Gripping the knob, I popped my hip against the peeling paint of the familiar office door. Ever since the titular owner of ‘Jacob Tomb, Private Investigations’ had drunkenly kicked it open three years ago the lock had ceased all functionality except its aesthetic charm.

It honestly hadn’t mattered, in the five years I had worked for Jacob Tomb we had rarely seen a case that had warranted securing the office. The business mostly centered around digging up the goods on cheating spouses. By the time our clients came to us they damn well knew what was going on, but most needed an incriminating picture to hammer it home.

The small envelope labeled ‘Poppie Freeman’ lay on my desk, as was customary on Fridays. I opened it up and counted my money. The bastard had shorted me. This was also customary.

I placed my bag down and marched through the door separating my cramped reception area and Tomb’s office. Pulling the tablecloth off the poorly concealed safe I spun the dial and opened it up. Jacob didn’t know I knew the combination. I kept all the books for the place anyway. When he saw fit to skim from my pay, I simply made up the difference. Today I felt like I deserved a bonus as well and slipped out an extra fiver from the company funds.

I covered my tracks and tidied up the office, throwing away old hooch bottles and straightening the papers he'd knocked over. I also snatched a box of matches and a pack of coffin nails from his desk. One of the advantages of your boss drinking himself into a stupor every night, he lost everything. Made for a nice alibi when swiping his smokes.

After the normal cleaning, I sat at my desk and started reading through the paper. I occupied myself briefly with the crosswords and puzzles. They were far too simple, I finished them in minutes. I had worked as a codebreaker during the war. I saw mathematical patterns and sequences everywhere, it was how I dealt with boredom.

It took several hours more for the boss to make his entrance. When he did I gave him the usual earful. “I just don’t understand why the hell I gotta be here at noon. You never get here before three and then I’ll be lucky if you’re sober enough to hold a conversation.”

Tombs shrugged with a boyish smile. “Poppie, if you ain’t here to tell them to come back later they might not come back later.” He winked at me, chuckling at his comment. The whiskey on his breath could peel paint.

Jacob Tomb was in his late twenties and was admittedly quite easy on the eyes. His crooked nose had a strange charm to it. Despite the untold gallons of alcohol (of suspect quality) he had remained in quite a pleasing shape. He was slim, muscular, and cleaned up nicely when he put in the effort. At first, I thought him quite handsome 'til his personality dampened any attraction I felt.

Tomb had recognized what many didn’t of me. I am smart and quite capable. He also didn’t seem to be of the mindset that my dark skin made me any less so. Still, he wasn’t above using my lack of options as an excuse to pay me a pittance of what I deserved. After the war, a black woman was hard-pressed on finding any office work. I mailed out my resume to scores of businesses and was invited to interview. When they saw me in the flesh I was turned away at the front door.

“Don’t see why you’re bustin’ me down. You got paid, didn’t ya?” No point in arguing the details on that I supposed. Our normal squabble came to a sudden end. The tapping of high heels pulled our attention to the frosted glass with the pealing lettering.

A feminine silhouette appeared at the door, followed by three light knocks. Tomb stared at me expectantly, above even answering the door that he was closer to. So I stepped past him and admitted our visitor. Tomb stared with slackened jaw at the raven-haired bombshell in the doorway. Swinging her full hips she sauntered in and looked past me as those hungry blue eyes fixated with predatory intent on the dick before her. “Mr. Jacob Tomb? A friend of mine referred me, Pete Conway.”

She wasn’t what I considered anything exceptional but certainly wasn’t bad to look at. She knew how to work what she had. Her hair was done up in victory curls. Her mug was powdered and lips were painted bright red. In fact, she was too put together. Something about her raised my heckles, a lady doesn’t generally put that much effort to hire a discount PI from the slums.

The way Tomb’s tongue was waggling indicated it had the desired effect. His mind twisted in a way that had made speech quite out of the question. The booze that still clouded his brain, gumming up the works even further. Realizing that if Tomb was to get paid (and myself vicariously) I would need to start the conversation. “Mr. Conway, the piano player from a few months back?”

The stranger looked at me. No, she looked through me in a way that was all too familiar. It was a quick glance, taking in little more than the pigment that separated us. The breathy warmth of her voice from before had a sense of coldness as she replied, “Yes. We work together.” She shifted her attention back to Jacob, making it clear she didn’t care for the help. “He said you helped him with his wife, got pictures of her running around.”

