The Long Goodbye ((Open to 1F))

OOC: I've always found there to be an inherent (if slyly hidden) sexuality to the classic noir formula, seen in such films as "Double Indemnity", "The Big Sleep", "Chinatown", and "Body Heat". I was hoping to use that formula as a base for a more highly-sexualized noir roleplay. I will portray the hard-boiled detective, you will play the femme fatale. Please PM me if you are interested.

Richard Marlowe
Age 36
Short Brown Hair, Blue Eyes, A Light Five O' Clock Shadow on the Rough Days
Private Investigator



IC:

Marlowe leaned against the cold cement of a decades' old office building, ruffling through the deep pockets of his brown trench coat. The coat was soaking wet, having sopped up two days worth of rain. There was a crash of thunder over the rush hour traffic - cars beeping at each other, road rage seething underneath. Marlowe glared towards the drain on the opposite side of the street...

It was just like his career: drifting off to some estuary, so it could float off to sea to die. He wiped his brow of the rainwater and pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding a soggy pack of cigarettes. "Nothing like wet tobacco products," he muttered under his breath. This drew the wary eyes of a couple of yuppy passersby. "I know it's not fashionable, assholes!" Their pace quickened.

Marlowe had been a homicide detective for eight years, honored by the mayor, beloved by the press. But like any man, he had his weaknesses. It was his libido that always got him into trouble. Three counts of soliciting prostitution later and Marlowe was kicked off the force. Those bastards at Interior didn't even bother to listen to his side of the story. Solving crimes was all he had done since graduating from the academy, so he did the next best thing: he became a private investigator. In an era when real crimes were best left to the professionals, he was left with the scrapings at the bottom of the bowl: mostly middle-aged women looking for someone to follow their double-timing husbands. It was an embarrassment.

He stuck a cigarette to his lips, rain pattering down onto it, almost knocking it free. He reached back into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, flicking the tip to get it to ignite. Five times he tried and each time a rogue raindrop would fall from the sky and kill it before it was even born. "God damn it." He burned the bottom of his thumb. "God damn it!"

Marlowe turned the corner, pushing the front door of the office building open. The lighter finally came alive and he puffed gloriously on his cigarette. "Excuse me, sir. You can't smoke in here," said the attendant at the front desk, a well-dressed man in his mid-forties.

"Fuck you, I pay rent," he shouted, moving towards the elevators. He pressed the button for the fourteenth floor and got off after ascending the massive building. Two doors down was his office, a plain door reading "Richard Marlowe: Private Investigator".

The office was small, but split into to two distinct sections: a small waiting room and the meeting area, which was sealed off with dark glass - to assure his clients' privacy. Sitting at the front desk was his secretary, Zariah, a gorgeous young woman with curly brown hair and an infectious (though often fraudulent smile). Marlowe had hired her primarily for her good looks, but she had proven to be an incredibly efficient worker. It didn't hurt to catch her bent over the desk in tight jeans, though.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray on Zariah's desk. She kept it there primarily for him. "Do me a favor, Zariah. Call Ms. Tucker and tell her that she's out of her mind. Her husband has been golfing every day for two weeks and I'm not gonna play spectator to another tee-off. Unless, of course, she wants to up my fee."

Zariah stared at him with cold eyes, "Do me a favor and don't be late with my paycheck for the third week in a room, Mr. Marlowe."

Marlowe reached in his pocket and pulled out a soggy envelope, tossing it on her desk. "Here. Keep the change." He moved towards his office, looking back after opening the door. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Zariah rolled her eyes in response.

Marlowe sat at his desk, stewing over old cases, filing the odd piece of paperwork. What he wanted was something that would make him feel prominent again. He wanted real work. Work to be proud of.

The she walked through his door...

Trainnette ‘Joey’ BayBrook
Age: 24
Hair: Chocolate brown
Eyes: Forest Green


---------


Shaking her head, she shivered as she entered the building. For weeks she had been searching for the perfect man to help her. To help find someone precious to her. Very precious to her. And her results turned up to be about a man named Richard Marlowe. Joey had heard mixed things about the private investigator, but everyone admitted that his skills were some of the best. And that was why she came to him with her troubles.

For quite some time… someone had started to enter her territory. Someone was taking away her vic- er, her playthings away from. Someone who didn’t want the femme fatale who or what they were. Whoever it was, they changed the game the moment their claws sunk into her brother and two children. Once she got her hands on whoever did it, she would make sure they understood just how deadly she could be if they got too close to what belonged to her.

Joey was the type who could not really feel affection for another human. It wasn’t that she was cold or cruel, but rather, most of what she did was from utter boredom. In her ‘social’ circle, the young female had become bored with the people around her and decided to play villain for a while. The girl had started to dabble in relationships, started to play with others emotions… to see how far she could take it.

To see how much it took to break a person.

Needless to say, it was good to have a major in psychology. She used mind tricks, played on their fantasies… used their own desires against them. So, it was not impossible to believe that at the tender age of twenty four, the young female was turning into a femme fatale. Or perhaps, she was already one. But the girl had limits. She stayed away from married men—she cared not for their family drama. But when someone married did not get the message, she played a very cruel game on them. She took the male for all he was worth (but always left enough for the wife and kids) and then tossed him over her shoulder.

Of course, it could also help that her adoptive father had been the Don of the Mafia. He was even scarier than her. Still, that family connection was kept under wraps because it would cause more problems than it was worth.

Joey walked through the building, wearing a simple dress that showed off her soft curves. The top was form fitting while from the waist down it was loose, flowing around her legs. She finished the look with nice black converses and her hair while and loose. She didn’t want the man to pick up on her… well, what would one call it? The… deadliness? Femminess? Whatever it was, she was going to use the man for all he was made off. She would ensure he found whoever she needed to search for, ensure he used every single available source. Otherwise… she may not be able to promise his… safety, was it?

Walking up the stairs, she looked at the piece of paper looking at the floor and door she needed to be at. Earlier, she had called a woman, not remember the name, and made an appointment under a false name. The halls were plain and bare, but it didn’t matter as she walked down, her eyes scanning all of the door plates. Then success. Reaching out to the door knob, a momentary sadistic smile graced her lips.

Then it faded into one of those smiles that men couldn’t resist. Or at least, the men she encountered. Opening the door, she walked forward, looking at the woman. “I’m Theda Bara, I’m here for my appointment,” she stated simpley, letting her hair frame her face. She looked younger with her hair down, her eyes even looked slightly bigger. “I do hope I’m not too late.”

“Go in.”

She nodded, walking without a sound. It could have been called vampric if she was a vampire. The moment she saw the man named Marlowe, her eyes shined for a moment. Oh, he was perfect. If only he wasn’t going to help her with her goal. “Good afternoon, Mister Marlowe. I was wondering if perhaps you’re up into finding someone who doesn’t want to be found,” she smiled, with a tilt to her head as she closed the door behind. “Someone who leaves no trace behind. Someone that could put you back on the radar.”

A satisfied smile danced across her face as she perched on the free end of her desk, her legs becoming even more revealed. Part of being a femme fatale was to know how to use your sexuality as a weapon… a tool. Lure the men in and then what you had to do to keep them. Or rather, in Joey’s case, use them until boredom set in once more.

Marlowe couldn't help but to take a peak at the slender legs dangling off the edge of his desk. It was pleasant sight after a long day of tracking an adulterer who hadn't done any adultering. His eyes moved up her body, the clinging dress perfectly highlighting her sumptuous form. A real beauty - in converses, no doubt.

He had met her kind before: rich, spoiled, bored. They were almost always more trouble than they were worth. Marlowe knew better than to look his female clients in the eye. It tended to lead to a more discounted rate than necessary. He was easily charmed.

"I haven't even taken my coat off yet," he replied, pulling his arms out of his trench coat, standing up, and placing it on the rack to the right of the door. He was clad in his usual attire, a boring white business shirt, dangling red tie, and gray slacks. Marlowe would've been a handsome sight if he hadn't been so drenched.

Marlowe walked over to the door, peaking his out. "Zariah, did Miss, uh...Miss..."

"Yes, Miss Bara does have an appointment. She made it two weeks ago," the secretary shot back quickly. She was rapid fire in verbal exchanges and always able to keep Marlowe's attitude in check.

He turned back to Ms. Bara. "Listen, it's been a really long day. I spent the last day and a half tracking an old man across a golf course in the rain."

He lit up another cigarette, giving her another once over. Damn, those legs. Killer legs. Career ruining legs. "So here's the deal Ms. Bara: if you've got a cheating spouse - he's probably not cheating. He's probably playing poker with his buddies. And if he is cheating, let him. You love him, right? Let him get his kicks, because eventually he'll run into some trouble and he'll end up lovin' you more than he ever did. That's my advice. Your welcome to it for free." He over his shoulder towards Zariah, "Get this nice young lady a business card, Zariah!"

