Ken drives to the Fletcher’s apartment. It’s an old brownstone that probably used to belong to a single family before it was remodeled and subdivided to hold half a dozen families. He glances in his folder. Apartment 2B. The door to the building is open and he walks up the stairs to the second floor. The doors all have dull brass numbers on them. At 2B he stops and knocks. “Misses Fletcher?”
The door cracks open, a safety chain visible on the inside. “Yes? What do you want?”
“I’m Ken Cooper. You spoke with my secretary, Joan this morning. Can I come inside? Your husband hired me, but I want to talk to you first.” He says holding up the folder and tapping it with his fingers.
She starts to close the door saying “I don’t know what you are talking about. I just don’t feel well today, that’s why I didn’t go to work.”
Ken slides a photo of her and Marcus in the Palace lobby in the door crack. “Do you want your husband to see this, before we have a chance to talk?”
The door closes all the way. After a moment he hears the chain move and then she opens the door. She is wearing a bathrobe and looks like she has been crying.
“Please come in…Mister…”
“Cooper, Ken Cooper.”
She motions for him to sit on a kitchen chair. He glances around the apartment. It is small, as he suspected, but it has an electric range, an ice box, and a sink, right next to the bathtub. A curtain surrounds what is probably the toilet. A Murphy bed is tucked into the wall and there is a radio on the kitchen table. “A nice little place”, he thinks to himself.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asks in a nervous voice.
“No thank you. Please sit down.” He responds, placing the folder on the table and opening it.
She does, taking a hanky from her pocket and wiping her eyes. “So Robby hired you to follow me?” She then starts looking at the photos in the folder. Marcus and her at a café, in a diner, walking into a bar, going into what was probably a club or gaming hall, and of course her in the front seat, with just the top of her head as she was going down on him.
“Would you like to explain things? What I saw was a woman stepping out on her man with a high roller. That’s what I typed up. If you’d gone with Mister Powell, today, I would have handed this entire folder to your husband. I have two questions for you. Why didn’t you? And What do you want me to tell your husband? He is paying me for information.”
Ken leans back in the chair and pulls out a cigarette. Mary stands up and grabs a discolored glass ashtray from the counter and sets it on the table. There is still a butt in it with a faint lipstick smudge. “Thanks.” He says and flicks open his Zippo.
Looking through a small puff of smoke, Ken watches Mary compose herself. “To answer the first question, I didn’t go with Marcus because I was going to break it off. Your secretary stopped me this morning. She was that last little push I needed to stay.”
“Why’s that?” Ken asks taking a slow drag.
“Yesterday when Marcus was losing at cards, he took me to his place.” She says pointing to the photos of them leaving a warehouse and arriving at the Palace.
“Go on.”
“He said I was his “Lucky Charm” and if my luck wasn’t good, he was going to get lucky another way.”
Ken takes his notepad and pen from his coat. “Was this the first time?”
“First time in his apartment, yes. But not the first having sex with him.”
“Where was the first?”
She starts to tear up. She points to a photo of them walking into a cheap bar. “Here. He started losing, and took me to in back. He bent me over, pulled down my panties….” Tears stream down her face. Ken places his hand on hers. “It’s okay, I got the picture.”
She sniffs and dabs at her eyes. “When he was winning, he would celebrate, buy me nice things, and give me cash. But when he lost, he wanted sex.”
“Is that why he was sodomizing you in the car?” Ken asks.
“Doing what?” She asks confused.
Ken points to the photo of her sucking him in the sedan. “Him putting his schlong in your mouth.” She turns red with embarrassment. “Yes. He wanted me to do that again, but I told him that I don’t do that for my husband so I can’t do for him.”
“Is that when he smacked you?” Ken asks leaning back again.
She nods and puts her hand to her cheek, rubbing it. There aren’t any marks but the thought of it seems to be with her.
This continues on for a while. Ken asking her questions and Mary explaining. How she was let go because the cook’s cousin needed a job. That Marcus was a regular at the diner and liked how she looked. Offered to show her around. All she had to do was stand by him and look sexy. When his gambling luck changed, he wanted sex, but she didn’t want that.
Ken flips pages, adding note after note, with his burning cigarette in the corner of his mouth, then he asks, “So what shall we tell your husband?”
