Dark Blonde (3 page)

“I didn’t feel like talking to you without observing you first. I felt like seeing what you’d do.”

“So you let me sit in an empty bar for an hour. You wanted to test me. Peachy.”

She shifted farther into the booth and glanced out the window, then fixed her calm eyes on me like she was sympathetic to a child’s disappointment. I took a long look. She wasn’t made up or plastic like most beauty queens I’d seen. And she didn’t ooze sex, exactly. What she had was the kind of fresh little girl mixed with Helen of Troy face that thickens a man’s tongue into useless shoe leather.

When she spoke it was impossible to avoid watching her mouth form words: “Of course. You see, you were highly recommended but it came with a proviso
 
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you’re a bit of a womanizer. I loathe rumors and wanted to see for myself, especially after my assistant told me you’d kissed her. I felt if the rumors were true, you’d try for a pickup even though you expected a client. Or that you’d investigate me at least, when I ordered your Murphy’s. I suppose it was rather clumsy, but I need someone who can focus on the job at hand. You passed.”

I looked past her across the room, which wasn’t easy, then down at my drink, feeling stupid. She was just another blonde, wasn’t she?

“Skip it. The wasted hour’s on your nickel. Your Miss Cupcake Hat kissed me, not the other way around, not that I have to explain, and it wasn’t much of a kiss. I’ve had better from cocker spaniels. Why don’t you fill me in on your problem and let me be the judge if the afternoon’s wasted.”

My eyes fell into hers and waited anxiously for her lips to answer. I was a big slug of pig iron and she was the world’s most sultry magnet.

Julia’s face tightened. I studied it now, able to take it all in, like the second reading of a matchless poem. Her face was proof that God exists. Those pageant judges must’ve been as helpless as I was. Her eyes were wide set, clear as a newborn’s, and a pale shade of blue that bordered on slate gray. I suddenly wanted to find paint that shade and redo my whole house with it. Her eyes did funny things to me, languorous and fiery at once. Gold flecks in her irises seemed to dance in the reflected light. I was drawn to her eyes but her nose was too long, her mouth too wide. Yet her features all worked together somehow in a honey dark and flawless complexion. She reminded me of Sophia Loren. She wore little makeup besides orange-red lipstick. Hers was a clear face that didn’t seem to hold a lot of stories, yet behind her eyes things went on, plans being made. Brunette, blonde or bald, she was a babe.

She leaned back in the booth and watched me like a cat at a robin’s first flying lesson.

 
“It’s my sister,” she said in that same breathless voice I’d been awakened to. “She’s disappeared. She’s run off before, somewhat wild at times, but never this long. It’s been four days.” Julia aimed for businesslike matter of fact, but ulcers shone through. The barest hint of lines had formed under those enormous peepers since her runway walk days. A few more years of mud slinging and political in-fighting for her aging husband would deepen those lines. It seemed like a waste of a good female.

“Why not go to the police? They have an entire bureau that handles missing sisters.”

“You must see,” she said sharply, “how impolitic that would be. I’d like you to find her, keep it confidential.”

“You say your sister’s somewhat wild. That sort don’t somewhat want to be somewhat found.”

“Gail’s not like that. Even with our differences, she keeps in touch regularly. We suffered the loss of our mother when we were quite young, had a difficult upbringing and it naturally made me protective.”

“Naturally. Differences. Like she’s wild and you’re not.”

She took a deep breath and sipped her drink. It was the first time I’d ever been jealous of a glass. I wondered if her breasts were as enormous and shapely as they hinted under her blouse. Wondering that sort of thing about a new client should have told me to nix the case right then, but it only made me want to wonder about other things. I didn’t fight it. Blame the Murphy’s.

“What do you mean?”

“I gather your sister and you don’t always agree on her behavior. That’s the usual source of argument between siblings, the older telling the younger how to behave.”

“I’m two years older. It was always up to me to take care of her. Will you take the case?”