Then his eyes met with Ms. Bara's. They were alluring and green. A dangerous combination. "Is there anything else I can do for you, because by my watch, it's about two hours best dinner time and I could use a hot dog?"

"I haven't even taken my coat off yet," he spoke.

She smiled, knowing she had chosen just the man. “Well, I’m the type of girl who likes to get right down to business,” she responded, the smile turning slightly wicked. “Don’t worry, I think you look just fine all drenched.” Joey winked before leaning slightly back, using the corner of the desk as a brace. “I’m not here to charm you, Mister Marlowe, so don’t worry about giving me a discount. I won’t take it.”

She tuned out as he asked Zariah if she had an appointment. Obviously she did, and she wasn’t all that stupid either. Her eyes watched the interaction

"Listen, it's been a really long day. I spent the last day and a half tracking an old man across a golf course in the rain."

“Oh you poor baby,” she said scarcastly with a roll of her eyes. “As if that’s difficult at all. At least you were kept cool. But please do stop with the small talk.” Sometimes men were such babies half the time. As if trekking through the rain was all that hard. Try it in high heels, then come back and talk about hard. Why do you think she was wearing converses? Joey was one of the smarter ones.

"So here's the deal Ms. Bara: if you've got a cheating spouse - he's probably not cheating. He's probably playing poker with his buddies. And if he is cheating, let him. You love him, right? Let him get his kicks, because eventually he'll run into some trouble and he'll end up lovin' you more than he ever did. That's my advice. Your welcome to it for free."

“Sweetheart,” she spoke. “I have no time to play a little married miss. I rather like playing the mistress. Get to have them without the jail sentence.” There was logic to her words. “I did not come because I have an imaginary husband. I’m not some silly little housewife with nothing to do.”

"Is there anything else I can do for you, because by my watch, it's about two hours best dinner time and I could use a hot dog?"

“This case could make a man’s career with some… very good backing. If you’re interested come have dinner with me. My treat entirely,” she pushed herself off the desk and walked in front of him, her eyes baring deep into his. Her smile turned sickly sweet. “Don’t think me like other bored girls you’ve met.” With that she blew him a kiss and a winked before leaving the office. “My offer stands until I leave the building. Otherwise, I’m going to your rival investigator,” she called out as she waved goodbye to Zariah.

Spoiled she was not. Determined and stubborn? Quite. One way or another, Joey would always find some way to get her way. Or at least, in the direction of her way. Opening the door, she didn’t close it behind her, actually forgetting too as she was lost in her thoughts.

“Damn them,” she cursed under her breath. Whoever didn’t want to be found… she wondered if it was from a rival mafia group or some lone ‘ranger’ trying to cause trouble.”

Marlowe could practically feel the kiss on his cheek. Her lips were perfect for kissing. He, too, could play these games. "I'm sorry, Ms. Bara, but that's a bit vague. I've had a lot of people break their promises to me, so you'll excuse my skepticism. Call me when you're ready to be a little more forthright." Marlowe watched her hips swings as she walked out of the office, "I never break a date with my hot dog vendor." He hoped that Ms. Bara had heard him.

Quickly, Marlowe jumped back out of his seat. He grabbed his coat and his hat - a brown fedora bought from a thrift store three years ago. It was battered and worn, but it hid his face well. He strode carefully past Zariah's desk to the front door, peering out around the corner. Theda Bara was standing at the elevator, waiting patiently for it to arrive. "Zariah, I'll be back. I want to tail this one."

"Sure you do," she remarked sarcastically. "I knew that when she walked through the door. She's your type."

Marlowe glanced back at his secretary, "She's a woman, of course she's my type. But there's something strange about this one."

People were inherent liars and cheats, even when they were paying someone to find the truth. It was relatively typical for Marlowe to turn down a case at first glance. It was an old trick he'd learned: always tail the client first to sort out the deception from the truth. The elevator opened up and Ms. Bara entered non-ceremoniously. In a flash, Marlowe followed her, opting to take the stairs. He dashed down them, the fastest he'd ever run in his life, a man trying to beat a machine. It was fourteen floor in forty-five seconds. He burst out of the door to the lobby, taking a moment to catch his breath.

Theda Bara was moving toward the front of the lobby, passing by the building attendant that had hassled him earlier. She was easy to pick out in her slinky dress and converses. Marlowe caught himself gazing at the crest where her bare neck and wild hair met. She moved out of the building and turned left. Marlowe picked up his pace.

Back outside, the rain was pelting him even worse now. Ms. Bara's dress was wet and clinging to her form in ways that should be illegal. She walked with a purpose, but not towards his rival investigator...where was she going? Eventually, she got stopped at a traffic light, waiting for the evening rush to pass by before crossing the street. Marlowe bought a hot dog from the vendor a block down, piling on the ketchup and mustard, taking a bite.

The light turned green and Theda Bara continued across the street. He followed her intently, looking for anything out of order...

She didn't go to his rival. She didn't like the man. Shivering under the rain, she continued to walk to a set destination. Joey turned left when the building was behind her and looked at her watch. The meeting with Marlowe had been a bust. He was either too smart to take the case or he was becoming one of those old dogs. She hoped it wasn't the latter. Joey didn't like about the case-- her name, yes, but she couldn't afford to let anyone know she went to see an excop. Wouldn't be good for business, ya know.

The rain was drenching her skin, the cold seeping into her very bones. As she walked, her shoes made soft squelching noises. Joey's thoughts traveled, worrying about this unknown person, worry about the fact her brother may be on the hit list...and that vibe that told her someone was following her. She hoped it wasn't her being paranoid...still, better safe than sorry. Or was it better sorry than safe? No, no, she had been right the first time.

It was a red light and she couldn't cross the street. Joey wrapped her arms around herself, shivering once more and moved from side to side to generate heat. “Next time, I'm going to listen to the weather forest,” she muttered, biting her bottom lip. She turned slightly and noticed the hotdog vendor... and a familiar build. A barely visible smile stained across her face. The light turned green and she crossed the street.

She melded into the crowds, her goal very close. It was a little side bar in which she promised to meet her brother. She hated to do this to him, but she needed bait. If Marlowe wasn't going to help her, then she'd do it herself. Joey knew she didn't know how exactly she would achieve her goal, but she would. Joey stopped, allowing the private investigator to catch up. It wouldn't be fair if he had lost her, right?

Turning to the right, she entered a small alley, where a door was opened slightly ajar, Opening it, a man stepped up, nearly identical in looks. He was barely taller than her, matching hair with much lighter green eyes. His smile was exactly like her as they shared a hug. “Joey, what are you doing back so early?” he asked, ushering her inside, forgetting to close the door. “I thought you were going to talk to someone on the other side.”

“I did, Theo, but he wasn't interested,” she smiled,kissing his cheek. “So, tell me, brother dear, anyone knew moved into town lately?” Her eyes took on a dark gleam as she looked at him, daring him to lie. But her brother would never lie to her.

He shook his head. “Not that I noticed, then again, I can't account for everyone. Although, I heard Mario's daughter came into town. She's been here for a few days alright. Haven't you seen her around? She said that she met you.”

Joey stopped, looking at her older brother. “Really now? Well then, I shall have to meet her again,” she replied and made a note to check it out. A wicked smile danced on her lips. Surely Mister Marlowe didn't really think her name was Theda Bara. While the woman was a model for a femme fatale... they weren't in the same league. “Anyway, let's go inside shall we? I'm dying for a warm drink and this bar makes the best hot chocolate around. Hey, Theo, how's their hotdogs?”

“... they don't make hotdogs, sister...”

Marlowe crossed the street, tracking Ms. Bara's every movement. She couldn't look in any direction without him trying to track her eyeline to what she was peering at. For a moment, he could swear she was staring right at him -least past him - so he tipped the brim of his fedora downward, hiding his face. His red tie was caught in the wind, blowing back of his shoulder, the tails of his trench coat following in suit.

Theda Bara was good. A lesser investigator would've been thrown off her trail, but Marlowe's eyes were fixed on her - she was too gorgeous to let out of his sight. She could be in trouble, but most likely she was the trouble.

She entered a bar on St. Paul Street. Marlowe looked to the sign: it was called "The Gin Joint". He made a mental note. Later, when things had calmed down, he would call in a few favors - figure out who this Theda Bara was and see if the bar had a reputation for criminal activity.

Marlowe listened intently, standing just around the corner from the open door. He leaned up against a slab of brick wall, taking a bite of his hot dog. He was out of sight, but he could hear everything going on in the bar's foyer. A man said under his breath, “Joey, what are you doing back so early? I thought you were going to talk to someone on the other side.”