I pushed down the indignation, as I always had, and focused on the money. I doubted if my boarding house would accept my fully intact pride to cover the rent. “Is that why you’re here? Do you think you might have an unfaithful husband Mrs…?”

“Miss, actually. Miss Midnight. Abigail Midnight.” The name was as fake as anything else about her. While shooting an array of daggers from her eyes in my direction she asked, “Perhaps we could talk privately in your office Mr. Tomb?”

He looked over into the cloudy mirror by the coat rack. Realizing the sorry picture he presented, he made a bid for time. “Listen, I just stepped in the door and I’ve already got one dame on my back.” He thumbed a gesture toward me. “Wait here a minute. Miss Freeman will show you into my office when I’m ready.”

With that, he tipped his hat to Abigail and retreated. In a flurry of what was certainly rushed preening and grooming, we heard the opening and slamming of various drawers. Brushing past me, Abigail walked to the small window at the end of the hallway. I held my breath and tried not to gag on the excess perfume she was slathered in. For her part, she utterly ignored me as though I were another piece of molding furniture.

Tomb’s graveled voice crackled through the intercom on my desk. “See her in, Poppie.” These crude electronic boxes were a joke. The walls were so thin I swear his actual voice was louder than the cheap gray box.

“Miss… Midnight was it? Jacob Tomb is ready to see you now.” I turned and opened the door for her, releasing the smell of cheap aftershave and mouthwash that burned my nose. He had positioned himself at his desk, leaning back on his chair with his feet up. I wrinkled my nose, I would be wiping mud off that desk tomorrow I supposed.

Without a word, Abigail ambled past. Tomb gestured with a wave of his hand. “Close the door, Poppie. We don’t need anyone snooping in on whatever is troubling Miss Midnight.”

Doing as told I returned to my small desk and started to go over the bills. Shaking my head at the idiocy of those two, I listened to their conversation as it seeped through the thin, porous wall. I could have just as well be sitting right between them. I knew that a loose woman with a fake name was nothing but trouble. However, what kind of trouble she would be was yet to be seen. So I listened closely for any clues.

“So cut to the chase, doll-face. Just because I’m being nice enough not to charge you by the hour doesn’t mean you can waste my time.” I rolled my eyes, thinking back on all the jilted wives who had been fed the same line. I preferred male clients, Jacob charged them more and rarely took… services as payment from them. Only hard cash.

“Jacob… may I call you Jacob?” The breathy, seductive vocal quality was back in full force.

“Tomb. Only one woman ever called me Jacob. She’s been dead a long, long time.” I suppressed a laugh. His Mother called him Jacob in every Christmas card she sent, and the old lady was still very much alive and living with her new beau in Wyoming. I answered those cards myself in his stead. Jacob had made it quite clear that he had no time to do so himself. And I felt bad for her. Sometimes she sent cash which I pocketed. In a way, I was her real son.

I knew all of Tomb’s secrets, such as his name was Tomberline. Despite all his claims he had never been on the police force nor did he have ‘connections with the cops.’ He was sneaky and charming when he put in the effort and that was generally all that was needed to keep the business afloat.

“Tomb, I’m in trouble.” With a quiver in her voice, she dramatically added, “I don’t know where to turn!” Sensing this was something worth seeing I leaned back in my chair and carefully slid the stack of files on top of the cabinet to the side. I peered in the thin, spiderweb crack. It had been conveniently created one evening when Tomb had tripped over an empty bottle on the floor and smashed his face into the wall. No matter what story he ever spun this was actually how he broke his nose.

“Well, tell me your sob story. Maybe I can help ya, maybe I can’t.” He leaned against his desk and poured the brown, unmarked bottle into two filthy glasses. He handed her one.

As he offered it to Abigail she cupped her hands around his, glass and all. She executed a fancy little maneuver, taking the glass in one hand and pulling Tomb’s sweaty mitt against her breast. She looked into his eyes and then threw back the drink. Tomb shifted uncomfortably, his manhood quickly rising at an awkward angle. With a dramatic flourish, she turned and leaned on the desk, filling her glass with more of Tomb’s poison. “You have to, Jacob. You just have to!”

