So how about that, folks? How about that for a wild shot in the dark!?
Lucy Labelle was a wanted lady. ‘Wanted’, in all senses of the word. I had been landed with the task of following the girl all across town, stalking the pretty redhead like some kind of wide-eyed alley cat with his eyes locked firmly on the prize. True, it might have served as something of a potential side-track. Even a distraction perhaps. But, in the end, there was more to that girl than just stunning good looks and a charming disposition.
I just did not know it yet…
But where would I find her? A girl like Lucy was far too distinguished to be seen primping her nails among back-street brawlers on dirty street corners. Her high-class exterior would scarcely be found in the same rotten armpit of town I reluctantly called; my home. That meant I had to spread my wings a little. That meant venturing back towards the winding side-roads circling Town Square. Only this time with a little more luck on my side.
With the top down on my little blue convertible, and the humble cogs beginning to spin slowly in my mind, I was finally back out on the streets doing what I do best. Conducting the work of a real hard-boiled investigator. One with his finger set, firmly, on the pulse...
There was one major notion working in my favour that day, of course. Lucy Labelle stood out like a sore thumb in Clearview. A sore thumb, or perhaps, a perfectly trimmed and devilishly polished set of fingers-nails. The type that turned heads effortlessly as they tapped their way across town. For you see, every person in that quiet little place had surely spotted her by that point. Everyone had likely seen her face, and sure enough, dear reader...
...it would not be long before I found someone who could point me in the right direction.
A squat, curly-haired taxi driver gave me exactly what I needed as soon as I topped up his pocket with a little loose change. He told me he had dropped off a swashbuckling young redhead not long prior to my arrival. At a local breakfast bar just down the street, in fact. I asked the cabbie how he could be so sure, and he replied in a matter of fact way. He said in all his years chasing tail behind the wheel of his taxi cab, in all his time spent people-watching and perusing, wandering from one dead end destination to the next...well, he could scarcely forget a face as beautiful as hers.
Now, admittedly, the man did not present himself as the most reliable informant I had ever come across. Not with his stubby little fingers reaching for the overcrowded ashtray every time he spoke. But still, that twisted look in his eye felt strangely familiar. It was the look of a man who had only just crossed paths with an angel, if you will.
And that was good enough for me.
So, shortly after I made my way over to the very same breakfast bar. There was Lucy alright, sitting on a tall, rounded stool overlooking the street. She arose like a dainty puppy in the window as her sad eyes drifted from one passing car to another. It was as if she was just begging for someone to take her home...
I watched on as she delicately dismantled her breakfast; a plate of poached eggs and toast with a side order of coffee to go. Lucy, meanwhile, remained largely oblivious to the anonymous onlooker peering in from his car every time she raised the fork to her mouth. She was, of course, far more refined than all the other beggars and bums in that place, chewing on their greasy submarine sandwiches like they were going out of fashion. Once her meal had been concluded and her cutlery neatly rearranged, the girl paid her bill and strolled back out through the door with all the refinement and grace that had come to be expected. I quickly re-engaged the roof above my head and drove along at a safe distance, quietly following.
Her next stop was the grocery store, where nothing all that exciting took place. Then came the laundrette. Lucy dropped off a small bag of clothes and departed within a matter of minutes, barely saying a word to anyone inside. She proceeded to walk down the now somewhat crowded side-walk with a newfound umbrella in hand. It had started raining. Whilst everyone else scattered for shelter beneath the awnings of buildings and in the doorways of abandoned storefronts, Lucy strode forward, stopping every now and then to gaze at her reflection before promptly moving on again.
I had to admit, this particular wild-goose chase was hardly proving fruitful.
I had to get closer, somehow...
After some time, Lucy paused for a moment and sat herself down on an empty park bench. The rain continued to hammer down on the soft-top roof of my car. I, however, opted to busy myself with an old newspaper by holding it just below my eyes, never once turning the page, and never once taking my sights off my sweet, redheaded target. After five, maybe ten minutes or so, Lucy reached inside her handbag and pulled out a phone. She remained glued to the receiver for another six straight minutes. By the time she had hung up, everything had changed.
The girl immediately set her belongings back inside the bag and began walking, this time at a much quickened pace than before. She was acting as if subtle winds of suspicion had started to take hold of her, moving down random alleyways and crossing busy junctions like someone running late for an important meeting. I struggled to keep up at times, skipping the odd red light and causing several minor traffic scares along the way. Yet, those red curls would prove difficult to miss. Lucy soon led me to her next destination. And it was here, where I quickly realised why Lawrence Leroi and his lawyer had been so concerned with her in the first place...
Three local banks, dear reader.
That is what this one way game of kiss chase had ultimately been leading to.
Three banks. One after the other, in successive fashion.
Just as Leroi had eluded to...