A familiar voice responded, “I did, Theo, but he wasn't interested. So, tell me, brother dear, anyone new moved into town lately?” A false name. Could anything be more false than Theda Bara? The woman's name was Joey and she was apparently attempting to do Marlowe's job for him. Why would she need to know something like that? An old enemy perhaps? A friend? Nobody could keep track of everyone moving in and out of city limits, but Marlowe knew that he might be able to track any ex-cons.

“Not that I noticed, then again, I can't account for everyone. Although, I heard Mario's daughter came into town. She's been here for a few days alright. Haven't you seen her around? She said that she met you,” the man's reply was long-whinded. Could he be talking about Mario Vincette? Mario's operations had gone primarily legitimate during Marlowe's time on the force, but he hadn't been keeping tabs lately. And what about this daughter? Who was she? Why was she important?

“Really now? Well then, I shall have to meet her again," said Joey slyly. This woman was chocked full of lies. The worst kind of client. The best kind of case. "Anyway, let's go inside shall we? I'm dying for a warm drink and this bar makes the best hot chocolate around. Hey, Theo, how's their hotdogs?”

Not as good Jimmy's, Marlowe thought, taking another chomp. He glanced around the corner, watching as the sibling moved towards the bar, their backs' to him. They sat in a booth, just across from the bartender and Theo ordered a few drinks - including a hot chocolate for his sister. Just his luck, Joey's was looking in the opposite direction. Marlowe snuck into the stench-ridden place. This was not a classy joint, but it would have to do. He took a seat in the booth just behind Joey. He could hear her voice perfectly.

Trainnette 'Joey' BayBrook

They sat in a booth across from each other. She looked tense, as though she was nervous about something. He was more relaxed, his legs loose crossed as he leaned forward. “Joey, I know you dislike Mario,” Theo spoke once more, his eyes softened. “But whatever is happening, you gotta tell me.” He touched the side of her face, a gentle smile dancing on his lips. “Can’t I know a little?”

“Someone’s moving in on my turf, taking my toys away,” she replied, with a frustrated sigh. “I don’t like not knowing who it is. I despise cowards who hide under the shadows. I’m searching for a ghost, who for all intent and purposes, could be Jacoby… the silly boy. I thought that maybe Marlowe could help but… he’s nothing but an old dog. Past his prime.” Joey ran her hand through her hair. “Maybe I should’ve just gone to his rival… but I don’t trust that man.”

Shaking her head, she took a sip of her hot chocolate. “I wasn’t lying to him. Other than the name,” she shrugged then easily changed the subject to Mario. “How’s Mario these days? Still able to fool the cops with his legit work? No doubt still buying them off and continuing his business. He’s playing a dangerous game. Father wants to take care of Mario—been muttering about him, saying that he’s pushing his luck.”

“Well, that’s a Vincette for you. His daughter is the same way. Probably worse though. Her latest fantasy is married men. Apparently, she’s not the only bored fatale around, eh Joey?” He knew it was an awful joke, but it brought some reality to their situation. At least Joey was able to keep the balance in the town. He knew whoever this person was, it was getting to his sister. And a pissy Joey was not a good Joey.

“This town is my turf. She is nothing but a small fry. I still need to see her again though. Just to teach her who’s boss here,” she replied thinking why the girl would say they met before. Joey knew for a fact they didn’t. She didn’t forget female faces. Males… well, there was a lot and she didn’t care to remember. “If she’s causing this, I will take care of it myself. If she isn’t and she knows something… I will make sure she tells me.”

Theo let out a soft sigh and rubbed his temples. This situation was giving him a headache. A great big headache. Whoever was here was probably trying to take down their father. Father had many enemies, and to be able to cause mistrust in their tightly knitted ‘family’… that would be a feat indeed. He reached his hand out and gently stroked her face. “Alright, Trainnette. I’ll look into the coming and goings. Anything seems suspicious I’ll give you a ring alright?” Theo worked for the legal system, but what his actual job was… remained a mystery.

Joey smiled softly, “Thanks. I owe you big time.” The stress in her shoulders started to release. “I just wish Marlowe was this helpful. It’s not like I didn’t go there unannounced. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to apologize to him later.”

She shrugged, wondering where he was now. “Hey Theo, think you could run a background on him? I think he may have been following me. Earlier. Not sure if I lost him though. You know, old dog and all.”

Marlowe sat intently, listening to their conversation. There was a lot of cryptic language, a lot of names tossed around, a lot of family ties. This made him nervous. He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be looking for, but if Vincette was involved, it couldn't be pleasant. He had taken down the family once before, during his first year with a gold shield. Marlowe thought that he had scared Mario legit, thought the dip in organized crime was due primarily to his actions.

Rival families? But who could possibly rival the Vincettes? Joey kept mentioning her turf and the word "toys" kept creeping into the conversation. What did she mean by this? Marlowe had had about enough of hiding in the shadows.

He stood up, popping around the corner. He stood next to Joey, but kept his eye on her brother. "You know what say about old dogs, right Joey?" he emphasized her name. "They have the best sense of smell...

He paused to take a bite of his hot dog.

"...and something in this booth stinks. Stinks of deception." He tossed his trench coat over the back of the booth, dangling it in front of Joey's face. "All I know is that I heard the name Vincette. Mario Vincette. That son of a bitch isn't smart, but he's smarter than to try to grow his business again."

He offered Theo the last bit of his hot dog. "Try it, it's the best in the city." Marlowe places it on the plain white plate in front of the man. He returned his attention to Joey. "I don't know why you used a fake name, I don't know what you want from me, but after hearing all of this cryptic bullshit - you've peaked my interest. But if we're talking a turf war, it's going to cost you. More than my usual rates."

Marlowe pulls a notebook from his lapel pocket, tearing a page out of it and placing it on the table in front of the woman. On it, he writes 3500 Birdwatcher Court Apt 197a.

Closer to her face then before, he can tell she's cold and unforgiving, but her skin looks soft, her eyes wanting, her lips full. "I can tell this is a sensitive matter. We don't need to include my secretary if you don't want. This is the address to my apartment. Meet me there in two hours or the offer is off the table and I forget about you forever. Understand?"

Marlowe grabs his coat from the back of the booth, pulling out three dollars and slamming it onto the table. "Consider this a tip for the entertainment." He slung the coat over his shoulder and walked out of the bar, stopping at the door to remark, "Two can play the deadline game, Joey. Don't fuck with the best."

"You know what say about old dogs, right Joey?" he emphasized her name. "They have the best sense of smell...”

“Ah, so you did follow me, Mister Marlowe,” she smiled, not all that surprise. “I never said being an old dog was an insult. You may have just taken it as such. She looked at her brother, who looked just confused as miserable.

“Joey, I swear, one day, you’re gonna wake up to find yourself dead,” Theo muttered under his breath. He then remained silent not wanting to get inbetween the two.

"...and something in this booth stinks. Stinks of deception." He tossed his trench coat over the back of the booth, speaking once more. "All I know is that I heard the name Vincette. Mario Vincette. That son of a bitch isn't smart, but he's smarter than to try to grow his business again."

“Shows what you know about money and power,” she said, leaning back. “He got a backing of another crimelord. He never really stopped his business anyway. Why don’t you ask the chief of police. I’m sure you can find him lying through his teeth when he says that Mario is clean. I can assure you, he isn’t.” Theo nodded in agreement. Although, he didn’t look too pleased as well.

"Try it, it's the best in the city." Marlowe places it on the plain white plate in front of the brother. Theo blinked then shook her head. He didn’t like hotdogs. Not after this three year old threw up and… yeah, kids ruined a lot of stuff for a parent.

Marlowe returned his attention to Joey. "I don't know why you used a fake name, I don't know what you want from me, but after hearing all of this cryptic bullshit - you've peaked my interest. But if we're talking a turf war, it's going to cost you. More than my usual rates."

“I thought the name would have tipped if you off. Theda Bara was a… femme fatale, an iconic one,” she said. “Hmm, maybe your secretary got it. Women generally do.” Joey stretched her arms out. Richard Marlowe did not scare her. No, she had dealt with much scarier ones. But he has smart. And perceptive, she picked up. Observant as well… just the traits she intended to use. "But is no turf war. It could be the beginning of an invasion."

"Wait, what did he mean by cryptic bullshit? We didn't talk cryptically!" Theo interrupted. Wait... did they? At least he knew what she was talking about.

"I can tell this is a sensitive matter. We don't need to include my secretary if you don't want. This is the address to my apartment. Meet me there in two hours or the offer is off the table and I forget about you forever. Understand?"

Joey smiled. “Oh, I completely understand. But I don’t think you can stand forever, Dectective Marlowe,” she sighed and looked at the address in his hand. While some would use this bit of information against him, the female would not. What was the point? Generally, if one were to threaten another’s home, a place of safety and security, it would just slow everything down and things wouldn’t work as they were supposed to. It was something she learned from her father. Everyone needed a place to feel safe. Invade that, and fear will destroy much.

