Chapter 2


After Gloria had long gone, I went out and picked myself up some noodles from a street vendor which I ate in the park while peeping at some of the locals. Afterwards I brought Madeline back a late lunch. "I brought you your favorite...pastrami on rye, and a pickle. Any messages?" I asked, dropping the greasy paper bag down on her desk in front of her.

She gave me her usual pouty look by way of greeting. "Marianne Jameson called. She's got your payment, but uh, she still says she's not satisfied with the job."

"Oh, well...she's just upset with what I found out. Namely that her husband Mr. Jameson is a no good cheat, but that's not my fault. It's just the nature of the business."

Madeline shrugged. "Anyway, Dix, she wants you to destroy the photos you took of that no good cheat and his lover."

"I'll give them back to her and she can burn them herself. How's that? Anything else?"

"A Mrs. Feinberg wants you to try and locate her missing brother."

"Do I have any openings tomorrow afternoon?"

Madeline made a face. "Dix, the whole day is open. Business ain't been nearly as hot as the weather, you know." She fanned herself for the effect.

"Funny," I said, only half-amused. "Schedule Mrs. Feinberg for 4:30 pm tomorrow, please," I requested, then walked away toward my office. Madeline didn't need to know about my new job down at the Presidio in a few days ...since it was more of a favor for dear old Gloria, than a proper job.

But good old Maddy wasn't done razzing me yet. "Oh, and Polly called again...she said you haven't been returning her calls."

"That's what I have a secretary for," I reminded her, stopping with my hand on the doorknob.

"Dix, don't you remember?" She said innocently. "Polly's not a client, she's that girl you—you know…."

"I know, I know."

"Well...are you going to call her back? I don't like lying to your girlfriends for you, Dix."

"She's not my girlfriend, Maddy."

"Well? Why don't you tell her that, Dix, because she's coming on awfully strong, you know?" She stacked some files noisily and adjusted her curly blonde hair as though I had interrupted her work for longer than she appreciated. Well, I probably had.

As irritating as this kid could be, Madeline always had my best interests at heart. So I softened my tone when I spoke next. "Tell me about it," I agreed and loosened my tie, walking back to her. "Look at this," I pointed at my neck just under my collar and leaned over for her to inspect.

Madeline made a disgusted face. "Jeez Dix, that's the ugliest hickey I've ever seen. If you ask me, you need to drop that girl like a hot potato, before she gets the idea that you might be the marrying kind."

"Not likely," I laughed. "Even Polly's got the marbles to see that's not happening this century."

"Dix, you'd better watch out," Madeline said seriously. She looked up at me with that cute face of hers and I noticed she was really laying on the makeup heavy lately. Those reds must have been hard to impress. She adjusted her hairdo again and smiled at me. Must be some hot political rally tonight, I thought remembering Gloria's warning.

"Maybe you should take your own advice, hon." I sat down on the corner of her desk and I took out my note pad and scribbled something on a piece of paper as she watched curiously.

I gave her a wink, then I placed the paper in Madeline's hand and gently closed her fingers around it. "Now Madeline, I have good information that you've been busy after work on Wednesday nights," I said.

Her eyes widened as she read the note: "This office is bugged. The feds are onto you. Might want to move your meetings for a while. "

She finished reading silently and looked up at me. Her face had gone somewhat pale, but there was also a look of characteristic defiance. Good old Madeline.

Next I raised my voice so that no wiretap could miss it. "And don't try and pull one over on me about all the hot dates you've been having." I winked down at her. "Now you make sure you tell that aunt of yours up in San Jose that I hope she feels better soon. It sure is swell of you to bring her dinner every Wednesday night." I smiled at her stunned expression and then got up again, walking into my office, slamming the door behind me.


I had just got to thinking, (or napping, depending how you look at it) when the buzzer went. Madeline's voice jolted me out of my reverie. "Dix, honey, you got a walk-in," she announced, in an amused voice. I remained silent, hoping she would do her job and tell the interloper to hit the road.

A few seconds later, she was in the office slamming the door behind her.
I dropped my face into my hands, (as I do sometimes when I don't have any better ideas) and I rubbed my bloodshot eyes and yawned. "I'm not here, Maddy," I assured her. "You know how I feel about people who don't make appointments."

"Yeah, you say they're usually the best payin' customers on account of them being so desperate. And judging by her appearance she's got moolah for days, Dix."

