The life of an upstanding private investigator is often spent fulfilling one thankless task after the next. Every step in the right direction comes with its own set of fresh, unanswered questions. There is often little in the way of progress, or a genuine sense of breakthrough. Whilst all roads seemingly lead to...well, nowhere, at first.
That is how I felt when canvassing the town of Clearview for precious clues on Coburn’s whereabouts. Most of the residents could barely tell me what day of the week it was, let alone what really happened to the missing actor. I spoke to countless different faces in countless different bars, conversing with charity donors, business owners, dog walkers, and fast talkers. I traded tales with travellers in all the tollbooths across town. Swapped stories with store clerks that I swiftly wrote down. But, sadly, it was all to no avail.
Grasping, desperately, for anything I could get my hands on, I racked my brains for what really became of Coburn...and what would eventually become of me, seemingly lost in his trail. I was seeking a change in fortunes. A good old fashioned slice of luck, to be precise. And soon, as fate would have it, I would find one. In the most likely of places...
...it all began with a drink, you see.
*
“I’ll take a whiskey, dry…”
“Sure thing.”
“And please…” I spoke to the girl behind the counter, “…make it a strong one.”
I found myself at the bar once again, drowning my sorrows in yet another lonely part of town. This joint was a little more happening than Crosby’s had been, though. All of the lightbulbs were working for starters, giving the place a real shimmering feel with the thoroughfare of drunken customers pouring in through the doors.
I was alone at the counter with a lot on my mind. Waiting for the pretty barmaid to bring me my order...
“One dry whiskey…” she said, smiling her way down the bar.
She proceeded to clear away the empty glasses sat between us, seemingly ignoring the other customers in favour of my company.
“Thanks…”
“Long day was it…?” she asked, gladly.
“Yes…” I replied, taking my first sip, “…it was a long day, as you happened to ask. A very long and pointless day…”
The girl seemed at ease, beaming from one side of her face to the other, “…well, you know what they say,” she remarked, “…if you’re still smiling by the end of the evening, it can’t be all that bad now, can it…?”
I nodded my head and turned to the side, thinking that would be that.
“Give me two seconds…” the barmaid continued, “…and I’ll be back.”
“No really, it’s fine…”
But the words were drowned out almost as soon as I had spoken them. The barmaid quickly dealt with the handful of foul-faced customers still lingering at the bar. I paid little mind as she poured the last of her orders into two hastily washed glasses and served them out accordingly. Her playful blonde curls bounced buoyantly as she moved up and down the counter. Though, her little legs struggled to keep up.
“So…” she spoke again over the growing noise of the bar, “…handsome man whose face I’ve never seen around here before, you must be new in town…right?”
“Something like that.”
“You know…” she spoke, raising one eyebrow, “…you've got the face of someone who ought to get something off their chest. I dunno...why don’t you tell me about this long and pointless day you had…? It might cheer you up a little!”
“If I told you, you would probably never believe me…”
“Come now, I will be the judge of that…just try me!”
I took a loaded breath, wishing the pretty barmaid would go and annoy some other luckless customer…
“Very well then…” I sighed, “…I’m here in town on a job, trying to locate the whereabouts of a missing actor.”
“Oh. So that makes you some kind of detective then?”
“I guess so, yes. Though I tend to prefer the term ‘private investigator’ personally.”
The girl quickly launched into yet another oversized grin.
“How mad! I’ve never met a real life detective before, isn’t this exciting!?”
“It would be…” I began, ready to rain all over her parade, “…except for the fact that nobody in this town seems to know anything about the guy I’m looking for. And worse still, no one seems to care! It’s been a total shot in the dark, a complete waste of time…”
Another bartender had come out to play from the back-room, this time a man. He went about his business wearing a look of sour bafflement, slowly scratching his chin as he became unexpectedly engrossed by the dusty television set hoisted above the bar.
We were witnessing a rerun of an old boxing match, it appeared. Two highly strung athletes dedicating themselves towards the life of a prestigious gladiator; each with thousands of fight-hungry faces watching on from the side-lines, baying for blood. Soon they would dance together within a tight field of bloody sweat and canvas. A far cry from what their mothers likely expected when they first entered this world, with bleary eyes and two tiny clenched fists waving by their sides...