And so she laid a tale that any pulp novelist would be proud of. Her poor father had been killed in the street, he had a ledger that had been taken. It contained banking information about where their wealth was kept. Now penny-less Abigail had been singing at the dive bars (in between caring for her dying Momma of course) hoping to find some information about where the key to the family fortune was. She finally arrived at the point, revealing the supposed location of the journal. “The police have the journal. They will deny it but it’s in an evidence locker at the 6th precinct. It belongs to my family!”

I had to give her credit, she spun a nice little yarn. Although most of it was pure fabrication I knew Tomb was a man and willing to eat it up, to play the part and rescue the damsel in distress. Rolling it around my head the bare facts were the only truths to be had in the tale. The cops had a journal, ‘Abigail’ wanted it. It was valuable.

And so ‘Miss Midnight’ moved in to close the deal. She pressed her body against Tomb, and looked deep into his eyes. “I need your help. I need… you.” And with that, she pressed her lips to his. She set her glass on the desk, he dropped his on the floor. I scowled angrily knowing who would be cleaning that up. She took his hand, placing it firmly on her tits. A longing moan released from her parted lips as he fondled her.

He desperately attempted to free the twins but fumbled in confusion with her shape-wear. After several sad minutes, she ran her fingers through his hair and plunged Jacob’s face into her cleavage. I learned a new fact about this woman. The presentation and precision made it clear. The way she led him over her body, a calculated and overwrought show to ensnare. This was the work of a seasoned professional.

I played the voyeur a bit longer than was needed. There was a comical juxtaposition between her face and the breathy fanfare that she made. Abigail groaned and supplied an occasional ‘Oh God’ or ‘Yes! Yes!’. Tomb seemed to believe it, but her face looked very, very bored. Another day at the office for her I suppose. But why my office? Why was this journal important enough to give out the goods on a filthy PI’s desk?

Realizing they would likely be a long time, I covered back up my peephole and turned my attention to the files. The referral from Pete Conway had seemed true enough. If I wanted to find out what was really going on that seemed like a good place to start. This entire case stunk, and I needed to keep my employment secured. I fished out the Conway file and found the club he worked at, The Painted Cobra. I hung an ‘Out to Lunch’ sign from the window. Quietly I slipped through the door, leaving the mystery woman to sink those claws in as deep as she wished.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

It wasn’t the best part of town, but there were worse. Something about the dive was off. The Painted Cobra was hard to find. The entrance was in a back alley and easy for a drunk to walk right past. All the windows were covered up in a beautiful mural of half-dressed women drinking and playing. There was a fellow guarding the door, dressed very nicely too.

I looked it over, no apparent signs of segregation barred my entrance. Unfortunately, it was my experience that often was only a formality. Most nightclubs would not let me in, except as a cleaning woman. And so that’s what I introduced myself as when I approached the mountain of a man working the door. Just an out-of-work cleaner looking for a job.

He eyed me with suspicion and I contemplated walking away right at that moment. This wasn’t a normal hole in the wall, it was… nicer than it should have been. The door was heavy, hand-carved, and had intricate metalwork inlaid into winding patterns. The bouncer wasn’t your average meat wall, there was something cunning in his eyes that made him seem far too intelligent to be spending his day kicking out pickled men.

I should have turned around, disappeared down the street. However, the way he shifted on his feet and stood at attention indicated that was likely no longer an option. Something had him on edge, even before I arrived. If I tried to walk away I’m not sure he would let me. “Why did ya come here then? Lots of places. Not like we put out an ad.”

My mind spun wildly. I had used similar lines before in this work, normally no one bothered to question the small dark-skinned woman’s intentions. They thought me beneath suspicion. Grasping at the only name that came to mind I offered up the pianist. “Pete Conway shops at the store my Momma works at. Momma told him I need a job, he said to come on by. He’s such a nice man.”

“Is that so?” He raised his eyebrow and looked me up and down. I’ve had guns leveled at me in this business and this was far more terrifying than any lump of lead pointed at my mug. He tried to break the truth from my lips by force of will alone.

For my part I stood strong, adopting the innocent and naïve demeanor that men so willingly assumed of me. “Is he here now? Could I talk with him?” I pressed, doing my best to pretend that I couldn’t read the man’s body language like he wasn’t analyzing my every movement.

