Couple's Commercial Role-Play Fantasy - Part 2

 

The next morning, you get up, make coffee, clean up, and get dressed for work. You let your wife lie in bed for a bit. She took time off this week so she can take care of the kids. After packing lunch and taking a sip of coffee, you check on her. Softly, you kiss her lips. She lets out a sleepy moan. “Good morning, my sleepy head. Coffee’s ready in the kitchen, and I’m leaving for work.”

She opens her eyes, glances at the clock face on the nightstand, rolls onto her side, and pulls up the blanket. “I can sleep for a couple more hours,” she mumbles.

“I’ll see you later.” You whisper into her ear and then gently kiss it.

“Uh-huh.” She says in a sleepy tone. “Go to work, be safe. See you when you get home.”

You get up, grab what you need, and then head off to work.

The office has that weird, ‘empty but hectic’ feel. There isn’t really a lot going on, but with so many people taking time off, if there is something to do, there really aren’t a lot of people to get it done, so you feel like there are so many orders to check, so many emails to respond to, and so many things that, during a normal week, others would do.

A couple of times, you get up from your desk, refill your coffee cup, and just walk around to see who’s really in. One of the ladies up front; one of the senior partners; and a couple of team leaders. But aside from that, most everyone else is gone. You make small chit-chat with the few people you see. The lady at the front desk asks if you’ve got anything special planned for the weekend. You blush at the thought of your wife and you, role-playing tonight. She asks what’s on your mind, and you tell her in rough, vague details that you have the house to yourselves, so you and the wife will have fun. She gives you a knowing nod and then answers the phone. Raising your coffee mug, you motion to her that you’re going back to your desk. She nods as she answers the caller’s questions.

By the end of the workday, you just want to go home. With about 10 minutes left to go, you start closing up and locking things up for the day. You see your boss closing his office. “You’re still here?” he asks. “Didn’t I put out an email telling everyone in the office to leave an hour early?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t see it.”

“Tomorrow, check your ‘spam filter’. If it’s in there, leave early tomorrow.”

“Will do.” Your reply.

Traffic on the drive home isn’t too bad. You pass signs on the local churches advertising “Holy Week Services”.

You and your wife could go to the “Holy Thursday” evening service. If the kids were home, you know that you’d go. But your dad will take them to their church. You smile at the thought of your father telling your kids the importance of foot washing, the specialness of the Last Supper, and the preparations to go to the garden. You slowly shake your head, because you’ve never been as religious as your parents. You attend church, but that’s mostly for the kids.

No, tonight, instead, you want to spend time with your wife.

Walking through the door, you smell pasta and sauce. You put your lunch bag in the kitchen and see your sexy wife wearing an apron to cover her ‘housewife’ shirt and slacks. “That smells good. Should I…”

She turns and tells you, “Go wash up, but don’t change. Don’t go into the bedroom. You have to wait until after dinner.”

Nodding, you do as you’re told, washing up and then sitting at the table. Soon, your wife brings a hot plate of noodles with homemade sauce. “Mmmm, I love it.” You say as you take a forkful.

She smiles as she sits down next to you. “I’m glad. It helped put me into the ‘helpful housewife’ spirit. I even watched some TV while cooking, so as to see if I saw more of those commercials.”

“Did you see what you wanted?” you ask.

She reaches under the table and rests her hand on your crotch. “Oh yes. I even found commercials I have fantasies about, too.” She gives your thigh a loving squeeze, which awakens your ‘trouser snake’.

“Are you trying to get me hard before I finish dinner?” you ask.

She winks and smiles. “Maybe,” she leans closer and whispers, “or maybe I just want to be wet for you because you don’t know what I have on under my outfit.”

Your mind flashes through a variety of options: plain cotton underwear, lacy black or red lingerie, or maybe nothing at all. “Should I guess or…”

She kisses some sauce off your lips. “You have to wait. By the way, you have to clean the kitchen before you get to play.”

Nodding, you kiss her and then finish eating.

After the kitchen is clean, you walk to the bedroom. The door is closed, but when you open it, you see stacks of your folded shirts and pants on the bed, on a couple of chairs, and on top of the hamper lid. Giving the room the basic feel of a clothing department in a “big box” store. Her back is to you as she looks at her closet, as if deciding what items to try on next.

“Wow, you really set things up. Is there anything I need to know?” you ask without getting into character yet.

She walks over, kisses you, and points to the lube and dildos on the nightstand. “I prepared myself, to be filled every way. Just make sure I’m ready, first.” She whispers, “And my safe word is ‘marmalade’.”

You nod and softly repeat “‘Marmalade’. Hopefully you won’t need to use it.”

She then walks back over to the closet and gets back into role.

You smile and try to remember the dialogue of the ‘hapless dad’ from the commercial. Picking up a couple of polo shirts; a grey one and a red one, you hold them against your chest and move like you are comparing them as you look in an imaginary mirror. Frowning, you turn to her. “My wife sent me to get a new shirt. Can you help me?”

As she turns, you notice she is wearing a striped sweater similar to the ‘mom’ character in the commercials. “Of course. Let’s see.” Walking over, she takes both of them from you, holds up one, and then the other. She looks like she is thinking as her eyes narrow, and she bites her lower lip in concentration. “I think the red one looks better.” She holds it against your chest and softly caresses the material. Even through your work shirt, you feel the pressure of her fingers on your skin.

“Should I try it on, so you can, see?” You ask, with the same tone of the male character in the commercial.

She nods and smiles. Pulling off your work shirt, you pull on the polo. You smooth out the front as you feel her fingers smoothing out the back. You move like you are still looking in that imaginary mirror.

“See how good it looks on you. Your wife will love it.”

Turning to her, you smile, just like in the commercials. “Thanks, what would I do without you?” Then you pause, “How can I make it up to you? You’ve been so helpful, you deserve a reward.” You give her a seductive wink and a nod.

She then motions towards the nightstand where she laid out her ‘toys’ of various sizes. “But what about these people that I helped too?” She is still in character.

“If they want to reward you too, how can I say no?” you reply, continuing to role play.

You quickly clear off the bed and have her stand next to it. Slowly, you unbutton her sweater. “Your husband is a lucky man.” You playfully tell her.

As the sweater falls to the floor, she replies, “Yes, he is.”

You kiss her, tasting a little of tonight’s dinner. Reaching into the waistband of her slacks, you pull up her plain white shirt. You are happily surprised that there isn’t a bra underneath. Her nipples look so beautiful and tasty. Those nipples, which a few years ago were suckled by your children, look like they are begging for your mouth. You lean forward and slowly lick around the areola of the left one. “Is that the kind of thing your husband does to you?” You ask.

“Not as often as I need.” She answers, her voice taking on a sensual, husky tone.

“Let me help you then.” You say as you lick and suck it, feeling it get firm in your mouth.

“Mmmm.” She moans softly. As you focus on her breasts, she reaches for a dildo. “Oh, you helped me, too. Is that cock for me?”

Before you can answer, she answers herself in a fake man’s voice. “Yes, little lady, it’s all for you. You’ve been so helpful.” Then she licks and sucks the tip of her toy.

“Do you want to lie down, so we can all pleasure you better?” You ask, trying to make your voice sound suave and different, as you undo her slacks and pull them down. “Oh, does your husband know you wear underwear like that?” you ask in the same fake accent. She’s wearing red crotch-less panties you bought for her a few years ago.

“Oh, no. He doesn’t know I like to wear sexy things like that. Especially when I have a chance to hook up with friendly strangers.”

