Crystal Blue Persuasion

A Jack Dylan Adventure 

By Dixon Kinqade

The city was hot that night, thick and heavy like a wool blanket. As if the place itself, the bricks, the asphalt, were feverish, coming down with something. I was at my office in one of the many anonymous buildings that lurk in the dark corners of the city. I was at my desk, minding my own business, and that's when she walked in.

She was a sultry brunette with smoldering brown eyes and stunning good looks. She had long jet-black hair and lashes to match. With blue eyeshadow and those pouting pastel pink lips, I couldn't help but wonder what she looked like without her clothes. I could only imagine and I did just that.

As I mentally undressed her, she sauntered in, swaying from side to side like ninety-five pounds of warm smoke. She moved with the graceful easy swing of a satisfied leopard. For a small leopard, she had pretty good spots, too.

That's when I noticed she had legs and I was willing to bet they were the kind of legs that went all the way, down to her feet. She was a 1930 panther model with just the right amount of curves in all the right places. She looked good standing there in a blue satin dress. It reminded me of a well-tailored fig leaf. It was one of those tight-fitting, slinky, numbers that make a bathing suit look like a toga.

She was the kind of girl who you knew the first time you met her, that you were seeing her too often. To make matters worse, she looked at me like I was made entirely of chocolate, and I liked it.

This dame was trouble and I knew it. I have a bad habit of sinking myself hip deep into trouble, and she knew it. There was an instant attraction between us. I wanted her. She wanted me to want her, and we both knew it.

I put that thought aside for a moment and I moved on. Because that's my job. That's what I do. That's who I am.

As she introduced herself, I noticed a dimple in her cheek, which melted in her mouth when she opened it to speak. I was so busy lusting after her that I hadn't heard a single word she'd said. So, I asked her to sit down and tell me more over a bottle of scotch.

I handed her a glass. She took a sip. Then set it on my desk. It was my best whiskey and far as I was concerned, she could have all she wanted.

I didn't see a ring on her finger. So, I told her that she was breathtakingly beautiful. She told me she already had a man. I told her she looked like the kind of girl who could use two.

I think that insulted her. She probably wanted to slap my face, and I wouldn't have blamed her if she had, but she didn't. So I moved on, because that's my job. That's what I do. That's who I am.

I asked her what it was she thought I could do for her. To which she replied.

"Word on the street is you're the best dick in town."

I couldn't help but chuckle. She immediately realized that my mind was in the gutter and turned about three shades of red. When she recovered from the embarrassment, she quickly corrected her statement.

"I mean private detective."

Her voice was warm, soft, and velvety smooth. It reminded me of a furnace full of warm marshmallows.

"I know what you meant, but you're right, you know, on both accounts."

This time, she couldn't help but chuckle. Obviously, she was warming up to my irresistible charm and sparkling personality. Feeling the ice between us had been sufficiently broken, I decided to move on. Because that's my job. That's what I do. That's who I am.

"I like your office, Jack."

"Thanks."

"The view is wonderful."

"It certainly is from where I'm sitting." 

I said with a mischievous grin. 

"What's on your mind, doll?"

"I'd like to hire you. I want you to protect me."

"I bet a girl like you needs a lot of protection, but it might be easier if you'd simply wear a wedding band."

She smiled ever so slightly. I sat on the edge of my desk, grinning like a cat that just swallowed the canary. Then, feigning a disappointed sincerity and doing it poorly, she continued.

"Mr. Dylan, put your eyes back in your head and please, listen to me. My life is in danger."

The words were stern, but her manner and tone were playful. Such is the flirtatious dance that leads to courtship, or better still, to a good old-fashioned roll in the hay. I preferred the latter, but with her, I was willing to play a slightly longer game. In either case, the end result would be the same.

"I'm terribly sorry. Please, go on with the story."

"In the past few days, there have been two attempts on my life."

"By whom?"

"I don't know."

"Swell. Do you know why anyone would want to kill you?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, now we're really getting someplace."

"Do you think this is a joke, Mr. Dylan? Perhaps you don't value my life, but..."

This time her indignation was real. The words matched her expression and tone. She stopped flirting altogether and seemed genuinely concerned. So I decided to clean up my act.

"Alright, sweetheart, don't get upset. Why don't you tell me, exactly, what happened?"

"The first time, some man followed me home and tried to break into my apartment, but I managed to scare him off."

"I'll bet men follow you everywhere and all the time. Maybe he was just lonesome. What about the other time?"

"Whether it was the same person, I don't know, but last night, a man jumped out of a car and tried to make me go with him. I fought him off and ran."

"Sounds more like an abduction than attempted homicide. Did you talk to the police?"

"I did. They offered to send a patrolman to watch my apartment."

"Hmm, I'll bet he has to stand in line. So, they didn't give you an escort?"

"No, they seemed to think I was just after publicity or attention. They told me it was safe to go out during the day, but to stay in my apartment for the next few nights. That's simply not an option, because I work nights.

At any rate, when I returned home from the police department that night, someone had broken into my apartment."

"Was anything missing?"

"Not as far as I can tell. At least, nothing valuable was taken, but they made an awful mess of the place. Please help me, Mr. Dylan. I'm certain this affair is not yet finished."

"Very well, Miss..."

"Riley, Crystal Riley."

"And it is Miss?"

"Yes, Mr. Dylan. It is Miss."

"Good, very good. Well, my fee is thirty-five dollars a day plus expenses."

"Thirty-five a day?"

"Yes."

"I'm afraid that I can't afford such a fee, Mr. Dylan."

"Well, neither can I. However, if I starve, then I do it with dignity. I'm sorry, Miss Riley. The rule might bend a little, but it won't break."

Her expression turned sad and sorrowful. There was a look of distress in her eyes, like a little girl who'd just found out that her kitten had died. It was a pitiful sight. I was certain that she was about to cry. Suddenly, I felt a dull ache somewhere in the general vicinity of where my heart would be, if I had one.

"In that case, I guess I'll just have to find another detective agency, Mister Dylan."

"There's plenty of 'em in this city..."

The phone rang and I reflexively picked it up. Crystal Riley stood up to leave, but I motioned for her to stay a moment, and she did.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Is this Dylan?"

"He's hiding his head in the desk at the moment, but I'll get him for you. Come on out, you heel."

"Look, smart guy, put Dylan on the line and fast."

"This is Dylan. Just wait 'til I get this bad taste out of my mouth."

With one large gulp, I swallowed what remained in the glass of scotch that I'd poured for Miss Riley.

"Is there a dame in your office, named Crystal Riley?"

Something in his manner and the way he spoke rubbed me the wrong way. I looked into the dark eyes of that beautiful dame, who was standing patiently in my office, and I did the smart thing. I lied!

"There was, but she left just before you called."

"In that case, let me give you a little tip. If she's hired you, tell her you don't want the job. Otherwise, you're gonna start feeling overworked and right quick."

"Oh, I am, huh?"

"Wise up, Dylan. Take my advice or else your nearest relative is gonna have to come down to the morgue and identify the body."

"Say, fella, why don't you stop in here some time? I'd like to help you spit out all your teeth."

"Listen, Shamus. You're way out of your class on this one."

"That's because I'm always out of my class when I have to deal with two-bit slugs like you. Furthermore, I am working for Miss Riley and if you don't like it, you know where to find me!"

I slammed the receiver back into its cradle. When somebody tries to push me around, it's like giving a slingshot to a kid in a greenhouse. You can tell him all night long not to do it, but by morning, he's broken every window in the place. What's more, I simply don't like taking orders from anyone, especially not from cheap thugs who terrorize beautiful young girls.