After a long stare, he nodded. “He’s in. He’s upstairs chatting with the boss.” He held the door open, and I entered. The bar was dark, only a few lights were on. There were no patrons, the place wasn’t serving. The doorman stopped and whispered to the impressively large bartender who gave me the once-over.

“Are ya closed down, should I come back another time?" I started taking in all the possible exits and ways to escape that I feared I would soon need. Whatever Miss Midnight was up to, the game was was more perilous than I had first imagined.

“Yeah, had to close tonight. Bad case of rats. Let’s go see Petey, would hate for you to come out all this way for nothing.” Seeing little in the way of options I decided I had to see it through, and followed my burly escort up the steps. He knocked on the door at the top, it cracked open. “I’ve got a woman here, says she wants a cleaning job.”

“What are ya thick? Why didja bring her in? Tell her to scram.” The new deep voice echoed down the stairwell.

I looked behind me, thinking while they were gabbing is time to run. The bartender stood there, looking up at me. I smiled at him and waved like I was wishing him a good morning. I doubted my innocent act was sticking, I was trapped. “She says Pete sent her. Said she would like to talk with him.”

There was a long silence. A hissing of whispers behind that door. I did my best to keep calm and stay composed. Inside my heart felt like it would beat out of my chest, every muscle knotted and tensed. Finally, the door opened.

I about did a double take. The man who beaconed me looked exactly like the fellow who led me up the stairs, save for his skin was the same color as mine. “Come on in, Petey could use some company right now.” The office was well-lit, unlike the rest of the bar. The furniture was polished and very expensive. It reeked of opulence, golden statues and vases surrounded me. Bookshelves lined the wall behind the desk. He smiled and closed the door. Pointing a hand to the man sitting motionless in a chair facing the redwood desk he cheerfully said, “Go on, tell Petey hello. He hasn’t been talking to us. Maybe he would talk to his good friend.”

I knew as I walked toward Mr. Conway that he was in a bad way. His stillness was only broken when he shook and wheezed. Blood dripped off the chair into sticky pools on the floor. As I approached him I nearly heaved up my breakfast. His face looked more like old hamburger patties than anything human.

“Hmmm, seems we have a new lead.” A woman’s sultry, smoky voice filled my ears. “For her sake, I hope she’s more cooperative.” I turned toward the corner where she was leaning. I had walked right past her, and how I ever missed this dame was beyond me.

I had never seen a woman with such raw, powerful beauty in my life. She was older than me, maybe in her early forties. Her eyes fixated on me, those intense, emerald eyes. Most people look at you, stare at you. Her gaze held you at gunpoint; made you her prisoner.

Even with the bloody horror near me, I could only fixate on her. She looked me up and down and I returned the favor. Her short, bright red hair was styled in finger waves. A light smattering of freckles ran over her cheeks and nose. Her forest green dress was made of expensive silks and wrapped her ample curves. Everything about her radiated sex and power.

The bodyguard snatched my bag from my hands and started rifling through it. I made no effort to stop him, it wouldn’t have mattered if I did. He pulled out my folding knife from my army days. “She’s got a sticker.”

The woman shrugged and smiled. “She’s a woman, ain’t she? Needs to defend herself. Give her back her bag.” He pocketed my knife, not trusting me as much as the woman in charge. Then he pushed my purse back into my chest.

“Douglas, Mr. Conway won’t be needed anymore. Put him to bed.” With no hesitation, the now-named bodyguard walked to the bloody pile of what was once a man and snapped his neck. I could feel the brutal crack in my own bones. Douglas turned to me, no mercy in his expression, but a listless gaze of a stone-cold killer.

“Dispose of it,” The woman said as she fixed those emerald eyes on me. “I’ll be fine alone with her.”

So Douglas dragged the man out, chair and all. He eyed me up and down as he walked away. “Ya sure you don’t want someone in here?”

She laughed and walked toward a long, leather couch. She had a noticeable limp. “I said we’ll be fine. I’ll call for you if I need anything.” She gingerly sat down, her composure broken briefly as she winced. As soon as she settled in she gestured for me to join her. “Come join me, darling. The desk is far too messy right now for a civilized conversation.

“Lidia Gillis.” The name escaped my lips without even passing through my brain. She had been all over the papers. Whatever was going on with this case, I had bitten off far more than I could chew. My only hope was to try not to choke on it.

