Goodnight Gemma

1940s LAPD Crime Detective with an 'obsession' of the Lonely Hearts of Hollywoodland

Some call them no-goods. Some call them floosies. Home-wreckers, scamps or scoundrels. There seems to be a million of them or more. We all got a name for them. Me? I like to call them Lonely Hearts. I think that's what they are; lonely. Too afraid to love anybody and even more afraid to love anybody back. Or maybe they'd like too desperately to be loved. They're in and out of beds like you and I are in and out of shoes. It's a lifestyle for them; a habit. I don't think it happens with intent, no. Everybody needs somebody, right?

I listened to the rain pitter-patter steadily against the foggy window. Was the window really foggy or was that the fog that crept in from the pacific, enchanting the night with its vague charm? Either way, it was clouding my view and was probably even worse for the poor suckers lost in it.

I watched as the diner's dying neon sign swung aimlessly with the soft breeze that carried the fog. There weren't many of us here in the diner save for a cook, the waitress who doubled as the hostess for the night, myself and a pair of lonely hearts.

They were cuddled up in the booth, speaking sweet nothings into each other's ear while sharing a warm mug of hot cocoa, whipped cream piled high. I glimpsed at their reflection in the mirror in time to catch the dame sneak a kiss on her bub's cheek.

She wasn't anything special; not to me anyways. Her hair was curled tight and close to her cheekbones or that was the impression I got. The rain must've washed away whatever effort she had put into it. The color was interesting enough. It was a dusty red, as if you were gazing at a brush fire through a smokey haze. Her highlights were muted embers.
Her face was too thin to be beautiful with lips full enough to overpower the rest of her porcelain mask. Her lips were a flattering shade of red.

Bub wasn't quite the looker neither, but who am I to judge? He had a square jaw with a flat, broad nose and paper-thin lips. Eyes set far apart with plenty thinking room between them. His shoulders were almost too delicate to belong to such a face but, like I said, who am I to judge?

I took another sip of my coffee, admiring the way the fog engulfed Olvera Street. It crept along gracefully. My eyes departed from the fog's performance to glance at the weathered face of the clock. I guess it was too high up for anyone to bother to clean. 4am. Only cops, no-goods and lonely hearts were out at this time.

My attention was drawn back to the two lovebirds in the booth by a sharp little laugh. I watched Bub slip off the gold band around his finger and tuck it deeply into the breast pocket of his maroon jacket. The one that draped over the shoulders of his lady companion.

He whispered something into her large round ears and her cheeks became red as stoplights in the dark. On his feet he rose, extending a ringless hand out to her. Her's fit perfectly into his as she stood up and kept close to him. They interlocked their elbows the way lovebirds do and began to head out into that foggy curtain as it began to obscure the rest of the block.

As they made their way out the door, bub's eyes turned to me. It wasn't a look of intent, but rather one of random passing. I shot him a quick smile and he returned it before they continued out the door and into the world.

I watched them carefully before I could see them no more. I forced myself unto my shiny-shoed feet and threw a crumpled bill onto the table. A bit generous of me seeing as it was a ten cent cup of joe but I had no change. I made my way to the door and followed the pair, maintaining a respectable distance. I was thankful that her red petticoat stood out against the ghostly mist. There were some days that the fog was so thick the you couldn't even see the tip of your own nose.

I trailed them for perhaps a block, maybe two until they turned into a dingy old apartment building tucked away in some deep alley.

I pressed my back to the outside wall, rubbing and blowing into my cold fists. My eyes stayed glued on the two. I watched as his fingers rubbed small figure eights on the girl's lower back while they waited for the dumb waiter to descend. She sighed that lover's sigh and rested her head on his delicate shoulders. The two were unaware of anyone's presence but their own.

