INVESTIGATIONS, INC.
Jack
picked up the glass and sipped as he looked at the report before pulling the
paper from the typewriter. The chair squeaked
as he leaned back and put his feet on the desk reading it over one last time
before slipping it in the envelope.
The
rain had become heavier and promised to continue through the night which meant
he wouldn’t be setting up surveillance at 310 Park Street. Interesting job that one. The man who had hired him was not her
husband and he got the impression that this was a reverse situation where the
boyfriend did not believe whatever story she told him about her marriage. Frankly, there were way too many women in
this town to pay to follow a married woman or even care if she was still
keeping her husband happy as long as she showed up in the middle of the night
with promises of succulent pleasure.
Two
things kept his business brisk, one was love and the other was money but in the
end it always rolled around sex.
Jack
smiled as he thought about the girl he accompanied home from the bar the night
before. She was your typical sad story
of nursing a broken heart needing to feel like someone thought she pretty
enough to approach. He didn’t think he
would have turned to her if she passed him on the street but something last
night just called his name as he sat down at the end of the bar.
“Charlie,
usual please.”
The
bartender threw the towel over his shoulder as he reached back and picked up
the good whisky pouring a shot setting it in front of Jack.
“Early
night or just getting started?”
“Early
night. Love it when they give me what I
want before nine.”
He
sipped on the whisky as the bar filled up with the regular characters from the
neighborhood. Several stopped leaning on
the bar talking to him before moving into a booth or table. It was a small bar where a lot of people came
to just unwind or sit and talk to friends.
The
jukebox played Frank Sinatra in the background but it was so low that you
forgot that it wasn’t just part of the decor.
He leaned forward looking at her as she sipped on a glass of wine. She still had her coat on and looked
uncomfortable almost afraid to stay and afraid to get up and leave. He looked into the big mirror and watched
her. She looked up at herself then
looked away.
Jack
picked up his glass and walked down past her as she watched him move in the
smoky mirror. He picked up an ashtray on
the other side of her and sat down in the empty stool to her right taking out a
cigarette and offered her one.
“Thank
you but I don’t smoke.”
He
put one in his mouth and set the pack on the bar as Charlie reached over
lighting it for him. The smoke drifted
up around them as Sinatra crooned a lonely heartbreaking song. He picked up his whisky as she watched him in
the mirror.
“You
look like you are carrying the woes of the world on your shoulders.”
She
sipped her wine and he watched the slight tremble in her hand as she slowly
tried to put it down without spilling it.
If she could take back her decision to walk through that door then she
would do it that very instant. She
swallowed then looked at him.
“I
need to leave.”
“Well,
that part is obvious since you have probably never been in a bar or at least
not unescorted.”
“I’m
sorry, but…”
Jack
reached out and touched her hand which immediately caused tears to form across
her green eyes. If he had a nickel for
every time a woman sat in front of him in tears, he could retire to Vegas. He thought there was little difference
between Charlie, him and Father O’Flannagan.
They all drank and they all listened to confessions of the heartbroken
world.
“I’m
a good listener if you want to talk.”
“Thank
you but this was a mistake.” She took in
her breath and it rattled with the sobs that just didn’t want to come out in
public. She slid off the stool and
picked up her purse turning to him.
“Thank you but it is late and the rain seems to be getting worse.”
“Can
I walk you to your car?”
“I
didn’t drive.”
Jack
smiled because she lived nearby. “It’s not safe to walk this late at
night.” He put a five on the bar and
told Charlie he would be back after he made sure this young lady got home
safely. Charlie looked from one to the other
and nodded. Someone would be saying
hail marys in the morning for sure.
Jack
opened the door as she stepped out. “I
can get home fine, thank you.”
Jack
opened the umbrella raising it. “I need
the exercise and I would feel bad if something happened to you because I wasn’t
a gentleman.”
