April 7, 1950
Paul Drake glanced at his watch and sighed. He began to walk faster. Even though he owned his own detective agency, the office was largely run by his secretary, Mrs. Rugar. This was the third time this week he would be late, and he knew she would be nearly impossible to work with if he got there too late. He broke into a run and rounded the corner too fast. Before he could stop himself, he crashed into a young woman, knocking her to the ground.
"Oh-oh!" she cried.
"I am so sorry!" Paul stooped to help her to her feet, "Are you all right?"
"I hurt my arm," the young woman whimpered.
Paul, being a detective, quickly took in the woman's appearance, and he rather liked what he saw. She looked to be in her twenties, only a few years younger than he was. Her blonde curls were swept up in a bold fashion. Her gray eyes were large and dreamy and her mouth was a bit pouty, but beautiful. Her makeup was thick and daring. She wore a tight pencil skirt and a pretty blouse.
"Do you need anything?" Paul asked, worried.
"No, I'll be fine, just leave-," she stopped for the first time and looked up at him, "Well, hi!" she wiggled her dainty little nose, "Gee, you're cute!"
Paul flushed at her fresh words.
"I'm Alice, what's your name?" she asked.
"Paul, Paul Drake," he retrieved her purse from the sidewalk in an attempt to take his eyes off of her.
"Paul. Paul. Paul," she tested his name on her tongue several times, "I like that!"
"I'm rather partial to it," he smiled.
"Are you late for something?" she asked.
"Why?"
"You were running when you knocked me down."
"OH!" Paul looked at his watch and remembered he was supposed to be at work, "I have to go!" he looked down at her, not wanting to just let her go, "What did you say your name was?"
"Alice Connery, State Street Hotel, room 108," she caught on to him.
"Goodbye for now, Angel," he smiled broadly.
"So long," she smiled back, then went on her way.
Paul whistled his way to his office. Mrs. Rugar rose from her desk when he entered the office.
"Mr. Drake, you-"
"I am late! Late, late, late! You have told me time and again, and I do not care!" Paul laughed as he grabbed the older woman and danced her around the room, "I may lose a client, but none of that matters today!"
"Mr. Drake!" Mrs. Rugar gasped in horror.
"And if you don't like the fact that I may not be as strict about being on time as you, I will not detain you here and you can go find work elsewhere, no hard feelings, AND I'll give you a reference."
Mrs. Rugar stared at Paul, opened mouth as if he were crazy.
"The choice is yours," he folded his arms and looked down at her.
Mrs. Rugar marched back to her desk, gathered up her things, and walked out.
"Drake!" one of Paul's detectives admonished, "You just sacked her?!"
"I don't know," Paul was having a hard time thinking over the giddy feeling that gurgled in the pit of his stomach, "Maybe?"
"How'd you do it, man?" the detective shook his head.
Paul shrugged. The detective watched Paul for a minute, then smiled knowingly.
"Who is she?"
"Huh?" Paul was startled from his thoughts.
"The girl."
"Girl?"
"Drake, I didn't become your number one detective without learning how to pay attention. Give! Who's the girl?" the detective nudged Paul, obviously waiting for an answer.
"Her name is Alice," Paul flushed.
"There's a sweet name!" the detective nodded his approval, "How long have you known her?"
"I only just met her on the street-"
"How can you be in love with a girl you just met?"
"Look, Bates, you wanted to know who she was, so I told you, now let's get back to work!" Paul moved towards his desk.
Bates worked quietly at his own desk, and Paul at his. Bates finally asked slowly,
"Know where she lives?"
"Who?"
"This Alice girl," Bates flipped through a book of notes he had taken while on a stakeout.
"I know where she's staying, yeah."
"Gonna ask her out?" Bates watched his boss out of the corner of his eye.
"I don't know. Sure, maybe. I don't know."
There was an uncomfortable silence. Bates enjoyed toying with Paul.
"Flowers would be a nice touch," Bates never looked up from what he was doing.
"Huh?"
"You know, flowers. But for a first date, don't overwhelm her with a big bouquet, you know. Get her something she can pin to her dress."
"Bates," Paul said through gritted teeth, "Unless you want to face unemployment, I suggested you quit ribbing me and get back to work!"
Bates nodded. He knew Paul could not afford to fire him. He also enjoyed teasing his boss. Paul did not blush hardly ever, and this girl was making his face bright red. Several minutes of silence passed. Paul thought he had managed to shut Bates up, until Bates continued,
"Course, you gotta take her someplace nice, but not too fancy. Don't want her getting the idea that you're wealthy or something."
Paul flung the notebook he was reading from over his shoulder and buried his face into the palms of his hands. The notebook hit the wall, then the floor with a thud. This was going to be a long day.
Evening of April 7, 1950
Even though Bates had meant to irritate Paul, all of the advice he was giving was sound. Paul picked out a nice little corsage for her, one she could wear on her shoulder. He had dressed nicely, but not too fancy, not wanting her to think him wealthy or so. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, combing his hair. He looked at his reflection with disappointment. Gray/white hair. At his age!
Paul Drake first noticed gray hairs at his temple when he was twenty one. Paul's father had died when he was only twelve. Paul had to raise his two younger sisters (Jane and Katie), as well as care for his mentally ill mother. To top it all off, Paul then became a Navy frogman during the war. The stress of all that he had been through had prematurely turned his hair white. He despised it, but any of the women he went out with thought it made him very dashing. Paul hoped Alice would not mind it.
He pulled up to the State Street Hotel. He turned the engine off and took a deep breath.
"You can do this, Paul," he told himself.
With that, he went in to the hotel and up to room 108. He took another deep breath before knocking on her door.
"Who is it?" he heard her call.
"It's Paul Drake," he replied.
He heard a scramble, then the door swung open.
"Hiya!" her smile was so big Paul worried it hurt.
"I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me," Paul asked.
"Really? You want to go out with me?" she cried, surprised.
"Yes!"
"Give me five minutes! Won't you come in and sit down?" Alice held the door open wide and dashed into the bedroom.
Paul looked around the hotel suite. This lady sure had some money, if she could afford to stay in a place like this! Suddenly, a realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Alice Connery could not be married, could she? Paul's hands were cold all of a sudden. He would never get mixed up with a married woman!
Alice came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, wearing a gray dress that really brought out her eyes. She had pinned the corsage Paul had brought her to her shoulder and was reaching for a fur stole.
"Wait," Paul stopped her.
"What is it?" Alice looked confused.
Paul rubbed his hands together nervously, "You aren't - are you married?"
Alice laughed, "No, Paul boy, I am not married!"
"Oh, good. I'm not either."
"Well, now that that's out of the way, should we be going?"
Paul and Alice had a marvelous time. They talked and laughed and danced until nearly midnight. Paul learned that Alice was from New York City. Her father was a very wealthy man, and some day all of his money would go to her.
"Oh, dear, I hope you aren't after me for my money," Alice's face clouded.
"Never!" Paul insisted, "I didn't know you had money when I met you!"
Paul had asked Alice for another date and she had accepted. After they had been going out for a week, they were officially sweethearts (boyfriend and girlfriend for you do not know what that means, but I really hate the terms boyfriend and girlfriend).
Paul Drake has a girl! Before you move on to reading the next chapter, please let me know what you think of Alice! Coming up with a girl for Paul was a lot harder than one would think!