"Consider this a tip for the entertainment." He slung the coat over his shoulder and walked out of the bar, stopping at the door to remark, "Two can play the deadline game, Joey. Don't fuck with the best."

“Three dollars?” she looked at Theo. “Well, isn’t that very cheap. And here I thought we were worth more.” Theo only rolled his eyes, before getting up himself. His sister… really didn’t know what she was saying half the time… and sometimes, he swore, the other half of the time, she was deliberately trying to get under everyone’s skin. He kissed her on the cheek.

“Hey I better go and pick up my kids. School is gonna end soon and I’m taking them out for ice cream,” he said.

“Alright, have fun. I’m gonna make him sweat a bit,” she replied, taking the address and putting it in her sock. She really had no other place to hide it.

“Don’t fuck with the best, huh?” she repeated to herself. “Oh, sweetie… we haven’t even gotten there yet.”





It was an hour and forty minutes later when she got there. She intended to get there an hour ago but… well… she had to change and shower. After all, it had been pouring outside and she had a feeling she would be getting a cold soon. The girl changed into a black skirt and a turtle neck top. What? She felt cold and all her pants were currently washing! She looked down at her red converse shoes. Well, at least she wasn’t wearing all black. Walking up the stairs, she looked at the apartment number.

Joey let out a soft sigh. Maybe she had been to hard on the man. After all, he probably didn’t want to loose his job. Walking down the hall, she stopped in front of his door. Knock knock knock. “Marlowe!” Knock knock knock. “Marlowe!” Each knock was made in quick movements.

Marlowe adjusted his grip on his bag of groceries, walking up the stairs to his apartment. Two hours had been a nice round offer, enough to run a few errands for his home life. The place was a dump, but rent was cheap and there weren't too many kids around making noise. It was somewhere to bring home dates or host the rare party, but not really a home.

He turned the corner to see Joey, banging on his door. "Marlowe!" A pause. "Marlowe!" She was dressed more casually - a black skirt and turtleneck: she knew how to fit any situation. It still highlighted her features. Joey wanted to be looked at, wanted to be admired, wanted to entice. It was working.

"Joey, Joey," he said, reprimanding her. "I told you two hours for a reason. A man's gotta keep his house stocked with..." he reached into his bag and pulled out a can. "...canned carrots."

He reached into the pockets of his trench coat and pulled out a set of keys, sticking one into the lock. "Nice to be wanted, though," he said with a laugh, entering the apartment. It was well-decorated, a sharp comparison to the mess of a building he lived in. The couches were leather, the walls adorned with artwork, the tables made of fine wood. Marlowe could feel Joey's eyes on him as she followed behind. There was no television, no computer. He tried to stay away from those things - they were bad for the observant mind. His bookshelves were filled to the brim with books on poetry, history, philosophy, and the occasional dime trash novel.

He sat his groceries on the table, looking back to Joey as she explored his living room. "Have a seat, have a seat, I'll be right over." He took off his coat, draping it over a kitchen chair and sat his fedora next to the groceries. He untightened the red tie, but left it on for effect.

"So are we have an honest conversation or what? I want you to be direct. I want you to tell me what you want from me and I don't want to find out later you were lying. Don't worry about reputation - I do enough for the both of us. You don't have to sell me. What's wrong?" He poured a glass of wine for each of them and handed it to her before sitting across the room from her in his lounge chair.

"Joey, Joey," he said, reprimanding her. "I told you two hours for a reason. A man's gotta keep his house stocked with..." he reached into his bag and pulled out a can. "...canned carrots."

“I don’t like carrots,” she commented, a slight wrinkle to her nose. “They taste weird.” Her heart was beating in her chest. She hadn’t been expecting him to actually be out of the house. She moved to the side so he could open the door. No way was she going to wait outside. Alone.

"Nice to be wanted, though," he said with a laugh, entering the apartment.

“Wanted? Who said I wanted you?” she smiled and followed after him, walking towards the living room. "I need you. Not want you." The first thing she noticed was the plethora of books that littered his shelves. She moved her fingers cross the many titles but stopped when she noticed one out of order. This caused her to move them around. Joey pulled down at her skirt.

"Have a seat, have a seat, I'll be right over." She figured he meant the couch and sat there, her legs next to each other as she waited for him with a catlike grin. The couch was comfortable but she saw no signs of a TV, let alone a computer. Unless it was all in his room. She didn’t have a TV, there was no need when she usually slept over at Theo’s place instead of hers.

"So are we have an honest conversation or what? I want you to be direct. I want you to tell me what you want from me and I don't want to find out later you were lying. Don't worry about reputation - I do enough for the both of us. You don't have to sell me. What's wrong?"

Joey gently put down the glass of wine, her green eyes staring him down. “I have been direct. In your office, what I said was true. I want to find someone who doesn’t want to be found,” she replied, crossing her legs. “My brother and I have a father who’s a crimelord. But he’s not all that bad. You can think of him with his hands in all the small businesses. He helps them flourish, gives them the help they need and in return he gets a small yearly fee and some discounted services. He also gives out protection for those that need it.”

But he also dabbled in crime. Joey decided she didn’t need to comment about it.

“I need to know who this person is. But unfortunately, no one is willing to talk to me,” she replied. “Especially the women. Maybe with your sources, you can give me clues to who it may be. I don’t like the balance being disturbed.” She leaned forward, her arms resting on her knees.

She paused for a moment, and closed her eyes. “Look, I have enemies who may try this. I have an obvious weakness. I can’t let Theo get involved. You saw how he is. He’s not the type for crime life,” she said. “I can pay whatever the fee. And if you want, I can help you. But I need your help to provide me with those first few steps.”

Marlowe swirled the wine in his glass, staring into the tiny whirlpool forming in the center of the liquid. It reminded him of this woman, Joey, who was drawing him into something he knew he couldn't handle, but knew he'd have to. She looked particularly vulnerable now, her heir of importance decreased. Perhaps it was just a show - it probably was, but Marlowe was still listening and still interested.

"I have been direct. In your office, what I said was true. I want to find someone who doesn’t want to be found." She crossed her legs and Marlowe glanced from the tip of her red converse to the edge of her skirt. “My brother and I have a father who’s a crimelord. But he’s not all that bad. You can think of him with his hands in all the small businesses. He helps them flourish, gives them the help they need and in return he gets a small yearly fee and some discounted services. He also gives out protection for those that need it.”

Marlowe took a swig of the wine, placed it on the table, and lit a cigarette - the smoke rising to the ceiling. "Listen lady, I was listening to your whole conversation in the bar. I figured you were involved in something like this, something nefarious. The way this works is that you tell me everything you know, anything that could give me some hint of evidence. This means I need to know who your father is. I don't care how shadowy his past or his present is. I won't go to the cops. But I might go to him." He puffed on the cigarette, the tip burning bright for a moment.

Joey continued. “I need to know who this person is. But unfortunately, no one is willing to talk to me, especially the women. Maybe with your sources, you can give me clues to who it may be. I don’t like the balance being disturbed." She leaned forward, an intimate reaction. She might have even looked innocent to a lesser man. “Look, I have enemies who may try this. I have an obvious weakness. I can’t let Theo get involved. You saw how he is. He’s not the type for crime life. I can pay whatever the fee. And if you want, I can help you. But I need your help to provide me with those first few steps.”

Marlowe took in her honesty like a deep, cleansing breath. Finally, she was opening up to him - all he'd ever asked for. "This is a lot to take in. And I have some questions, but first there's the matter of my fee. One thousand a day. I value my life too much to ask for anything less. If your family is as big and bad as you say it is and if they're messed up with the Vincette's...this is going to be dangerous and I can't let someone as gorgeous as you take that on yourself."

He stood from the lounge chair, pacing the room, dominating her vision. He was lost in thought and only at her when expecting a response. "If that's acceptable, here's what I need to know: Who do you need to me to find and why do you need me to find them? What have they done to you? Or what are they going to do to you? Who are your enemies...I need names and information. You mentioned a Jacoby in the bar, who's he? What does he have to do with all this? And who are these 'women' who won't talk to you?"

He looked directly at her when he asked his final question, staring into her green eyes to show her soul that his soul meant business. "And lastly, most importantly - who are the 'toys' you referred to in the bar? The last thing I need is to be associated with a sociopath."

He leaned down, raising his glass of wine to his lips, gulping the last bit of it down. "The ball's in your court."

"This is a lot to take in. And I have some questions, but first there's the matter of my fee. One thousand a day. I value my life too much to ask for anything less. If your family is as big and bad as you say it is and if they're messed up with the Vincette's...this is going to be dangerous and I can't let someone as gorgeous as you take that on yourself."

“My family once supported the Vincette’s. But it was decided he was too much of a risk, so we cut him off,” she shrugged, and rested her head in her hands. She was tired. Exhausted. After this, she was going to either fall into bed, or call up a friend for some release. No, not sexual. Massage. “Consider your fee paid. The money will be delivered at the end of each week. And flattery will get you nowhere. I’ve heard it all before.” She smiled easily, but her eyes didn’t match the brightness. She had grown sick of empty flattery.

