The Misplaced Detective ~2

A Story by JD Major

The Case of the Runaway Runner-up

Short Story ~1600 words ...

( See Italian-to-English translations halfway down the piece )

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The Case of the Runaway Runner-up

I was sitting with my feet up staring at the wall, counting sunlit lines cracking the window blinds, wondering where my next case was coming from, when Roni came in.

"Your ex, Miss Coney Island Runner-up, is here to see you, McQ."

Roni is my secretary. Blond, beautiful, five-feet-zip, moxie, head-to-toe. We've been inseparable since The Case of the Cheeky Parakeet.*

" ... Damn. Of all the P.I. shops, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."(1)

"How long you been waitin' to spout that one, Bogey?"

"All my life, sweetheart. ... "How's Tiffany lookin'?"

"I don't know, how'd Tiff look before?"

"Something buggin' you, Roni?"

Yeah, Tiff. I just swam through a perfume cloud to get in here."

"Gimme a sec, then show her in."

"I'll give you two, you look like horse spuds." She banged the door on her way out.

"I finger-combed my mop, buzzed my stubble and was up on my feet gargling a cap of Listerine Original when Tiffany whiffed in.

"Hi McQuinn, betya think I'm lookin' swell, huh?"

I swallowed hard. Original burns. "Yeah, knockout dress, Tiffany. But, do you always wear that Runner-up sash?"

"Nah, just wanted to remind you of what you lost."

" ... Have a seat. What brings you here?"

"You're the misplaced detective, aren't ya? Where else would I go?" She installed herself, provocatively, in the spindle-back armchair facing my desk.

"What've you misplaced?"

"Me."

"Case closed, you're found. Kindly pay your bill on your way out."

"Smartass. It wasn't me who misplaced me, it was Ricco."

"Ricco the Rooster, Boss Gallo's kid brother?"

"Yeah, I dumped him when he wasn't lookin', now he's lookin'."

"For the two hundred-large you misplaced out of his safe?

" ... How'd you know about that?"

"Word's on the street."

"How much do you want, McQuinn, to help me get safe outa the City alive?"

"A hundred and expenses."

She slow-shook her coiffed head. "Jeez, McQuinn, just a lousy hundred? Still the broke-but-honest gumshoe, huh?" She dug into her handbag.

"A hundred-large."

"I'm not giving you half!"

Roni gapped the door, stepped in and shut it, and hotfooted it to Miss Runner-up's side.

Tiffany scrunched up her bobbed nose. "Whatta you want, sister?"

Roni clamped a hand over Tiff's mouth. "Ricco Gallo's here to seeya, Gunn," she whispered.

I looked lasers at Tiffany, garbling muffled curses, her head jouncing, arms flailing.

Hush," I whispered ... to no effect.

Roni pinched Tiffany's nose. "Chill, sister."

Tiffany chilled.

I refixed my stare. "Do you want to live to see tomorrow, Tiff?"

She nodded.

Will you do exactly as I tell you, without fuss or question?"

She nodded.

Roni detached her hand. Tiffany drew in a breath and exhaled.

"Give Roni a hundred-large," I said.

Tiffany unzipped her handbag and handed off ten greenback-stacks to Roni, who in turn tossed them onto my desk.

"You got that perfume of yours in the bag, Tiff?" She tossed them on my desk.

She nodded.

"Let me have it."

"Now ain't the time to score yourself a new fragrance, Roni," I whispered.

"Do you want me and you to see tomorrow, McQ?" Roni locked her baby-blues on me.

"Give Roni the perfume, Tiffany."

Tiffany gave Roni her perfume.

Roni sprayed her cheeks and tucked the atomizer down her neckline. "I'll stall the Rooster, McQ. You run her up."

"Me runner-up!" Tiffany whispered, "and I woulda won if that lush judge hadn't tapped Kimberly's door lookin' for mine."

"Can it, Tiffany." I got up, raised the blinds and opened my window. "Get yourself out onto the fire escape so's I can get you up on the roof."

Roni gave me the stink-eye as I helped our curvaceous client over the sill. I followed Tiff out and poked my noggin back inside. "Ring Casey the cabby on my phone, Roni, he's got a thing for Tiff, and he owes me a favor. Tell him to pick her up in the alley outback and drive her to Canada."

"I'll cab you to Canada if you're not back in two shakes, McQ."

Ricco was pacing when Roni returned. "McQuinn'll be with you shortly, Mr. Gallo." She leaned back against her desk, pressing her palms to it.

"I know she's here," Ricco said. "I can smell the Notti a Roma perfumo I give her." He pulled his .38. "Where is she? I already checked the John. Gunn's office?"

"It's me you're sniffin', Mr. Gallo. Notti's my brand." She fetched the atomizer from her blouse. "Cost me a week's pay."

Ricco reined in his peepers. "Where does a private dick's girl-Friday get five C's for Notti a Roma?" He pocketed his piece and squinted her a player's up-and-down. "Sei Spettacolare!" He kissed his fingertips.

"Gunn's generous. Grazie."

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Italian-to-English translations ...