She slowly shakes her head. She looks more relaxed, almost relieved. Ken has seen it before, when someone has been holding on to a secret for too long and they just wanted to tell someone. “Mister Cooper, I don’t really know what to say. I love him. I don’t want to leave Robby. I just wanted to feel beautiful and get some cash.”
The phone on the wall rings, and Mary answers it. “Hello? Yes, he’s right here. It’s your office.”
He gets up and takes the receiver. “Yeah, whatcha got?”
He hears Joan’s voice, “Boss, your Flatfoot friend called. They appreciated the tip. Vice apparently raided both warehouses. One was a big game and the other was a joint full of girls wearing fancy rags and meeting with Johns. Boss, you broke up a Cathouse.”
“Do you know which was which?”
“Nah. Why? What’s it to ya?” Joan says in an offhand manner.
Ken smiles for a second. “Oh, just a hunch. Maybe High Roller was going to take Doll to the cathouse, earn a finder’s fee and then go to the game? I’ll talk to Brian. Thanks.” He hangs up the phone and sits back down, crushing out the smoldering butt in the ashtray.
Mary has a shocked look in her eyes as she understands what Ken was saying. “Mister Cooper. Is there any way you can tell Robby that I was helping the police? That when I lost my job, and Marcus picked me up, I knew there was something wrong and went to the police?”
He leans back in the chair again. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?’
She stands up and with trembling hands she opens her robe revealing her shapely body with only a cotton bra and panties. “Is this what you want?” She asks in a shaky tone with tears rolling down her cheeks.
Ken stands up and grabs her hands and sighs. “No That’s not what I meant.” He closes her robe. “Here, sit down.” He says, still holding on to her robe. “I have a reputation for being honest. How will it look if I lie to a client or cover up the truth?”
“What do you want from me?” she asks.
“I’ll tell Robert you were working with the police, but I want you, in your own time, to tell him the truth. Do you have an envelope?”
She gets up and pulls one from a drawer. Ken places the most damaging photos of her and Marcus in it, along with the folded up report. “Hold on to this. I need to make a phone call.”
He quickly dials up Sergeant Mulrooney. Mary listens as Ken says, “Hey Brian. You’re welcome. I’m glad that those tips paid off. Speaking of which, was there any reward? There was for finding some of the girls. White Slavery? Okay. Yeah, I want to split it with Misses Robert Fletcher. She was the one who gave it to me. Can you put in your report that she called you with the information? Yeah, she’s back with her husband and we want everything copacetic. Thanks. We’ll come down to the station tomorrow. See ya’ then.”
She dries her eyes with her handkerchief, “So your friend’ll add it to the report?”
“Yeah” he says as he hangs up the receiver. “Looks like there was a reward for some of the women they found. Some missing girls pushed in the flesh trade. I don’t know how much it’ll be, maybe a couple of C’s but…” He pulls another cigarette from the pack and lights it.
Mary realizes what he is saying. “So tomorrow I might get a hundred dollars or more from the police?”
He blows a cloud of smoke straight up, “Yeah. Tomorrow we can go down to the station together, and pick up your reward.”
She moves closer, her arms open to hug him, but Ken holds out his hand, “Missus Fletcher. I’m glad to see you’re grateful, but shouldn’t you get dressed before your husband comes home. It wouldn’t be right for Mister Fletcher to show up, and you’re still wearing only a robe.”
She looks at the clock by the stove. “You’re right. Give me a minute.”
She walks to the other side of the room and steps behind a decorative changing screen. Ken hears the sound of drawers being pulled open as she pulls out clothing from a bureau or highboy. He flips to a blank page in his note pad and starts writing a field report, detailing the story he will tell Robert when he arrives.
Glancing up, he sees the silhouette of Mary against the thin fabric of the changing screen. Her shapely body as she sits on a stool and pulls on stockings. He imagines what she really looks like behind the screen. How her body would feel, how she would taste, how good she would be as….he stops looking at her and focuses on what he needs to write. He sighs and puffs his cigarette. “Maybe I should have taken her up on her offer.” He says to himself in a low tone.
“What’s that Mister Cooper?” Mary asks. Ken looks up again and sees the outline of a dress slide down her body and cover her. He adjusts how he is sitting to help with the tightness of his slacks.
“I was just saying to myself, that your husband is a lucky man. You love him. What time’ll he get home?”
She steps from behind the screen, the back of her dress still unbuttoned. “He will be home in about an hour or so. Can you help me with the buttons?”
