Not my characters, just my story. I only wish I owned Pete. The story is best read if you've seen the series and know the characters. If you haven't seen it lately, watch, enjoy.
A Lifetime in Eight Days
Chapter 13: The Warehouse on the Waterfront
Things had quite suddenly come full circle in a manner that Lieutenant Jacoby could never have envisioned. They were right back where this whole mess had started, in the middle of the rundown warehouse district along the waterfront, mere blocks away from where Peter Gunn had met with those two hoods on that eventful night just over one week ago. Eight days to be exact, if you considered a few minutes past midnight another day. On the night in question he and his men had conducted a thorough search of the area immediate to where the detective had disappeared but had come up empty. Nothing in the ensuing investigation had pointed toward any connection at all between the man's abduction and the area in which it had taken place. Now they knew better. The files that he and Sergeant Davis and Detective Harmon had meticulously reviewed over the past several hours had directed them right back to the waterfront, to a small warehouse that was owned by none other than Pauly Denner's old buddy Joe DeVito. The very same Joe DeVito that had been one of Denner's many alibis during the Eleanora White murder case six years previously. Jacoby, Davis and Harmon had made tracks to the district immediately upon discovering the connection, the Lieutenant having no desire to make the same mistake he had made yesterday on the off chance that Peter Gunn might still be alive and might be in that warehouse. The same warehouse where the White girl had probably been hidden six years ago during that week before her body was found. Joe DeVito was under constant surveillance and would eventually be picked up by the team covering him. That was Jacoby's call to make and he didn't want to jump the gun, not with Pete's life possibly hanging in the balance. He was buoyed by the one good thought that perhaps Eleanora White's parents would get justice after all.
Pale light leaked from the lone window at the front of the building. Wooden slats had been nailed across the outside of the window sometime in the past, the boards and the spaces in between evenly measured to give the window a cover from vandalism yet still allow an individual to see in or out. The shadowy outline of a person was visible against the inside of the window, shifting occasionally to give the impression of a large man who was apparently acting as a lookout. Undoubtedly Charlie Malloy. They wouldn't be getting in that way. Jacoby crept back into the shadows of the nearby awning where Davis and Harmon were waiting. Following a brief whispered conversation the three men moved stealthily around several small outbuildings, eventually finding themselves behind the warehouse that they were convinced held their quarry. And perhaps an even greater treasure. At least the hope was still alive. The hope Jacoby hadn't afforded Edie Hart.
The men moved silently along the outer wall of the building, quickly finding themselves outside a loading door large enough for delivery tricks to drive in and out of to pick up and unload freight. At first glance it appeared the door was of one piece and moved on rollers to one side or the other to allow trucks to enter or exit. But upon closer inspection it became obvious that what had appeared during their approach to be one solid door was in fact a double door which pulled to the center from each side. The two halves of the door fit perfectly against the building on each side, but where they came together in the middle they were slightly warped. The doors fit pretty well together until about a fourth of the way up, at which point a space appeared which grew to about half an inch as it reached eye level and expanded to probably an inch and a quarter toward the very top of the opening. As their eyes adjusted to the outside lighting, which wasn't much, the three men could make out the dim strip of light which fell from the crack.
Jacoby leaned in, doing everything he could not to make any noise, and placed his face as close as possible to the space between the two doors. Once again he had to wait for his eyes to become accustomed to the lighting. As they did adjust he carefully shifted his gaze back and forth, trying to get a good view of the inside of the warehouse. He could see the big man up front, sitting on a chair by the window, his attention intermittently shifting between the outside world and something that was going on inside the building just outside of Jacoby's line of sight. The man had a weapon but it was lying on the narrow window sill about a foot away him. Jacoby muttered a silent curse and quietly stepped back, motioning to the taller Detective Harmon to take his place. Harmon shifted sideways as he stared through the opening so that he had an expanded view. He stared and squinted to see as much as possible, standing perfectly still and barely breathing as Paul Denner came into view.