He stood from the lounge chair and paced back and forth of the floor. She watched him, or rather, she watched his tie. It was red… and sorta hard to take ones eyes off of it. "If that's acceptable, here's what I need to know: Who do you need to me to find and why do you need me to find them? What have they done to you? Or what are they going to do to you? Who are your enemies...I need names and information. You mentioned a Jacoby in the bar, who's he? What does he have to do with all this? And who are these 'women' who won't talk to you?"

“Jacoby? He is a simple boy. Theo’s friend. Excellent with computers,” she responded. “I was just using him as an example. Don’t fret about the boy.” Really, the young twenty year old was almost exactly like a young child. Find? That’s why she was going to him! She needed help to find the person she needed find. And most likely kick their ass! “There are those that know,” she replied, finding a pen and taking a blank sheet of paper. She jotted down names, numbers and addresses. “The ones in stars are my enemies. The ones that circles may know what’s going on.”

She was willing to work with Marlowe. Joey would give as much as information as she was allowed too. “The women are just women. They are the ones who don’t like me, don’t trust me with their men—I only take single ones—and the ones who work for my father.” And there were others but she knew those ones were innocent. Already extracted the truth from them.

He looked directly at her when he asked his final question, staring into her green eyes to show her soul that his soul meant business. "And lastly, most importantly - who are the 'toys' you referred to in the bar? The last thing I need is to be associated with a sociopath."
“Toys? Oh, you mean my playthings?” a chesire cat smile danced on her lips. “They’re the men that think they can get my favors. Oh, how they do try. Do not worry, I’m not a complete sociopath. Just utterly bored.” Even with her toys, she could still remain bored. Over half the time, she’d have to fake it. Joey mentally praised herself on how a good job she was.

Besides, she wasn’t actually a loud lover.

He leaned down, raising his glass of wine to his lips, gulping the last bit of it down. "The ball's in your court."

“My father is Mikah,” Joey said with all seriousness. “Does that ring a bell?” Mikah was known to be one of the most dangerous of crimelords around. He was a fair man, but once you crossed his family, well… you’d just vanish. Rumors were that he was sick and his two children were acting in his stead. (It’s only a rumor—Mikah was as healthy as a horse. Or a bull.) Joey still left her glass of wine untouched, her eyes solely focused on Marlowe.

Marlowe paced back and forth on his dark purple carpet, loosening his tie a bit more. The information coming from between her sultry lips was useful, but not so specific that he needed to write anything in his notebook. Detective work required a speed-of-mind. Like a great jazz saxophone player, Marlowe would remember the evidence perfectly, so that when the time came to perform, he was the best in the house. The best in the city in this case.

He moved closer to the woman, noticing that she hadn't taken a sip of her wine yet. Joey was trying to keep her cool - loose drinks make loose lips. "I guess you're not a wine gal, huh? No need to waste a good glass of Boordy." He downed the smooth, lightly fruity wine in one gulp. It was satisfying and he was starting to feel a buzz.

Finally the information he craved the most: "My father is Mikah,” Joey said with all seriousness. “Does that ring a bell?”

Marlowe raised an eyebrow. "So you're Mikah Baybrook's kid? He really knows how to put 'em together." He was talking with his cigarette in his mouth, only half-understandable. His words were muffled, but his intentions were clear. Mikah Baybrook had once ruled the south side of town, a real violent man with a friendly exterior. He talked most of his thugs into working for him based on charm alone. Still, he had taken advantage of a lot of small businesses, scared a lot of people, and killed even more.

But it had been more than fifteen years since the Vincette's moved into south side, taking most of Baybrook's territory. Baybrook was just a sad old man now. Maybe Joey was hoping to make up for lost time.

"Well, Ms. Baybrook, I had several dealings with your father back when I was a cop, but I could never pin anything on him. He knew how to wipe himself clean. The way I hear it, The Vincettes turned most of his men with promises of money and glory. Then we got Mario for tax evasion and all their hopes were dashed. Bet your father was pretty upset about that." He moved to the opposite side of the room, staring out of his apartment window, the view of the city skyline a sight to behold.

"I'm still not 100% sure what you want from me. You want me to find someone who doesn't want to be found, but why?" He strode back across the room, sitting directly next to Joey on the couch. He wanted to reach out and tough her leg, but he held himself back. "There's only a few reasons why someone comes to a private investigator instead of the cops. One, they're cheating on their spouse and want to keep them out of it. Two, they want to avoid the press. Three, they're out for personal revenge. And four, they're wrapped in something so crazy, they're life is so in danger, that not even the police will believe them." He blew a hint of cigarette smoke from his mouth. "Which one is it, Ms. Baybrook? What are you so afraid of that you'd come to a man like me for help?"

"I guess you're not a wine gal, huh? No need to waste a good glass of Boordy." He drank it all in one gulp. She didn’t drink wine. It tended to make her sleepy. After two glasses, she was dreaming of being a cat. And that was on the good stuff. The bad stuff? She had weird ass dreams. She dreamed of being a cat who was being cuddled and its tummy rubbed. She didn’t like her tummy rubbed. It was weird!

"So you're Mikah Baybrook's kid? He really knows how to put 'em together."

“Don’t talk like that about my father,” she replied emptily. “Especially when the backstory is unknown to you.”

"Well, Ms. Baybrook, I had several dealings with your father back when I was a cop, but I could never pin anything on him. He knew how to wipe himself clean. The way I hear it, The Vincettes turned most of his men with promises of money and glory. Then we got Mario for tax evasion and all their hopes were dashed. Bet your father was pretty upset about that."

Joey’s eyes went cold and empty. “Don’t go talking about things you don’t know, Mister Marlowe,” she growled softly. “There are a lot worse bastards out there. At least he stayed away from the innocent ones.” Her father was a badass, still was, but at the time, there had been chaos in the underworld. He had brought order and used an iron fist. “The Vincettes betrayed his trust. Mario ordered his men to ransack several business. Mikah did not order that. He scared the people, but he knew what he was doing. He protected the innocent to the best of his abilities.”

Joey had been nine at the time, a small thing. Her brother had been extremely sick and hadn’t been able to walk without losing breath. They had no money, no home (their parents had died and they ran away from foster care) and really, they were at their end. They had resorted to pickpocketing and mugging for survival. You can imagine their thoughts as a limo pulled up in front of their alley.

Mikah had stepped out only to glare down the two siblings before they would even whip out their makeshift weapons. Then, after a moment, he smiled. Theo and Joey had not backed down from the man. Mikah has only been about twenty eight at the time. He had been in this sort of business from childhood. When his father died, he had inherited the mess that was left behind. His grandfather had been worse than him.

Walking toward them, Mikah looked down at them. “How would you two like a warm bed to sleep in and some food in your tummies?” It was only a few months later when Mikah officially adopted them. Needless to say, the three had grown very close over the years and their adoption has been all but forgotten about. Both brother and sister were eternally grateful and could rarely deny the man anything.

"I'm still not 100% sure what you want from me. You want me to find someone who doesn't want to be found, but why?" He sat next to her. "There's only a few reasons why someone comes to a private investigator instead of the cops. One, they're cheating on their spouse and want to keep them out of it. Two, they want to avoid the press. Three, they're out for personal revenge. And four, they're wrapped in something so crazy, they're life is so in danger, that not even the police will believe them." He blew a hint of cigarette smoke from his mouth. "Which one is it, Ms. Baybrook? What are you so afraid of that you'd come to a man like me for help?"

“Can you imagine me going to the cops? Please, they don’t believe a word I say. And the chief works for Mario. I would be a fool to go there,” she looked completely serious. “The press… they are not involved in my life. I could care less about them. Until who I know the person is, I can’t say if its revenge.” It was definitely option four. But she hated to admit it.

“I’m not afraid. I’m worried. Six months ago, Theo noticed some strange comings and goings. Around that time Mario was trying to cement a relationship. No one knew the name, only that they wanted to gain more power. Father can’t always deal with minor things like this, so it was left in our hands. I’ve been keeping track, but now, there’s someone in my territory. No one sneak into my territory. Now you see why I’ve come to you? I need the best. And you’re the best.”

Marlowe stood up, quiet and pensive. "Now you see why I’ve come to you? I need the best. And you’re the best," she finished, a deep, foreboding honesty in her voice. Marlowe liked listening to her talk. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and he respected that - and was a bit scared by it. He was determined not to become one of her "toys".

"Glad to see you're finally coming to your senses, Ms. Baybrook. I am the best at this and I'm the only one who'll put his neck on the line like I'm about to do." He walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a beer out of the refrigerator, and placing it on the table. He finally removed his tie, wanting to get comfortable, draping it over top his coat. "I'm sorry if I offended you about your father. I lost a few of my friends' to his goons, so you'll have understand my reservations about the man. But you're his daughter, not him, so I'll try to be professional."

