City of Angels

The rich earthy aroma of the smoke from the lit cigar neatly perched on the edge of the crystal ashtray filled the room. His voice echoed off of the dimly lit walls, its timbre emphasizing the gravitas of his persona and the authority of his reputation. He was undoubtedly one of the most acknowledged private detectives north of the rust belt. And yet, his personality was straight out of the 1950’s, as though he didn’t miss a beat in the subsequent decades. Nevertheless, his work spoke for itself, which is why there was usually a line of people out the door waiting to hire him for his expertise in missing persons cases. Today, however, was a different story, as the office was eerily empty, and the only sound that broke the silence was his somber voice as he answered a call from a potential client.

“Dark Horse Investigations, Dick Jones,” he answered, taking a quick swig from his flask of hot Colombian coffee as he jotted down the details from the client.

“Hmmm…” he paused briefly, hanging up the phone.

“Everything okay?” I asked, curious as to his unusual reaction.

“We got a live one,” he replied, tapping his fingers on the antique mahogany desk as he stared out the tinted window overlooking the city below. “Some dame needs help tracking down her younger sister.”

“Seems pretty straightforward,” I responded. “What’s on your mind?”

He furrowed his brow and shifted his gaze back down towards his notepad. Dick was the type of man who was rarely ever phased by anything. His stoicism and constant brooding was one of the qualities I usually found endearing. But today, the worrisome look on his face gave me an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Dame didn’t want to come into the office,” replied Dick after a short pause. “She wants to meet at the bar down on Hooper to discuss the case.”

“I’ve never known you to shy away from a drink,” I laughed. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Not nervous,” replied Dick with a scowl. “Lady said her sister was Illyria Rayne, a renowned card shark in the underground poker circuit.”

“Sounds like trouble,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m guessing you’ve heard of her before?”

“Maybe,” stated Dick, straightening his tie and putting on his trench coat and fedora. “But I got a bad feeling about this.”

“If anything seems off, we’ll walk out of there,” I smiled, trying to reassure him about the case. “Not like we have to take every single client.”

“Let’s see what happens,” he replied in a gruff voice. “Bring the .44 just in case.”

“Roger that,” I answered, pulling out the keys to the gun safe.

We made our way downtown in Dick’s 72’ Cutlass Supreme. The night was still young, and winter was fast approaching. The neon lights that adorned every street corner in the red light district seemed to blend together into a foreboding warning for those with weaker constitutions. But this was far from the first time we had been in the area. In fact, most of the missing people we were hired to find would usually turn up in one of the seedy brothels or drug dens in this little known part of town. They may have once called it the City of Angels, but in truth, it was far from it. As we pulled up alongside the seemingly derelict bar, the sign gleamed an unwelcoming glow that gave me second thoughts about stepping inside.

“Why don’t I hang back,” I asked. “Someone should watch the car.”

“Grow a pair, will ya?” mocked Dick as he made his way past the front door and into the dimly lit interior.

As we surveyed the room, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air. The place wasn’t too crowded for a Friday night. Aside from a couple of regulars at the bar, and a few tourists at one of the booths, the place looked empty. In the far corner of the seating area was a door, and a burly, muscular figure was standing guard nearby. Dick made his way towards the menacing gentleman and inconspicuously nodded.

“We’re here to see Amber,” Dick ordered in a brusque voice. “She’s expecting us.”

The bouncer walked into the back room. As soon as he opened the door, a plume of smoke filled the air, and the unmistakable sound of poker chips could be heard amidst the foreign voices that echoed across the musty interior.

“Ms. Rayne will see you upstairs,” he stated walking back out. “Second door on your left after you pass the men’s room.”

“Hmm,” I muttered under my breath. “This place is much bigger than it looks from the outside.”

“Most of these joints usually are,” replied Dick. “Let’s be quick about this, in and out.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” I responded.

As we climbed up the stairs and into the dark office room with glass windows overlooking the street below, the first thing I noticed was her hair. It glistened in the moonlight that radiantly filled the room. Her locks flowed like amber down the curve of her back, which was clearly accentuated by the silk floral dress that hugged her body like honey on glass. Stunning was the only word that came to mind, as I struggled to keep my jaw from dropping. The glow from the street lights were further below the floor level, so the natural ambience was unobscured by the penetrating incandescence of the disreputable neon from the other businesses in the district.

“Hello boys,” she said in a sultry voice that would have knocked Dean Martin off his feet. “Took you long enough.”

“I’m Jones,” replied Dick with a smooth, heavy voice that didn’t miss a beat. “This is my associate.”