“Say…” spoke the returning barmaid, leaning in close on the unwashed counter, “…this man, the one you’re after…"
“What’s that…” I muttered, still somewhat distracted by the television screen.
“I said, this actor you’re looking for…who did you say he was again?”
“I didn’t. But his name is Coburn. Clarke Coburn.”
“Oh sure…” the girl replied casually, stepping up from her barstool, “…Coburn, of course.”
“You knew him?”
“Not personally. He would come here sometimes, to The Brightside.”
With that I sat bolt upright, giving the pretty barmaid my full attention. It was the first time I had mentioned the actor’s name without it being thrown right back in my face, covered in a fog of cut-loose indifference. I had to see where this was going…
“Tell me more…?” I prompted.
“About Coburn? What can I say…he was tall, handsome - like you, detective - let’s see, he looked a lot older than I thought he would, I guess…dressed quite smartly…”
“What else?”
“He never made much of a habit to talk to any of us, at the bar. Though, I suppose he was quite polite when he did…”
“Was he always alone?”
“Most of the time…” she proceeded to say, “…unless he was with a girl.”
Now it was I leaning across the table in my overeager attempts to steer the conversation, “…a girl you say?”
“Yes. Many girls in-fact, but never more than one at a time.”
“Would you be able to recall any of their faces?”
The barmaid perched back on her stool and began fumbling her fingers through her hair. She looked out into the abyss of intoxicated bar dwellers shuffling and shouting amongst us, all whilst I waited patiently for her response.
It was getting busier inside The Brightside. Soon my talkative barmaid would be swept off her feet again, leaving me to rot on the side just like all the other luckless cohorts dotted about the place. I had to find out what else she knew…
“If one of Coburn's girls were to stroll into the bar, right now…” I began once more, “…would you be able to recognise them?”
“Hmm…” the barmaid replied, finally “…I wouldn’t think so, most of them seemed like Big City girls to me. The only one I could maybe pick out in a crowd would be the redhead…”
“The redhead?”
“Yeah.” I heard her continue, “Such a pretty girl. Matter of fact…she…she…”
“She what…?”
“She…”
“What is it?” I prompted.
But it was no use. The girl only had eyes for the outmoded television set perched above our heads, suddenly. Someone had switched over to the Channel 7 News Hour, disregarding the prior boxing match in favour of the bright yellow 'breaking news' banners plastered across the screen.
And boy, did those banners have an intriguing story to tell...
“What on earth!” I heard a large man bellow right next to me.
“No way…” spoke another, propping himself up against the bar, “…that can't be him...no way is that him!”
Live scenes were unfolding of a man in dark sunglasses exiting his taxi and rushing hurriedly across the street. I recognised the street immediately as being somewhere in the downtown vicinity of Clearview. A handful of news crews had subsequently gathered among the crowd, vying for that all-important money-shot as they pointed their sound-mics this way and that. The man in dark sunglasses then stopped rather abruptly, peering back from the side-walk.
His was a face only few would fail to recognise…
“That’s Raldo Renato!” someone shouted from the other side of the bar.
“He’s in Clearview, I don’t believe it!”
Now the entire room had all but erupted. Several half-empty glasses shattered at our feet as lashings of beer were thrown fervently across the floor. A whole host of joyful folk suddenly found themselves rushing for the doors, eager and wild in their attempts to find Mr. Renato...who, according to the dusty television set lofted up in the corner, was just a block or so down the road from Town Square at that precise moment.
“Raldo, Raldo!” the hectic gathering of reporters called out in disorderly fashion, desperate to capture the creme-de-la-creme celebrity personality standing in their midst.
“Raldo, what brings you here to Clearview…all the way from the Big City?”
“Raldo, are you here on work? Is there another big movie lined up with your name on it?”
“Aren't you worried, Raldo?” they continued, “…aren’t you worried after what’s been happening down here?”
It was like feeding time at the zoo out there. I had seen caged animals act with more peace and decorum than the behaviour exhibited by those so-called journalists, all crowding around the famous newcomer as if he were the second coming.