You get on your knees and kiss the lacy fabric just above her exposed pussy. “So that’s why you’re always so helpful. You’re hoping to hook up with ‘helpless husbands’ and good-looking strangers?”

You hear a sucking noise above you as she takes her toy deep in her mouth. Pulling it out, she responds. “Yes. That’s why I’m always so helpful. Looking for men and maybe a few women who will repay my kindness.”

You imagine seeing your wife with a strange dick in her mouth, a strange woman sucking the nipples you were just sucking, and a third man licking her ass. Your dick hardens at the strange fantasy. She must be imagining something similar because you smell her arousal. Plunging your tongue into her pussy, she moans around the toy in her mouth. She spreads her thighs a bit more to let you thrust your tongue deeper. You feel her hand on your head as she presses herself harder against your mouth.

Gasping, she asks, “Can I get on the bed now, to give you all better access to me?”

You slip your tongue out and look up at her. There’s a string of saliva from her mouth to the dildo she’s holding. She looks so sexy and slutty.

“Yes. Get on the bed. Let’s use you like you want to be used.”

She smiles down at you, wickedly as she steps out of the pants, puddled around her ankles. You stand up. Kiss her, thrusting your tongue into her mouth, and then you reach for two more toys on the nightstand. She laid out a small bottle of lube, a clit sucker, and a textured glass dildo, along with the rubber one she is using. Your wife climbs on the bed and rolls onto her back, rubbing the dildo between her breasts.

You get between her legs, drip some lube on the tip of the clit sucker. She’s rubbing the cock between her breasts, “Yeah, titty-fuck me just like that.”

Slowly, you lick along the inside of her thighs as you lick one and use the tip of the sucker on the other. The mixed sensations on her skin has her look down at you. “Mmmmm. More than one of you on my thighs. Are you going to both lick my pussy?”

“Of course. That’s what you want. All of us thank you.” You reply with a mischievous tone.

She spreads her legs wider as you move the sucker to her clit and put your tongue in her wet, waiting pussy. “Yes, have her suck my clit as I suck this cock.” She says sucking on the dildo again.

You stop licking her pussy and rub her pussy lips with the tip of the glass dildo. “Would you like a real cock in your mouth?”

She pulls the toy from her mouth, “Yes. Let me move first.”

You stand up as she gets on her knees. Watching as she takes the rubber dildo between her legs and lowers herself on it. “Lube up my glass cock.” She says in an almost commanding voice.

You do, then hand it to her. She bends forward and rubs it between her ass cheeks.

“Do you need help with that?” you ask with a smile. She tries to put it into her tight anus. You kiss her softly. “Let me help. I’ll be gentile.” She nods and hands it to you. Dripping more lube along the crack of her ass, you slowly spread it around using the dildo, moving up and down. “Relax and imagine a strange man slowly entering you.” You hear her inhale and squat, the rubber dildo still in her pussy. Placing the glass tip against her puckered hole you gently but firmly push. 

It slides in as she pushes back a bit. “I love it. One in my cunt, one in my ass.” She turns to you, and motions for you to get in front of her. “And now one in my mouth.” She squats down so she can ride both toys at once and leans her head forward.

You’ve rarely seen her so you turned on and depraved. There is a hunger in her eyes as she grabs your hard shaft. Her tongue is so smooth and wet as she licks the tip, then she sucks you firmly, while pressing herself down on the bed, pushing the toys deeper into her. Soon she is rocking back and forth, fucking her mouth with your hard cock. She’s moaning in pleasure as she grinds herself against the bed. In your imagination it’s the actress from the commercials whose sucking you as she takes cocks in her ass and pussy. Placing your hand on her head, you thrust in time with the rhythm she’s created. You’re breathing harder and won’t last long. “Do you want me in your mouth or somewhere else?”

She pulls you from her mouth. “Fuck my ass.”

Moving around and behind, she raises up her ass. The glass dildo slides out. Even though your cock is slick with saliva and pre-cum, you put more lube on it.

Her asshole is waiting for you as you press your tip against it. With just a little pressure it slides in. She feels so warm and tight. So different than her mouth or pussy. She rocks back against you. Moving back and forth she takes your cock as deep as she can. “That’s it. Fuck me. Fuck my ass.” She says with an almost animalistic growl. You feel the vibrations of her using her sucker toy on her clit and the pressure of the fake cock in her cunt. You are so close to cumming. She presses back against you, and you feel her body quiver with pleasure. Her asshole tightens around you as she cums. It feels so good as you hold her hips tightly and fill her ass with your spunk.

“Yes….” She moans.

Then she pulls the dildo from her pussy and you slowly slide your softening dick from her. You both are sweating. She gets up and hugs you. You hold her tightly in your arms. “You must have really enjoyed that.” You say to her, breathing hard.

She nods and kisses you. “More than you know. Join me in a shower?” She asks as she gets off the bed, strips off her crotchless panties which are now stretched out a bit.

“Of course.” You answer as you put dirty clothes in the hamper.

You both walk naked into the bathroom. She grabs a towel and washcloth, leans into you and whispers “Tomorrow night we can do my fantasy, ‘Mr. Insurance guy’.”

(I hope you enjoyed this 2-part Couple’s Tale. If you want a follow up story of the husband as “Mr. Insurance Guy” helping the distressed housewife, tell me in the comments. If you enjoyed it, Leave a Comment. If you enjoy my writings, Follow and Subscribe. See you next Friday with a new story.)

Couple's Commercial Role-Play Fantasy - Part 1

 

You sit on the couch, trying to relax, watching TV. The kids are excited for Spring Break from school, planning to spend time with their grandparents, and your wife is reading a trashy novel, sitting in a chair near you.

Between episodes of police procedurals and emergency rescue dramas, you keep seeing the same commercials over and over. You don’t know if it’s that you’re tired, bored, or just horny. In a couple of commercials, you notice that the actresses are a more plain-looking version of your wife. Your mind wanders, imagining the ‘hapless guy’ that the “mom” helps find the right furniture, clothing, or whatever, offers to take her in back and repay her kindness with vigorous sex in the showroom, the dressing room, or in the storeroom. A wicked smile crosses your lips when, in one ad, after she helps one guy, there are three others who also need help. “Of course. She wants all four at once.” You quietly chuckle to yourself.

Your wife looks over the top of her book, “What’s so funny?” She asks, glancing towards the TV.

“I’ll tell you in a bit.” You say, as you get off the couch, walk over and give her a kiss. “You are so much sexier than the actresses on the commercials.”

She arches her eyebrow, “Thanks, but what brought that on?”

“Let me put the kids to bed first.” You respond.

Going into the other room, you get your son off the game system, and have your daughter put away her coloring book and crayons. “It’s bedtime, kids.”

“Awwww, but we don’t have school.” Your son says.

“Yeah, Daddy, we’re on Spring Break.” Your daughter chimes in.

Nodding, you remind them that tomorrow you’re going to take them both to your parents’ place. They’ll spend a day with them and then spend a day with the other grandparents.

“If you aren’t good, I’ll tell them you aren’t allowed to go to the candy store.”

“Candy World!” your daughter screams.

“It’s just candy.” Your son tries to say in a cool tone, but you notice that he saves his game and powers the player off.

As the kids brush their teeth and get ready for bed, you do a quick check in the kitchen to make sure you turned on the dishwasher. There is nothing more frustrating than filling and loading the dishwasher and forgetting to turn it on. It is gently humming as it still washes the dinner dishes.

