Retribution Is Mine! Read online

  “It’s temporary. The dead cheetah, Aloysius Wells, came into town a week ago. I’ll need his movements of his time here. Can you do it?”

  “Yeah, I’ll get the ball rolling and hand it off to my guys to finish. Where can I reach you?”

  “The Whiteworm Hotel. They don’t ask questions.”

  I hung up the phone and wandered back to my seat. Duke was sitting in my chair, so I took the next one over.

  “How’d you find me?”

  “Calls can be traced.” Duke waited for the bartender to bring him his beer before asking. “Are you going to tell me what you’re up to, or am I going to have to guess?”

  “Two bullets missing from my gun isn’t enough?”

  “Some guys test fire to see how the things work before they put the gun to their head. If you want, I can show you a couple of case files. Besides, after your call earlier, I got a hold of Wells’ itinerary and talked to one of his friends. Seems the guy was down about the business being on the skids and mentioned suicide.”

  “Who did you talk to?”

  “A mouse by the name of Enrico Price. He’s a manufacturer of handbags. Now will you stop trying to rile me up? That little stunt you pulled of dropping the slug and casing in the hallway was cute, but I’m not buying.” Duke downed his beer and was out the door before I could tell him that I hadn’t left the slug and casing out in the hallway. Not to mention, why would a military person need to test fire a gun they already know how to use?

  I asked the bartender if he had a directory, and I searched three different ones before I came across the name Enrico Price.

  By eleven that night, I was standing outside Enrico’s posh address. I never got to the front door. The scene looking in his front window had me too distracted. Enrico Price was the biggest, fattest mouse I’d ever seen. He wore enough jewels to have him double as one of those sparkly balls they hang up at the dances to reflect light. Enrico was talking to somebody beyond my view, and he was scared.

  Keeping to the shadows, I watched the scene play out. About ten minutes later, the front door opened, and someone came outside. At first, I didn’t see who the person was until the light from a street lamp lit their face. Shrouded in mounds of a fur coat made of mink was a cobra by the name of Dagger. He had a rap sheet as long as his tail. If there was strong arming to be done, Dagger was the snake to do it.

  I waited for Dagger to get in his car and drive away before returning to my own. Enrico Price could wait. The bed at the Whiteworm Hotel seemed a better place to be. Somewhere quiet where I could think over this new development.

  Matthew Finch knocking on my hotel room door woke me from a dream of foxholes and grenades. When I opened the door, he slipped inside with a flash of yellow and gave me a sideways glance. “Well you’re not dead. That’s something.”

  “Stop clowning, did you get it?”

  “Most of it. The hotel Wells was staying at was unhelpful but seeing as the cops were just there…” Finch shrugged his coat covered feathers and dug into his pockets. “I should charge you a pair of C notes for this. I’ve got ten very grumpy males on my hands now. Keep in mind we had little time and a lot of information to gather, so it’s not too detailed.”

  Finch pushed his hat back and handed me the notes. “Wells was an upstanding cheetah. Nothing unusual in the eight days he’d been here other than wiring for five thousand dollars. I’m assuming it was business related. Special purchase or something. His personal time is a little hazy. A couple of times he came back to the hotel drunk, not sloppy, just drunk. There was a fashion show he went to.”

  “Models?” I asked, licking my lips.

  “Yeah, but just cocktails, and no dessert if you know what I mean. Seems Wells was a gentleman. One of the models did get sloppy drunk, and Wells escorted her to a cab.”

  “And?”

  “Not much else. He was in and out of the hotel until he met you and died.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Finch, you’re a crappy detective.”

  The feathers on his body poofed underneath his coat making him appear three times his size. “You’re the one without a license. Next time I’m not helping at all.”

  “You ever shot anybody, Finch?”

  The question stopped his tirade, and he shut his beak. After eyeing me for a good minute, he asked, “Was it suicide?”

  “No.”

