My Baby
AUTHOR: Devylish
CATEGORY: AU/Het/Mystery
FANDOM: NCIS
PAIRING: Abby/Tony
RATING: PG-13+
WARNINGS: AU in a big way
WORDS: 1669
SPOILERS: None.
SUMMARY: What if Gibbs, DiNozzo, and McGee were PI's in the 1940's?
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Absolutely, positively nothing. Disheartening really. Body and Soul lyrics not mine either.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah ummm I'm back! With a new chapter… frickin' finally! Sorry for the wait… but Miss Muse took a vacation and left me at home. Now that she's back…. Wooo whooooo!
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By the time Anthony had finished questioning her, and McGee had finished mooning over her, Ziva David's list of even remotely qualified suspects for the alleged murder of her sister numbered all of 3.
Jeanne Froge – evaluator and representative of Edgar David's favorite philanthropy: The Central Art Reserve.
Lee Tell – David's personal solicitor.
Charles Noraton – current restaurateur/club owner, previously David's business partner for 10 years.
DiNozzo didn't honestly figure any of Miss David's cast of characters for murder; while she seemed to be a smart enough dame, he knew grief could make people think and do the strangest things. But regardless of his reservations, he'd had Miss Palmer and McGee do some checking around to get general information regarding the whereabouts of their three 'prime suspects'… which led him to where he was now at 8pm that same night.
His location? Across the street from the LoBall Night Club, the priciest, and fanciest of the three joints owned by Mr. Charles Noraton.
Tipping the brim of his hat a little lower over his eyes, DiNozzo passed his hands over the slight bulge in his right hand suit pocket – his baby, a.38, rested comfortably there; and in the left hand pocket of his suit sat 75.00 of the David retainer.
Stepping out from the shadows Tony crossed the street to the gleaming glass and chrome doors of the LoBall.
"Reservations sir?"
"No. But I was hoping you'd still be able to find a small table for me. Nothing too out of the way." DiNOzzo surreptitiously palmed the bribe he'd figured he'd need to get into this place, into the concierge's hand. The man pocketed the money without glancing at it and responded. "Very good Sir. I'll see what we can do. It will be just a minute."
"Thanks."
Stepping a bit further into the foyer of the club, Tony took off his coat and hat, handed them to the coat-check girl, and surveyed the main room.
The inside of the club gleamed nearly as much as the outside had; a few couples swayed together on a polished parquet dance floor; moving to the sounds of a ballad being played by a big brass band.
Crisp white tablecloths covered dining tables that curved around the small dance floor. The tables were filled with centerpieces of white flowers and white candles that flawlessly illuminated the jewels that glinted and sparkled on the wrists and necks of the women that seemed to be perfectly placed through the hall.
The room reeked of money…; it was a stench that DiNOzzo couldn't complain about, especially when it came accompanied by so many visual stimulants… his eyes followed a curvy blonde as she headed to the dance floor with her partner.
HE was interrupted in his pleasant perusal of her… assets by the arrival of the club's hostess. "This way sir." She led DiNOzzo through the sea of shimmering white and took him to a table at the far side of the club, a perfect spot for him to view the comings and goings of the place.
Catching her arm before she could wander off, DiNozzo asked her a question, "Say Doll, is Mr. Noraton in tonight?"
She looked him up and down, trying to decide how she was going to answer him, apparently, she liked what she saw because she responded with a smile: "No, not yet. He normally doesn't stop in until after 9."
"Thanks Babe," he released her arm and pulled a tip out of his pocket, "Send a waitress over when you get a chance, will you?" He settled into the small booth he'd been allotted as she trotted off.
An hour would give him time to get a drink, get a lay of the land, and get something to eat before he had to approach and feel out Mr. Noraton, Ziva David's first suspect.
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"Crimminy!" Abigail Scuito looked down at the newest run she'd made in her last pair of stockings and sighed. There was no way she could darn this pair again, she'd resewn the nylon together so many times that, up close, the stockings looked more like a sweater than nylons. Yelling through the open connecting door to the other dressing room she made a last ditch effort.
"Hey Tallulah?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you have a pair of stockings I could wear for my act tonight?"
"Hun, I havent' seen a pair of nylons since my last husband was around… I think he stole them with the 20 I had hidden in my lingerie drawer… needless to say, I've found a new hiding place for my spare cash!"