Going back to check on the kids, your son is climbing into his bed. He has the library book he’s supposed to be reading during the break. “Read only a chapter or two and get some sleep. You can read more on your way to Grandma and Grandpa’s.”

“Ok, Dad.” He says as he focuses on the book.

Your daughter is wearing her pretty night gown and has a book that she wants to read to you. Recently, she has worked hard to show that ‘she’s a big girl and can read too’. You walk in and sit on the floor, leaning against the bed. “So Baby, what’s tonight’s book?”

She holds it up for you to see. “The one with the bunny that ran away. Are you ready, Daddy?”

You nod and sit as she starts, “Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away…”

As she reads, she yawns from time to time, but soon she gets to “‘Have a carrot,’ said the mother bunny. The End.”

“You did a good job reading that one, Princess.” You kiss her forehead. “Now get some sleep. Remember tomorrow, your mother is taking you to see Grandma and Grandpa.”

“I know, Daddy. I’ll be good for them.” She says as she hugs you.

You softly close the door behind you, then make sure your son turns off his light.

Softly walking back down to the living room, you see your wife still reading but occasionally watching TV too.

“Is everything all right?” she asks quietly.

You nod. “Yep, the kids are in bed and ‘Runaway Bunny’ is back home.”

She gives you a quizzical look. “That’s what our daughter read to me tonight.”

She nods and then looks at the TV as one of the commercials comes on, where a ‘housewife’ in ordinary clothing is helping a ‘lost guy’ find what he needs.

“So, what’s this about me being sexier than her?” she asks.

You sit on the couch and pat the cushion for her to join you. She moves and snuggles up next to you.

Putting your arm around her, you explain your fantasy. That she, your sexy wife, was the helpful woman in the commercial. Wearing just a plain sweater, top, and slacks. Helping you find an outfit for a ‘special occasion’ or the ‘right recliner’. And how afterward, you would reward her with sex. You lean in closer and whisper, “And maybe you’ve helped other men, too, who want to reward you? A good chance to use multiple toys.”

She grins. “Mmmmm, that multiple partners fantasy that I’d never have the guts to do in real life?”

You nod. “And with the kids at the grandparents for the next couple of days, we can have a few nights to ourselves.”

The cop show you both like is on, and you watch it together, holding her. During another commercial break, you see the one where a ‘housewife’ helps a guy find an outfit for golfing, then at the end, three men ask, ‘Can you help me too?’ Both of you chuckle at that one. “Oh, is that where you got the idea of her being thanked by more than one guy at a time?”

You sheepishly smile. “Maybe.”

She kisses and hugs you. “I see the attraction to this ‘role play’ fantasy. Maybe after I drop off the kids, I’ll have things set up?” Her tone is relaxed and playful.

“Really?” you reply. “Maybe we should move to the bedroom now?”

“Shhhh, the show’s back on. I want to see if they catch the bad guy.”

You smile, nod, and kiss the top of her head. “Ok.”

(Come back tomorrow for Part 2)

AAA Detective Story - Looking for Francine - Part 5

 

The doorknob is clean and polished. A stark contrast to the door and frame around it. Ken slowly turns it but it’s locked. Holstering his pistol, he pulls out his lock picks. After a few moments of lining up the pins, he turns the cylinder and the door unlocks. The door quietly opens. Ken and Joan expect loud squeaks, but the door almost silently slides on its lubricated hinges.

“Curiouser and Curiouser.” Ken whispers to Joan. She nods and holds the closed knife in her hand, ready to use it.

The old record plant smells of hot vinyl, and they hear the sound of the machines pressing disks. “Not what I expected at all.” Ken whispers.

Slowly and quietly, they move along a corridor. Old signs point to “Recording Studio” down the hall and “Offices” up the stairs. Ken pulls his pistol again and motions for them to go up the stairs. Even though the building looked abandoned from the outside, inside things are clean and maintained. As they climb the stairs, they see boxes at the end of the assembly line, full of records. Ken makes a mental note, and continues up to the office.

The office door is unlocked and also opens quietly. The lights are off, but the switch on the wall turns on the overheads. Closing the door behind them, Ken and Joan look around the office. There are framed pictures of Alison and Ben Goode on stage, or posing by an upright piano. Ken places the .45 on the desk as he searches it, not finding anything out of the ordinary. It looks like the record company is in business, pressing disks, but he doesn’t find any client lists.

Joan searches through the filing cabinet. “Most of these files are from ’44 or earlier.” She says quietly.

At the end of the room is a thick metal door with a large lock. Ken goes over and hands the pistol to Joan. “Cover me as I unlock it.” 

Using his picks, he gets it open after a couple of minutes. The large door slides on greased tracks. A switch turns on the lights and reveals an apartment. There is an electric range and kitchenette, a brass bed, and a large wardrobe with dresses. A vanity along the wall has multiple wigs with a complete set of makeup brushes and cosmetics. Joan hands Ken back his big-bore automatic. “Boss, what’s the deal? Are they living here?” Joan looks at the dishes drying next to the sink.

Ken walks to the bed. There are restraints and chains. “I think it’s worse than that. We need to find Francine.”

They close the metal door but leave it unlocked. Going through the office, they turn off the lights and slowly walk down the stairs. “If it’s bad, Boss, shouldn’t we rush down and try to find them?” she asks quietly.

Ken places his finger to his lips slowly shaking his head. “We need to keep quiet, so we don’t spook them.”

“But where are they?” She whispers. Ken points to the sign marked “Recording Studio” and motions for her to follow quietly.

At the end of the hallway, a red light bulb flashes, showing that someone is using the studio. Ken grabs the doorknob and nods to Joan. She has the knife open and at the ready. Slowly the door opens.

“No Aly, I need you to sound happier when you sing. Let’s try it from the top.” A thin masculine voice says.

Screaming though the thick glass, they hear a voice respond “I’m not Aly you sicko. How many times do I have to tell you I’m Francine?”

“Baby, you just need your medicine. If you just relax and sing, we’ll make that record. Or do you need a dose for your nerves?” the man’s voice asks.

Ken pushes in the door all the way and aims his gun at the man by the control board. “Stop right there.”

Joan follows him in. Ken nods towards the door for the booth. Joan opens it.

“No! Leave her alone. Leave us alone. We aren’t hurting anyone. Aly and I own this studio.” Ben Goode says. “We aren’t hurting anyone. Just leave us alone.” He repeats.

Ken keeps the gun trained on Ben, but notices Francine hugging Joan. Francine is wearing the same dress and wig that Alison wore on one of the record covers. They walk out of the booth.

“Don’t take her away from me. She’s the love of my life.” Ben whines.

Removing the wig, Francine throws it at him. “You sick bastard. She’s dead.” She says with a sob in her voice.

“You whore! You’re just like the others!” Ben screams as he pulls a hypodermic needle from his jacket pocket and lunges towards her.

Ken fires twice. Two red blooms form on Ben’s chest as he falls. The syringe still in his hand.

“Shit.” Ken exhales a shaky, frustrated sigh. “Let’s call Brian and have the cops come down.” They go up to the office, call, and wait.

A number of cops show up. Sergeant Hoolihan is in charge. He explains that this is his territory. He knows Sergeant Mulrooney, but this is out of his district. They each give a statement. Ken tells how he was hired to look for Francine. Joan mentions that Raymond Martin, the personal secretary of Theodore Huddler, hired them to find his cousin, Francine Martin. Francine, still wearing the dress, and a wig cap, explains that she was drugged outside of The Happy Clam, taken here, and kept prisoner. They point to the apartment behind the metal door.

“Did he hurt you miss?” The Sergeant asks, in a soft but professional tone.