He unbuttoned the front of his shirt, "I hope you don't mind if I get a little bit more comfortable, it's been a long day." Marlowe tossed the white shirt onto his kitchen counter, standing only in his grays slacks and sleeveless undershirt. It highlighted his toned body and taunt, muscular arms. He popped the top of his beer by slamming it against the edge of the table. "So here's our approach. Tomorrow I'm going to talk to your buddy Jacoby. I'm going to see what he's been able to find out. Hopefully he can put me on the trail of whoever this is."

Marlowe took a swig of the beer, "Then, I'll spend some time with Theo. Or watching Theo, at least. I'll run surveillance to see if anyone has been following him. I want to rule out if this is a threat to him or not - especially if he's not in the family business."

He reached into his pocket and handed Joey a business card. It had his personal cell phone number on it. "I'll meet you back at 'The Gin Joint' tomorrow night at 8pm, so we can discuss what I've been able to find out. But I want you to call me if anything seems strange during the day: if you think someone's following you or if you just need to talk. Don't hesitate to call. I'm here 24/7."

"Glad to see you're finally coming to your senses, Ms. Baybrook. I am the best at this and I'm the only one who'll put his neck on the line like I'm about to do." Her eyes softened, looking almost thankful as he stood and walked toward the kitchen. She stood up as well, following him, at a distance.

“I’ve always had my senses, Mister Marlowe,” she smiled. “It’s just the matter of whether it’s correct in this society. After all, if not for a loss of senses… well, we wouldn’t have many of the things we have today, wouldn’t you agree?” Sometimes, being in a ‘mad’ world was the only way to go.

"I'm sorry if I offended you about your father. I lost a few of my friends' to his goons, so you'll have understand my reservations about the man. But you're his daughter, not him, so I'll try to be professional."

Joey held her hand up. “Totally understandable. You’ve only seen the side you’ve been told too,” she said, no spite in her words. And it was mostly true. She rarely met a cop who believed Micah Baybrook to be a kind man. No, they generally saw the blood thirsty mobster. “Don’t be professional with me. Be who you are. I have enough of having to pretend.”

"I hope you don't mind if I get a little bit more comfortable, it's been a long day."

“Your home, your rules,” she set, stretching her arms out. “Besides, I’ve seen it all before. Theo and all.” She winked at him, trying to lighten the mood. It was sad really. After she left this place, she’d go back to a cold, cold world. Strangely enough, she felt more comfort in that world rather than this one. Joey covered a small yawn. She looked around his place again. It was rather adorable.

"So here's our approach. Tomorrow I'm going to talk to your buddy Jacoby. I'm going to see what he's been able to find out. Hopefully he can put me on the trail of whoever this is.”

Joey rolled her eyes. “He won’t give you anything useful. He talks in riddles,” she replied. He literally talked in riddles. It was his own language that made many people leave him alone. He didn’t do it to the Baybrooks because they were nice to him and gave him lots of treats. “But tell him I said you were okay and he’ll give you easy ones. Once you crack a few of them, probably around five, he’ll probably talk normally for a few minutes.” Jacoby would probably be clueless. Well, Marlowe wanted to check him out, she wouldn’t stop it. a feeling told her he was the stubborn sort.

"Then, I'll spend some time with Theo. Or watching Theo, at least. I'll run surveillance to see if anyone has been following him. I want to rule out if this is a threat to him or not - especially if he's not in the family business."

Joey crossed her arms. “Don’t be stalkerish with him,” she growled. “At least be straight forward with him. He hates dishonesty. “ She pulled a lock of hair behind her ear. Her mind drifted toward what she would do when she got home. Ah, sleep. In her nice warm comfy bed. Maybe she’d spend the night at Micah’s place. Yeah, that sounded real nice. At least none of her toys would be there. She didn’t want to deal with them at the moment. Most were annoying.

"I'll meet you back at 'The Gin Joint' tomorrow night at 8pm, so we can discuss what I've been able to find out. But I want you to call me if anything seems strange during the day: if you think someone's following you or if you just need to talk. Don't hesitate to call. I'm here 24/7.”

She reached of it, her eyes scanning the card. “Well, that’s nice of you. But I can take care of myself,” she replied. “Thank you for the offer of talk.” I won’t be using it, her mind rattled off. She then reached into her pocket and pulled out a slightly rumbled piece of paper, and pulled out a pen. Scratching her number down, she handed it to the detective. “Here’s my real number. I have your woman, the one at the office, a fake. I didn’t know if you’d keep this on the down low.”

She stepped away from him, going toward the door. “Well, better get going then Mister Marlowe. Have a big day tomorrow. And wouldn’t want to get between you and your woman, so yeah… leaving,” she pointed at his door, giving him a first real smile and a wave. “See you tomorrow. Bye!”

Joey opened the door and stepped over the border.

Marlowe watched cautiously as Joey walked down the hallway. It wasn't always curiosity that killed the cat, sometimes it was confidence and this woman oozed confidence. She was so sure of herself, of her station, of her lifestyle and Marlowe had seen too many women like her walk out of a situation like this burned. He watched her hips swing, the skirt trailing behind her as she rounded the corner.

He closed the door behind him, walking back into the kitchen to pour himself an evening whiskey. He was drunk now, like most nights. Sometimes, he needed to fade out of existence for a while. Marlowe shot the whiskey down his throat and could feel it burn all the way down. As he drifted off to sleep in his lounge chair, he could only think one thing: What have I got myself into?


**********************


Marlowe knocked on the door a third time. He was in a dingy apartment complex on the South Side of town, a neighborhood known for its eccentric artists' and independent entrepreneurs.

*KNOCK**KNOCK*

The sound reverberated through the entire complex. He was starting to get impatient. He turned his back to the door, sliding down into a sitting position. If Jacoby wasn't here, he would just have to wait.

Suddenly, he felt the door open from behind his back. Jacoby was peaking out around the corner, paranoid. When he looked down and saw Marlowe, he backed away in horror, screaming, "I didn't do it, I swear! I didn't hack into the..."

Marlowe stood and offered the scared kid his hand. Jacoby was a mess, wearing a sweaty old t-shirt and jeans that could barely be considered in tact. "Relax, kid, I'm a friend. A friend of Joey's."

Jacoby looked suspicious, "If you're a friend of Joey's, answer me this: What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?"

The riddles, Marlowe had been told to expect the riddles. He thought for a moment, analyzing the possibilities. Jacoby stood there with a smirk on his face. "The Letter M," Marlowe replied. Jacoby looked shocked. He moved towards the detective, staring directly into his eyes.

"Okay. You got one. How about this one? What is is that you will break even when you name it?"

This one was familiar, a traditional riddle that Marlowe could've solved when he was a child. "The Moon," he answered confidently.

Jacoby was enraged. "You have got to be kidding me. Two! Two! How about a third, you imbecile? Who are the two brothers who live on opposite sides of the road yet never see each other?"

Marlowe had had just about enough of this. He reached out and grabbed Jacoby by the collar, tightening his grip. Jacoby turned into a scared child, squeeling a bit. Marlowe wasn't particularly intimidating, but to a strung out kid like Jacoby, he was real force. "I've had about enough of these games, Jacoby. I was told that you would have some information about the woman that is causing trouble for our mutual Joey. You either have this information or you don't." Marlowe snarled.

Jacoby winced, "Yes, yes, yes...just don't hurt me. Joey wouldn't like that. She needs me in perfect condition. I'm one of her toys."

Marlowe rolled his eyes - letting the twenty-something out of his grip, "She must be dynamite in bed if she's got all these 'toys'. You should really learn to be a bit more independent." He followed Jacoby to his computer, where the young man pulled up several photos.

The first was of a sultry, curvaceous red-head wearing a long, slinky blue dress. "This is Delia Vincette, Mario's daughter," Jacoby started, still out of breath. "For many years, she was thought to have given up on her father's lifestyle. She moved to Vegas, spent some time as a showgirl, this is the last known picture of her - at a movie premiere."

Jacoby shifted through some digital images and pulled up a second photo. It was out of focus security footage - most likely taken by some kind of spy camera. Marlowe could see the shape of a bed and a couple making love on top of it. Jacoby interjected, "The man on the bed is one of Mikah Baybrook's chief informants. He's one of Joey's toys, too. She keeps a lot of key men under her thumb with her good looks. It's part of the transition as she takes over her father's business. She can't offer money, but she can offer...other things. But if you take a look..."

Jacoby stops the footage as the woman on top turns around for a moment. She has bright red-hair. "That's not Joey," finished Marlowe.

"Looks an awful lot like Ms. Delia," said Jacoby with a smile. "I think she's come back to her old life and she's trying to change some allegiances using a very familiar technique, but we can't prove it's her."