So my new wannabe client was rich. I sat up a little straighter. "And?"

"And she's real elegant and mysterious-like."

I sighed stood up behind my desk. "By all means then, send her in."


I could tell right away, that the woman who stepped inside my office a few moments later, was more than a little dangerous. Madeline was right she was dressed in an elegant evening dress, so elegant in fact that I glanced out the window to make sure it was still the middle of the afternoon. She had chestnut brown hair and sharp, attractive features. She was the kind of woman I would always want to talk to, and if all went well, maybe more.

I straightened my tie as though that raised my status a bit. "Ma'am. What can I do for you?"

She opened a delicate black velvet purse and pulled out a long thin cigarette. Placing it between her lips she glanced around my office. "You come highly recommended, Mr. Hill," she said turning her eyes to me with a sly smile. "And so I hope appearances really are deceiving," she added through a puff of smoke.

I shrugged off the insult and sat back down. "What can I do for you?" I repeated, putting my feet up on the desk. "As you can see, I'm pretty busy...Miss..."

She sat down on the edge of my desk with a sultry smile. "Vazceslavska."

I raised an eyebrow. "Nice to meet you."

She leaned in. "Let's skip the chit chat, Mr. Hill. You seem like a very direct man."

"Why yes, Ms. Vash...I am."

"Do you care for archaeology, Mr. Hill? I happen to specialize in antiquities."

"Well, Miss Vash-"

"That's not my name Mr. Hill," she reminded me sweetly.

I smiled. "Ma'am, I don't investigate dead people much anymore...I find the living ones are more profitable."

She got up and walked around the desk to stand close to me. Normally I would have been keen, but for some reason I thought of the red headed scientist again. It irritated me that a stranger had that effect on me. But Ms. Vazceslavska didn't seem to notice my lagging attention.

"I've got a high paying job for you, Mr. Hill."

"In my line of work that means dangerous," I said, but still I was interested.

"A little danger shouldn't bother you, Mr. Hill. But I can promise you this is right up your alley. You know the DeYoung Museum?"

"Sure...over in Golden Gate park. What about it?"

"I need you to be there tomorrow at 2 pm."

"For?"

"Some minor surveillance. The museum has a beautiful Peruvian piece they'll be bringing in at that time."

For some reason that set off an alarm in my brain, but I played dumb and just shook my head. "You want me to spy on some statue or something?"

"Yes...just snap a few pictures. Unless that's too difficult for you Mr. Hill..." I stared up at her blankly. She was bad news, alright. "There's $1000 in it for you," she added.

I had to try hard not to fall off my chair. I fiddled with my hat. "I'll be there."

She smiled widely in response. "I knew I came to the right place."

I held out my hand. "I'll take the money in advance," I said easily.

She hesitated, looking irritated for the first time. But then she reached into her purse and took out a fat wad of cash. She tossed the bills on my desk. "You're hired," she said and then walked slowly away. I'll admit that I admired the view as she did. But then she turned around at the door and looked back at me, and there was a look of regret on her face. "So long, Mr. Hill."


After Ms. Vash left, I felt so tired I decided to take a snooze. Next thing I knew, I woke up at 1 in the morning with my hand wrapped around an empty whiskey glass and my cheek in a pool of sweat on my desk. Another strange dream, but this time I didn't dwell on the details.

I pushed myself to my feet and had every intention of leaving for my apartment, when I heard a commotion outside in the street. I hurried to the window and saw two figures, one large framed and the other small and sneaky, kicking a tall man who was curled up on the damp pavement. The street light shone on the face of one of the assailants revealing him to be Felix Leech, one of Redblock's prime henchmen. I rapped on my window-just a sound to startle them into thinking someone might be watching. I ran to my desk and grabbed the 38, and headed for the elevator out in the hallway.


Once down in the street, my loud footsteps on pavement made the goons scurry. They weren't concerned about me; it was simply time to leave. Their work was done, and by all appearances so was the fellow curled up on the ground groaning in pain.

I skidded to a stop and knelt down with my knee in a puddle of who knows what. Turning the guy over I could see his bruised face break into a smile when he recognized me. "Fingers...you okay?" I asked.

He groaned and showed me his broken hand where Redblock's goons had stomped his fingers. Billy "Nimble Fingers" Reisner was one of the best trumpet players to come out of the Fillmore jazz scene in recent years, but it looked like Fingers wouldn't be picking up the horn for a while.