Raldo Renato, however, was now the second megastar actor to show up unannounced in Clearview. He bore a strong wrestler-like jawline and wore a crisp white shirt over this barrel-chested torso. As a man who clearly took great pride in his appearance, Renato's jet black hair and luminously bright dental implants struck a certain chord beneath the waning midday sun. The actor came accompanied by his trophy-cabinet wife, of course, along with their young son, who held tightly onto his mother’s hand in fear of the hungry onrushing reporters…
“Now, now…” Renato posed in his distinctive baritone voice, momentarily lifting his trademark designer sunglasses as he turned to face his crowd, “…please, one question at a time people!”
“How do you like it here, Raldo? Tell us your thoughts on Clearview…”
“It’s great!” the actor proclaimed with his arms wide open, “…the weather here, it’s…great!”
“And where are you staying Raldo? Where can your fans come and find you?”
“Why…just here, in the very heart of town!”
“Raldo, Raldo! What will you do? What’s next for you and your family?”
This time the actor grinned and posed dazzlingly with dozens of snapping cameras buzzing all around him. Renato promptly pulled his wife closer and whispered something in her ear, before shamelessly thrusting the poor woman headfirst into the limelight, “…we’re taking a short break here, aren’t we babe?”
At once the focus shifted onto Mrs Renato, who nodded her head meekly beneath the same dark sunglasses. She appeared apprehensive and a little overwhelmed, as if her strikingly beautiful surface were somehow just a mask, and inside was a woman that even her own movie-star husband had yet to fully comprehend.
Still, though, she smiled...and she waved.
“Raldo, please! Raldo…”
“Thank you good people…” Renato spoke with a wink, returning once again to the trio of bodyguards hovering by the hotel entrance.
“Raldo, aren’t you scared about what could happen to you in Clearview?” the reporters proceeded, “…aren’t you worried about talk of the evil Wolfman returning? New sightings have been reported all across town, the first of their kind in weeks! Surely you and your family have to be careful?”
Renato chuckled softly to himself, shrugging his shoulders as he finally ascended the hotel steps. The actor placed his hands together and held them both aloft. It was presumably a sign of gratitude for them massaging his already pulsating ego. He then disappeared into the nearby lobby with his wife and child, largely oblivious to the sense of unruly fanfare his arrival had created.
Clearview; the supposedly quiet town with nothing much to say, and nothing much to show for itself, was now playing host to one of the biggest names imaginable. And this time it was a name far greater than Coburn or any of his contemporaries. This time, it was someone with more fame and proclaim to rival even that of Santa Claus!
Once the news crews outside slowly filtered away, the excitement inside the bar would subsequently follow suit, with the shattered glass and beer-stained floor soon proving all that was left of the wild scenes of pandemonium. I hastily spun around in my seat and turned back towards the barmaid. The girl with the blonde curls was still working her magic behind the counter…
“Hey…” I called out to her, “ …multi award-winning actors aren’t like buses. You don’t wait out in the rain in the middle of nowhere just for two to pop along at once, one after the other! What has been going on in this town!?
“…”
“…and what did that reporter mean when he referred to…the Wolfman?”
But, again, it seemed she wasn’t listening.
“Lucky…” she spoke softly, her eyes busy focussing on something off in the distance.
“What?” I replied, “…what is it?”
“Look behind you…”
I did exactly as she said, though, nothing immediately apparent would come to light.
“What are you trying to show me?” I asked again, “…there’s too many people, I can’t see…”
“Look again…” she said, her eyes still locked in focus,
“…it’s the redhead.”
A crimsoned-headed lady had just arrived at the bar. She seemed to stand out effortlessly, like a bleeding red rose in a classic French romance novel; dangerously enticing with razor-sharp edges, yet strikingly beautiful all at the same time. The unmistakable dark mole dotted beneath her left eye immediately carved itself into my memory.
She then proceeded to gaze up in my direction, and everything seemed to cave in on itself, like not a single other soul in the room was really there alongside us…
Lucy Labelle had just entered the fray. And like those two bulked-up boxers on the weary old television screen moments before Renato’s arrival, neither she nor I would ever be leaving The Brightside Bar without looking one another deep in the eyes and engaging in some kind of foolhardy scuffle.
For you see, dear reader…
…I knew that girl...
...I knew her all too well.
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