Abby laughed. Tallulah had had more husbands than most women had of shoes. But that was because she wouldn't mess around with a guy unless there was a ring on her finger. She was a rare breed in the performing world.
'Oh well, bare legs again I guess; at least until next paycheck.' If the price of nylons hadn't gone up so high in the last year, Abby could afford to buy more than a pair or two at a time. But as things stood, she wither needed the world economy to turn around, or a sugar daddy. And while she wasn't a prude by any stretch of the imagination, she wasn't interested in men. Not anymore. Not much. 'Damn men.'
Pulling off and tossing the tattered remanents of her nylons, Abby reached fort he petroleum on her dressing table, unscrewed the lid and dipped her fingers in. Rubbing her hands together, she quickly covered her legs with a thin thin layer of the petroleum. She then reached for her favorite lavender scented lotion and covered her arms and hands with that.
As she was finishing up, a knock, followed by a voice calling through the door gave her a time warning: "15 minutes to stage Miss Scuito.'
"Thanks Hugh!"
Abby moved to the small rack that held her dresses, and swiftly flipped through them.
Tallulah stuck her head in the connecting door just as Abby grabbed a dress and ducked behind the dressing screen that sat in the corner of the room.
"It was pretty busy out there when I performed. Diamonds from stem to stern." One of Tallulah's first husbands had been a sailor.
"Well let's hope the cash is being spent tonight to."
Abby slipped out of her dressing gown and pulled the evening dress off of its' hanger. It was a new dress, and she thought she might very well be in love with it. It was sexy, demure, and a bit unexpected… and it had the added benefit of not exposing her unclad legs.
It wasn't an elaborate dress. Black, bateau neck, long sleeves, slightly gathered at the waist, just on the left side, with the gathering held in place by a brooch of a spider's web. The skirt of the dress fell straight, somewhat fitted, to her form, and it just touched the floor when she wore her heels.
No, it wasn't an elaborate dress – in the front. The back was a somewhat different story… it was a cowl necked creation, exposing the skin of her back all the way down to her waist. And there was a small train – just enough to 'catch the eye' – at the bottom of the dress.
Tallulah gave a catcall whistle as Abby stepped out from behind the screen and moved to the mirror for one more check on her makeup and hair.
With a grin, Abby gave a small spin.
"Abigail, that dress is swell! Absolutely, swell! Where'd you get it?"
Abby smiled again, "It IS a gem isn't it? This girl I know from Rochester, made it for me. She's got style." Abby picked up her tube of Killer Red lipstick and leaned in to the mirror. One spritz of perfume at her neck, and she turned back to Tallulah for her final node of approval.
"Well, if your friend from Rochester ever decides she wants to make an outfit for a size 8 hoofer… think of me!"
Abby moved to the door with a laugh. "Will do! See you after my set."
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DiNozzo savored the last bite of the steak he'd ordered, and followed it down with the final sip of the scotch he'd been nursing for the last hour.
Killer or not, Mr. Noraton clearly served quality food and drinks at his establishment. And as the lights dimmed in the club and the band struck up a mournful ballad, DiNozzo added 'quality music' to the list of good things at LoBall.
Glancing away from the entryway of the club to the stage in the front of the main room, DiNozzo did a double-take.
She was striking. Dark hair, curled 'just so'. Statuesque, curvy, sheathed in something black that hugged her frame the way it should be hugged.
As the music swelled, the dark angel began to sing, and Anthony DiNozzo was lost.
My heart is sad and lonely.
For you I cry,
For you, dear, only.
I tell you I mean it
I'm all for you
Body and soul
As she moved around the stage, drawing in the diners with her eyes and her voice, DiNozzo watched her figure. The broad was beautiful. Yeah, yeah… he had a thing for beautiful women. That was a fact. But there was something about this one….
I spend my days in longing
And wondering why it's me you're wronging
Why haven't you seen it
I'm all for you
Body and soul
Something that made him 'shiver'; and Anthony hadn't shivered because of a dame in a… really long time.
"She's something isn't she?" DiNozzo's view of the stage was suddenly blocked by a large tweed covered figure. "Charles Noraton." The tweed figure extended its hand. Anthony stood as he shook the florid middle aged man's hand.
"Mr. Noraton." DiNozzo glanced at the stage one more time before turning his full attention to the man who was the reason for his being at the LoBall.
