Crime/Thriller short story competition - Winner

I knock back another bourbon and think about going home. Then I hear the noise in the outer office. Reaching for my Webley, I edge towards the door. Shadowed on the glass I can see an outline. A dame; but I take no chances. I throw open the door. She steps back. Her eyes wide and I hear the intake of breath through those pretty red lips.
‘Mr Travis? Mr Sam Travis?’
A customer. And a hell of a looker as well.
I motion to the armchair, ‘Sit down, Miss… ?’
‘Coverley, Anita Coverly.’
‘Well, Miss Coverley, what can I do for you?’ Her eyes follow as I slip the Webley back into the drawer.
‘Just a precaution. You could have been some lowlife.’
She’s certainly no lowlife. The outfit is Fifth Avenue, and fits in all the right places.
I lean over and offer her a cigarette from the box on the table.
‘No, no thank you.’ Her voice is soft with a slight tremor.
I lean back and take the sack of Bull Durham from my desk and begin rolling my own. She’s taking her time, but what the hell, I’ve nothing better to do than sit and appreciate the best looking dame I’ve seen in a long time.
As I light up she brushes her fingers though her fine dark hair, ‘I’ve lost my husband. Frank.’
I’d been too engrossed in the legs to notice the ring. Domestics. Bread and butter in my business. I look into her face. The mascara’s beginning to run. I hand her a handkerchief. What sort of sap would walk out on a doll like this?
‘Can you find him?’
Right now I’d jump off Brooklyn Bridge if she asked.
‘A hundred dollars a day plus expenses. And two hundred up front. Strictly cash.’
‘I’ve only got a hundred and fifty.’
She’s a classy dame, but business is business.
‘I could bring the rest tomorrow.’
‘Fine. So when did you last see him?’
‘Two days ago.’
Two days was no time in this city. He could be drunk in some gutter or floating down the river.
‘I need to know where you last saw him, his usual haunts, and if you have a recent snapshot.’
She rummages in her bag again, ‘I haven’t seen him since he left our apartment. He didn’t turn up at work.’
She hands me a card and a snapshot. The card has an address in the Village.
‘Where does he work?’
‘Farringdon’s on Wall Street. The picture was taken last winter.’
There’s something familiar about his face.
‘Quite often he and friends would stop off at The Rodeo Bar before coming home.’
‘Rodeo on Third?’
‘Yes. Do you know it?’
I know it all right, ‘Yes I’ve passed it a couple of times.’
She turns her big dark eyes to look me in the face. I try to concentrate on the two hundred dollars.
‘Look, I think I’ve got enough to work on for the moment. If you think of anything else then let me know when you see me tomorrow. Shall I call you a cab?’
‘No. I’ll be fine.’
I open the door and watch her walk her chassis down the hall. If I find this guy, I’ll probably lay one on him for deserting such a classy dame.
I put the coffee-pot on the stove and sit watching the traffic. Guys don’t just go missing for no reason at all. If there was another broad, then someone would know.
I fish a clean shirt out of the desk drawer. It’s too late for his work, but the bars should be just starting to liven up. It’s an easy choice. Rodeo’s only four blocks away.
* * *
The front door springs open as I arrive. Tony is throwing some bum into the street.
I walk in when he’s finished and sit at the bar close to one of the fans. The Rodeo’s been around for quite a while, and Tony’s been here as long as I can remember.
‘What can I get you Sam, the usual?’
The coffee’s woken me up plenty. Right now I need another shot.
As Tony puts the glass on the deck, I hold up the snapshot. ‘Seen this guy around?’
Tony takes it over to the light.
He hands it back. ‘Comes in once in a while. Usually has this blonde with him.’
‘Seen him lately?’
‘He was in here yesterday.’
‘Thanks Tony. If he comes in again, give me a ring.’
Easiest two hundred dollars I’ve made in a while.
Three more bourbons later I see her sitting in the corner. Little Miss Coverley. She’s not alone.
I slip into the next booth. The guy she’s with has an unkempt beard that looked decidedly false, tweed jacket and a tie so bright I wished I’d brought some sunglasses. Then I realise that under that beard it’s Coverley all the time. They’re leaning forward towards each other and whispering. I put my ear against a gap.
‘…so what was he like,’ Coverley’s voice was deep but emotionless.