"As I was saying, Miss Riley, there are plenty of detective agencies in this city, but none of them are as good as this one, and a girl like you deserves nothing less than the best."

"So what do you propose?"

"Oh, you'll get no proposal from me. I'm certainly not the marrying kind, but here's what I can do. I'll take the job and we can work out the financials later. We'll set up a payment plan or something. How's that sound?"

"A payment plan?" She asked dubiously, with one eyebrow arched questioningly.

"Or something," I responded with my best, I dare you to do something that you'll regret in the morning, kind of a smile.

"Okay, Jack. So, what comes next?"

"I'll give you three guesses."

"Somehow, I don't think that I'll need all three."

"Come here, angel."

I flashed a charming grin as I moved close to her and took her in my arms. She didn't pull away, but she did look down briefly and with childlike embarrassment. Almost as if she was ashamed at her lack of resistance and that was completely adorable. When she looked back up at me with a playfully charming smile, I asked.

"You ever hear of the early bird?"

She giggled like a little girl.

"Do I make a nice worm?"

Her voice almost purred those words. As her warm, soft, and completely feminine body brushed against me. Those dark eyes sparked with devilishly devious desire. I couldn't help but laugh just a little.

"Well, you certainly wriggle like one."

⚜️⚜️⚜️

Then came a cursory knock at the door and in strutted a cat of a different color. She was a dynamite little blonde with big blue eyes that sparkled like two blazing sapphires. She was wearing a slinky, little, black satin sheath of a dress that revealed plenty, but left just enough to the imagination to keep a man staring salaciously.

"Hi ya, Dixon."

"Hey, Jack. I got your..."

Her voice trailed off as she finally looked up and saw me with that hot little number still locked in my arms. An expression of shocked embarrassment played across Dixon's face and briefly, very briefly, something flashed in her eyes. If I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn it was a slight twinge of jealousy.

"Well, well, am I interrupting anything, Jack?"

"Not at all, we were just discussing a payment plan."

"Oh, I just bet you were."

She rolled her eyes at me, then smiled and winked at our beautiful new client.

"Crystal Riley, allow me to introduce Miss Casey Dixon. She's my partner, business partner that is."

"Not just his partner, but I'm also the secretary, the cleaning lady, and..."

"Alright, Dixon. That's enough about you."

"As I was saying, I'm also the carry-out lady. Here's your dinner, Jack. I thought you might want it before it gets cold."

Dixon set the package on my desk. Then she turned to face Crystal Riley. I felt a gentle push and realized that I still hadn't let go of her. I managed to pry my arms away from the girl and she quickly turned her attention to Miss Dixon.

"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dixon, but I really must be going."

Another smile crept across Dixon's face.

"You're leaving so soon?"

Crystal flashed a devious grin and replied.

"My sentiments exactly, but I really do have to go or I'll be late for work."

Turning to me, she placed her hands on my shoulders, kissed my cheek, and whispered.

"You can get me tonight at the Roaring Twenties Nightclub."

I gave her one last squeeze and whispered back. "Count on it, sweetheart!"

With that, Miss Crystal Riley exited my little office and I was left there to deal with that dynamite blonde. Dixon looked at me and hung her head. Shaking it in disapproval, she spoke.

"You're slipping, Jack."

"Oh? What makes you think that?"

"No rain check?"

"Shows what you know, Dixon. As a matter of fact, I'm meeting her later tonight at the Roaring Twenties. Then we're going to her apartment and that's where we're going to stay 'til the sun comes up. Not that it's any of your business."

"So, who is she anyway?"

"She's a new client."

"Then it is my business, Jack. In case you've forgotten, I own forty percent of this operation and I don't approve of your romantic escapades with the clientele. It's bad for business."

"My escapades, as you call them, are no concern of yours, Dixon. My involvement with the clientele has never lost us any business. Has it?"

"Not that I know of anyway, but you're missing the point! It's unprofessional and sooner or later it'll come back to bite you in the rump."

"Nonsense. I'm even willing to bet that my reputation, for being sympathetic to our clients' needs, is responsible for the majority of our business."

"Oh, brother!" She exclaimed and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"You really are some piece of work, Jack."

"Listen, doll face. Do we really need to have this discussion again?"

"No, I suppose not. Besides, I've already had my say."

I put my arms around her and gave her a little squeeze. I kissed her cheek and gave her cute little bottom a few soft pats.

"Good. Cause there's only room for one girl in my life. So, there's no need for you to get jealous."

"Oh, you dirty..."

She gave me a hard shove and I stumbled back, collapsing into the soft chair behind my desk. Like I said, she was a dynamite little blonde. She was beautiful in her anger and that's the way I liked her best. She was simply adorable.

I laughed hard as she scowled at me. Then she cracked a smile. Truth be told, we weren't really fighting. It was more like foreplay.

Dixon and I had a strange relationship. We were more than friends but less than lovers. Don't get me wrong, we were friends, very good friends, but sometimes we acted like enemies.

There had always been an attraction between us and that made for some great sexual tension. We were both single and there was nothing to prevent us from going all the way, but we never had. We never really dated each other, but we did spend a lot of time together. We did those things that couples might do. We'd have dinner sometimes, go to the theater, and even hit the town for drinks and dancing.

It was a sort of game we played. I wanted her and she wanted me. I made it obvious that I wanted to get her between the sheets and she pretended that she didn't feel the same.

She wanted me to believe that her primary interest was our business relationship, namely the detective agency. She wanted me to believe that we were nothing more than good friends. She wanted me to believe that she loved me like a brother, but I knew the truth.

Playing this little game was fun. In fact, it was too much fun to give up. If we climbed into bed with each other, sooner or later, it would put an end to that fun and to the game. So, we both just kept playing.

Since we were officially "just good friends and business partners", we both dated other people, but never for very long. Both of us pretended not to be jealous when the other was getting a little action.

No, not jealous, that's the wrong word. What I meant to say was envious. Both of us pretended not to be envious when the other was getting a little action and I'm not ashamed to admit that I did, or do, envy every single fella who's been lucky enough to take that ride.

I reached out, grabbed her tightly by the hips, spun her around, and pulled her into my lap. She giggled like a schoolgirl and wiggled her little bottom against me. She lay back to rest her head on my shoulder. I tilted my head forward and put my cheek against hers. It was for moments like this that we played our little game.

"So, what exactly does our new client, Miss Crystal Riley, want from you anyway?"

"She's hired me to protect her."

"And just who's going to protect her from you?"

"Oh, very funny. You're a pretty fresh kid. You know that? Maybe I ought to let you have one."

Placing my hand under her chin, I gently turned her face toward mine and laid one on those pretty, little, pink lips. It was a long, slow, passionate kiss. I felt her body go limp and melt against mine.

A soft moan whimpered from somewhere low in her throat. She pulled away, trying to catch her breath. Her voice was small and weak, little more than a whisper.

"No. Please, don't."

Those words were almost a sigh, but her lips lingered just a little too long and just a little too close to mine for that protest to be convincing. She was panting heavily and I could see her chest rise and fall with each breath. In fact, from that angle, I could see plenty.

"Why not? A girl like you needs to be kissed, and often. and by someone who knows how."

"You stole that line from 'Gone with the Wind'. I saw the movie."

"I read the book, but that's neither here nor there and the simple fact that I stole the line doesn't make it any less true."

"Frankly, my dear Jack, I don't give a damn."

"Now who's pilfering dialogue?"

This was the way she liked to play it and the way things had to be. If I truly wanted her, I'd have to take her and I knew it. I'd have to take her firmly and forcefully, but not roughly, and not exactly against her will.

I knew the right time, the right place, and under the right circumstance, she'd let me have my way with her. If that's how she wanted it, then that's how she'd get it, but not tonight.