She covers her face and nods as tears streak down. “He kept saying I was his wife. I needed my medicine, and then he’d… He’d…”

Joan gives her a hug. “Sergeant. Can’t you see the restraints on the bed?” Francine holds up her wrists, revealing dark pressure marks.

“Ok, Ok. I got the picture.” He says. A cop comes into the office. “Sergeant, we found a stash of drugs, down by the boxes of vinyl blanks.”

Sergeant Hoolihan nods. “Ok. Mister Cooper, Why don’t you take the ladies home? We have what we need for now.”

Ken nods as he stands and extends his hand. “I think you boys will be busy down here for a while. You might try to see if there’s any proof that he also kidnapped a Lois, Patty, and Laverne. I don’t have last names, only their stage names. They also worked The Happy Clam.”

“Oh God.” Francine exclaims “He was with Lois before she went missing. They’d sit at a table and talk some nights.” Sergeant Hoolihan writes down a few more facts, including those concerning Lois’s actions when she would be nervous and edgy then later be calm and relaxed.

Ken takes the ladies to his car. “Mister Cooper. Can we stop at The Happy Clam? I want to clean up and change out of this.” Francine asks as she points to Aly’s dress she’s still wearing. Ken agrees.

It’s just before the lunch crowd starts, but the doors are already unlocked. A couple of the working girls are having a late breakfast. They hug Francine when they see her. Tears flow freely as they are all so happy she is safe. 

Ken recognizes the guy behind the bar from the other day. “Hey Mack, got a phone I can use?” The guy behind the counter nods and motions to the payphone by the stairs. Ken nods back. Plopping in a dime, he dials Ramon’s number.

“Raymond Martin, Mister Huddler’s assistant.” The voice says.

“Ramon, It’s Ken Cooper. We got Francisco. He’s going to be okay. We’re at The Happy Clam and he’s getting cleaned up before I take him to Tia Barbara.”

“Madre de Dios, Thank you so much Mister Cooper. I’ll wait for your bill.”

“Just pay what you think is fair. If we hadn’t found him, I feel like there’d be another stiff fished out of the water. If you understand me?” Ken says in a matter of fact tone.

After a moment Ramon asks “Was he dressed as Francine?”

“No, she was dressed as Alison Goode. I’ll write a full report if you need.” Ken replies.

There is another pause. “Mister Cooper, do I really want to know?”

“I can’t tell you that. Nor can I tell you how to live. You and Teddy already live differently than me. But, I think if you love your cousin like you say, you’d see her for who she is. A beautiful and talented singer. But what do I know? I’m just a peeper who sees what others miss.” Ken turns and looks up the stairs as Joan and Francine walk down. “I gotta go. I’ve gotta take the ladies home.” He says and hangs up.

Francine’s face is made up nicely and she is wearing a simple calico dress, with a short stylish wig. Joan holds her hand to help keep her steady on the stairs.

“Are you ladies all ready?”

Joan nods. “We looked for a suit, but she only had the one she was wearing when Ben attacked her. He cut it and burned it in front of her, telling her ‘no woman of mine will dress like a man’.”

Tears well up in Francine’s eyes. “I just want to look nice and Miss Joan recommended this instead of one of my show girl dresses.”

“You both look wonderful.” Ken says as he escorts them to his car.

Soon they are at the tenements. Francine’s hands shake. “She’s never seen me like this. What if she..?”

Joan gives Francine’s hands a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be there. If there’s any fuss, we’ll come back to our office and make a new plan.” Ken nods, parks the car, and holds the door for the ladies. The mid-day sun is trying to poke through the thinning clouds.

Knocking on the door, Joan says “Tia Barbara, Hemos regresado y temenos a Francine. I mean Francisco.”

The door opens and Barbara throws her arms around Francine. “Estas a salvo, mi nino, estas a salvo.” She quickly brings them all inside her small apartment. She hugs both Ken and Joan. “Gracias. Gracias a Dios. Gracias mi nino esta a salvo y en la casa.”

Both Joan and Ken say that she is welcome. They only did what they said they would do. Ken watches as Francine and her mother talk. Francine asks something about ‘isn’t she ashamed’? And something else about ‘being a disappointment and a freak’.

Barbara replies in rapid fire Spanish, something about the village where they came from and performers who sang, danced, and dressed as they wanted. She is proud of her child. Especially if she is happy like that. 

Ken watches the tears and hugging. “Joan, I think we should get back to the office.” They try to leave but Barbara stops them and invites them back for a fiesta. Before he and Joan can turn the offer down, Francine recommends holding it at The Happy Clam on Friday night. That way her mother can hear her sing and meet some of her friends.

“The Happy Clam on Friday night. We’ll be there.” Ken says as Barbara hugs him again.

“Thank you.” She says in English.

“You’re welcome Tia Barbara.”

AAA Detective Story - Looking for Francine - Part 4

 

Ken and Max sit down at an open spot at the bar. The bartender puts a glass of beer in front of Max and asks if Ken wants a coffee. He nods for another cup. “It’ll be a long night and I need to be awake a bit longer.”

“Too bad they can’t get you some ‘Bennies’.” Max says with a grin.

Ken shakes his head, “No thanks. I saw guys on both sides getting off of those. Nothing worse than guys twitching and scratching as they come down.”

Max nods knowingly. “Popping a couple to keep awake and warm wasn’t bad, but then we had krauts shelling us.”

“I’ll stick with coffee.” Ken responds and takes another sip.

They continue talking. Max talks about how he, and most of the singers, travel as guys and dress upstairs. It also is easier for Max when he spends time with his girlfriend.

“Do you know if Francisco preferred men or women?” Ken asks.

Max sips his beer for a moment, thinking. “You know, I never asked. He never mentioned a girlfriend or boyfriend. But then again we mostly talked music and dresses.”

Ken nods. “He has lots of dresses at his hole in the wall. What about Lois?”

Max finishes his beer, grabs his travel bag, and stands up. “I gotta go. The last trolley should be coming down. I’ll be back tomorrow if you wanna buy me another beer.” He then smiles and winks. Turning to the ‘working girls’ he yells, “Goodnight ladies, be safe.”

A few of them raise their cups. “Goodnight Maxine, see you tomorrow.”

There are still gaps in what Ken needs to know. He looks to a couple of ‘girls’ who aren’t occupied. Walking over he asks “If I buy you ladies a drink, can I ask you a few questions?”

They look over towards Annabelle who nods and then goes back to talking to her ‘John’.

“Yeah, sit down Mista Coopa.” One says with a thick accent.

Her darker skinned friend smiles brightly and pats an empty chair. “Yess, pleassse sssit.”

The lighter one is Marge and the other is Kitty. “Anabelle say you tryin’ ta find th’ singas.” Marge comments.

“Sshhe sssayss you’rrre not looking for a date, but will pay for ourrr time. Kitty continues. Ken isn’t sure if Kitty’s accent is real or just part of her persona. The blonde wig and dark skin make her look exotic.

Ken nods. “When did you last see Lois, Patty, Laverne, or Francine?”

They explain that Lois hasn’t been there for a few weeks. Laverne was there on a Saturday night, two or three weeks ago. Patty was last here two Saturdays ago. Francine was last here last Saturday.

As the ladies talk Ken slips them a couple of ones. He also notices that from time to time, other girls will go upstairs with a guy.

“So what’s the arrangement with you and management?” Ken asks.

The ladies smile at each other. “If we take someone upstairs, manag’men’ gets half. It’s cost of room an’ keep thin’s clean.”