She left each respective premises with a slightly relieved look on her face. That, and a slightly heavier handbag hanging over her shoulder. Lucy had now taken to peering back every so often, constantly fidgeting inside her bag and abruptly changing direction at irregular intervals. She spent exactly ten minutes in each of the three banks. No more, no less. I could not tell quite what was going on, but something was definitely amiss.
Suddenly I felt like a stalker, with untoward thoughts on the mind. The target in question subsequently reached for her phone a second time, punching in an unknown number and waiting for it to dial. She stood bolt upright on the street corner as several irate pedestrians proceeded to barge past her. I almost lost sight of Lucy for a second, or two, until she soon reemerged among the crowd with a startling smile etched upon her face.
The girl was happy, it seemed. Overjoyed almost. It pleased me somewhat to see her so at ease. Lucy then shut the phone away and headed off once again, this time on a roundabout path that would eventually lead all the way back to a rented apartment block.
Finally. After several hours trailing the girl all across town, after many moments spent watching, waiting, and even doubting my own sanity, it appeared as though a certain opportunity had been presented before me. Lucy reached for her keys. I now knew where she lived, where she laid low. This was it, dear reader. We had stumbled upon the place in which my former accomplice rested that alluring, yet oh so elusive head of hers...
It was decision time. Would I call it a day then and there, and report back to Leroi with my findings? Or, would I simply storm the place, taking a moment to confront Lucy Labelle for leaving me in the lurch on Saturday night...?
There was only one answer to that question.
The girl was something alright. Heart-stopping, jaw-dropping, and divine...
...but that didn’t mean she could simply get away with it.
*
Lucy Labelle had led me down a fairly quiet street filled with idle coffee shops and three-story apartment buildings. Hers was about three-quarters of the way down the road. I took a few moments to sample the sights and sounds of the area, as middle-aged women strolled along the side-walk with tear-faced children in their arms. A church bell rang out somewhere in the distance. It derived from a beautifully towering spire likely conjured by the hand of a master artisan...
...just like Lucy herself.
Everything was primed, nonetheless. Everything was ready. The only aspect that appeared slightly out of place was the strange, unwashed man selling plastic roses to disinterested folk at the stop-sign. Him, along with the empty police car stationed right outside Lucy's apartment block. The sirens were disengaged. There were no bored, bleary-eyed officers staring stony-faced through the windscreen. So, what else could I do? I swiftly brushed it aside and proceeded towards the front door...
Knock, knock…
“Coming…”
I knew it was Lucy just by the unmistakably soft tone of her voice. Her distinctive perfumed scent drifted out into the street, fragrant and sweet, as a bizarre concoction of nervous excitement soon washed over me.
The door eventually crept open...
...yet, only as much as the thick metal latch would allow.
“Oh…” spoke Lucy, appearing somewhat startled as she poked her head through the door, “…it’s you!”
“Yeah…” I replied slowly, “…it’s me.”
Lucy kept the door open just a slither, her fingers ready to pull it shut at any given moment.
“What are you doing here, Lucky?” she asked, “…how did you know…?”
“...where you live?”
“Right…” she said, “…where I live?”
“How do you think?”
She seemed baffled once more, the dark mole dotted beneath her eye hiding itself among the furrowed lines in her face.
“Honestly…I don’t know…”
“Clearview’s a small town…” I told her, lighting a fresh cigarette on the doorstep just to keep my hands busy, “…it was only a matter of time before I caught up with you, don’t you think?”
“Lucky, there’s something you…”
“Save it…” I said, losing myself for a moment in those deep, ocean-like eyes of hers, “…I don’t want to hear any excuses for what you did last Saturday night...making me wait in my car all damn evening...watching every passer-by in Town Square thinking it was you! It’s not right…do you hear!?”
“I’m sorry Lucky…” she said, bowing her head ever so slightly, “…but listen, you should really…”
In that precise moment I noticed just what Lucy was wearing. A faded blue t-shirt swung around her waist all loose and free. It was a distinctly baggy piece of attire for someone of such petit form, the kind of t-shirt surely designed for an individual far more manly in stature. The plain and equally dower pattern, the worn-in look of reliable plaid material…I could not help but put two and two together. Then, I took the liberty of turning my attention away from her shirt and down towards her legs. Bare legs with nothing on her feet.
It all pointed to one thing…
At once I heard the roar of angered footsteps rushing over to us from the other side of the hallway. The door spun open rather dramatically just a few seconds later, with the thick metal latch falling out of place as if it were nothing but a modest paper-clip.
I was greeted by the sight of a distempered bare-chested man, clean and spotless without a single hair on him. I recognised his face immediately, as he recognised mine. We had met once before within this sorry state of a town, as fate would have it. Back when he and his boys had arrested me down at Crosby’s Bar. This time, however, the cop was no longer carrying that look of smug disposition across his self righteous face. Nor was he wearing his bright blue uniform, or that shiny police badge on his chest...