Marlowe was intrigued, "What would she want with Joey's brother?"

Jacoby gave a quick, sarcastic laugh. "It would be a good way to break up the family, wouldn't it?"

Marlowe nodded to himself. "Thanks, kid. I'll show myself out." He walked towards the apartment door, his trench coat swing behind him.

schizophreniaJoey called Jacoby, remembering that she better call the kid before Marlowe came over. Rubbing her eyes, she knew that she would probably have to get him a few games and spy equipment if she was too late. Jacoby was one of the few toys she didn’t bed. Why? Well he was her brother’s friend. And well, there wasn’t any attraction between the two of them, besides companionship. And the fact that she beat up his bullies as children. His short little protector.

Happy happy joy joy happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy happy happy joy joy
Happy happy joy joy happy happy joy joy

Oh dear, her brother changed her ringtones on her again. Yawning, she answered the phone. “This better be a da-“ There was only one guess who it might be, but she couldn’t drop her guard for a minute. Even if a favorite toy of hers called.

“You little bitch!” the other line cursed at her. “You send him on me without telling me? He was completely awful and didn’t follow the rules! He was supposed to be stupid! Why did you send me a smart exfuzz?! He… he touched me! I don’t like being touched! You-“ His voice started to get so high pitched she swore that dogs could only hear him.

Jacoby was paranoid since birth apparently. Then again, when your only parent suffers from schizophrenia, life is hard. Many of those who knew the blonde’s story didn’t really complain of his current lifestyle. The boy had just been one of those unlucky few.

“I’m sorry Jacoby,” she replied, feeling really guilty. “I was about to call you, but…” she looked down at the bed. She had crashed at her father’s place last night. “How about I bring some new toys for you to make ya feel better, neh? “

“And a huge bowl of macaroni and cheese? The ones that your dad’s cook makes?”

“Sure.”

“And a trip to the comic book store?”

“Only if you change.”

“And a trip to GameStop?”

“Always. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes, ‘kay?” With that both hung up and returned to their daily routines. Joey yawned once more and slipped out of yesterday’s clothes before changing into a huge hoodie and slipped into black loose slacks. She took her brown hair and braided it, not waiting her vision to be obscured. Today, she didn’t feel as though she wanted to be all sexy. Nope. The natural was the way to go. Looking herself over she nodded before slipping on her red converse once more.



It was exactly twenty minutes later when she knocked on the door. There was a side bag filled to the brim with goodies and food still steaming hot. A satisfied smile came to her face. Yes. She did a very lovely job, if she had to say so herself. “Jacoby,” she called out, knocking a few times. “I got the goods.”

Jacoby opened the door, peering out as he then studied her eyes, “What goes down a chimney up and goes up chimney down?”

“An umbrella.”

He pushed the door a little more open and she inched inside, holding out her cheesy offering. “We come in peace.”

“W-we?”

“Me and your video games, your comic books and the totally awesome spy goodies,” she smiled as he lit up like a little child. Settling down on his living room floor, the two spent the rest of the afternoon together, playing video games and pretending that Marlowe didn’t visit. Her mind always wandered back to who was trying to muscle her out.



It was 8pm when she walked through the doors of The Gin Joint. The bartender gave her a smile and mouth ‘The usual hot chocolate?’ She nodded back before looking for the best seat. Ah, there it was. It was a corner booth which allowed for privacy while at the same time, giving the person a full view of the room. She made a beeline for it, choosing the comfy seat.

She still wore her hoodie and slacks. Her converse was slightly dirty from running here after realizing she would be late if she didn’t. Joey smiled as the bartender brought her hot beverage. “Hey kiddo, you looked frazzled,” he responded as he bent down and rested to his haunches. “Still can’t find whose out to get your brother?

Joey blew softly at the steam. “I… I’m trying my best. I have a meeting with Mario and his daughter tomorrow. Apparently they have some sort of proposition that is supposed to interest me. I don’t trust either of them.” The bartender smiled before rubbing her back.

“Don’t worry kiddo. Micah’s blood may not run in your veins, but you are a part of him. No doubt you’re just as much as a cockroach as he is. Seriously, how many times should have died by now? And look at you, you’re next in line. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone is watching your moves.” The bartender was Micah’s childhood friend. The men were also abnormally close without being lovers. Still, it was nice to have a trusted friend that wasn’t in the family.

Andy, the bartender, was not involved in the mob business, although he opened his doors to everyone. It was… a sort of neutral place. No turf wars allowed, no nothing. The last time someone started shit, he showed just why he was able to scare off anyone who tried to extort money from him. “Waiting for someone, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. He’s real helpful,” she responded. “An old dog with a good nose.”

Theo Baybrook lived in the wealthy suburbs of the city, a good forty-five minute drive from downtown. It was filled to the brim with yuppie architecture, "Little Boxes" lined up in a row. There was a nice car in every drive way and an heir of money and influence. It was much different than the neighborhood's that Marlowe frequented and it made him uncomfortable. He lit up a cigarette to calm his nerves, the smooth menthol quenching his addiction. It was a bad habit, but a necessary one.

Marlowe parked across the street from Theo's house. It was still daylight, but the sun was hiding behind low hanging clouds. He watched. Joey had told him to warn Theo, to let him know that he was being tailed, but that wasn't Marlowe's style and this wasn't Joey's case. Marlowe knew that people acted differently when they were being watched and he needed to see Baybrook in his element.

Everything seemed to be relatively typical. Occasionally Theo would step out to grab the newspaper or play with his kids, but as far as Marlowe could tell, no one else was lurking in the shadows.

The sun crested over the horizon, day becoming night. Almost on cue, Theo meandered from his house to his BMW, pulling out of his drive way and moving towards the city. Marlowe shifted his car into gear and followed closely behind. Suburban homes passed his windows, slowly becoming more like urban streets, the buildings getting bigger and the sidewalks dirtier. Marlowe immediately felt more at home amongst the grime.

Suddenly, he was cut-off by a red convertible. The woman at the wheel had long red hair, flying behind her as she sped up, practically tailgating Theo's car. It had to be a coincidence...Delia couldn't have made it this easy. Especially if she was as slithery as Jacoby had seemed to think she was.

But as the drive went on and the red convertible continued to weave through the traffic to keep up with Theo's BMW, Marlowe couldn't deny what he was seeing with his own eyes. He had no idea where they were headed, but he knew he had to get the redhead off of Theo's track. Marlowe pressed the gas as hard as he could, doubling his speed in no time. He changed lanes quickly, moving beside the convertible. He tried desperately to get a look at the woman's face, but couldn't. He was too focused on protecting his client's brother.

Marlowe switched on his turn signal, easing himself closer to the convertible. Theo was also increasing his speed, trying to get the phantom car off his ass. Marlowe took his shot, rapidly accelerating and placing himself between the BMW and the convertible...

...it almost caused a horrible accident and the redhead began beeping furiously. Marlowe smiled to himself as Theo's BMW turned the corner at 1st and Green. He let him turn, letting the trail go cold, and continued forward. Peering into his rear view mirror, Marlowe spotted the convertible still on his tail. He had tricked her. She was easily manipulated. Sooner or later, Delia (or whoever this was) would realize she'd lost Theo.

Marlowe looked down at his watch. It was 8:15 and he was late for his date with Joey. He turned onto St. Paul Street and headed towards the "The Gin Joint"...

Theo called her cellphone. He wasn’t as slithery or slippery as her but, he had a pretty good sixth sense about things. So when he called, he sounded mildly furious. Which was always a bad sign. “Goddamnit Joey did you spike my kids’ drink? One minute they’re hyper as hell, the next their sound asleep!” Joey winced. It was safe to say, there were mother hens, mother tigers… and then there was Theo. After his wife died, he had done his best to protect his little ones. Micah had offered him money, but the boy had said, ‘It’s my life and my kids. I want them to live in a house that I bought—all by myself. No offense, Father.’

And Theo did. He was an architect now. Designed the more modern buildings and helped the small business under protection refurbish and even redo parts of their stores and businesses. He generally did that to them for free. He really wasn’t the type to go into the field of crime. But most knew he would, if his children were in danger. Theo was an excellent marksman. Had yet to miss a shot.

“Theo...” she was slightly worried now. Never ever would she hurt those kids. Sure, give them an inhuman amount of soda and sugar… but drug them? No. That was not how she did things. Not at all. “Where are they?”

“I dropped them off at Madame Crstyl’s. You know, the crazy lady on my street. She’s good with them so… I don’t trust anyone else.” Madame Crstyl was as crazy as they get without the white coats chasing after them. Or rather, she had a pretty vivid imagination. She had inherited a massive fortune and had never spent a cent, instead she donated a huge chunk toward the orphanage in the ghetto. “But that isn’t the point. I’m on my way to see Jacoby. I heard… he had a meeting of minds with your little detective? Anyway, now he thinks that the police is out to get him. Thank you, Joey. And send my wonderful thanks to your detective as well.”