Like I said, Dixon and I had a strange relationship. But it worked for us and, if you thought about it, it made perfect sense. She was a tough cookie, smart and independent. So was I and that could be a recipe for disaster.

She'd never been married. She was too young and too smart for that. She used her playthings for whatever they were good for, then tossed 'em out like yesterday's paper. A romantic dalliance with her was a fun and wild ride, but you'd better enjoy it while you can, because it won't last long.

The same could be said for me, except that I had been married once, but that was a long time ago. I was young and stupid in love. Only problem was, I fell in love with the wrong woman and I had to learn my lesson the hard way. Marriage was one mistake I'd never make again.

Sure, relationships always start out great. Everything is fun and exciting in the beginning, but as time goes on, things change. People change and it never lasts.

In the end, the price you pay is never worth what you receive. The sacrifices made usually only benefit one person and, typically, it's not you. One person is always giving. The other is always taking.

I got tired of giving her all my love, all my attention, all my money, and I got tired of taking all her crap. By the time our divorce came around, we both wanted out. I walked away and never looked back.

I've learned, at some point in your life, every person you know will either lie to you, betray you, or leave you. Simply because there's not a solitary person in the entire world who'll ever love you as much as you love yourself. No one will ever care more about you and your happiness or welfare than you do. It's some kind of sick cosmic joke.

It seems that, somehow, Dixon has always known this, but it's something I had to learn along the way. So now, it's all just fun and games. Occasionally, we find a playmate, make a few play dates, and have our fun. But eventually, it's time to move on and find a new playmate.

The way we see things, it's all well and good, so long as you let your potential playmate know the score from the get-go. Be up front and honest with them. Then, when they begin to get too serious or clingy, you have a justifiable reason for dumping them and they can't say that you didn't warn them.

Life is tough and spending your life with another person is even tougher. Maybe we're weak or maybe we're just cowards, but it works for us, and that's just the way it is.

"Hey, Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you have planned for the rest of the evening?"

"Well, since I'm going to be up all night, I figured we could close the shop early tonight."

"How early?"

"Soon as I get off this chair and lock the front door."

"Then what?"

"I'm going upstairs to my apartment, curl up in bed, and take a nap."

"All alone?"

"Unless you wanna cuddle up with me."

"Mmm, I'd love to, Jack. I was beginning to think you'd never ask."

"But only under one condition."

"What's that, pray tell?"

"No kissy face and no conversation, 'cause I really do need to get some sleep."

"You're unbelievable, Jack. We both know damn well that you're the one who always wants to fool around. Every time I just want to cuddle up and go to sleep, you always want more."

"So, we're agreed then?"

"Agreed."

⚜️⚜️⚜️

I awoke at 10:00 pm, still cuddled up close to the warm and nude body of that little blonde bombshell, Casey Dixon. I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. There hadn't been any hanky-panky.

Surprisingly, we both kept our word. I was content just to sleep next to her and she kept her mouth shut. We cuddled and slept, nothing more.

I propped myself on one elbow, leaned over, and kissed her affectionately on that soft warm cheek. She gave a drowsy little purr. I nuzzled my nose into her neck and kissed her there.

She rubbed her eyes, groaned, and asked, "What time is it?"

"Time for me to get up, get dressed, and get to work, but first I want a shower."

"A shower sounds good. Care if I join you?"

"The more, the merrier."

She pulled the covers off both of us and climbed out of bed. She stood there, looking down at me and smiling. Her nude little form was painted silver in the soft and pale moonlight. Her iridescent skin shimmered and almost seemed to glow.

Her eyes wandered from mine and moved down. Her smile widened as she studied every inch. Those hungry eyes devoured me whole. Suddenly, I felt a little self-conscious and vulnerable, lying there, completely exposed to her gaze.

"Well, at least you're awake from the waist down."

"Oh, that. Don't take it personally, Dixon. That tends to happen when I sleep."

She held out a delicate little hand. I placed mine in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. She tugged on my arm.

"Come on, get up. If you're a good little boy and ask please, maybe I'll give you a hand with that."

"You're such a liar!"

She giggled like a little girl.

"I am not a liar. I said maybe."

"You're just a little tease."

"And you love every minute of it, Jack!"

"So do you, my dear."

I gripped her hand tightly and gave one firm tug. She tumbled to the bed and into my waiting arms. She landed lightly on top of me and laughed as my arms locked around her.

I held her tight, rolled us both over and pinned her flat on her back. I grasped her wrists, pulled her arms above her head and held them there. She looked up at me expectantly. I kissed her softly, slowly, and deeply.

She tasted good and I wanted more. Her naked body squirmed beneath mine. Her hips pressed hard against me. I kissed her neck and she tilted her head to the side to give me better access.

In the animal kingdom, exposing one's throat is a sign of submission and surrender. People tend to forget that we, too, are animals. Mankind is not so different from, no better than, and usually far worse than other animals.

At that moment, I felt very much like an animal, lustful and hungry. Slowly, I trailed kisses down her lithe body. I kissed her neck, along her collar bone, down her chest, between those two beautiful little breasts, along the edge of her ribs, down her flat stomach, past her belly button, still further down, and down a little more.

Instantly, I sprang from the bed and ran to the doorway of the adjoining bathroom. I stopped, turned to face Dixon, and smiled gleefully. I called out to her.

"Two can play at the teasing game! How do you like to be..."

"You son of a..."

A heavy pillow flew through the air, smashed against the wall, and fell to the floor with a muffled thud.

I laughed wildly as I closed and locked the bathroom door. Like I said, she wasn't going to get any tonight, at least not from me. It was all part of our little game.

Fifteen minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom freshly groomed, shaven, and cologned. I still needed to dress and had left my towel in the clothes hamper, where it belonged. I crossed the room to stand beside the bed.

Dixon looked up at me with a dreamy and contented sort of look. She was back under the bed covers and gave a purring little sigh as she smiled at me. I grinned back at her.

"You're not still miffed at me for getting you all worked up and leaving you hanging?"

"Nope, I took care of that myself," she said smugly.

"Well, that makes two of us, kitten."

"Oh, that's hot. Sorry, I missed it. I'd have liked to see that."

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction, but I'll admit that I was about to say the same thing to you."

She giggled in that childlike manner, which was entirely hers. She did it, because she knew that I liked it. She did it to tease me. She did it to turn me on and it did.

I turned and strolled over to the closet. I found the suit I was looking for and started to get dressed. Dixon sat up in my bed, holding the sheet across her chest.

"Would you give me the satisfaction of admitting that I was the reason you were hot and bothered? So much in fact, that you had to take matters into your own hands." She asked.

"Yes, I admit it. You turn me on. You get me hot and bothered, Dixon."

"And?"

"And when I was in the shower, I had to do something about it."

"What did you think about while you did? What fantasy played through your mind?"

"I was thinking about you, Dixon. I was remembering what it's like to kiss you, to hold you, and to touch you. I recalled what it's like to feel your warm, soft, feminine body pressed tightly against me.

I remembered the taste of your pale pink lips, the scent of your silky-smooth skin. and the lingering incense of your perfume. I imagined that you were lying here in my bed, pleasuring yourself while I was pleasuring myself in the shower. I fantasized about what it would be like to fuck you.

I hoped that you were thinking of me and what I was doing. I hoped that we were both doing the same thing at the same time and thinking about each other."

"Oh, that's so sweet, Jack."

She climbed out of bed, ran over to me and grabbed my tie. She put it around my neck and started to tie it for me. Standing there in all her naked glory and looking into my eyes, she spoke.

"But you're a big sap! I hate to burst your bubble, but I wasn't thinking of you."

