Reading in the Studebaker
Friday, April 4th, 2008Field notes: Death by Jerry Vale: Certainly a close call. I didn’t know it was Vegas night at the Baltimore Grill or I wouldn’t have stopped by. You don’t expect ruffled shirts and sky blue tuxedos in Chelsea but that is no excuse. After the melee in the parking lot I reported back to Mrs. Ogilvie who was dressed as a supernumerary for an opera I don’t know the name of. The PI game is humbling sometimes.
The idea that Mrs. Julius is seeing Dr. Mudd remains the central thesis of our investigation, according to our source who prefers to remain anonymous. Mrs. Ogilvie suspects a rival firm has been hired to run a shadow investigation; in fairness I should point out she thinks my ineptitude is driving our client away. I vow to do better. I keep my feelings in check although I do wonder about a boss wearing a four foot peacock feather tiara.
Back on station I see that Dr. Mudd’s waiting room is full. Nothing to do now but wait, catch up on the ball scores, see if any money center banks have collapsed since this morning. Plenty of Wall Street types in the waiting room speaking on cell phones and checking their Blackberries. No sign of Mrs. Julius or the mysterious red fog.
I may have dozed since the scent of perfume from the backseat is a new element in the Studebaker’s staid environment. “Don’t turn around,” a soft voice whispers in my ear.
I don’t know about you but when someone tells me not to do something my first inclination is to go ahead and do it anyway.
I turn around.
“Mrs. Julius?”
The back seat is empty.
Knuckles rap on my window. Il Vagabondo is back.