Joey rolled her eyes and stretched out her arms as she looked at her watch. Damn, he was fifteen minutes late, what was going on? “—someone on my tail. Did you sic that red convertible on me?”

Red… convertible? She didn’t think that Marlowe drove one. But... Delia did. “Theo, what did you say before?”

“There was someone on my tail—you know, tailing and following me on the road. A red convertible. I only saw red hair. But it looked like Delia’s car… even the dent from when you mashed her face against the hood was there. But she could’ve solved. Anyway, after I finish with Jacoby, I’m going to grab the kids and stay with Father. I don’t to deal with any shit like this.”

Joey nodded, understanding completely. “Alright Theo, I’ll keep you post. And I’ll make sure that Marlowe told you that he was tailing—“
“He was WHAT?!”

“Bye Theo, love ya!” She hung up on her brother, stuffing her phone into her hoodie’s pockets. “I will kill that old dog. I told him to tell Theo. Now she knew her brother would become a pain in Marlowe’s ass. Which was why she told him to tell her brother so he wouldn’t be one.

Joey leaned back and relaxed, letting her thoughts trail over the people she knew. There some she suspected of betrayal, others she knew they did and the rest she knew would never. Delia was crazy. Extremely unstable as well. It was why she had to smash the girl’s face into her own car. Delia had pulled a gun on a pass byer. “If you ever do that again, Delia dear, I’ll take great pleasure in destroying your face,” she had promised. Several weeks later, Delia had fled to Las Vegas.

Her eyes widened. If Delia was back… that meant… damn. The girl probably got support from one of the mobs there. Her eyes narrowed, now who to ask…maybe this would be useful to Marlowe.

Marlowe parked his car five blocks from the bar, wary that the woman in the red convertible would come back for swift revenge. He had ruined her plans and he had done it with absolute pleasure. He smiled, lighting another cigarette as he walked down the sidewalk towards "The Gin Joint". The smoked billowed from his mouth, his red tie blowing in the wind, his hands in the pockets of the tan trench coat. He tossed the cigarette into the street as he turned into the bar. A flash of spark rose from the pavement.

Marlowe strutted inside, it had been a long, hard day on the hunt - a little too much action for his liking - but action seemed to follow this woman. He spotted Joey in the corner booth and smirked. He hated his smile.

Before moving to the booth, he stopped at the bar. "Jack and Coke, extra Jack," he said, tossing a few dollars into the bartender's hand. It was a hefty fifty-percent tip. The bartender handed Marlowe a glass full of the dark liquid. He took a sip and let out a sigh of relief. He could feel his body relaxing.

He took a seat across from Joey, surprised to see her in a hoodie and jeans. She pulled it off though, still the prettiest in the girl in the room - and the most alluring. She looked upset, a mix of anger, sadness, and anxiety. "It was a productive day," he started, lightly sipping on the glass of whiskey before sitting it on a coaster. "I've got a lot to work with, but every answer creates a new question."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a red notebook with dozens of notes and drawings. "I stopped by Jacoby's. Crazy kid. Have you ever thought about using some of Daddy's money to get him a good psychiatrist?" He let the question sit, knowing Joey wouldn't be happy with it. He hoped she was coming to appreciate his brutal honesty.

"He caught some footage of a red-head with one of your father's partners. One of your 'toys', I'm told. She looked an awful lot like Delia Vincette, but I'm not wholly convinced. I'm wondering if that's too quick and easy of an answer. It makes the most sense - but stuff like this shouldn't make sense. People like her doing things for reasons that most of us would never understand."

He continued, "I followed your brother - but lost him. I have no idea where he was going, but he was being followed. Another red-head. But I didn't get a good look at her face. She might've been Delia, but I work off real evidence, not speculation. I did, however, catch her license plates and I will be calling in a few favors tomorrow to figure out where she lives."

Marlowe knew the next question would be the most difficult, "I know you don't want him involved in this, but I feel like I should talk to your father. Could we arrange a meeting? He might have contacts that even you don't know about. Contacts that could be truly helpful in our search."

Joey looked up at Marlowe. “Well, I don’t use Daddy’s money. I use my own,” she replied, her eyes cold. “And Jacoby isn’t crazy. He’s just a lost kid. Paranoid about being left alone, paranoid about being too close to anyone. You can thank his mother for that.” She closed her eyes, letting out a small breath of air.

"He caught some footage of a red-head with one of your father's partners. One of your 'toys', I'm told. She looked an awful lot like Delia Vincette, but I'm not wholly convinced. I'm wondering if that's too quick and easy of an answer. It makes the most sense - but stuff like this shouldn't make sense. People like her doing things for reasons that most of us would never understand."

“Actually, she would be quite logical. About a year or so ago, I may have… smashed her face in her shiny new convertible… and maybe have broken several bones in her face,” Joey put her hand to her mouth, looking… like an innocent angel. She pulled the hood down over her eyes. “Oh, if this is my entire fault, that must mean I’m a horrible, horrible, horrible person.

"I followed your brother - but lost him. I have no idea where he was going, but he was being followed. Another red-head. But I didn't get a good look at her face. She might've been Delia, but I work off real evidence, not speculation. I did, however, catch her license plates and I will be calling in a few favors tomorrow to figure out where she lives."

She looked up at him. “Oh, I know. Theo called me to tell me all about it. I told you, you should’ve told him. Now he’s gonna blacklist you,” Joey smiled slightly. “Don’t worry, I have a meeting with Mario tomorrow. If you want, you can come tomorrow.” The offer was there in the open, his for the taking.

"I know you don't want him involved in this, but I feel like I should talk to your father. Could we arrange a meeting? He might have contacts that even you don't know about. Contacts that could be truly helpful in our search."


Joey nodded. “Alright, I’ll do it. On one condition though,” she looked at him. “We do it tonight. Father will be business for the rest of the week and he doesn’t like to make plans for next week until next week. Also, I have a favor… could you possibly stay the night with me? I have a guest room and all but… I don’t want to be alone at home.” After a moment she realized how silly she sounded. Looking completely embarrassed she waved her hand. “You know what, don’t even answer. I just realized how stupid it sounded. Please pretend I never said anything.”


She wondered if Micah would be in any mood to deal with Marlowe. She had told her father all about him. Micah was blonde and blue eyed, and looked nothing like his two ‘children’. His appearance did not match his reputation. He rather looked like an ordinary man—someone you would completely walk by on the street. Which in a way, was good because he had a forgettable face. Unless you were dead. But even then… you’re dead.

Marlowe kept mental track of his schedule, before writing it down in the notebook. Mario Vincette was a hard man to get a meeting with and a hard man to find. He would have use this to his advantage. "Tomorrow, I won't be attending the meeting with Mario. I'm going to give you a voice recorder to hide in your clothes. It'll pick everything he says. If you march in with a private investigator he'll clam up and we won't get anything. But I'll follow you and if there's any problems, I'll have your back. I promise."

He was completely sincere. For whatever reason, he was actually starting to care about the well-being of Joey and her brother. This was all very heavy and Marlowe could see the weight on the young woman's shoulders.

Joey was quiet about Mikah for a moment, obviously contemplating whether or not it would be good idea. Marlowe's history with the man was plenty good reason to be suspicious. Then she opened up, "“Alright, I’ll do it. On one condition though,” she looked at him. For the first time, she was dropping the cold demeanor and showing a slight hint of vulnerability. It was incredibly attractive. “We do it tonight. Father will be in business for the rest of the week and he doesn’t like to make plans for next week until next week.[/B]

"I'm okay with that," replied Marlowe, a smile on his face. "But we'll have to go soon. I'm going to need my beauty sleep for tomorrow." He laughed.

Then, Joey leaned in, that vulnerability increasing. She was truly worried, not as strong and confident as before. Marlowe knew he would have to be careful - this could just be another one of her games. "Also, I have a favor… could you possibly stay the night with me? I have a guest room and all but… I don’t want to be alone at home.” After a moment she realized how silly she sounded. Looking completely embarrassed she waved her hand. “You know what, don’t even answer. I just realized how stupid it sounded. Please pretend I never said anything.”

Marlowe reached out and placed a hand on top of hers. "This whole thing is pretty scary. You've been playing the strong, independent woman for so long that you've forgotten that sometimes you need a little help. I can offer that help, Ms. Baybrook." He smiled warmly, still suspicious, but growing to believe her. "I care about this case and I care about you. I want you to get out of this safely. So I'll stay with you tonight. I'll protect you."

He leaned back to clarify an important point, "But if I catch you referring to me as one of your 'toys', I'm off the case for good. Understand that." Marlowe stood and adjusted his coat. "Should we get going to your father's? We can take my car."