Bella ~Beautiful

Bella Bambina ~ Beautiful Girl

Bella mia ~My Beautiful

Grazie ~Thank you

kahunas ~ ( Hawaiian actually, and you're on your own with this one :)

Notti a Roma ~ Nights in Rome ( I kid you not! )

Perdonami, Bella ~Forgive me, Beautiful

perfumo ~ perfume

Santo Sterco! - Holy Dung!

Sei Spettaolare! ~ You are Spectacular!

Sono Mortificato! ~ I am mortified!

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"You deserve better than a two-bit gumshoe, Bella mia. I'd lavish you in silk and diamonds, you was mine."

She fanned her face. "The way you talk Mr. Gallo, I swear, you give a girl the vapors."

"I'll give you a rocket ride to Riccoville, all you gotta do is ask for it."

"I'm askin' for it."

"No need to, Roni, I'm bringin' it," I said, opening my door, a tad breathless. Then, glancing a passing nod to Ricco, I plunked a briefcase on her desk, unbuckled it and slapped down a stack."Your third quarter bonus, sweetheart."

Ricco gasped. "Damn, McQuinn. Sono Mortificato! I had the Bella Bambina here pegged as a scamp, snowin' me that Tiff wasn't here when my nose insisted she was."

"Toldya I was a Notti gal, Ricco."

He snap-bowed from the shoulders and put his hands together as in prayer "Perdonami, Bella."

I asked, "Is that what brings you by, Ricco? You trackin' Miss Runner-up?"

"Yeah, I figured she'd for-sure beat a path to your door, you bein' her ex, and a dick."

"How is the little heartbreaker, Rooster? Ain't seen her since she dumped me for you."

"Nobody calls me Rooster!" He bounced his fingertips off his chin. "Take it back!"

"Can't unring a bell, genius, can't uncrow a rooster."

"Unringin' bells? Uncrowin'?" Ricco snickered. "Tiff said you was tough like me, McQuinn. But eyeballin' you now, I'm bettin' you ain't." He punched a palm with his fist.

How much?"

"Huh?"

"A hundred says you can't fast-slap my face before I clap-stop your hand."

"A hundred's chump change, McQuinn, but sure, let's do it." He pulled a C-note from his vest pocket.

"A hundred-large." I emptied my case on the desk. "Roni, you okay throwin' your bonus in?"

"Let it ride, sport," she said on a thumbs-up.

"Santo Sterco! Ricco blurted. You're crazy, Gunn! No way."

"What, no kahunas, Ricco?" Roni asked.

Ricco clapped eyes on her and puffed out his feathers."You wanna see kahunas, Bella mia, watch me. ... Okay, McQuinn, spread 'em."

I raised my hands and separated them by two feet. "Regulation Slap-Clap rules, on three. Okay, by you?"

Ricco nodded. He spit on his palms, rubbed his hands together and readied his left for a slap.

Roni said, "One, two, three--"

!#% Smack %#!

I'd clap-stopped Ricco's fast-slap in mid slice. "Gotcha Rooster."

"Damn you're fast, McQuinn!"

"Let's see your green, Ricco," Roni said.

"I don't carry that kinda bread on me, Bella mia. I'll bring it by tomorrow."

"Let me save ya the trip, pal," I said, repacking my case and offering it to Ricco. "Take this hundred, add it the hundred you owe me, and scratch Tiffany's debt."

"Still crazy for that little gold digger, huh, McQuinn?"

I nodded. "I got it bad for her, Ricco."

"You're a marshmallow, Gunn." Ricco snatched the case and slid a sly to Roni. "Your boss ain't got kahunas like I got kahunas, huh?"

"You're my kinda man, Ricco."

"Later, Bella mia," he said, hand-gesturing a phone call and strutting out like a c**k of the walk, back-slamming the door.

Roni asked, "Is Tiff ladder-sliding her way down the backside fire escape, as we speak?"

I nodded. "And ol' Casey's idlin' his pistons in the alley, waitin' on her."

"It bites me, Tiff having a hundred-large to start fresh."

"Ninety." I dug into my sport coat and tossed her a stack. "I tagged Tiff for carrying charges. Cut out five-large for yourself, call it a bonus, buy yourself a swell outfit. I'll meet you in Sardi's at nine."

"Carrying charges?" She thumbed the stack.

"Yeah, I had to pack her on my shoulders on the way up, so's she could reach the next-level ladders and pull 'em down."

"Roni howled. "Make it eight, ya big marshmallow, or I'll slap you." She dropped the five-large in her purse and beelined the door ...

... and stopped as she clasped the knob. " ... You gonna put the word on the street that Miss Runner up's debt's been wiped," she asked, her tone apprehensive, "giving ol' Casey an excuse to double-back and runner her up from Canada?"

"Yeah, right after you blastoff to Riccoville, sweetheart."

"Seeya at Sardi's, McQ."

"Canada's up by the way, we're down."

"Don't be late, nitpicker."

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*The Misplaced Detective ~1 The Case of the Cheeky Parakeet

(1) Casablanca, 1942

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