"Oh my God." Harmon's drawn out whisper had Jacoby clawing at his shoulder.
"What do you see?" Jacoby whispered back, his lips barely moving.
Harmon held up a hand to silence the Lieutenant and then continued to watch what was happening inside. Paul Denner was pacing back and forth. He held a small snub-nosed revolver in his right hand. Every so often he glanced at his weapon and then shifted his gaze somewhere to what was Harmon's left as the detective stared through the opening. Harmon shifted a little more, moving slightly to one side and tipping his head. He saw a large automobile parked several yards away from their quarry.
"Denner," Harmon finally whispered. "He's carrying a piece. There's a black Plymouth sedan, looks like a '53, with the lid open."
He squinted again, staring at the rear of the car, attempting to conjure a clear image from what the shadows of the warehouse and the car itself were hiding. The Plymouth was black, the inside of the trunk was dark gray or black. A tiny shaft of light struck a mud covered back bumper, casting the barest bit of illumination upward from one of the very few clean spots on the chrome. It didn't help much. A patch of white? Was that a small patch of white against the darkness inside the trunk? And maybe a darker black against the dark interior? Or perhaps he was just seeing things. Things his mind was telling his brain he wanted to see. Or maybe not. He blinked his eyes, held them tightly shut for a few seconds, returned his gaze to the trunk of the car. It was. It had to be. Why else would Denner have the gun in his hand, why else would he continually look at the car?
"Our boy's in the trunk." He glanced back at Jacoby and Davis. "Pete," he clarified.
Mother sat on the couch, pretending to read a magazine but really just keeping an eye on the young woman who stood at the patio door staring out into the dark night. The only light visible was that from the street lights and window lights along the waterfront on the other side of the big river. Some were reflected off the water itself, giving a hazy glow that would seem romantic under any other circumstances. It was a view that Edie Hart normally appreciated, one that she had often gazed upon during slow and easy evenings with Peter Gunn. This early, early morning it just brought a chill to her soul. Mother gave a deep sigh and looked at the magazine again. She stared at the words and pictures and realized she didn't even know what magazine it was that she was pretending to read. She flipped it over to get a look at the cover. Sport. With a picture of some baseball player with a blond crew cut on the front. She dropped it on the end table and picked up another from the neat stack of four or five. McCall's. That was better. As long as she didn't ask herself why Pete was subscribed to McCall's. As long as it wasn't for the little Betsy McCall paper doll cutouts she guessed it was an okay magazine for the man. She flipped through the pages absently, glancing occasionally at Edie, wishing the girl would either go to bed or sit down. She'd been antsy ever since that conversation with Pete's dad. That man was a fool if he was placing the blame for not being informed about his son's disappearance on Edie. And she'd tell him that in no uncertain terms once he arrived. Meanwhile something needed to be done about the girl's restlessness.
"Did I tell you about the dream I had the other night?"
Mother finally broke the silence. Of course she hadn't mentioned the dream to Edie. She would have remembered if she had. She was over sixty but she wasn't that far gone. She was just tired of the quiet from this girl who was always so happy and sunny, though not so much so since her split with the detective. If there was anything good at all that would come from this situation it would be seeing those two back together. Mother knew they were both ready. More than ready. Pete since the night the breakup had occurred, Edie too for that matter. She had just been too stubborn to seek Pete out afterwards. And the PI had been unwilling to push the issue with her, afraid he might do irreparable harm to the relationship if he did. Of course any reconciliation was totally dependent on Pete managing to keep himself alive. And that was the question of the hour. They just needed to keep thinking that good thought.
Edie turned away from her absorption with what was going on outside and gave her attention to the woman she not only worked for but considered a friend. Mother was a rough and tumble mother figure not only to her but to most of those who worked at the jazz club. And probably most importantly to Pete. She filled a void in his life that very few people realized. And Edie loved the older woman for that if for no other reason.