She
lived two blocks from the bar up the hill in a small brownstone. He talked and she responded but not with any
great conversation. She had her arms
wrapped around herself more as a protection then cold. When they climbed the steps to the front
door of the building he opened it and she passed him then turned back. He smiled but didn’t follow.
“Would
you like to...” She hesitated. “I don’t
have whisky but I can offer you a cup of coffee.”
Jack
looked at his watch then followed her into the building. She opened her purse and took out a sole key
and unlocked her door walking in. He
closed it as she walked across the room putting her purse on a small table then
unbuttoning her coat slipping it off.
She had on a soft white blouse and black skirt that was shaped to her
hips so perfectly. She laid the coat
over the chair then walked into the kitchen and he heard the water running as
she was filling up the coffee pot. Jack
walked around the room looking at the décor before he picked up a book that was
open on the coffee table.
“I
didn’t ask your name.” He had his back
to the kitchen as she walked out carrying too cups of coffee.
“Carolyn.”
“You
like Hemingway?” He was reading the back
of “Across the River and Into the Trees” which of course had a picture of
Ernest as eccentric as you could get.
“I’m
not sure. I think he’s very strange and
his characters are so self absorbed and dramatic.” She sat down on the couch as he sat in the
armchair flipping through the book until he reached the page where she had a
slip of paper marking her spot. “I find
this particular work to be lacking in a lot of things even for Hemingway.”
Jack
nodded and put the book down. He wasn’t
a Hemingway fan because he found his work to not only be depressing but would
cause depressive people to fall further into the tumbler which is probably what
the author did as he sat at that old typewriter trying to put words together so
that he could afford to be eccentric.
They
talked for a while about authors and books they liked. She worked as a bookkeeper for a shirt
manufacturer and had lived in the city three years. He assumed from listening to her that other than
work her only life was probably an affair with a married man. He finally thanked her for the coffee and
told her he had an appointment to keep.
“Who
has appointments this late at night?”
Jack
smiled and told her it was just part of his work. He walked toward the door as she stood and
followed him. He turned again to thank
her when she put her hand on his shoulder and reached up kissing him then she
pulled back. Jack watched her eyes which
were neither embarrassed nor mousy as they had been in the bar. He wanted to tell her that there was no
safety in taking a stranger into her home.
His
hand went out and around Carolyn’s waist to her lower back as he brought her
back to his lips. She came to him so
easily and so willingly that he wondered who was coercing who this night. He could feel his reaction as she leaned
into him so softly and her hand slowly slid down his chest and around his leg
causing him to stiffen against the cloth of his slacks. This was not a mousy woman at all.
He
didn’t remember undressing her or even taking off his own clothes before he
pulled her down on top of him. The bed
was soft and filled with fluffy pillows that seemed to just envelope them as
they moved across it still lip locked and hungry. He couldn’t recall having a desire so strong
in a long time and he loved the softness of her curves.
Carolyn
was unbridled in her wants and consumed him with a fire that was totally out of
control. Whatever she was trying to
forget, Jack was more than willing to be the instrument she used to release all
of her pain. He ran his hand up the
outside of her thigh to her hip which made the silk panties push up against
him. A small moan escaped her lips.
He
loved the smell of the passion mingled with whisky. This mousy little girl was so hot that the
fire department would have trouble putting her out. She pushed against his shoulders rolling him
off of her and he hesitated until he met her eyes. They were dark green and seemed to be
holding a secret he knew he would never unlock.
Without effort she took his breath away.
Her eyes were closed; her head back and her lips spoke volumes without
words.
Jack
pulled her down into his arms and kissed her as she sighed then curled up
around him. He wanted a cigarette but
didn’t know where his clothes were nor did he think he had the strength to get
out of bed. Jack fell asleep and woke up
alone in the bed. He found his clothes
on the chair in the bedroom with a note.
“Thank
you for walking me home…Carolyn.”
He
lit a cigarette and put the note in his pocket.
Barbara
Svetlick 3/6/18