'That figures! But it doesn't really matter, because in my mind, you were and that seemed to do the trick. It was my fantasy and it played out just the way I wanted."

"You're a very disturbed man, Jack Dylan. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. I do."

"You should get some professional help."

"You mean like a prostitute?"

"Oh, forget it. You're sicker than I thought and probably beyond help."

"Probably."

I grabbed my shoulder holster and slung it across my back. I put on my jacket and Dixon dropped that old fedora on my head. She tapped the brim, pushing it back. It sat much too far back on my head, sort of like a hillbilly wears a straw hat.

I put my arms around her slender little body, bent forward, gave her a quick kiss, and patted her bottom. I let go of her, stood straight, and set my hat at a rakish angle. Dixon nodded in approval.

"I don't know if I'll be here when you get back." She mentioned casually.

"That's okay. I don't know when I'll be back. Just make sure to lock up when you leave."

"I always do. And remember, Jack, if you can't be good, then be careful."

"Hey, that's my line! You stole that from me."

"That and your dignity. Have a good night at work, darling."

"Yes, dear."

She quickly kissed my cheek and patted my butt. She shoved me out the door and closed it. I shuffled downstairs, made a quick check of the office, and left through the front door.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

The night air was considerably cooler than it had been earlier. There was plenty of time to reach the nightclub where I was to meet the stunning Miss Crystal Riley. So, I decided to hoof it.

The Roaring Twenties Nightclub was a relatively new place in town. It had just opened about a month ago and to much acclaim. It was a rather high-class gin joint. It was the sort of place that didn't let you in without a jacket and tie.

It was a throwback to the days of vaudeville, prohibition, speakeasies, and gangsters. That was the gimmick and the theme of the place. I heard that most of the staff were theater types. You know, aspiring young actors and actresses who dressed in costumes of the period and played their parts. I also heard it was common for the customers to dress the part as well. It was like one big interactive play where everyone had a part.

Not a bad business idea, except that not much had changed since those days. After all, the Volstead Act had been repealed December 5, 1933. That was less than 15 years ago, but none of that seemed to matter. The Roaring Twenties was the hottest club in town.

I shuffled along the streets until I found myself standing in front of the place. Hanging on the wall out front, I noticed a large playbill. It featured a picture of my client and proclaimed, "The Roaring Twenties proudly presents the sensational musical stylings of Crystal Blue". I sauntered in, found a spot at the bar, sat down, and ordered a drink.

"What'll it be, Mack?"

"Just coffee for me, barkeep."

That's when I felt a hand on my shoulder. So I turned around and there she was. She smiled, put her arms around me, and gave me a hug. When that girl put her arms around you, it was a real squeeze.

Suddenly, I noticed that nearly every pair of male eyes in the joint had turned green with envy. Apparently, I wasn't the only fella who was smitten with her, but at that particular moment, I had her full attention and that's all that mattered. Obviously, she was the belle of the ball and I had her all to myself.

I took advantage of it, kissing her on the cheek. I did it partly to antagonize my secret audience, but mostly to stake my claim. It was a not-so-subtle sign to every man in the place that I already had my foot in the door and I fully intended to promenade straight into her bedroom.

When she finally managed to pry herself off me, I noted that she was still wearing the same slinky, blue satin, sheath of a dress. I said it before and I'll say it again. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Hello, Jack."

"Hey there, beautiful."

"I'm glad you're here, and I wanted to thank you, but I've got to do one more number. Soon as it's finished, we can go."

"That's up to you, sweetheart. You have me all night."

She smiled, put her hand on my shoulder, and kissed my cheek. I swear that I could almost hear a collective groan from the peanut gallery. She turned and headed for the stage. She didn't so much walk as prowl through the crowd with a long, slow, feline motion.

The houselights dimmed as she took the stage and whispered something to the piano player. She took center stage and the spotlight flared as she adjusted the microphone stand.

The piano player started the intro. It was a slow, sad, bluesy number. The drums began to throb with a rhythmic pulse like a heartbeat. Suddenly, a uniform silence fell upon the crowd and chatter from the audience hushed to a few soft whispers. Even the tinkle and clinking chimes of glassware faded away.

A very strange feeling permeated the atmosphere. The woman I knew as Crystal Riley, but who went by the stage name of Crystal Blue, began her velvety smooth crooning. Her voice was melodic, but mellow and breathy. It was nothing short of seductive.

Suddenly, everything seemed to take on a hazy dreamlike quality. Nothing seemed quite real. It was like some kind of fantasy. The woman on the stage oozed with sensual sexuality. She was a stranger to me. This wasn't the girl I'd met in my office and it wasn't the girl I had been speaking with a minute earlier.

The woman who now stood on the stage wasn't really a woman at all. She was an opium induced vision, some sort of drug-induced hallucination. She was an angel, or a goddess, and I was awe-struck. Perhaps I'd gone mad. I'd certainly lost touch with any semblance of reality and maybe she was a symptom of my delirium.

As if in a trance, I stood and floated toward the stage. An irresistible magnetic force pulled me closer. Then she looked at me. When her eyes met mine, I withered and felt very small. I wanted to run away and hide, to go somewhere, anywhere that she couldn't see me.

That must have been how Adam felt, hiding from the almighty in the Garden of Eden. To feel so small and ashamed, simply because you stand in the presence of unfathomable majesty, beauty and power, is terrifying. I felt nauseated and dizzy. My body trembled and my knees nearly buckled.

Then she smiled at me and everything changed. I felt warm and safe. Gravity released its hold and it was easy to stand. As she smiled at me, her eyes sparkled like diamonds. I felt ten feet tall and bulletproof. She was a goddess. She could fill me with life or crush me into oblivion with nothing more than a glance and a smile.

Her voice fell silent. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. The music and lights vanished into silence and darkness.

As light slowly returned to the room, so did reality. It was like waking from a fever dream, or a nightmare, maybe a little of both. This was all too much for me. I turned, drifted back to the bar, and collapsed into my seat.

"Give me a scotch. Wait, better make it a double."

"Sure thing, Mack."

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Shaking one loose, I placed it between my lips and pulled it from the pack. That's when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

I turned to see a thick little man in a tuxedo standing beside me. He was holding a lighter in his hand and offered it to me. I produced my own, holding it up for him to see.

As the lid flicked open, it made a distinctive click. The man gave half a shrug with one shoulder and stuck his hands deep into his pockets. I like it when a fella puts his hands in his pockets, because that makes it difficult for him to take a swing at me and nobody packs heat in the front pockets of his trousers.

I fired up that lung rocket and sucked hard. I took a long deep drag. There's nothing I like better than a good cigarette and this one was exceptional.

"Jack Dylan, I presume?"

"That depends on who's asking."

The barkeep returned with my drink and set it on the bar in front of me.

"Here you go, Mack. That'll be..."

The little fellow in the tuxedo interrupted the bartender mid-sentence.

"It's on the house, Logan. Tonight, Mr. Dylan is our special guest."

"Whatever you say, boss."

I turned to face the pudgy little fellow.

"Look here, mister. I'm not in the habit of allowing strangers buy me a drink, unless they're a whole lot prettier than you and wearing a skirt."

"Relax, Mr. Dylan. My name is Rory Malone and I'm the proprietor of this club. Crystal sent me out here to let you know that she's in her dressing room, backstage. She'll probably be there for a while. You can either wait here for her or I'll take you back there."

"Oh, why didn't you say so? In that case, thank you for the hospitality, and please, excuse my poor manners. Too often in my line of work, it pays to be, shall we say, less than polite."

"I quite understand, Mr. Dylan. Say, if you could spare a few moments, I'd like to have a word with you."