  Finch smoothed down his feathers and hopped toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  Alone in the room, I went over Finch’s notes. What happened in Wells’ life that got him killed? Why did the killer want it to look like suicide? What was Dagger’s involvement?

  Wells may not have been a close friend, but he was a military buddy. There was no way I was going to let his murder be labeled a suicide. License or no license.

  CHAPTER 3

  I double-checked Finch’s notes and found the place I was looking for about halfway down the street. The building had been refurbished with all the glitz moneyed clients would expect. The directory listed every company in the building, and after reading down the list I followed a group of females carrying hatboxes into the elevator.

  Their conversations didn’t interest me, neither did they. Far too skinny for my taste, each one of them could have been mistaken for young males had they not been wearing dresses. The elevator dumped us all out on the seventh floor, and I followed the group to the offices of the Allen Dales Agency.

  The models disappeared through one of the doors marked private, leaving me to listen to the crew of stenographers turn their scribbles into typed pages. It’s amazing how noisy those things could be. The constant pounding of the typewriters made my ears twitch as I waded through the group to get to the receptionist.

  The snooty, disapproving gaze of the antelope didn’t bother me, and neither did her words. “Are you lost?”

  “Caldwell Merchandising had a dinner party the other night. I need to speak to one of the models who worked the show.”

  “Business or personal?”

  I put both my mitts on her desk, licked my lips, and gave her my nastiest smile. “None of your concern.”

  The antelope’s eyes got big as saucers and her ears flattened to her head. “Mr. Dales handles all appointments. Let me just call him.”

  She didn’t take her eyes off me as she fumbled with the buttons on the intercom system, but she soon pointed at one of the doors with Alan Dales, Manager painted in gold and told me to go in. I gave her a nicer smile, but she still kept her distance.

  Alan Dales’ desk was in a corner. The rest of the room was filled with everything a photographer needed to work. Apparently, Mr. Alan Dales was a hands on manager, because he was managing a whole lot of female without a lot of clothing.

  A whistle escaped my lips, and the marmot made a tsking noise. “Too much fur.”

  “Who is it?” The skunk who was modeling squinted in the harsh lights.

  “Hush. We need to get this shot.” Dales twisted her into position and rushed back to the camera. “Ready.” The skunk thrust out her chest, gave a hint of a smile, and the camera’s shutter clicked.

  “Good, good, good.” As Dales muttered, the model gave a languid stretch that had my eyes full attention. Then the spot lights snapped off, and the skunk disappeared behind a changing screen.

  Dales finally turned to me and asked, “What can I do for you, sir?” The marmot had his fur oiled and trimmed in such a way as to make him look like he was wearing a goatee. Trendy was probably the word for the effect.

  “I need to talk to one of the models who work here. A certain one.”

  “That’s a common request.”

  “Flat chested models don’t interest me. It’s information I’m after.”

  Dales stared at me in wide eyed wonder. The skunk, wearing a pair of red high-heeled shoes came out from behind her screen. “I hope you’re not referring to me.” She sauntered closer, an unlit cigarette in
hand.

  I struck a match. “Never. You’ve got everything a male could want and more.”

  She smiled at that, and her tail gave a quick flick.

  No doubt wanting to get me out of his office, Dales asked, “Do you know the model’s name?”

  “No. Just that she worked for the Caldwell Merchandising party.”

  “Viola Graves booked that event. She would have the names. Would you like to see her?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The skunk’s eyes stayed on me, and I asked, “Do you wear clothes much?”

  “Only when I have to.”

  I couldn’t keep my mouth from watering and licked my chops.

  “Yes, well,” Dales clucked. “That’s all for today, Ellen. If you would follow me, sir.”

  Nodding to Ellen, I followed Dales into another office where he introduced me to a stunning tigress. Helen of Troy may have been the lioness who launched a thousand ships, but she had nothing on Viola Graves. Everything about her seemed ethereal, pure perfection. Her dress covered every inch of fur other than head and hands but displayed everything underneath.