It was the biggest story of the year. She was married to Ed Gillis, one of the higher-ups of the Southland Hills Gang. They were hosting a dinner for all the bosses two months ago. There was a hit, someone stormed the place and ended the party with a shower of hot lead. Lidia took a slug herself but survived. She was the only one who did. The city was on fire with infighting, and if the current rumors are to be believed she ran the latter part of what was left of the business.

“So you keep up with your current events. You can call me Miss Lidia.” She pet the other end of the sofa with her hand. “I believe I told you to have a seat.”

I placed myself exactly where she had indicated. She wasn’t in a hurry to ask me anything. She turned to the dark wooden cigar box on the end table and opened it. She analyzed them. She ran her slender fingers over the selection. One caught her eye and she plucked it out, passing it under her hose and inhaling. “I don’t like being disadvantaged. So who would you be?”

I briefly thought of lying, giving her a false name. Those eyes though were sharp. I doubted I could fool her, and getting caught in a lie was perilous at best. I settled on the truth, anything she wanted to ask I would answer. My glance drifted to the sticky crimson pool where Conway had been. Maybe, just maybe I could walk out of this office alive. “Poppie, Poppie Freeman.”

“What a simply adorable name.” Never taking her eyes off me she took a straight cutter from the box and sliced off the end. “Do you have a light?”

I reached into my bag, fumbled past Tomb’s cigarettes, and pulled out the box of matches. I struck one and with a quivering hand pushed it straight to the end of the cigar. She pulled the cigar back and gave me a disapproving glare. Her lips parted and she blew out the match. “You’ll singe it, muddy the flavor. Again, hold out a match.”

She let me have a moment to collect myself, I took in a breath. I struck a new match and held it out. She leaned in and turned the cigar above the flame. She let it begin to blacken around the edges. The match burned low, the nerves in my fingertips tingled, then screamed but I dare not move till she was done. She held me in her eyes, analyzing me as smoke began to rise. Finally, with a satisfied nod, Lidia leaned back. “Good girl.” I shook out the match and waited for the next question. “You need to take your time. Be mindful.”

I watched as the clouds of imported tobacco danced out of her lips. Fidgeting nervously before her, all pretense of bravery melted. That damned stare stripped me, I melted in those deep-set eyes. “So Poppie, do I really need to ask why you are here?”

I shook my head. “No… Miss Lidia. I work for a private detective. Some broad came in today, wrapped my boss's head up fast with a bunch of lies. She dropped Conway’s name. I decided to investigate, to figure out her angle.”

“Really, watching out for your boss?” She tilted an eyebrow at me. “That’s loyalty. Or is it something more than that?”

“Hah!” I was surprised I could laugh. “Jacob Tomb is a louse at his best. I’m loyal to getting paid. If every floozy with a sob story gets him in deep I’ll be out on my ass.”

Blowing a plume of smoke to the side, she leaned toward me and put her hand on my leg. “Smart kid. I was worried you didn’t have a good head on your shoulders after you so recklessly barged into my joint.” The hand patted me, then lingered. Inside I felt something jump in delight as she squeezed my leg. “What did you do before working for… Tomb was it”

“I was a codebreaker during the war.” At this, she sat up straight. An intrigued wonder filled her eyes.

“Really? Were you discharged after the war then?”

I shook my head. “No, I…” Anger slipped into my voice as I told her. “I was sacked for arguing with my superior.”

“What about?” She hung on my words, almost delighted by the spite in my voice. It was odd, minutes ago she had a man killed in front of me and now we were gabbing like old friends.

“There was a fragment of code we intercepted. The Nazis were planning to bomb our boy’s camp. They had figured out we had troops hidden in the woods near one of their bases. Thirty men. I told the sergeant. He ‘checked my work’. He disagreed with my translation. We argued. I got sacked.”

Nodding, as if everything was coming together in her mind she puffed at the cigar and thoughtfully picked her words. “White man argues with a Black woman. You had to know how that would end.”

“I did.”

“And what happened? After you were fired.”

My attention again went to the pool of blood. “Thirty tombstones. I doubt there was enough of their bodies left to bury.”

We sat there, not saying a word for a long time. Finally, Lidia spoke up. “Well, ain’t that some shit. Now tell me about the woman who came into your office today.”