Ken sets the cigarette in the ashtray and comes over, deftly buttoning up her dress.
“There you go. Do you feel more comfortable?” He asks looking up and down, and admiring the house dress. Polka dot print, but it looks good on her.
“Thanks. Is there anything else you need from me? I should start dinner.”
“No. I’ll write up my report and wait for Robert. Whatcha gonna cook?” he asks, sitting back down.
“I’ll make spaghetti.” She says as she pulls out a couple of large pots and places them on the stove. “Shall I make enough for you too?”
“No thanks. Once your husband arrives, I’ll give him a quick report and then I have another meeting to get to.”
Ken focuses on his report. Making it look like a miniature version of a typed report, except for changing it to better reflect the ‘Mary was suspicious and reported to the police’ storyline.
The small apartment soon fills with the smell of tomato sauce and spices. Mary takes out a skillet and fries up meatballs to add to the sauce.
“Missus Fletcher, can I have a glass of water?” Ken asks trying not to think about how good the food smells.
“Of course.” She says as she takes a glass and fills it from a pitcher from the icebox.
The cold water tastes so good as he sips it.
The door opens and Mister Fletcher walks in. “That smells wonderful.” He says before he notices Ken sitting at the table.
Mary rushes up and hugs him before he can remove his coat or set down his lunch-pail. “Robbie. I’m so glad you’re home.” She says squeezing him firmly and kissing him.
He drops his lunch-pail, and it clangs on the floor as he kisses her back.
“What’s that for?” he asks.
“I just missed you all day. I wasn’t feeling well this morning, Robbie, but once I felt better I just wanted to be in your arms.”
He unbuttons his coat, and nods towards Ken. “What’s he doing here?”
Ken stands up. “I’m sorry about this Mister Fletcher, but there was a change in the case and I wanted to deliver my information directly.”
Robert looks from Ken to Mary and back again. “Did you tell her I hired you?”
Ken tears the report pages from his notebook and hands them to Robert. He then gives an official sounding oral version of the report. “Mister Fletcher, your wife was seeing another man, but it wasn’t what you thought. Mister Marcus Powell was a customer at the diner and propositioned her. She thought there was something strange about him and went to the police. They asked her to continue meeting with him until she got a tip they could act upon. She fed information to the cops about a number illicit gaming establishments including one that turned out to also have prostitutes. The police discovered that some girls were missing persons. For her hard work she has earned a reward from the police, which she will be able to get tomorrow.”
Robert looks at the pages in his hands, quickly reading Ken’s notes of dates and locations, then footnotes of information given to the police. Ken then takes the folder off of the table does a quick scan of the photos and logs, ensuring that he hadn’t missed any of the incriminating ones, then hands it to Robert. “Here are the field notes and photos. The various clubs and cafés, and even his hotel, where he pressured your wife into breaking her marriage vows.”
Ken looks over to Mary, and gives a slight nod.
“Yes. Yesterday was the day I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. The police had what they needed and Marcus wanted me to…” She then puts her hand to her mouth and starts crying.
“You have a brave wife, Robert. I don’t think the police fully understood the danger she had been in.” Ken continues. “Apparently if she had met with Mister Powell today, she might have been sold to a white slavery ring.”
“Where is this Mister Powell?” Robert asks, clenching his fists.
“He is in police custody. He was rounded up with his companions during a raid. All thanks to your wife.”
Robert hugs and kisses Mary again. “Oh, my brave girl. I’m sorry I thought you were cheating on me. If you had told me, I wouldn’t have hired Mister Cooper to follow you.”
She kisses Robert again. “The police told me to not tell anyone. Especially my husband. I had to look like I was cheating on you, so Marcus would take me to all those places.”
The sauce on the stove starts to bubble. “Let me stir the sauce. Dinner is almost ready.”
“I could smell it from the street. I’m hungry.”
Ken grabs his coat and hat. “Mister Fletcher. I hope you are satisfied. That closes this case. If you need my services again, just call. You folks enjoy your dinner.”
Closing the door behind him, Ken thinks “She is a clever girl. She rolled into the story details about why the police wanted her to keep seeing him. Hopefully she tells the truth to her husband someday.”
(If you enjoyed this story, leave me a comment. Remember to return tomorrow for Part 7. If you enjoy my writings, follow and subscribe.)
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