Finally, the dumb waiter had arrived and the two entered. I disappeared behind the outside wall, not wanting to blow my own cover. When I heard the rickety old cage ascend, I peered around to check for good measure before I peeled away from where I hid and took my place where the Lonely Hearts once stood. I watched as the dumb waiter's copper ticker sleepily made itself to the right then stop on the worn brass three.

I took my time climbing the cold stone steps of the stairwell. It was colder in there than it had been outside, I felt. I Listened to the sounds of my shiny shoes as they clicked and tapped all the way up to the third floor. I climbed those stairs leisurely, I didn't figure I was missing much. No need to rush.

There were about five rooms on this floor and I wasn't sure which room they had slipped into. One by one I pressed my ear against each door. Not a mouse stirred behind them until I got to door number 4.

There was a loud crash and something that sounded like bub cursing. It was faint, like a mix between a growl and a whisper. I don't know what he said but it sounded unpleasant. There was another crash, like something had fallen hard onto the wooden floor.

Immediately, I unholstered my gun from the confines of my jacket and took a few steps back before breaking the shabby lock with a forceful kick. i was appalled at what I saw but quickly regained my composure. "Drop it sister or I drop you." I announced.

Broad Nose from the diner laid on the floor, propped up on one elbow. His other hand was a bit preoccupied as he was holding his throat in place . Crimson fluid sputtered from his lips as he tried to speak. The white sleeves and front of his shirt were already stained and already saturated by his own blood.
I could also see his lip was split and was nearly bitten off completely while his mouth profusely bled. She had quite the kiss.

"Who are you??" She hissed, turning from sweet kitten to bloodthirsty panther right before my very eyes. Her hand was just as bloody as his but in her hold was a nice shiny straight razor.

"Drop the blade!" I ordered.

She turned toward me, body prepared to launch at me at any given second. Her eyes were crazed but her soul expressionless.

"Detective Joe McCallister. LAPD." I opened my rain-soaked coat to display the plated badge pinned to my belt.

She harshly frowned; her face somewhere between a twisted grin and unexpected disappointment. Bub was trying to say something, but a gash in your throat makes it hard to get the right words out.

"Gemma Lee..." I announced, "...you're arrested for the murders of Eli Goldbaum, Seth Williams, Marcus Henry, Noah Smith and your husband Duke Lee. We can do this the easy way or the hard---" She lunged at me with the speed of a cornered jungle cat and had the scream to match. The razor caught the sleeve of my coat. I don't believe her intention was to slice me by the way she continued out the door and toward the stairwell.

She cursed when she had reached the stairwell's door and found it locked. I had found the padlock earlier and saved myself from any future headache. With my gun raised and locked onto her, I cautiously approached the bloodthirsty dame, "Ms. Lee...we can work this out." I began.

"There ain't nothin' to work out!!" She retorted as her nostrils flared, deep breaths escaping from them. Tears began to well in the corners of her deep black eyes, "You know what they do to broads like me? They stick 'em in the chair! They stick em in the chair and fry 'em like a turkey!! I ain't goin' out like no turkey!"

"You don't have to." I took a step closer and she held the razor with murderous intent, "Stop! I'll cut you copper!! Dice you like a big red tomatuh!" Her eyes again filled with the hot tears before they began to cascade down her too-thin face, "You ain't know what it's like...it's like to be a woman...".

"No...i rightly don't. I---"

"Shove it!" She thrusted the blade forward but nowhere near me. It was more of a warning than anything else.

"You ain't know what it's like to have them hands all over you. To have them touching you and kissing you and telling you they love you. You ain't know what it's like to love a man you can't have cause he got a lady and little ones at the nest. To have somebody tell you that they love ya for the night and no other nights more!!! You ain't know what it's like!!!" She sobbed, "If I can't have 'em...ain't nobody can...ain't...nobody...can." Her hand crept to her face as she wept. She still held the razor towards me but with less confidence. It shook in her little hand as she sobbed.