  Her handshake was firm as she greeted me and offered me a seat. “How can I help you Mr.?”

  “Wrench, Kaiser Wrench.” My name was the only thing I could say until I got my tongue untied. Aside from being drop dead gorgeous, Ms. Graves had a habit of teasing a male to distraction. “I’m looking for one of your models. A cheetah by the name of Aloysius Wells helped her into a cab after she drank a bit much.”

  “Do you have a photo of her?”

  “No, and I’ve never seen the female myself.”

  “Then why do you wish to find her?”

  “Because I want to find out what happened. If he said anything to her about what he was thinking. The cheetah is dead Ms. Graves, and I’d like to know why. If this model can tell me anything at all, I’d appreciate it. Wells had a family, and you know what the press can be like.”

  “I see.” Viola Graves gave a slow blink before answering. “I’ll talk to the females as they arrive and try to find the one you’re looking for and have her contact you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ms. Graves walked me to the door, and we said our goodbyes. Her eyes lingered, making me feel too warm. There was something else, something that scratched at the back of my mind but kept slipping away when I tried to grab hold.

  Once out of the office and away from Viola Graves, breathing came easier. I also got a pleasant surprise. The skunk from the agency was standing out in the hall, fully clothed, and smoking a cigarette. When she spotted me, she walked right up and said, “I want a ride.”

  “Do I get a name first?”

  “Do you need one?” She eyed me up and down. “No, I don’t think you do.”

  The elevator clanged into position and the doors opened.

  “Are you normally so forward Miss?”

  “Ellen Dubois, and I don’t play games. I go after what I want, you?”

  “Kaiser Wrench.” I motion for her to proceed me into the elevator and followed her in. Once out on the street we walked a good city block or two before she steered me into a bar. We sat in the back and ordered drinks. She surprised me by ordering a beer.

  “Most females order fancy drinks.”

  “I’m not most females.” Ellen looked me over again. “And you’re not most males.”

  The waiter brought our beers and left. Ellen asked, “Why were you at the agency?”

  I told her the same line I gave Ms. Graves.

  Ellen smiled at me. “You lie so well, I almost believe you.”

  “Who says I’m lying?”

  “I do. Now why do you want to find this particular female?”

  “Wells had a family, a good job, and from what I knew he had a good life. Suicide doesn’t make sense.”

  “Much better.” The skunk smiled and lit up another cigarette.

  “Do you know any of the models who went to the Caldwell Merchandising dinner?”

  “Underwear models don’t usually mix with the clothes models. We tend to give them a complex.”

  “You can eat, and they can’t?”

  “Jealous in more ways than one.” Ellen leaned back and inhaled. The action had her breasts straining the buttons of her sweater.

  “I can see why.” We finished our beers, and I told her, “There are a few things I need to do. Where would you like to go? I’ll drop you off.”

  “I’d rather do you at my apartment, but if you have another location in mind…”

  “How about a smack on the behind if you don’t stop.”

  “Promise?” Ellen laughed. “Most other males would be fighting to take me up on that, but not you.”

  “Do you say that to most males?”

  “No, Kaiser.” The way she said it, was an invitation.

  We left the bar and took a cab to her place. On the ride, she got a little close. “This female, is she really important?”

  “She’s a lead, so yeah.”

  “Maybe I could help… find out things.”

  Ellen had me agreeing before I realized it. “You could.”

  “Did Viola know who she was?”

  “No, she said to come back tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure she did.” Ellen paused and asked, “If your buddy when out with this female you’re trying to find would he…?”

  “He never struck me as the type.”

  “Some of the models string males along. Have them go all over town and spend money. They say it’s fun.” She studied her nails before adding, “Lately they’ve been going to the trendy spots and dragging their escorts along. I’ve never gone, but it might be a lead.”