I snatched the drink, swallowed fast and hard, until the glass was empty. The scotch was dry and burned all the way down. I turned my attention to Malone.

"What's on your mind?"

"It concerns Crystal's situation and I'd prefer to discuss it in the privacy of my office. It's on the way to the dressing rooms. Is that agreeable to you?"

"Certainly, Mr. Malone. Lead the way."

⚜️⚜️⚜️

I was seated in a large and comfortable chair in Malone's little office. He poured a brandy from his private stock and handed it to me. I was already puffing away on another cancer stick. Malone was a Lucky Strike man and was enjoying his "toasted to taste better" tobacco.

"So, what exactly did you want to say, Mr. Malone?"

"Crystal came to me today and asked me for an advance on her salary. When I asked why she needed the money, she mentioned that she'd been having some trouble and hired you to deal with matters. She didn't exactly say what the problem was. Regardless, I was quite willing to give her an advance."

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Malone."

"It's nothing at all, a small matter really. Truthfully, I wanted to speak with you for two reasons. First, I'd like you to send me the bill for your services. I am quite willing to cover your fees and expenses."

"That's very generous of you, Mr. Malone. Although, it makes me suspicious of your motives."

"There's no need to be suspicious, but I must confess that I'm certainly glad you are. It gives me confidence, Mr. Dylan. I'm now satisfied that she's hired the right man, the kind of man who can solve whatever problem she may have."

"So, this was all just a test?"

"Not only a test, Mr. Dylan."

"Please, call me Jack."

"Very well, Jack. As I was saying, it was a test, but I was quite sincere. I wish to pick up the tab."

"As I said, that's very generous, but I still don't trust your motives. I'm familiar with certain business practices involving men who are generous to beautiful young women. Seemingly, it starts out innocent enough.

A business owner gives a job to a naive young girl and advances her money for nice clothes, cosmetics, and maybe even gives her a place to stay. He tells her that she can pay it back a little at a time and out of each paycheck. It's a racket. She never does get caught up, because life is unpredictable. There's always some unexpected problem or expense and she needs to get another advance.

That's how the vicious cycle begins. Before she knows it, she's trapped and the guy holding the marker calls the shots. Sometimes his motives are not all that sinister. He simply ends up with a sort of indentured servant. Other times, the guy wants a whole lot more. In either case, it's wrong, Mr. Malone.

I'm warning you, I'll not stand by and let you, or anyone else, take unfair advantage of Miss Crystal Riley!"

"Bravo! Well done, Jack. Well done! If I had any lingering doubts or reservations, they're all gone now. I'm absolutely certain of your ability and character.

You see, I'm quite fond of Miss Riley. Everyone at the club is and we're all rather protective of her, but none so much as I. She's like a daughter to me, Jack.

She's not exactly naive, but she is rather innocent. She's a small-town girl who recently moved to the big city. She's one of those 'fresh off the bus' types, not exactly the farmer's daughter, but she's a good kid with a smart head on her shoulders and her feet planted firmly on the ground. She's a hard worker and quite talented.

I gave her a job here as a waitress, but she was so charming and well-liked, by both the staff and customers alike, that I promoted her to hostess. Then I heard her sing and that cinched it. I offered her a position in the spotlight. She accepted and, the very first night, we all knew she had something special. She simply shines when she's on that stage.

She's important to my business and to me personally. That, Jack, is why I wanted to speak with you and why I want to foot the bill."

"I see, Mr. Malone. I apologize for being suspicious, but that's my job. That's what I do. That's who I am.

Rest assured, Mr. Malone, I'll take very good care of our Miss Riley. She's in very capable hands. As for the bill, there's no need to concern yourself. I'm doing this one pro bono."

"Well now, that makes me suspicious of your motives, Jack."

"You're a good man, Mr. Malone. So I'll lay my cards on the table. Crystal Riley is an exceptionally beautiful girl. Pretty girls are a dime a dozen, but it's extremely rare to meet someone truly beautiful, and I don't mean the way she looks in a dress.

There's a certain childlike innocence about her that's endearing. I'm particularly fond of your starlet and I understand you're feeling protective of her. I feel the same way.

If you're concerned about my intentions, I can honestly say, despite what I've just told you, that I have no romantic inclinations toward her whatsoever."

That much was true. My intentions were definitely not romantic. They were lustful.

"Furthermore, the only intentions I have toward Miss Riley are strictly professional."

That statement wasn't true. It was a blatant lie and I didn't feel guilty about telling it. The beautiful Miss Crystal Riley wasn't nearly as innocent as Malone would have liked to believe, but who was I to burst his bubble?

Whether he liked it or not, Crystal was an adult and could do as she pleased. Contrary to his feelings, he was not her father. He was her employer and I sure as hell didn't need to seek his approval.

"Far as waiving my fee is concerned, I wasn't always a private investigator. I come from a fairly affluent background, Mr. Malone. Money is not much of a concern to me."

Surprisingly, this was all true. My family wasn't in the same league as the Rockefellers, but they did alright. I had a trust fund and a comfortable nest egg set aside. So if Malone was bold enough to check up on it, my story would check out, but I doubted the old buzzard had the stones to call me on it.

"If you're financially independent, then why work as a detective?"

"When a man doesn't work, he gets himself into too much trouble. He squanders both his life and his fortune. Most often, being a detective is uneventful. I spend most of my time waiting and watching for one reason or another.

Occasionally, there are some thrills and excitement, but usually, I'm just gathering proof of spousal infidelity. It's an easy job and it keeps me occupied."

"I see, Mr. Dylan."

I abruptly concluded the conversation with Rory Malone. I'd grown weary of this pudgy man's nonsense and I was eager to get back to the matter for which I'd been hired. I was eager to get back to Crystal Riley, and within minutes, I was at her side. We decided it was best to leave through the service entrance at the back.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

It was closing time and a crowd of customers were shuffling out the main entrance. Some would gather nearby and linger awhile, engaged in conversation. It's a common occurrence outside most bars and nightclubs around closing time.

The plan was for her to go on ahead and I would inconspicuously follow behind. That way if anything happened, I could get a good look at the culprit and the license number of the car, but I'd still be close enough to prevent any serious harm. I would have preferred to walk beside her, even arm in arm, but I figured that might discourage any would-be attackers, and what good would that do? Besides, the view from behind was spectacular.

Leaving from the service entrance wasn't much help. Small groups of people crowded the little alleyway. In fact, all nearby streets were crowded with people leaving the club, but those curves stood out like a covered wagon on Madison Avenue.

She had just started crossing the street when a big black sedan pulled up. A guy climbed out and rushed toward her. I burst forward fast as my legs could carry me and cut diagonally across the street with one eye on that black sedan.

The assailant grabbed Crystal by the arm and when she stopped struggling, I knew that he'd flashed her his hand cannon. I was in a dead run and gonna make like a big hero, but his .38 Special changed my mind. A single shot rang out.

He missed with that first one, but he shoved the girl away and fired again. The hot lead whizzed by my head and I hit the ground right next to the girl. He leaped for the car, but I just lay there and watched him drive off.

"Did you get the license number, Jack?"

"No, it was covered with mud."

"And the man?"

"I got a good look, but I didn't recognize him."

She looked at me and laughed.

"We must look pretty silly just sitting here."

Climbing to my feet, I offered her my hand.

"Here, let me give you a hand up."

"Thanks."

"Come on, let's get out of here. We're beginning to collect a crowd."

"Where are we going?"

"I know a copper who doesn't like assault, especially when the victim is a beautiful young girl. He says it's never necessary and believe me, darlin', he's got a cure for it."

⚜️⚜️⚜️

I hailed a cab and ten minutes later, Crystal Riley and I were strolling into the precinct. Sergeant Lyman looked up and started to say something, but when he saw who I was with, he gave a low whistling catcall.