He coughed and rubbed his bloody chin. Normally Billy 's imitation Clark Gable mustache would have made me chuckle, but right about then I felt bad for the guy, I really did. Because he looked pathetic.

"Thanks, Dix," he sputtered as I helped him sit up. "Ow," he said, grabbing for his bruised ribs.

"No problem, Billy," I said, standing to my full height and bringing him up with me. I grunted a little, because compared to me, Bill was tall and broad shouldered where as I was more the shorter, wiry type. He had a good thirty pounds on me at least.

He felt his ribs again with his bad hand and gasped. "Dix, I can't go home tonight...I told Leech I'd have the money for him tomorrow morning. He'll be by again before the sun's up. The little shit doesn't sleep I'll bet."

"What money? Billy, are you dumb? You know better than to deal with Redblock."

"Dix, not everyone can fly solo and survive like you, buddy. In case you haven't noticed, Redblock owns this town now. If you ask me, he even owns the new mayor. Look...I took a bad loan, and placed a bad bet. It happens."

"It keeps happening to you, you're not going to have the fingers left to justify your nickname," I warned him. "Come on, you can stay at my place tonight."

"Thanks, friend." He looped his gangly arm around my shoulders and leaned on me as we walked back to my flat.

I tossed and turned that night and it wasn't just because of Billy boy's snoring.


The next morning Billy was laying on the floor of my living room still snoring, and the whole place smelled like reefer. I gave him a little kick in the side for good measure, before slipping out of my apartment around 7:30. I wanted to stop by the office to see if Mrs. Jameson had made good on her payment. Instead, I was ambushed by a middle-aged lady with Coke bottle glasses before I even reached the mailbox.

"Mr. Hill! Mr. Hill?" She hurried over and grabbed for the lapel of my suit jacket.

"Whoa, Ma'am, what can I do for you?" I backed up putting some space between us. And then I read her face. She was here to see me alright, but was a tad early. "Mrs. Feinberg?"

She smiled a quick nervous smile. "Mr. Hill, I absolutely must speak with you this instant." She fumbled with her purse. "I can pay you right away," she assured me.

I tipped my hat to her. "Mrs. Feinberg, I'm afraid you're too early for your appointment. I have business this morning, you see..." Suddenly she thrust a rolled up newspaper at me and pointed at it frantically.

"My brother's gone, Mr. Hill, and Redblock is to blame."

"Shh..." I said. "If that's the case, better keep your voice down, Ma'am."

"Just read that article before my appointment this afternoon," she pleaded, wiping a tear from under her thick glasses. "Please! For my poor brother's sake." Crying, she hurried away through the street.

Shaking my head I opened the paper and skimmed the front page, but nothing stood out. Opening to the second page, my eyes fell on a small blurb at the bottom: "Known associate of area crime boss Cyrus Redblock reported missing." I raised an eyebrow, but flipped back to the front page where the smiling mug of the Mayor filled the headline story.

"Mayor John Cue cleared of corruption charges at the close of his first year in office; assures the city not to worry, he's 'on the job'. Mayor Cue asks for the public's full cooperation so that he may fulfill his many campaign promises for the good of this City."


I rolled my eyes. A mayor being cleared of corruption charges was hardly a news story. So I walked on, determined to have a cup of coffee before meeting Gloria at 9. Slowing outside of one my favorite diners, I suddenly stopped dead in my tracks. It was her. And she was looking right at me. Unable to keep a silly grin off of my face, I headed inside, and approached her table as calmly as possible. Somehow she didn't look quite as delighted to see me as I was to view her face again.

She straightened in her booth as I approached but didn't smile. I eyed the remains of a pretty considerable breakfast she had clearly just finished. I took off my hat and held it in front of my chest in the best representation of politeness I could manage. I could tell she wasn't buying it, and she looked me up and down like I was a lab experiment she doubted would succeed, but didn't much care about either. I swallowed, knowing I would have to speak soon, or else I would look like a dope.

"May I?" I gestured down at the empty seat across from her. She pursed her lips distastefully, but said nothing, which was as good an invitation as I'd ever need. I sat down and put my hat on the table. When she glanced at it sharply, I picked it up again and placed it on my knee.

"I'm Dixon Hill," I said with a smile. I stuck out my hand across the table for her to shake, which to my surprise she did, and she had quite the grip.

"Should I call my attorney before speaking with you, Detective Hill?" She asked stiffly.