“Yess, We can also stay here. Rents cheaper most places.” Kitty explains.

“So as long as you pay your share, no one asks questions?” Ken asks. They both nod. Ken flips back on his notes. “What do you ladies know about ‘Waterfront Records’?”

Marge shakes her head, but Kitty answers “I have seen a strange man talk to the singers. He only shows up Fridays. He tries to get them to play his records. I think Lois went out with him.” It’s the first thing he’s heard about Lois and ‘Waterfront Records’.

Ken learns that Lois seemed to like the guy or at least what he offered. Something about her making records for him. He also learns that Marge thinks Lois was a doper. “Makin’ money singin’ wasn’t good enuff. She wan’ed mo’ and mo’. I didn’ see her drinkin’ but she’d be takin’ summtin’ out back.”

“And she’d get calm for a while and then she’d be all jangly.” Kitty confirms.

“Do you know where ‘Waterfront Records’ is?”

They both shake their heads. They really don’t walk around this area. The building’s safe but the neighborhood can be dicey. “Especially for ladies as lovely as you.” Ken compliments them.

Kitty softly caresses Ken’s hand. “It is ssssoo tempting to take you upstairsssss. I wouldn’t even charge much.”

Marge reaches under the table and rubs Ken’s thigh. “We don’ get many nice men here.”

Their hands are soft and warm. His piece tingles from the unexpected attention. It would be tempting to go with either or both of them, if he wasn’t looking for Francine.

Kitty leans close to Ken and whispers “When is the last time you slipped your big schlong into an ass that’s begging to be filled?”

“Or a mouth dat know’s how to take a man?” Marge finishes.

Ken slowly exhales a breath he didn’t know he drew in. “You are both very tempting. But, Ladies, I’ve got a job to do.”

“You missed the last streetcar for the night. Are you sssure you don’t want to sssstay with either of ussss?” Kitty purrs.

He swallows the last of his coffee. “Let me find Francine first.” He gets up, adjusts his pants which now feel a little too tight, then nods to them, and turns to the barkeep. “Can you call me a hack?”

“Check outside first. There’s normally a couple waiting as we get ready to close.” He replies.

Ken pulls on his coat and hat, and there are a couple of taxis waiting on the street. He grabs one and gives the driver the address to his apartment. As they drive off, he is still a little surprised at his body’s reaction to those two doxies who definitely knew what they were doing. “Too bad they aren’t real women.” He mutters to himself.

The taxi driver overhears and comments, “It’s none of my affair bub. I seen some gorgeous dames in there. Good thing I got a missus to go home to.”

Ken smiles and nods. “Yep, you’re a lucky man.”

The next morning, the alarm clock goes off and Ken unfocusedly turns it off. Sitting up, he coughs and scowls at the taste in his mouth. It’s like a dirty ashtray rinsed with old coffee. He gets up and goes to the bathroom to clean up. Tooth-powder and Listerine help with the taste, while a wash and shave makes him feel more alive.

Looking out his apartment window, the sky is still cloudy from yesterday but no rain, so far. He dresses and pulls on his overcoat. It smells like “The Happy Clam”. He’ll have to take it to the cleaners soon.

Searching for his car keys, he remembers that Joan has his car. If the weather was worse, he’d call for a ride, but he could probably use a good walk to help clear his head. Putting on his hat, walks down the stairs and out the front entrance. The wind, smelling of early spring, stings his face. Pulling up his coat collar, he walks to the office.

Walking up to the building, he see it. His car, parked on the street, near Pop’s newsstand. Pop has the morning papers held down with old bricks. “Hiya Pop. Has Joan picked up the morning sheets?”

He shakes his head. The woolen hat and matching finger-less gloves do what they can against the cold. He grabs a paper and a pack of Lucky Strikes. “Here you go Ken.”

Ken hands him a dollar. “Keep the change. Do you need me do send down some coffee?”

“Naw, not today.” Pop pulls up a thermos from under the shelf. “The Misses made me some this morning. She said she’ll drop more off with my lunch.”

“You’re a lucky man Pop, and she’s a keeper.” Ken says with a grin.

As he opens the door to his office, he smells freshly made coffee. “Mornin’ Boss. Ya got the paper?” Joan asks as she sips from her cup. He nods as he lays it on her desk, before removing his hat and coat.

“Here’s your keys. Thanks for the car.” She says with a smile.

Ken gives her a strange look as he pockets them. “You’re welcome, but why?”

She gives him a knowing smile. “Your back seat is larger than Pete’s beater. I drove him to the club, and after the show, we found out just how roomy the backseat was.”

Ken shakes his head. “Did you wipe off the seats when you finished?”

Joan blushes, “We did. You need a new blanket though.”

He continues into his office, leaving the door open, “Just send it to the cleaners.” Sitting down he looks over his notes from last night.

She follows him in, and refills her cup. “Did you learn anything?”

“What do you know about ‘Waterfront Records’?”

She pauses and thinks for a moment. “Was that the one owned by the Goode’s?”

Ken looks though his notes, “I didn’t see any names on the business card, but it looked to be old and worn.”

“If it was, that was tragic?” She says in a sad tone.

“Why? I never heard anything about it or them.”

She leans her curvy bottom against the edge of his desk, as she explains, “Back around ’44 or ’45, it was in all the papers. Aly Goode and her husband Ben, was trying to make it big during the musicians’ strike. They had a small label for local players. Aly had a good set a pipes and Ben tickled the ivories. Until she was killed.”

“Killed? How?” Ken asks.

“I think there was something about her being a He/She. After a club date, she was attacked and cut up. Benjamin went nuts, found the guys and killed them. He was locked up in the loony bin.” She sips her coffee. “If I got it straight.”

He looks at the address in his notes. “Grab your coat. We got an old studio to check out.” Standing up, Ken reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulls out his shoulder holster, then grabs the .45 from the center drawer.

“Ya got any protection in case we need it?” Ken yells.

He hears the mechanical click of his stiletto. “I borrowed this last night.”

“I should be angry, but guessing where you and Pete parked last night, you might a needed it.” Ken says as he pulls on his coat and adjusts his gun.

On the drive down to the shore, the clouds start to break and patches of blue show through the morning sky. They go down the streets until they pull up in front of a boarded-up building. The weathered sign reads ‘Waterfront Records’. There is a faded poster behind shattered glass in a frame, “Al Ben Goode — The songs of Alison and Benjamin Goode”. The faces on the poster are partially covered by graffiti reading “Pansies” and a painted “X”.

“Is that what you were talking about?” Ken asks Joan quietly, as they walk up to the building. She nods. “Let’s see if anyone’s home.” Ken says as he draws his pistol and checks the nearest door.

AAA Detective Story - Looking for Francine - Part 3

 

As the streetcar gets closer to the waterfront, more men get on. Most dressed nicely but not fancy. Guys heading home or maybe looking to relax after a long day. Ken doesn’t want to guess one way or another. He just wants to ride it down the docks and go to ‘The Happy Clam’. The few women who had been on the trolley had gotten off before the tracks led to the warehouses and docks. They looked like domestics. Ken shakes his head. “It’s always the same. The wealthy can afford staff and cars, but they won’t drive them home or pay them enough to afford their own cars.” He mutters in a low tone.

A man in a rumpled tan suit, sitting on a nearby bench, reading the afternoon paper glances over the top, and knowingly nods.

Ken nods back then looks out the window. There are a lot less people on the street. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the cold, the time of night, or both. “Or it could be that it’s a Wednesday.” He mutters to himself.