“I’m not sure yet. Go on. Tell me when you last saw her. Tell me more about her. Married, children, occupation, that sort of thing. Where does she like to hang out, what sort of things does she like to do? Does she have any enemies that you know of? Can you give me a list of her close friends and acquaintances?”

Julia had a detailed list all typed out for me, a complete dossier, answering most of my questions, complete with a recent photo of the two of them at some banquet, holding up champagne glasses for the camera, except there was no frivolity. Their respective body language said the pose was forced, that they might as well have been mortal enemies faking it for the camera. Twenty-six year old Gail Gorovoy was thin, sultry, with reddish brown hair worn pulled back from a face that suggested ancestry south of the border. I’d seen her picture somewhere, but couldn’t place her. She had intriguing dark eyes but otherwise there was no resemblance to Julia. She wasn’t even in Julia’s league.

The information read like a real estate listing. Gail and Julia’s maiden name was Gorovoy. Gail ran off with a Russian diplomat and had the marriage annulled after only two weeks and so took back her maiden name. There was no hint of Gail’s character, no subjective information.

“I want the name of the men your sister dated over the past year, and any before that involved in a messy breakup. Names and where I might get in touch with them.”

“I’ll have Miss Mathews gather that for you if you promise not to paw her.”

I didn’t look up from the dossier. “Pawing’s one of my many bad habits I’m trying to curb,” I said. “However, in her case it should be easy. She’s not my type.”

Julia kept her eyes on me with one perfect eyebrow raised while I studied the information, then folded the paper and put it in my inside jacket pocket. I placed the photo in front of me, waiting for the memory to jog. “Your description’s pretty complete. There’s everything here but Gail’s favorite toothpaste, but not how she brushes. Like Miss Mathews, you’re very efficient. The two of you must play a mean game of gin rummy. I’m sure you’re both an asset to the congressman. I take it Gail’s somewhat reckless, a liability to political considerations?”

She smirked and tapped her glass. “Meaning?”

“Meaning nothing except that maybe she isn’t so efficient and before I take on the case I’d like to get a picture of what sort of girl Gail is, how much trouble she’s been in, what sort of enemies she might have been talented enough to create.” I leaned forward across the table and put a forefinger on the photograph. “Is she kind to small animals or does she spit on them? Does she sip her wine or does she throw back highballs? Does she go to church every Sunday or does she like to play the ponies and go around without panties? You get the idea.”

I thought the lovely Julia would choke on her ginger ale. She was used to phony smiles at boring dinners, too many teeth mouthing smooth political lies. Bare-knuckled honesty, stark blunt truth was something she clearly wasn’t used to. I was willing to help teach her, but she didn’t seem willing to learn right then. Color rose from the nape of her neck, while she decided whether to laugh or throw her drink on me. It was all I could do to keep my mind from undressing her.

 
“You’re insulting,” she managed to spit out. Her shoulders pulled back, her spine taut, which only served to show off her breasts. Lovely how each of those features helped the other.

“Relax. Insulting works in my trade, and I’m good at it. Insulting doesn’t work in yours, I suppose, unless you’re sneaky and want to convince a cobra to bite the guy you’re running against. I gather you’ve been in the habit of cleaning up messes for Gail. You left out her occupation. What’s Gail’s current dodge? More importantly, what’s her temperament? Does she stiffen and then take it as calmly as you’re doing, does she slap a guy when he stares at her breasts the way I am at yours, or does she invite him to take a closer look?”

A little heat passed through her eyes, which turned again to the window. She was practiced at avoiding things that got too close. If I’d been on her side of the table I might have discovered just how practiced. Just how close.

Her voice grew subdued: “When she works she’s an interior decorator, but she doesn’t often want for money. Maybe it’s the men she runs with. She was a hostess at a casino in Las Vegas for a month two years back. Since she’s been doing some part time work for Governor Kerner.”

