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.”