“I think it’s time you got the hell out of here, Lucky.” spoke the man I knew only as 'Officer Powell'; one of many highly revered lapdogs of the Clearview Police Department.
“Well, well, well…” I spoke, under the well-worn guise of sarcasm, “…I was hoping we would meet again. You don’t look your normal self today, Powell. What's the matter? Dirkdale didn't pat your little head on the way out the door this morning!?”
The police officer wiped his greasy black hair away from his eyes as he snarled in my direction.
“Shut your mouth detective. Get out of here before I tell one of the squad to come pick you up again, just like last time!”
“Is he the one, Lucy?” I asked her in a mocking tone, plainly ignoring the officer’s request, “…is this jumped-up fool really the one for you, eh? I see you’ve forgotten all about poor old Coburn already, just like everybody else round here…”
She looked away and said nothing, whilst I continued to rant in her direction.
“Powell's your latest heartthrob then?” I posed, “…he’s the guy who’s going to keep you safe at night, is he? Pfft. This one’s got a bright head on his shoulders I hear…well, when it’s not crammed all the way up Dirkdale’s ass that is!”
The officer just smirked back at me with a wry grin on his face.
“Watch yourself, detective…” he suggested, clearly conjuring up a masterful comeback of his own, “…you’re fortunate that no one knows you around here. But oh boy, I know all about you, Lucky! I know exactly what you were up to back in the Big City…”
"Sure you do..."
“…that’s why you’ve come here, isn’t it?” Officer Powell continued, “…to Clearview I mean. You’re running away, aren’t you? You’re fucking scared of what they’re gonna do to you…”
"Yeah..." I spoke, meekly, "...of course I am."
Standing there on the doorstep with the rain now pouring down, I was no longer laughing nor making snide comments the way I once had. The tides were starting to turn, and Powell was beginning to get the better of me.
“Just shut your mouth…” I stuttered, but it sounded more like a whimper than anything else.
Powell smiled, “…after what you did to all those poor people…after the horrible things you've done..they’re gonna eat you alive, Lucky. And I can't say I blame them either!”
“You shut the hell up!” I cried.
Enough was enough.
My hand had already lunged forward and clasped itself around the officer’s throat before I could reel off my projected string of insults. The bare-chested cop quickly felt my nails dig into him. He responded by launching a clean head-butt of his own that threw me off of my feet, down the concrete stairs, and out into the street. A light dribble of blood began trickling down the back of my head. Powell had caught me with a good one.
By the time I had regained my footing the angered police officer was already standing over me, sporting a pair of bare feet that matched his exposed chest. Powell picked me up and drew back his arm as if to knock me clean out. I felt helpless in his embrace, for the cop was twice my size and a damn shot more sturdy. An array of bystanders watched on frozen as the usually well-principled police officer sought to finish off his defenceless opponent.
Then…Officer Powell suddenly changed his mind. What was he thinking? No upstanding officer of the law could not be seen acting in such a way. Someone in his position would be unwise to risk his whole career on a sorry bum like myself. And he knew it, too.
The cop quickly let go of my collar, allowing me to regain a much needed dose of composure and take to my feet once more. Powell then became distracted by the sight of Lucy Labelle standing in the doorway. She held a frantically gathered telephone in one hand, whilst waving wildly to the both of us with the other.
“Will you two just stop it!?” she shouted out rather commandingly, “…Officer Dirkdale is on the line, he wants to speak with you.”
Officer Powell immediately stopped in his tracks and made his way back up the steps. Without wasting another moment, he grabbed for the phone.
“Yeah…” he spoke, grumbling down the line in an exasperated demeanour, “…yeah…alright…fifteen minutes? Ok, got it…yeah…no nothing boss…nothing at all. I’ll see you there…”
The un-shirted police officer then gave the phone back to Lucy. He marched straight back inside the building without saying a word and sourced a fresh pair of clothes from a nearby black gym bag. After combing over his hair several times and spraying on some aftershave, Powell was out of there. Presumably on his way to meet up with Dirkdale.
I, on the other hand, must have looked a sorry sight. Shirt-ripped and drenched in rain. Head bleeding and hat tossed somewhere in the gutter. My little dance with the policeman had done me no favours in the eyes of Lucy, who peered down at me with a face of flaming dissatisfaction. I could almost feel the heat boiling off of her, the feeling was so strong.
“I don’t know why you’re just standing there, Lucky…” she said.
“What!?” I called out abruptly, like a naughty school kid who knew he was in the wrong but lacked the courage to face it.
“It’s Dirkdale…” Lucy sighed, “…down at the precinct…”
“Yeah, and what of him!?”
Lucy just scowled once more in a way I would never forget.
“Don't think you're out of the wood just yet, Lucky...” she said,
"...he wants to speak with you as well."
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