“Do you only answer questions you like? If I’m going to take this case, you’re going to have to be open with me, give me straight answers when I ask a question. Tell me who Gail really is, you keep dancing around it.”

She shifted uneasily and looked toward the door. She was so stunning; still, something was slightly off about her, like her mind was clicking in and out, wandering off somewhere and then racing back to catch up. I can smell vulnerability and guilt three blocks away and the odor was unmistakable, but there was a healthy dose of confusion in her as well.

Her eyes flashed and her voice wavered slightly: “
 
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She’s a slut
 
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there
 
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does that satisfy you? She uses men like Kleenex, okay?”

Julia took a long drink and composed herself. I enjoyed watching her compose herself, almost as much as I enjoyed decomposing her.

Her voice steadied but old-fashioned resentment leaked through. “She’s a bitch to me, her only sister, who’s only tried to look out for her, warn her about the scummy men that swarm around her. Throws everything I do for her back in my face. Laughs. The last time I bailed her out of a jam I told her it’d be the last time. Now this.” Her anger flared quickly and just as fast faded to despondency. It was theatrical misery, but that’s how misery often is.

I let her settle back. Gail Gorovoy played star witness in a grand jury probe about a year back involving a call girl ring the good Mayor Daley had used to tie up votes for JFK. There was some connection to corruption of cops in all that, a pretty tangled mess, right on top of the Summerdale scandal that brought O.W. Wilson in to clean house in the police force. Gail refused to testify until granted immunity, then when she got it she spilled the beans on a few crooked city hall boys along with her ex-lover. It made for sensational headlines and a lot of backtracking at City Hall.

“Take it easy.” I said. “I want to help, so I need to know everything you know about Gail, even what you might not think relevant, and especially what you might be embarrassed to tell anyone. Do you mean that grand jury mess the Mayor wriggled out of last year? Yeah, I read about that.”

Julia laced her long fingers around her water glass and tapped them impatiently. She gave me a single nod. “Just because you don’t like your sister,” she said, fingering the fake bangs out of her eyes, “doesn’t mean you’re not supposed to feel badly when someone railroads her.”

 
“You have proof someone railroaded her in that call girl setup?”

“Please, Mike, I don’t feel like getting into all that. The jury thought so, which is why they never indicted her, that and some pressure from Henry’s office. Strictly posturing to embarrass the Mayor, that grand jury. Diversion. There were plenty of irregularities in that last little election in Cook County if you haven’t heard. A lot of finger pointing helped to muddy the waters. Gail just got caught up in all that. She hung with the wrong sorts at the wrong time and place.”

“You lead a complicated life for a girl from Nebraska. Give me the bottom line, she wasn’t helping run a string of whores?”

She bristled at the word. “No. She wasn’t. Gail just likes to run with cheap dangerous men. Gets excited by it, I gather. Even as a girl she always rubbed up against the biggest bully on the school ground. Her way of defending herself. Christy French, the thug who ran that prostitute ring, I tried to warn her about him, that she’d get hauled in with him, tried to get her away from all of that, but he framed her for it and left town. I hear he crossed some bigshots and as they say in your trade, was fitted for some lead galoshes, some hot ones. It served him right. That enough dirt for you?”

Julia was still hyperventilating. If she’d squeezed her glass any tighter, she’d need a tourniquet. It was obvious last year’s trial still prickled and I felt sorry for anyone who truly crossed her because it didn’t look like grudges were something she ever put down. I didn’t need to press; the grand jury testimony was there to dig into if needed. My partner Rick had contacts in the Mayor’s office, if he ever got back from Jersey.

I massaged my face like I was fascinated by what she said, but I was more curious about what she didn’t say, even though she was the kind of woman who made you forget she was saying anything, as if talking was important when you could see any fantasy you wanted in those liquid peepers. I couldn’t imagine portly Henry with this dish, even with her much publicized ambition for political power. “I’ll need information of where and who she worked for in Vegas. What sort of work for Kerner and what’s her connection to him?”