"How about an introduction to your charming friend, Dylan?"

"Crystal Riley, this is Sergeant Lyman. He's homicide's answer to Don Juan."

"How do you do, Miss Riley? Don't pay any attention to Dylan. He was born with a nasty disposition."

"Alright, that's enough out of you, Lyman. Is Wallace in?"

"Yeah, he's in his office. Go on in and it was certainly nice meeting you, Miss Riley."

I hurried along with my hot little client into the office of Lieutenant Wallace. He was a detective with the homicide department. He and I were old acquaintances. We didn't always see eye to eye, but he was alright, for a cop.

"Hello, Wallace."

"Who's that with you?"

"This is Miss Riley."

"Is she dead?"

"Miss Riley, say something nice to the bitter old man."

"After that last remark? If he's a friend of yours, Jack, I'd hate to meet your enemies."

"Aww, I'm sorry, Miss Riley, but Jack has a talent for finding dead bodies. I'm just suspicious of everyone I see with him. Even if they walk into my office with him, they'd probably drop dead before saying hello. He'd do something like that just to aggravate me."

"I assure you, Detective Wallace, I'm very much alive."

"In that case, let me give you a friendly tip. If you want to stay that way, keep away from Jack Dylan."

"Gee, thanks, Wallace. You're a real pal, but I'm here on important business. Miss Riley needs protection."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. I'll bet she needs a lot of protection."

"Down, boy. She's hired me to take care of that."

"Oh, that's just great! That's like asking a wolf to protect a hen house. Tell me, Jack, just who's gonna protect her from you?"

"You know, I'm gettin' tired of hearing that question."

"Don't worry about Jack, Detective Wallace. I can handle him. In fact, I've got him right where I want him."

Wallace laughed hard.

"I'll just bet you do, Miss Riley. You know, I'm really starting to like you. You've got moxie."

I interjected.

"If the two of you are quite finished, we're here on business. Miss Riley is in line for murder, or at the very least, for kidnapping. She wants protection and you're gonna help give it to her."

"Ah ha, I knew it! That's not my department."

"This is homicide, isn't it?"

"Of course it is and you know very well that we don't go to work until someone is dead."

I looked at Crystal Riley.

"Well, honey, I guess you'll just have to run out and get yourself killed. It's the only way."

"Now you stop that, Dylan. Take her to another department. They'll give her all the protection she needs."

"We've already gone that route, Wallace. They stuck a fella outside her apartment and that hasn't done any good. Last night, someone broke into her apartment while the patrolman was stationed out front.

Tonight, I had to stop some goon from trying to muscle her into a car. He took a couple of shots at me in the process and you know how bullets give me that 'somebody's gonna get dead' feeling."

"So what exactly do you want from me, Jack?"

"Put one of your boys with her. So I can see about clearing this whole thing up. As much as I'd like to, I can't stay with her twenty-four hours a day and poke around at the same time."

"Very well, Jack, you win. What's your full name, Miss Riley? Where do you live and where do you work?"

"My name is Crystal Riley. I live at the Concordia Apartment Building, number 309, and I work at the Roaring Twenties Nightclub on 42nd Street."

"Hold on a minute, honey! I just thought of something. Wallace, didn't somebody gun down Tony Stiletto and a couple of his boys near there recently?"

"Yeah, that's right. It happened about three nights ago. You didn't happen to see that shooting. Did you, Miss Riley?"

"No, but I read about it in the newspaper."

"Well, so much for that theory, Jack."

"You just put a man on guard duty, Wallace. I'm going to see what I can dig up."

"Alright, but only because I owe you a favor, Dylan."

As I was on my way out, Wallace pushed the intercom button and Sergeant Lyman answered. I stopped dead in my tracks and listened.

"Lyman, this is Wallace. Get in here."

I was horrified. This just couldn't be happening. I turned back to Wallace.

"Not Lyman!"

"Yes, Lyman. He's not as stupid as he looks."

"Wanna bet?"

"He couldn't be and live."

"I know he's capable. That's not my concern. It's that he's got a certain reputation."

"Oh, that!

Wallace glanced over at Crystal Riley and gave her a once-over. The problem was, he did it twice. Then he turned back to me.

"You afraid he'll try to make time with your girl, Jack?"

Crystal looked at me and grinned. It was a crooked, sexy, little half-smile and her eyes sparkled mischievously. If she was trying to ruffle my fur, it worked.

"Something like that, but she's not my girl, Wallace, at least not yet."

"Don't worry, Jack. Lyman is a professional."

"That's what I'm afraid of!"

Wallace laughed hysterically. I turned around and was about to leave. That's when Crystal grabbed my arm.

"Jack, thank you. I'll make it up to you somehow."

"Don't think about it too hard, doll-face. I prefer an obligation to be fun."

"Oh, it will be."

⚜️⚜️⚜️

I left Wallace's office and went back to the Roaring Twenties Nightclub. The place was closed, but a few lights were on inside. So I knocked and Rory Malone quickly appeared at the door.

"Mr. Dylan, I'm glad you're here. I was just about to call the police."

"Why? What's happened, Mr. Malone?"

"There was an attempted burglary."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No, I was here alone and I'm fine."

"What's missing? Has anything been taken?"

"Nothing, far as I can tell. That's why I said attempted burglary, Mr. Dylan."

"Okay, tell me about it from the beginning."

"Shortly after you and Miss Riley had left, I closed up, locking the doors as I always do. The rest of the staff had all left and I was alone in my office, attending to the books. That's when I was alarmed by strange sounds from somewhere in the club.

I grabbed a pistol from my desk drawer and proceeded to have a look around. When I entered the ballroom, I spied two shadowy figures slinking furtively through the darkness, heading for the door. When they noticed me with the gun in my hand, they high-tailed it out of here in a flash."

"What do you suppose they were after?"

"I've no idea. Near as I can tell, they didn't disturb anything but the darkroom. They turned that upside down! But I can't imagine what they were seeking."

"A darkroom?"

"Yes. Follow me and I'll show you what I mean."

Malone turned and moved through the dimly lit ballroom. I followed him and wondered why anyone would possibly be interested in stealing photographic paraphernalia. It didn't make much sense.

"You see, Mr. Dylan, I employ several female photographers. It's their job to go around and offer to take photographs of the customers. It's a courtesy service of the house.

Many customers come here to celebrate special occasions, birthdays, anniversaries, and such. Many customers either don't think to bring a camera or simply don't own one. So for a small fee, the girls will take photographs which are then developed in the darkroom. The process doesn't take long. So the snapshots are available to the customer within minutes and they can take them home the very same night."

"Yes, I'm familiar with the practice, Mr. Malone. It's commonplace in many upscale nightclubs."

Stepping into the little darkroom, there wasn't much to see. It certainly had been ransacked and it was obvious the two intruders were looking for something. Most likely, they were after some incriminating photographic evidence, but evidence of what? I had my suspicions, but I couldn't be positive.

"Tell me, are the cameras supplied by the club or do they belong to the girls?"

"They're the personal possessions of the girls."

"So the girls don't leave the cameras here. Do they?"

"Not as a general rule, no. At the end of the night, the girls take their cameras home."

"What happens to all the negatives?"

"Generally, they're disposed of at the end of the night. They're simply thrown away. Occasionally, the girls will keep them to make prints for use in portfolios of their work."

That was all I needed to know. I decided to make a call. I asked to use the telephone and Malone accommodated my request.

"Hello, Wallace. I think I've got something."

"Yeah? I've got something too, a sour stomach and a headache."

"What's the matter?"