"No," Edie pulled at the bottom of her shirt and clasped her hands in front of her as she looked at Mother. "I guess not. What kind of dream?" Her mind had been occupied with thoughts of nothing but Pete all night and it was difficult to turn her attention to anything else but she made the attempt.
Mother lay her magazine on the cushion beside her and leaned forward, her hands on her knees, a conspiratorial expression on her face. Her long dangly earrings almost brushed the shoulders of her dark blue and gold dress and the portions of her stockings visible as she sat there were exhibiting end of the day wrinkles. She was tired and looked tired.
"I dreamed I found the house where that Denner man was hiding Pete!" she exclaimed as only Mother was capable. "I sneaked inside and cornered the dirty rotten scoundrel!" She slapped the arm of the couch for emphasis.
"Mother-" Edie tried to protest, not sure she wanted to hear this.
"Well it's more than Jacoby and his bumbling band of Keystone Cops was able to do!"
Mother was not a happy woman when it came to the Lieutenant. The only person more unhappy was undoubtedly Edie herself. Edie couldn't help but smile a little at the older woman's exuberance in relating her dream and at her description of Jacoby.
"So then what happened?" Edie reluctantly encouraged.
"Like I said, I cornered him. And do you know what I told him?"
Edie shook her head and raised her eyebrows.
"I told that heathen that if he didn't let Pete go, right then and there, I'd beat him to death with my bare hands!"
Mother stood up and shook her fists as she recounted her dream-inspired actions. Edie couldn't help but laugh out loud. She covered her mouth with her hands as she tried to control herself, finally calming down enough to get a few words out.
"Then what happened?" she asked for a second time.
"What do you think happened? He let Pete go, that's what happened." She gave Edie a smug smile and a wink. "Then I beat the crap out of him!"
Mother's smile grew as Edie began to laugh so hard that tears were running down her face. She swiped at them with her hands and tried to choke back the laughter but couldn't. Mother joined in with joyous hilarity, grabbing the younger woman and pulling her close as they both released their pent up emotions. Anyone watching would have undoubtedly come to the conclusion that the two women had finally cracked up. And perhaps in a way they had. When both women finally were able to regain control of themselves the older one pulled back and looked at the younger. The tears were still streaming down Edie's cheeks though not for the sake of the joke. These were tears of sorrow. Mother reached out and ran a hand through the girl's soft curls.
"Honey, why don't you go to bed and get some sleep?"
"I can't." Edie shook her head.
"Why not?' Mother pulled her close again, allowing the young woman's head to rest on her shoulder.
"Because when I sleep I have dreams too," Edie said in a voice so soft Mother had to strain to hear her. "And my dreams don't have happy endings like yours do."
There was one question and one only that made any difference at this point. How were the three of them going to get into the warehouse without getting Pete killed? If it wasn't already too late for that. It had been eight days. From Bennie Marconi's statement they knew Pete was already in extremely bad shape. If Jacoby was honest with himself he had already convinced himself and everyone else who mattered that Pete was dead three times over at least. If he wasn't lying already dead in the trunk of that Plymouth he would most certainly be dead within a very short time, whether from injuries he had already received or by a bullet from the gun in Paul Denner's hand. Jacoby glanced from Harmon to Davis. He could tell from their expressions that the same thoughts were going through their heads. The only option they had was the option of hope. Hope that Pete was still alive. Hope that the set of double doors leading into the warehouse wasn't locked down. Hope that they could take out Denner and Malloy before either one of them could get off a shot at the man in the trunk of the Plymouth. That was a lot of hope. Jacoby didn't know if there was enough grace left in the world to answer those hopes. But they weren't going down without a fight. He reached inside his jacket for his .38 Police Special and motioned toward his companions to take their positions against the doors. He said a prayer. And then he gave a slow nod of silent assent to Davis and Harmon.
(A special shout out goes to Melchy for dreaming the dream! It was just the right bit of humor needed to help relieve the tension for Edie and Mother.)