Most of what he sees in the glow of the streetlights are warehouses, office buildings, and a few shops and restaurants, and the majority closed up for the night. Eventually the trolley stops where Ken needs to get off. A number of men, including the tan suit guy also exit the tram. Like moths drawn to a flame they all head to the neon sign of “The Happy Clam”.

Inside he removes his hat and coat. It’s almost as busy at night as it was with the noon-day crowd. A faint hint of Mediterranean cooking is still in the air, mixed with the smell of beer and cigarettes.

A woman in a slinky dress is singing along to a record. “I want to be loved by you” she sings in time with the vinyl 78. Some of the men in the bar are watching her, some are dancing together, and some are talking with or dancing with a few ‘working girls’.

Ken goes to the bar, noticing that it’s a different guy from earlier today, and hands him his business card. “Ken Cooper. When you have a few minutes, I have a few questions about the missing singers.”

The bartender shakes his head. “I got nothin’ to say. Wanna drink?”

The room is warm but he still feels a chill in his bones. As much as a Cuba Libre would go good, he answers “A cup a Joe, black.”

The bartender brings him a thick ceramic mug. “That’ll be Thirty cents.”

Reaching into his pocket he pulls a dollar. “Keep the change. If you feel like talking, I got more of these.”

Shaking his head the bartender says “Thanks, but I ain’t talkin’. Don’t know you.” Holding up the business card, which he returns, “And I ain’t heard a no ‘AAA Detective Agency’. If you need another cup, just ask.” He then turns and talks to another customer.

The song ends. The singers bows, saying her “Thank You’s” to the crowd and puts on another record. “Let’s slow things down a bit.” She says and starts singing “It Never Entered My Mind.”

The guy from the streetcar, in the tan suit, walks up. “Would you like to dance?”

“No thanks pal. I’m working.” Ken responds handing him one of his business cards. “Care to answer a few questions?”

Nervously he returns the card, “Um, No thank you.”

“It’s not like that. I’m here looking for a missing singer.” Ken tries to reassure him. “Francine’s cousin hired me to try to find her.”

Tan suit guy continues shaking his head “I hope you find her but I don’t have anything to say.” He then goes to find someone else to spend time with.

Then it hit him. Of course no one wants to talk. He’s a PI in a gay club. He could be gathering info that could cost these guys their jobs, land them in jail, or worse.

Taking his coffee cup, he tries one of the working girls. A lightly tanned woman in a skirt and blouse is sitting by herself. Ken goes over, “Can I join you?”

“Buy me a drink, and we can see where things go.” She replies, her eyes bright with the promise of companionship.

Sitting down, Ken hands her a dollar. “Order what you want and come back.”

She smiles and goes to the bar for a drink. She comes back wiggling her hips in an exaggerated motion. She’s skinny, which reminds Ken of so many of the ‘working girls’ during the war. People just trying to earn enough to eat.

She sits down, a Mai Tai in her hand. She places her other hand on his. “I’m Annabelle, who are you?”

“Ken Cooper” he hands her his business card. “Can you answer a few questions?”

She reads his card and looks around. “It depends. What about?” Unlike everyone else who handed the card back, she tucks in her blouse.

“I was hired by Ramon to find his cousin Francine. What can you tell me about her?”

Her expression changes. Ken can’t tell if it’s relief or just a different type of caution. “Francine is a good girl. She just sings. She’s not a frill.”

Ken pulls his notepad from his pocket. “Are you sure? Have you seen her this week?”

Annabelle takes a sip of her drink. “No, the last I saw her was Saturday night.” She nods towards the singer, “She and Maxine were doing duets and trading solos.”

Ken writes down a few notes. “Thanks. I should talk to Maxine then.”

Annabelle puts her hand on his again. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk some more? I have a room upstairs if you want someplace quiet?”

Ken shakes his head and smiles “Do you charge by the hour?”

She gives him a weak smile but the lights in her eyes goes out. “We can do by the hour or all night, if that’s what you want.”

Ken hands her another dollar. “Keep it. I’m just here for information. Be careful.”

“I always am.” She replies with another soft smile.

As he walks towards the singer who is switching records, Ken feels the money clip in his pocket. Not too many pieces of paper left. He might have to trade in a sawbuck for ones. Stopping at the bar, he gets a refill of his coffee, and hands the bartender a ten.

“I need the change back this time.” He says with a smile. The bartender nods, fills the cup and hands him the change, including the dimes. Ken hands him back three dimes. “Get yourself a cup too if you want.”

Maxine sings “It’s Only a Paper Moon”.

Ken sips his coffee and waits for the song to end. The coffee smell goes well with cigarette smoke and lingering kitchen aromas. He notices that the men are all giving him a wide berth, and watching him from the corners of their eyes. He glances towards Annabelle. She is talking with a couple more ‘working girls’, pointing to him and then his business card.

The song ends and Maxine mentions she needs to take a break. As she removes the record from the turntable, Ken walks closer. “You have a lovely voice. Can I ask you a few questions?” He starts off.

“I’m sorry, I need to pee. I’m here to sing and entertain. You should talk to the other girls to get what you’re looking for.” She says sliding the record into its paper sleeve and heading towards the back stairs.

“I’m trying to find Francine.” He quickly says.

She stops and turns. “I haven’t seen her. I really need to go.”

Ken nods, catching up to her. “When you finish, is there somewhere we can talk?” He hands her a business card and a couple of ones.

She bounces from one leg to the other as she takes them, and heads to a door marked “Ladies”.

Ken leans against the wall and waits. In a few minutes she comes back out. “What’s with the dough?” She asks holding up the money.

“I have a number of questions, and I’ll pay for your time.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

She looks at the clock on the wall. “Let me tell them I’m ending my set early tonight.” Then she walks back into the main room and talks to the bartender. He glances to Ken and makes a resigned sigh. As Maxine returns to Ken, the bartender walks over to the turn table and puts on a bebop number, then announces, “Guys and Dolls, Maxine is done for the night, but enjoy the music.”

“Follow me” Maxine says to Ken as she goes up the stairs.

On the second floor, she enters a room. It’s a dressing room. It sort of reminds Ken of the one at the Coconut Club that Julie Schmidt uses, except this one is larger with multiple vanities and wardrobes, with a few chairs and a couch.

Maxine sits in front of one of the vanities and motions for Ken to take a chair. “What do you want to know?” She asks as she pulls off her brunette wig and places it on a papier-mache head. Ken watches as she pulls off the silk wig cap and scratches her head, fluffing her short-cut natural light brown hair.

“Should I still call you Maxine?” He asks politely with his notepad in hand.

She nods. “I’m as much Maxine as I am Max, or Francine is Francisco.” Turning and facing him, she crosses her shapely legs.

Ken focuses on her face instead of her body which is more attractive sitting like that than he anticipated. “When is the last time you saw Francine?”

Slowly Maxine removes her stockings. “Saturday night. I had expected to see her tonight. We do duets on Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. Especially since Patty and Laverne went missing.” Ken checks the names against his earlier notes “What about Lois?”

“She was a real flake. Patty, Laverne, and I did Andrew’s sister’s songs. Lois never fit with us three. She’d sometimes sing with Francine.”

Ken nods. “But you said she was a ‘real flake’ why?”

Maxine after removing her fake eyelashes, she pulls a pack of cigarettes from a drawer in her vanity. Ken pulls his Zippo from his pocket and lights it. She places the tip against the flame and draws in the smoke. She offers one to Ken. Exhaling she asks “Want a fag?”