"Lyman got that Riley dame about halfway home. Then someone stepped out of an alley and cracked him on the skull. They split his head open and now he's down at the emergency room getting his head crocheted."

"What about the girl?"

"I don't know. Lyman went out like a light and didn't see a thing."

"Oh, that's just dandy. Listen, I've got to go. I'll call you back later."

I had one of those muscle-bound hunches and had to work fast or Crystal Riley was gonna get herself kicked around, maybe even end up in the city morgue. I wasn't about to let that happen. She was far too young and far too beautiful. Besides, she and I had unfinished business. I hadn't gotten so much as a proper kiss from her yet.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

I recalled her address and fifteen minutes later, I was standing in front of apartment 309. I tried the door and it was locked, but I quickly remedied that. Picking the lock in a matter of seconds, I entered Miss Riley's apartment.

The place had been turned upside down. It was a mess. Crystal had mentioned they'd trashed her place and apparently, she hadn't gotten around to cleaning it up yet. So I decided to have a look around.

A cursory examination turned up something interesting. A quick check of the bathroom revealed two very different sets of personal items. Further investigation confirmed my suspicion. The apartment had two bedrooms and both of them were filled with the possessions of two very different women.

Crystal Riley had a roommate. Obviously, she shared that place with another dame. Certain pieces of this puzzle started coming together now.

That's when I heard the phone ring from somewhere in that cluttered mess. I began searching through the debris and found it on the third ring. I picked up the receiver and answered.

"Hello?"

"Who is this?"

"This is Dylan."

"Oh, thank goodness! This is Crystal."

"Where the devil are you? Detective Wallace said you'd disappeared."

"I'm at your office, but listen, Jack. We were on our way back from the police station when that man, the one who tried to shove me into that car earlier tonight, hit Lyman over the head and knocked him out cold. In the confusion of their struggle, I managed to run away.

I figured it wouldn't be safe to return to my place. So I went straight to your office and I've been here ever since. When I discovered that you weren't here, I took a chance and called my apartment. I was hoping you might be there, looking for me."

"That's a smart girl. You did all the right things, but how'd you get into my office?"

"Miss Dixon let me in. She's keeping me company. She says not to worry about a thing. The two of us will be perfectly safe here."

"I have no doubt about that. Dixon is a tough little cookie. She knows where I keep a spare pistol and she knows how to use it. You're in capable hands with her, but I need to ask you something, and it's important."

"What's that, Jack?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you had a roommate?"

"What difference does that make?"

"She doesn't, by any chance, work at the club with you?"

"She did until a few nights ago. She was one of the club photographers, but she quit."

"Where is she now?"

"She left town. She's visiting her folks back home for a couple of weeks."

"Did she take her camera with her? Do you know?"

"No, she didn't. She took it to a pawnbroker. She used it as collateral to secure a loan. She wanted a little extra money for a bus ticket and to pay her half of this month's rent. She planned to repay the loan and get her camera back with the claim ticket when she returned."

"That's all I need to know, sweetheart. Have Dixon take you upstairs to my apartment. Make yourself at home and try to get some sleep. I'll be there just as soon as I can. Okay?"

"Sure thing, Jack, but tell me something. How did you know that I have a roommate?"

"The apartment has two bedrooms, sweetheart, and both of them are complete with two very different wardrobes."

"And how did you know that my roommate worked at the club with me?"

"I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked, but I suspected that she did. I talked to Malone earlier. Someone broke into the club tonight and ransacked the darkroom. I saw a portfolio and some photography equipment in the other bedroom. I just put two and two together."

"So you've been snooping through my apartment?"

"Sorry, doll, but you were missing and I was looking for clues, anything that might help."

"It's okay, Jack. I was just giving you a hard time. I don't mind, really."

"Good, because I think I've figured out what this whole situation is about, and I'd still be lost if I hadn't looked around your place."

After saying our goodbyes, I called Detective Wallace. I filled him in on the whereabouts of the enchanting Miss Riley and let him know that I could handle things from here on. He was pleased to hear it.

Hanging up the phone, I searched through the roommate's bedroom until I found what I was looking for. It hadn't been too difficult to find that little orange pawn ticket. Then I left the apartment, exited the building, and hailed a cab.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

Five minutes later, I was back at my apartment and staring into the lovely face of Casey Dixon. I brought her up to speed on the case and informed her I could take over from here. I suggested she should get some sleep and that I'd see her in the morning. After a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, I sent her off to bed.

She didn't have far to go, since her apartment was just across the hall from mine. It was a pretty slick arrangement and suited us just fine. Not to mention that both of us living in apartments above the detective agency's office made our morning commute super easy, barely an inconvenience.

I closed the door and sauntered to the bed chamber. Crystal Riley had fallen into blissful sleep. Dropping onto Chesterfield, I decided to do the same. Sleep came fast and easy.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

The next morning, I dashed off to the pawn shop. It was a quick and uneventful drive. Five minutes later, I slipped through the door.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. How ya doin', Jack?"

"Pretty good, Sam. How 'bout yourself?"

"I can't complain. Business has been good lately. So what brings you here, Jack?"

"A pawn ticket, I want to claim the item."

He took the ticket from me and gave it a quick glance. He went into the backroom for half a minute and returned carrying the object. He set it on the counter and looked at me.

"It's a nice camera, Jack, but it's not yours. What are you doing with the claim ticket?"

"I got the ticket from a client of mine. That camera belongs to her. She's out of town at the moment and I've come to get it for her."

"Well, be careful. She said there's film in it. She wanted to come back and claim it when she got a new job."

"Yes, she told me the same thing."

"That'll be a hundred bucks, Jack."

I paid the ransom and bid Sam good day. I left the little pawn shop, walked across the street and into a photo joint. It wasn't just any photo joint. It was owned and operated by a sweet little piece of tail named Maxine.

I regularly used this place to get film developed. Maxine was discreet and personally handled those indiscreet types of snapshots which I was often hired to obtain. They were the kind of pictures that caught philandering spouses in embarrassing and compromising situations.

From there, I went to meet Dixon and Miss Riley at a little diner near my office. The two of them had just finished breakfast. I ordered coffee and joined them.

Sliding into the booth next to Dixon and across the table from Crystal, I produced the envelope of pictures. Rifling through them, I located one and tossed it on the table in front of Miss Riley. She looked at it for a second then shrugged.

"It's a picture of an old man with his wife. Is that what you wanted to find, Jack?"

"See those two guys in the background? The fellas that resemble two weasels sneaking out of a chicken house."

She studied the picture a little closer this time and a look of excitement crossed her face.

"That one on the left is the guy who tried to force me into the car last night. He's the one who clubbed Sergeant Lyman."

"And the one on the right is Lou Riggaletto."

"The gangster?"

"That's right. He's a hitman for Salvatory Sabastiani. Tony Stiletto and Sabastiani were old enemies. I'll bet Sabastiani sent Lou Riggaletto and this other fella to rub out Tony.

Those two obviously ducked into the nightclub, probably to hide from the police. It's a crowded place and half the people in there look like gangsters. Riggaletto must have noticed their picture had been taken. So they decided to go after the film and make it disappear.

Problem was, the girl who took the photo, your roommate, quit her job and left town. That left you holding the bag, so to speak. Since they couldn't find her, they decided to go after you."

"You mean to tell me that all this trouble has been about some lousy photograph?"

"Sure. It's evidence that places those two fellas near the scene of the crime. By itself, it's merely circumstantial, but it's still evidence that could be used by the D.A. to make a case."

Dixon chimed in. "Good work, square jaw! You figured it out. But what do we do now? Just because we know who's after Miss Riley and why, that doesn't mean they're going to stop. In fact, now that she knows, she's in more danger than ever."