I laughed a little. "Oh I'm not the police-at least not anymore, Mrs..."

"And I'm not married," she said dryly. "If that was all you wanted to know, couldn't you have asked from across the room?"

Ouch. "Oh, somehow I doubt you would have answered me, now would you, Ms..." I raised my eyebrows expectantly.

She said nothing and I cleared my throat and waved down a waitress. "Two coffees, please."

She sighed. "I was just leaving when you arrived, Mr. Hill." She studied me with an annoyed expression and her eyes were a deep blue, something really beautiful.

I leaned forward. "Would you do me the honor of telling me your name before you leave, Ms..."

She smiled very slightly. "Howard."

I scratched my temple. "Is Howard your first or last name?"

Her face immediately reddened and she grabbed for her purse and the pile of papers next to her.

I put out my hands, immediately regretting my behavior but happy for a human reaction. "A joke, a bad joke, I'm sorry."

She looked at me, her cool already having returned. "I'm sure it was well intended...but I really need to get back to my work now, Mr. Hill."

"Important work is it?"

She blinked. "Of course."

I leaned back in my chair and looked at her. "I don't mean to keep you Ms. Howard. But would you answer me one other question?" She didn't respond so I pressed on. "How did you peg me for a cop?"

She tilted her head as if studying me again. "I've known plenty of men like you, Mr. Hill."

I laughed genuinely. "Oh, really? Like me? I doubt that." The waitress came back with the coffee and place it down on the table. "Hi Dix," she said sweetly and glanced at Ms. Howard.

"Hey," I said easily.

My table companion leaned forward with her hands clasped. "They know you here, I see. That's good to know."

"Oh?"

"Well, I only came in here on a whim before work. Next time, I won't."

I actually grimaced at that one...the temperature seemed to drop for a few seconds. "Ouch," I said.

Her face softened only slightly. "No offense, Mr. Hill, but I doubt we have much in common."

"I like you," I blurted out.

This time she laughed loudly, and it was kind of musical. "What? You don't even know me."

"I'm a private investigator, so maybe I know more about you than you suspect."

She gathered her papers again. "And maybe I don't want to be investigated by you, Mr. Hill."

I shrugged. "If you'd give me a chance I think I could change your mind about that," I suggested.

Her face turned crimson. "Now, you're just being crude, Mr. Hill, and I don't have to sit here and listen to this." She stood up. "I'll have you know that I have work to do that will save lives. I happen to want to help people-unlike you who has no qualms about taking money from lonely wives who shouldn't need to pay some washed up detective to ascertain that their husbands are unfaithful."

"Is that really what you think I do?"

"Isn't it?" She challenged.

I broke into a slow smile. She was giving me a really hard time, but I'll admit, I liked it. "I've saved a few lives," I mentioned. Of course, I'd ended a few lives too, which is why I stopped keeping track somewhere along the way. But somehow I didn't think she'd appreciate that one. "Granted...I'm not a doctor like you," I allowed.

She tried to keep the surprise out of her expression, but it didn't work. Wordlessly she gathered her belongings up.

"Wait...Doctor Howard, I'm sorry to be crude and all of that...but I do like you. Let me make it up to you next time we meet."

"We're not meeting again, Mr. Hill." She moved around me gracefully and I caught the scent of rose petals as she passed.

"Don't be so sure about that," I called after her, as she left the diner, clanging the bell on the doorknob with her exit. I almost ran after her but glanced down at my cooling coffee. Grabbing it, I gulped it down quickly and then threw a dollar on the table before hurrying out the door.


"Doctor," I shouted, and she turned around in exasperation. I rushed to her side and she glared at me, but slowed her pace. I was slightly out of breath. "One last question...yesterday I saw you pass by on the street and you looked at me."

She kept walking, staring ahead, but something about her expression changed. "And?"

"And...what was going through your mind?"

She opened her mouth and then gave a little shrug. "For a moment you seemed familiar. But then the feeling passed."

"But it didn't really pass, did it?" I prompted.

She hesitated. "I have to go."

That's as good as a yes. I grinned, but deep down there was something more significant to this realization. "You're familiar to me too...somehow," I said. I grabbed her arm lightly and she slowed to a stop and stared at me. Part of me wanted to pull her closer. "Don't you want to know why we both felt this?"

She took an unsteady breath in, then looked me in my eye and said, "goodbye, Mr. Hill."