  “Brains and body. I’ve always liked that in a female.” Before I could plant one on her, the cab came to a sudden stop before her apartment. Ellen glared at the driver, but I paid him.

  She led me up the stairs and into her apartment. “Cocktail?”

  “Coffee. I missed lunch.”

  “You mean I can’t get you drunk and have my way with you?”

  “Can I get eggs with that?”

  She rolled her eyes and came back from the kitchen with cheese, crackers, and a bottle of wine. We sat drinking until I asked, “What’s the plan?”

  “We go out tonight and try to find where your friend went. Maybe even find your mystery female.”

  The alcohol was mellowing me, and I said, “Wells was murdered.” Ellen’s eyes widened before narrowing as I continued to talk. “I know this for a fact. What galls me is that the killer used my gun. So, I find a trail and follow and find you. I get suspicious when it comes to overly helpful people. Why do you want to help so bad?”

  Ellen clocked me before I could react. “Why do you think, tiger? I have six brothers. Not one of them takes shit from anyone. They’re real males. Not like other males I know. Then there’s you. Do I have to knock your block off to get your full attention?”

  She didn’t wait for me to answer but ripped off her sweater and everything else underneath. Anger filled her eyes as she stood before me in all her black and white furred glory. “Maybe this will work.”

  My claws bit into the armrest of the chair and my collar felt too tight. I leaned forward and growled at her. Most females would have backed down, but not Ellen.

  “Promises, promises.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Supper, if that’s what you want to call it, was at a restaurant in Times Square. Dinner and a show were more like it, and Ellen was the show. That skunk can be a real stinker when she wants to be. To say the dress she wore was daring, is putting it mildly. Every eye in the joint was on her all through the meal.

  Afterward, we grabbed a cab, and I asked, “So what’s the plan?”

  “The Bowery.”

  I looked at Ellen like she was crazy, and she laughed.

  “Tourist traps pop up in the strangest places. Where we’re going is no different.” She quickly grew serious and a hard edge slipped into her voice.
“Some people like to see that they’re better than others.”

  “How did anyone find the place?”

  “There are those who get bored easily and hunt up out of the way places. Word gets around, things get trendy and people move to some other shiny, or not so shiny, new thing.” Ellen emphasized her point with a flick of her tail.

  “Do you know who runs the place?”

  “Not a clue. All my information is second hand. From what little I know, there are at least a dozen places in the Bowery. We’re bound to meet someone I work with, so we can ask them. By the way, these places are not cheap.”

  “Tourist traps never are.”

  The cab let us out on a street filled with despair. Beggars, thieves, and prostitutes made up only a portion of the Bowery. The rest were in worse shape.

  A cab pulled to the curb up the street, and we watched as a glamorous vixen and a bull in a tuxedo got out. The vixen tossed a handful of coins into the street and laughed at the mad scramble of the destitute. The bull also thought the situation funny and let a few bills blow down the street in the biting wind.

  “Easy, tiger.” Ellen’s voice cut through my senses, and I realized the fur on my back was standing on end. With ears flattened to my head, I wanted to do more than just growl at the bull. I wanted to rip his throat out.

  “There’s the place we want.” Ellen nodded at a dingy looking building with a sign above the door. Al’s Place. Good question who Al was, but by the smell he was well past his sell by date. Inside were several characters from the street with all their fleas, missing teeth, and ratty clothes. Paid in booze to entertain the tourists, they did their job well. With any luck, someone’s wallet would go missing.

  The place was packed, and we were shown to a table in the back. Ellen spotted a gazelle she knew, and the female came over to say hello. I didn’t bother to get up or pull out a chair. The female had a squeaky voice with an earsplitting laugh to boot. “Hi, Ellen, fancy meeting you here. First time?”

  “Hello, Jane. And yes. How can you stand this place? The smell alone is lethal.”

  “That’s ripe coming from you. This is just the cheap entertainment. The real fun is down the street. It’s got such a speakeasy feel. Do you want to join us?”