Taking one from the pack, he lights it. “It would be rude to turn down a lady.” Exhaling a cloud into the air, he comments “I thought singers didn’t smoke. It hurt your voice?”

She smiles, “Naw, after facing kraut guns and bitter winds, these just help me relax, now.”

“You were a WAC?” Ken asks, jotting down more notes.

Maxine smiles broadly, “No, I was a Joe. A skinny little kid in the 38th.”

“In December of ‘44?” Ken asks with a tone of awe in his voice.

She slowly nods, gets a faraway look in her eyes and takes another drag.

“Damn. When we finish let me buy you a drink.” Ken says extending his hand.

She shakes it. “Who were you with?”

“Fifth Army, working for the Provost Marshal.” He answers still shaking her hand.

“Sounds warmer than France in the winter.”

“You’d think so, but Italy gets cold and wet too.” Ken smiles, then glances at his notes. “Back to Lois. Where is she?”

Maxine leans back in her chair, stretching out her bare legs. “I don’t know. I’m not too surprised I haven’t seen her. Aside from singing, she’d also turn a trick or two. Haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks now.”

“I thought you ladies were the entertainment and the working girls handled things like that?” Ken asks writing, his cigarette dangling from his lips.

“They do. But Lois was always trying to earn a buck. Her stuff is over there, next to Francine’s” She says pointing to a pair of vanities on the other wall.

Ken gets up and starts looking thought one of them.

“I’m gonna wash up and change. I’ll be back.” She says standing, grabbing a robe, a toiletries bag, and a towel.

Ken nods as he opens the drawers. He finds makeup, false lashes, fake nails, and all the rest of the things needed to make these ladies look like pin-ups.

It’s similar to what was in Francisco’s apartment except for here are the various cosmetics that Joan said wasn’t there. Searching the other vanity it’s similar except for a worn business card ‘Waterfront Records’. Ken copies down the information on it. The address is close by, but he doesn’t remember hearing them on the radio.

Maxine returns, wearing only a robe, carrying her underwear, along with her toiletries bag and towel. “Did you find anything, Mister Cooper?” she asks, but her voice is a little harder now, as she closes the door.

“I found a card, ‘Waterfront Records’.” Ken says, looking at his notes.

Maxine pulls off the robe. Ken’s a little surprised to see a well shaved, naked man. He shouldn’t be, but with the dress, wig, and makeup, she is a very attractive woman. Ken turns and looks distractedly at the items on the vanities while Max dresses.

“My, how gallant. Not staring and watching the ‘nancy boy’ get dressed.” Maxine teases.

“It’s not that..”

“It’s okay. You’re a good lookin’ fella, just not my type.”

Ken turns as Max buttons his shirt and tucks it into a pair of grey slacks. After a few more minutes, with a tie, and sport coat, Max looks like any other guy downstairs.

“About ‘Waterfront Records’..” Ken starts again, more confidently.

Max sits down and ties his oxfords. “There is a guy who comes around Fridays. He keeps asking us ladies to make a record or two for him. He brings a few that he pressed, asking us to play them and sing along. Tell you the truth, Mister Cooper, he’s a bit of a creep.”

“Why’s that?” Ken asks.

Max stands up, his dress in a travel bag, “You said something about a drink? Let’s go downstairs and we can talk before I catch the last streetcar home.”

AAA Detective Story - Looking for Francine - Part 2

 

After finishing lunch, Ken and Joan ask questions of a few more people. Not a lot to be learned so they will be back later. The icy rain still falls from the sky as Ken pulls his coat tighter around him and adjusts his fedora.

“Wanna stand under my umbrella, Boss?” Joan offers.

There is a ding of a streetcar as it comes down the street and stops near the “Happy Clam”.

“I thought the mayor said that the were going to switch this area to busses.” Ken comments as he makes a note about the streetcar.

“Maybe they’re cheaper to operate down here?” Joan offers.

“Maybe.” He responds as he goes to his car.

“Where to now, Boss?” Joan asks.

Looking at his watch, “It’s too early to meet Mulrooney. Let’s go back to the office. I think I need to call Mister Raymond Martin.”

As they drive Ken asks “Oh by the way, I forgot to ask, why did you offer ‘Congratulations’ when he was on the phone?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, it looks like Misses Huddler is in the family way again.” She smiles. “We should send over some flowers or chocolates.”

“Really? That’s interesting. ‘Teddy’ and Karen made a little brother or sister for little Teddy Junior.” He focuses on driving. “Yeah, we can send them a little something.”

When they get back to the office, Ken calls Ramon. Unfortunately he doesn’t know where Francisco was living. He only saw him when he visited his Tia Barbara. Ken copies down the address. It’s one of those tenements in the old part of downtown. “Can you call her and tell her I have a few questions for her?”

“I can. But how good is your Spanish? Her English isn’t that good.” Ramon responds.

Ken sighs “I can muddle through. My Italian is better.”

“Do your best. Maybe one of my other cousins will be there to help. Is there anything else?”

“Oh, yeah, did you guys pay the city to make sure the streetcars were still running down there?”

There is a moment of silence. “Mister Cooper, Huddler Trucking and Shipping is in the transportation business. If we asked the City to continue running the streetcars in area for the benefit of our employees, what’s the harm?”

“None. I thought the City was changing things over to buses. Do you know if Francisco took the streetcar to the “Happy Clam”?”

“I don’t know. As I said, I don’t know where he was living. Now if you have no further questions, I need to get back to work.” Ramon says in a clipped tone.

“That’ll do for now. Thanks.” Ken hangs up his phone and looks at the painting on the wall. It is a lamp with a fish for a lightbulb. He lights a cigarette. “Things aren’t what you expect.” He says as blows a cloud of smoke into the air.

“Joan, how good’s your Spanish?” Ken yells.

“Asi-asi. Yo solo hablo pequito Espanol.” She responds.

“Is that from being with Pete?” He asks with a sly grin.

“Naw Boss, he don’t speak it. Besides I got a better uses for his mouth.”

Ken laughs. “I remember. Grab your coat and hat. We need to pay a visit to Tia Barbara.”

The rain stopped but things are still wet and cloudy as they drive to the old Downtown.

The tenements always remind Ken of the end of the War, when people were trying to pull their shattered lives and broken buildings back together. Neighbors helping neighbors but there’s never enough for everyone. It doesn’t help that the landlords charge just enough in rent to give people a place to stay, but not enough to replace things or make more than the most necessary of repairs. But at least there aren’t any UXBs lying in the trash and piles of broken furniture. He sees the address and parks by an open lot where kids are playing stick-ball.

“Hey Kids.” He yells as he gets out of the car. Joan looks curiously at him.

The children stop their game and come over “Wha’cha wan’ mis’er?” one of the larger ones asks, chewing something as he talks.

Ken pulls out a few bills. “While you’re playing, why don’t you keep an eye on my clunker here. It’s not much but I like it.” He hands a couple of ones to him. “When I’m done, if everything’s still there, I’ll give you a fin to split among yourselves.”

Their eyes get wide at the idea of five dollars split among the eight of them.

“Does I hav’ t’ split dese too?” The large kid asks as he looks at the dollars.

“I’ll leave that up to you. I bet you could get malteds and funny books and still have some scratch. But I’ll leave that to you.” Ken straightens his hat. “I just need my old crate to still be here when I come back.” He says with a smile and wink.

“You got it Mister.” Says one of the others. “Yeah!” says a third.

Joan takes his hand as they cross the street and look at the building numbers. The voices and languages spoken are a mix of folks who came from Europe and the Americas. His rudimentary Italian and Spanish might be needed more than he thought.