‘More interested in my legs than anything else.’ Miss Coverley’s upstate accent had slipped.
‘He didn’t suspect?’
The accent returned. ‘Look, I’m a respectable wife with a lost husband.’
They both laugh, then get up and leave.
What she’d told me was all baloney. She’d pulled the old smoke and mirrors on me back at the office.
I’ve heard enough. I go home, but spend the rest of the night trying to figure out what the hell is going on. I look at the snap of Frank Coverley. I’d misjudged him. He was no sap. It looks like he’s running the whole caper. Tomorrow I’ll visit Little Miss Coverley at home and get the truth out of her.
* * *
The apartment’s on Varick Street, right in the centre of the Village. I wipe my palms then ring the bells of a couple of the other apartments and slip in the main door. When I get up the stairs, the door’s ajar. I check the Webley and burst in. There’s a blond dame packing clothes into a bag. From the description Tony gave me, this is the one Coverley has been seeing. I pull out the Webley.
‘Where’s Miss Coverley?’
Her mouth opens, then it all goes black.
When I come to, there’s Frank Coverley staring at me, Luger in his hand. ‘Get the gun,’ he snorts at the blonde.
She walks over and picks up the Webley.
Coverley smiles, ‘Not quite as we planned it, but it’s come all right in the end.’
I rub the back of my head, ‘So where’s Miss Coverley?’
The blond smiles, ‘Sorry Sam.’ She wipes the trashy makeup from her face showing the same dark eyes I’d fallen into yesterday. All it needed was the dark wig. She’d done her job well.
‘Mr Coverley hired me to play the part of his wife so he could get you to come to the apartment.’
Coverley sneered, ‘And you fell for it.’
I ease into a chair. ‘So what happens now?’ Like I don’t know.
‘I need to disappear, owing to a little disagreement with the bank.’ He taps the suitcase. ‘But I don’t want anyone trying to find me, so it’s best if they think I’m dead.’
I look up. His face was familiar all right. He looks a lot like me. Same height, same build. With a working over, my face could pass for his.
I turn to face her, ‘Well sweetheart, I guess this is goodbye. I bet you didn’t think you’d be an accessory to murder.’
She stares at Coverley, ‘What’s he talking about Frank?’
I smile, ‘He’s going to knock me off, dress me as him and hope the police don’t look to closely. Then he’ll just have you to take care of.’
‘Is that true Frank?’ Her voice is loud and harsh.
‘Don’t be stupid.’ He turns his head towards her.
It’s the opening I need. I spring and knock him down, sending the Luger sliding. I’m still woozy so I forget to duck as he throws a punch then dives for the gun.
‘Just hold it there.’
We both turn to see Little Miss Coverley, my Webley in her shaking hand.
Coverley stops, his hand just short of the Luger.
‘Be careful, sweetheart,’ I say, ‘that gun has a hair trigger.’
‘What were you planning to do with me?’
I think about jumping for him when he makes a lunge for the Luger. Then the echo of a shot rings round the room.
I pick up the Webley from where she’s dropped it. For all her shaking hand, she nailed him straight though the heart. Then she’s all over me, sobbing into my shoulder.
I act fast. I put the Luger in his hand and open up the suitcase. There’s a lot of money. He’d wanted to disappear and leave my body for the cops to find. Well, two could play that sort of game. I knock his face about, then dress him in my jacket and coat. With my ID, the cops won’t think twice that some hoodlum I’d been after had got to me first. With the money from the case I can make a fresh start on the West Coast.
‘Sam. What about me?’
‘Just keep your mouth shut sister. The cops won’t be looking for you.’
‘What are you doing Sam?’
‘I’m going to Grand Central. Getting out of here for good.’
‘Take me with you Sam. I’ve got nothing here. I needed the money. Without it I’m on the street.’
Without the trashy makeup, the dame I met in the office is showing through. What the Hell. It’ll be less noticeable travelling as a couple, and it could have fringe benefits.
‘I’ll get my bags from my apartment.’
‘We can buy what we need.’ I tap the suitcase. ‘Let’s go before the cops get here.’
She takes my arm as we leave the building. By the weekend we’ll be in Los Angeles. And if it doesn’t work out? Well, she’s the one that shot Coverley, so I can always turn her in.