I crept closer and snatched the blade from her before quickly tossing it down the other end of the tight hallway. She didn't fight me. Didn't seem to be in much shock that I had freed the blade from her possession. Now that the blade was absent, her other hand retreated back and held the rest of her face.

Her shoulders hiked with every sob and hiccup. I felt bad for the dame but a murderess was a murderess and murderesses and male emotions don't mix well together; much like oil and vinegar, "Mrs. Gemma Lee. You are hereby under arrest for murder." I brandished my handcuffs and she screamed like a banshee with a loud enough shrill to wake all the angels asleep in the city.

"The chair!!! The chair!!!! They'll fry me in the chair!!!!!" She ran toward me and I attempted to nab the screeching woman but she kneed me right where it hurts most. I caught ahold of her slim wrist but she tore away.

After that, time slowed to a crawl. Not even a crawl. Slower. Like cold molasses in an Alaskan winter. The barely-open window shattered as she threw her body against it. The pieces glimmered with the reflection of the Los Angeles lights then died away with the thick emptiness of the pacific fog. The murderous Lonely Heart vanished too as if absorbed by night. Her scream became distant as if she had flown away. I rushed to the window and peered down.

With a messy red halo surrounding the perimeter of her pale white skin and dusty red hair, Ms. Lee laid dead in the cold wet alley. Her arms outstretched at her sides as if attempting to embrace the fog; but like all the lovers she's ever known, It had rejected her.

I sighed as the fog began to recede, like it was remorseful for the death it had witnessed. it shied away from the building and from her body. My fingers pressed against my eyes in frustration. I had to turn away from the window, had turn away from the gruesome sight splattered all over the floor three stories down.

I made my way back to the room and found broad nose had dragged himself over to the bed and propped himself against it, still he sat on the floor. "Lemme see." I crouched before him, trying to peek around where his hand so tightly clutched his neck. He nodded no.

"Lemme see 'fore I let her back in so she can finish the job!" I threatened. As if he believed me, he relucatantly unwound one finger at a time from around his thick neck. It wasn't anything bad, didn't look too deep. He was probably suffering more from shock than anything.

"Pick your dames more carefully, pal...". I made my way over to the pearly white phone on the nightstand and removed it from its cradle, "...you're gonna have a ball trying to explain this to the missus. Hello Operator? This is Detective McCallister, LAPD. Can you connect me to Lieutenant Bradshaw's? Yes, I'm well aware of the time, doll." I waited until I unfortunately heard the once-asleep voice of Louis Bradshaw.

"McCallister? You know what time it is?"

"No rest for the wicked, sir. I'm on Olvera in the old apartment building. Yes, that one. Caught up with Ms. Lee and another intended victim..no..he'a alive. Call in some emergency medics though and a clean-up crew....they're gonna need the biggest spatula they got for this one....you can get my statement when I get in."

I hung up the phone then turned to leave the building. I patted bub's head as I passed him by, " You'll be alright."
His eyes told me he doubted my words. He was probably right. If this broad didn't get him, his darling probably will, but that problem ain't mine.

I made my way down the hall, but stopped to stare at that broken window and now-clear skies of the city. The sun was just barely waking up and soon the rest of the city would follow. Now, I could come up with some clever or witty thing to say to go with that shattered window but I don't have the time nor patience for that.

I pressed the downward button of the dumbwaiter and waited for the rickety basket to crawl up to the third floor. From inside my jacket, I removed the silvery-grey cigarette case and tapped it hard against the butt of my palm. I set a well-deserved cigarette between my lips and entered the now-present dumbwaiter. I stood still as I waited for it to return me to the lonely lobby.

Out the door I went but stopped just shy of the last step. I looked to the sky and admired the last few rain-droplets as they fell.

Los Angeles. The City of Angels. The city of broken dreams and gold-paved roads. Fool's gold, I think. The city of whodunits and fuggetaboutits. But most of all, it was the city of Lonely Hearts and today, there was one less of them.