Walking past street venders and stalls, they find her building and go up to the apartment. Knocking on the door, Joan says “Senoria Barbara, Puedo hablar contigo. Somos amigos de Ramon.” The door opens and a stocky woman wearing a plain dress and an apron fills the doorway.

“Ramon? No esta aqui.”

“Si, Tia Barbara, Stiamo cercando Francisco.” Ken interjects.

Joan shakes her head and says “Estamos trantando de encontrar a Francisco, Tia Barbara.”

“Si, Si.” Aunt Barbara responds and invites them in, quickly having them sit down and offering coffee. They both politely decline as Joan explains that they were hired by Ramon to find Francisco. Ken asks in Italian, if she knows where Francisco lived, which Joan quickly repeats in Spanish. At that point Ken keeps quiet and takes notes. The more he listens to Barbara and Joan, the more he realizes he understands Spanish but really can’t speak it.

After a few more minutes of discussion and getting the apartment number to Francisco’s place in the next building, along with a key, they all stand. Ken pulls out a couple of bills and presses them into her hand. In English he says “Here is a little something to get a ‘fatted calf’ for when Francisco comes home.” Aunt Barbara looks confused. Joan tells her “Es dinero para una fiesta de bienvenida para Francisco.”

Tears well up in the corners of her eyes. She wipes them with the corner of her apron, then hugs Ken. “Find him please.” She says in heavily accented English.

He places his arms around her. “I’ll do my best Tia Barbara.”

As they walk to the next building, Ken glances down towards his car. The kids stopped playing ball but there are two of them watching it from the edge of the lot. He smiles, “The others must have gone to the corner shop.”

They enter the brownstone building and climb up the stairs until they find the right door. Joan puts the key in and turns the knob. Ken stands ready for anything. Anything except for what they find.

Dresses. The small apartment is full of different dresses, shoes, and wigs. There are multiple wardrobe bags hanging up, next to a few suits. A few well-traveled hat boxes are by the window. It’s cluttered but organized and cared for. Ken looks around to see if he can find when someone was last there.

“There’s no makeup.” Joan says looking at the top of the dresser.

“What’s that?” Ken asks.

Joan opens a few drawers. “I see stockings, bras, panties, boxers, but..” she motions around the small apartment “No makeup.” Don’t these female impersonators do the heavy makeup to hide their looks?”

Ken opens a couple of hat boxes, which contain hats and shoes. He then goes to the clothing rack. There are a few empty hangers. He jots down a few notes.

“You’re right. We’re still missing something.” Ken makes sure that he puts everything back where it was. “Let’s return the key to Aunt Barbara.”

As they get to the street Ken hears a familiar Ding-Ding as the streetcar stops at the corner of the block.

He checks his watch. “I’ve got time.” He mutters. Quickly, he hands Joan the keys to his car and a five dollar bill. “Pay the kids and drive the car back to the office. I’m going to see where this line goes.”

With a shocked expression Joan says “Ok, Boss.”

As he briskly walks to catch the streetcar before it gets going again, he hears voices yell. “Hey Mister, what about your jalopy?”

He yells back “My dame will take it. She’s got your moolah too.”

Riding the streetcar, Ken looks at the people. Folks just trying to get from one place to another. He looks at a blank spot where the “Colored Seated in Rear” sign used to be. He smiles “I bet that was one of the conditions Teddy gave the City fathers, with his donation to keep the streetcars running.”

At the next stop he asks the Conductor “Where does this line run?”

“This is the old Downtown to Waterfront line. We go all the way to the docks.” He responds without looking.

Ken nods. “How many cars on the line?”

“Oh I don’t know, we got enough to hit a stop every half hour or so.”

Ken writes it down. “Last question. When do they stop running?”

“We have them back to the yard by midnight, then start again at seven.” The conductor answers, then says “Take your seat.” As he closes the doors.

The sound of the metal wheels on the tracks and the electric pop as the contactor hits where wires cross. Ken sits on a seat and looks out the window. “This is probably what Francisco did.” He notices that they’re coming near Maple Street. He looks at his watch. If he gets off and walks up Maple, he can make it to the ‘Stick and Hook pub’ around the time that Brian Mulrooney gets off of work. The trolley stops and Ken gets off and starts walking towards Uptown.

It’s a few blocks farther than he thought, but by the time he gets there, he needs a beer to take care of his thirst. Walking through the door, his coat feels too warm, so he pulls it off along with his hat. Multiple pairs of eyes watch him as he scans the room and takes an empty stool at the bar. The barman is a big burly ex-fireman, with a big, waxed mustache and beard. “What’ll ya’ have?” he asks with a Celtic brogue.

Ken puts a couple of quarters on the bar. “Just a beer.” He points to tap marked ‘Gulstead’, the local brewery. “One of those.”

The barman nods, fills a mug, then quickly sweeps up the four bits.

Ken sips and looks at the oversized nightstick on the wall crossed with a fireman’s hook. ‘The Stick and Hook Pub’ are written above them in a beautiful fluid script. On the walls are photos of the City’s old police stations and fire houses. As Ken looks around, a number of people are still watching him. He smiles and nods, holding up his mug. Most look away without responding. “Such is the glamorous life of a private dick.” He mutters to himself as he slowly sips and waits for Brian to show up.

He doesn’t have to wait too long before he sees his friend walk in, still in uniform. “What’s goin’ on here?” his voice booms in that authoritative tone.

“Beer, Sergent.” A voice responds.

“Good, Carry on.” He responds with a smile as his coworkers laugh and return to their drinking and talking.

The barman fills a mug and watches where Mulrooney is going. When he sees him sit next to Ken, he sets down the beer.

“Thanks, Bobby. He’s paying tonight.” He says as he takes a sip and nods towards Ken.

Ken pulls out a couple of dollars. “I said the drinks are on me. But I thought we were only having a couple.” Smiling as he hands the tender a dollar and his now empty mug.

Brian smiles. “I’ll go easy on you tonight.” He stands up, takes his beer and walks to an empty table near the rear. “Bobby, I’ll be at my table.”

The bartender nods as Ken grabs his newly refilled drink and follows.

They quietly talk for a while, and Brian has a few shots of Irish whiskey, along with a pitcher of beer.

Brian confirms that the police are not raiding the “Happy Clam” because they’ve been paid not to. But they also don’t really patrol down there either. Those aren’t their kind of people. Brian then starts asking questions. His voice is quiet but heavily accented from the drink. “Kenny, I know yu’re workin’ a case, but d’ ya’ haf ta work for pansies?”

“Brian, they’re as good as anyone. And their money’s good too.” Ken replies glancing at the time. He knows if he wants to make it to the Happy Clam tonight, he’ll either have to call a taxi or walk back down to the streetcar line.

“But they do thin’s tha’ ‘re agin th’ Church. Dressin’ like gals and playin’ wif their bollocks.” He takes a shot and then a deep drink of his beer.

“I can’t explain it in any way that makes sense to you Brian, but they’re good people and they need my help.” Ken looks at his watch. “I need to go, if I’m going to catch the streetcar. I’ll see you later.” He pulls out a couple more dollars and a hand full of change, placing them on the table. “That should cover the rest of it.”

Pulling on his coat and hat he looks to the bartender. “Goodnight.” They nod at each other as he leaves out the door.

The night air is cold and damp as he hustles down the street to catch the streetcar. Between the cold and quick walk, the effects of the couple of beers he drank are gone by the time he boards the electric trolley. “Off to the Happy Clam” he says to himself.