“Can I offer you a drink?” she asked, with incomparable, untouched composure.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” answered Dick. “What other information can you give me that you couldn’t talk about over the phone?”

She smiled, setting down her drink, and sitting elegantly on the fine leather chair by the window. She crossed her legs, and gently bobbed them up and down as the moonlight accentuated her pristine rosy skin. Slowly lighting up a cigarette, she stared at the two of us, as if sizing up whether we could truly be of service to her.

“As I told you over the phone,” she began, letting out a silky cloud of smoke. “My sister went missing three days ago. She’s a regular in several underground card games, and so it’s natural for her to be gone for days at a time.”

“So why worry about her now?” I asked inquisitively.

“She has a four year old daughter, Sierra,” she continued, clearly unfazed by my inquisition. “Before the game, she left her daughter with the girl’s father, and told her she’d be back the next day to pick her up. Normally I wouldn’t read too much into it, but this card game she was playing at, happens to belong to Jack Blaze.”

“The Jack of all Spades,” replied Dick brusquely, acknowledging her concern.

“Exactly,” she responded. “I did some digging, and the game did end within 24 hours, as Illyria said, but she never came home.”

Dick let out a heavy sigh. It was unusual to see him distressed over a case. I had come to know Dick to be almost fearless, as if after twenty years of dealing with bottom feeding scum, he had seen it all. The fact that a look of apprehension flashed across his face made my stomach turn.

“The dealer was a friend of Illyria’s,” she continued, handing Dick a picture of a beautiful woman with jet black hair. “She said that the card game went smoothly, but at the end of the night, Illyria went off with Jack in his car, and she didn’t look too happy about it.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up,” Dick replied, turning back towards the exit. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Amber jumped out of her chair and grabbed Dick’s arm. She stared into his eyes with a somber yet stoic look of sorrow and desire. He stared back with the same unyielding expression that was unmistakably his trademark.

“Don’t worry,” Dick stated reassuringly. “We’ll find her.”

As we opened the door to take our leave, a man in a courier’s outfit stood staring back at us, his hand raised as if to knock. In his hands was a small package, a brown paper box, roughly the size of a baseball. At first he seemed surprised at the three of us standing there staring back at him. But his eyes were naturally drawn to the amber haired bombshell that stood between us.

“Uh…” he began, stuttering as if at a loss for words. “Package delivery for Amber Rayne?”

Dick grabbed the box out of his hands in one swift motion, sending the courier flying backwards into the wall out of surprise. A look of fear flashed across his face as he searched for what to say.

“Uh, you have to sign for that,” he stuttered callously.

“Jack...” muttered Dick as he handed the package to Amber.

At first glance, it was easy to miss, but upon closer inspection, I noticed the small black symbol drawn into the center of the box. Before I could even muster up a response, Dick grabbed the courier by the windbreaker and shoved him up against the door.

“Please!” yelped the courier. “I don’t have any money!”

“Who sent this package?!” demanded Dick with a look that would make even a strongman’s knees buckle. “Answer me!”

“I… I don’t know!” cried the courier. “Some guy came to our office and said he’d pay a cool grand for us to deliver it, no questions asked.”

“What’d he look like?!” shouted Dick, the vein in his temple throbbing like a snake trying to break free of its fleshy prison.

“Tall!” cried the courier, who now looked like he was moments away from breaking down in tears. “He was wearing a white suit with a black tie. I don’t know anything else, please, I have a family!”

Dick released the tearful courier who immediately bolted down the stairs, clearly grateful to be alive. Dick was a menacing figure to even the toughest of gangsters, and it made me glad to be on his side for a change. Dick and I both had our checkered pasts, and despite being partners, had often come to a head. It was the nature of our business, and at the end of the day, despite all our differences, we had come to realize that it just made more sense to work together.

“Jones!” shouted Amber as her face turned a deathly shade of pale.

As the open box slipped out of her hands, she stumbled backwards, falling, almost in slow motion, into the maw of the very familiar abyss. Her eyes glazed over in the evanescent moonlight that drew her gaze deeper into the thralls of a broken emotion. As Dick reached out in the nick of time to catch her in his arms, our gaze met, and turned next towards the brown paper box laying ajar on the floor.

“Dick…” I gulped, as the churn in the pit of my stomach became engulfed in the tempest of fear. “What the fuck?!”

Dick stared at the shadowy crevice of that brown paper box, and staring back at him was the lone opal toned eyeball, undoubtedly of the woman we set out to find. As the moonlight gleamed off the glass window, just enough light passed through to illuminate the words etched on the note inside.

I SEE YOU...