"That's true enough, but the solution is simple. Now, we have the goods. That gives us leverage. We want something from them and they want something from us. We want them to leave Miss Riley and her roommate alone. They want the photograph."

"Let me guess, you're going to propose an exchange, the picture for a promise."

"That's right, Dixon."

"That's blackmail, Jack."

"That's the beauty of it."

"It's finally happened! You've lost your marbles."

"It's the perfect solution. In fact, it's the only solution."

"I think you've got it backwards, Jack. The mob blackmails other people. You don't blackmail the mob."

"Look, Dixon. They're businessmen above all else. I'm simply suggesting a mutually beneficial business transaction. It's something they'll understand."

"It's unethical, Jack. Not to mention, it's illegal."

"It's only illegal if you get caught. I'm not going to get caught. As for ethics, what have they got to do with anything?

My duty is not to the law nor to an ethical review committee. My only duty is to the client and this is the best way to keep her safe. Trust me, Dix. I know what I'm doing."

Crystal Riley looked gravely concerned and voiced it.

"Why not simply go to the police? You could lose your investigator's license doing something like this, Jack."

"Pish Posh. You just let me worry about my license. As for going to the coppers, do you really think that's a wise idea? How much help have they been to us so far? Do you really think they could protect you from the mob?

Do you really want to be responsible for Sabastiani losing two of his hit men to 'Johnny Law'? Trust me, darlin'. He's not the kind of man you want to cross. If you think you're in trouble now, try going to the police. That's one mess even I won't be able to clean up."

"But aren't you crossing Sabastiani by blackmailing his boys?"

"Not the way I'll spin it. I'm doing him a favor. I'll be keeping his boys out of trouble and cleaning up their mess."

"But isn't it risky? How do you know they'll keep their word? How do you know they'll stick to the bargain?"

"Normally, I wouldn't consider making a deal with the devil, but Salvatory Sabastiani is a businessman and a man of honor. If he makes a promise, he keeps it and his underlings won't defy his orders. If we were dealing with someone else, I'd suggest a double cross and nail the bastards good, but not in this case.

Truth be told, I can't say for certain if they'll even go for it. At least, we should attempt to solve our mutual problems intelligently, respectfully, in a friendly manner, and in a way that benefits all parties involved. If that doesn't work, then we consider dealing with the matter in a less polite manner."

⚜️⚜️⚜️

Eventually, I convinced the girls to trust me on this one. Reluctantly, they gave in and agreed to try it my way first. We'd test the water, gauge the response, see if the boys were receptive to the idea, and if they were willing to play ball.

When we returned to my office, I made a phone call and arranged to meet with "The Don", Sal Sabastiani himself, for lunch. I must confess that I had an ace up my sleeve, cards I wasn't showing to Dixon or to Miss Crystal Riley. You see, Sal and I went way back.

We lived in the same neighborhood as kids. We kind of grew up together. We both attended the same private schools. In fact, we were friends once upon a time, but he chose to follow in his father's footsteps and took over the family business. I chose to be the prodigal son and a black sheep.

Three hours later, I walked into Casanova's, an upscale Italian restaurant located in a section of town known as Little Italy. It was one of those dimly lit, romantic sort of places, popular with couples looking for an intimate rendezvous. It also happened to be the preferred hangout of Sal Sabastiani.

I swaggered toward his private booth near a back corner of the joint. There were two gorillas in expensive suits standing nearby. The bulges in their jackets were unmistakable and identified them as Sabastiani's personal bodyguards.

When they noticed my approach, they smiled politely and nodded, but didn't say a word. One of the goons held out his hand as if to say "Right this way", but he remained silent. Taking that as my cue, I slipped into the booth across from "The Don".

"So, what do you want, Jack? You need some money? The P.I. gig can't pay very well."

"No, it doesn't and for your information, I don't need any money. The trust fund dad left me is still plenty full."

"The old man always did have a soft spot for you, Jack. So what's up?"

"Actually, I've come here to give you something."

"What might that be?"

"A picture and a negative."

"Why would I be interested in that?"

"Because it was taken a few nights ago, the same night that Tony Stiletto got himself iced."

"Okay, you have my attention, Jack. Go on."

"Two of your boys, Lou Riggaletto and some goon I don't recognize, have been causing a lot of trouble trying to get their hands on it."

"So what's that to you?"

"They're causing trouble for me, Sal. The woman they've been harassing is a client of mine."

Sabastiani broke into delirious laughter. The whole situation really seemed to tickle his funny bone. When he caught his breath enough to talk, he spoke.

"Oh, this is just too precious. I send Lou to snuff out Tony. Lou ducks into a nightclub, gets his picture taken and decides to go after the film. The girl who took the photo disappears and he decides to go after the girl's roommate. She hires you. You find the film, figure everything out, and come to me.

Lou mentioned something about a private dick, but he didn't say it was you. If I had known that, we could've cleaned this whole thing up without half the trouble. Hell, I probably should've hired you to find the film in the first place.

You know, I don't like the rough stuff, Jack. It's bad for business, but Lou is a different matter. That's why he's a trigger man. I should have known better than to let him clean up his own mess."

"Well, what's done is done. You know, I don't care about your business with Tony. That affair is between you and the coppers. It has nothing to do with my client or me."

"So, give me the picture and the negative. That's why you're here. Isn't it?"

"And you'll order your boys to leave Miss Riley and her roommate alone?"

"I don't know, Jack. Can you guarantee their silence?"

"The roommate is out of the loop on this one. She has no idea what's going on. So she's not a problem."

"And this Riley dame?"

"She just wants to be left alone. Funny thing about the living, they usually prefer to keep on doing it. She doesn't have any beef with Tony, Lou, or you.

She doesn't care about any of it. She was dragged into this whole mess purely by circumstance and she knows what'll happen to her if she doesn't keep quiet. She's perfectly willing to forget the matter if you are."

"Alright, Jack, but only because you're my brother and I owe you a favor. I'll take your word, this Riley dame has suddenly developed a strange case of amnesia."

That's right. Salvatory Sabastiani is my brother, but don't let it get around. That was the ace I had up my sleeve. It's the secret that I didn't want Dixon and Riley, or anybody else, to know.

It's a secret that I buried a long time ago, when I changed my name to Jack Dylan. As I said, I'm the prodigal son and back sheep of the family. I wanted nothing to do with the family business.

It was mostly a legitimate business, but from time to time, "less than legitimate" methods and practices were employed. In the past, I'd done a lot to change things. I managed to convince my brother that violence was rarely the best solution. It's easier to catch flies with honey than with piss and vinegar.

It's easier to buy cooperation and everybody has some weakness, vice, or character flaw that could be used to persuade those reluctant parties. Almost any situation could be resolved through reason and intellect. Negotiating a mutually beneficial arrangement is always better than violence.

Sure, blackmail, bribery, and manipulation aren't exactly legitimate business practices, but it beats the alternatives that were usually employed by crime families. Generally, Sal saw the wisdom in making friends, allies, and accomplices rather than making enemies, but his conversion wasn't complete. He wasn't exactly on the straight and narrow, but it was still better than when father had run things.

There was no use trying to change him. That's why I left so many years back. Father was a dyed-in-the-wool type. We didn't see eye to eye. So, I went my separate way and became a private detective.

All things considered, it was a good luncheon and a good deal. Everybody got what they wanted and life would return to normal. Once again, all was right with the world.

Although, I still had one small but important matter left unfinished. Crystal Riley was waiting at my apartment and she'd be eager to hear how the meeting had gone. I was eager to tell her and even more eager to work out the details of our negotiations concerning payment for services rendered. That promised to be a very rewarding experience!

- TERMINUS LIBRI -