And so I did. I told her every detail of what was said, the fake story, the way Midnight wrapped Tomb around her finger, every bit I could remember. She sat in silence and let me go on, smoking her cigar. I fished out a cigarette and began drawing on a gasper myself as I went on. She listened in silence.

After I finished she took a long last draw and crushed the remains of the cigar in the ashtray. Reaching forward, she held my hand in hers. “I have a little test for you. A cipher I was trying to have cracked. I had three men in here who floundered. Show me what you can do.”

Lidia stood up with some effort, her limp obviously bothering her. She took a ripped piece of paper from the bookshelf. I went to her, not forcing her to return to me. She smiled, recognizing the effort to accommodate her. I looked over it. Letters and numbers covered it. I studied it for only a few moments before the patterns began to show themselves to me. Repeated chunks of code, nothing too terribly advanced. It was a good effort, but probably one that someone could do in their own head with enough practice.

I walked over to the desk, grabbed a pen, and began jotting notes down. She patiently watched as I scribbled and scratched. Theories coming and going. After several minutes the solution presented itself. “T. Brown. 8th Precinct. 17-TabC-P. $50-m. That’s what the first line says. I don’t know what it means though.”

Lidia walked to the door and opened it. Douglas had been waiting like a loyal dog. “Have your brother start the car. We’ve had quite the gift dropped in our laps.”

She gestured for me to come to her, which I obediently did. Leaning in she whispered into my ear. “Do you want to know? The truth that is. Who that woman was? What she actually wants? What is in that ledger?”

I knew it was a bad idea. I became a bigger liability the more I knew. Lidia Gillis had a man tortured, snuffed out without hesitation not less than an hour ago. I should just start begging, asking her to let me leave.

But… I couldn’t do it. Not when those green eyes met mine. “Yes…”

“You’re a clever girl, Poppie. I like that about you. So I will tell you everything. But let's make things perfectly clear… you don’t work for Jacob Tomb anymore. I want you under me.”

I blinked in disbelief. What exactly was going on? I thought hard, but realized it didn’t matter. This was the only lifeline available. I would be foolish not to take it. “That would make me very happy, Miss Gillis.”

“So formal! And knock it off with that Miss Gillis bullshit. I hated that man. He’s dead and so is the name. I’ll not tell you again, it’s Miss Lidia.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

I’m sure it was quite comical, me sandwiched between her thugs in the back of the black Cadillac. Even though Miss Lidia vouched for me they seemed to lack trust. “I don’t like it. Let’s just toss her in the bay.”

Lidia clicked her tongue and they heeled their aggression like well-trained dogs. “You have to excuse them, I trust these boys because they trust nothing. And you have to respect their opinion here. Cryptography isn’t exactly a common profession and a particularly talented woman such as yourself is more than luck.” She licked her lips slowly like she could consume me right there. “I would say it's fate.”

“Or a setup,” Douglas chimed in.

“True, but I can’t figure out the angle if it was. So let’s take Poppie at face value and see where it takes us. Frankly, we’re up against it as is.” She held the paper in her hands that I had translated. “T. Brown. Cop at the 8th Precinct. 17-year-old Tabby C. There are pictures. He pays 50$ a month.”

“17-year-old girl?”

“Are you surprised? I’ve never really considered it a well guarded secret.” Disgust crept across the lines of her face. “The wealthy and powerful are damned monsters. They really put no effort into hiding the fact, just make people too scared to speak up. But you’ve heard the whispers and rumors. Any poor or desperate young woman they can find is put to work. But it’s done in plain sight, flaunted just like every dehumanizing thing they do.”

She looked over my translation, pain in her eyes. “The Southland gang had many sources of income. After prohibition ended they became the prominent pimps of the city. They had an exclusive monopoly on the younger ladies the rich craved, had brothels in every upscale corner of this godforsaken city. But the real money was made from blackmail.”

I felt sick, suddenly unsure if I had made the right choice. “So what, you want to continue on the business?”

Her eyes narrowed sharply on me and I stopped breathing. I had stepped over a line. “I know you don’t know me but I’ll not tolerate being insulted like that again. I’m no pimp, I’m not here for blackmail. I’m here for revolution. I didn’t survive the Southland Hill massacre. I initiated it.”

“You… killed your husband?”

She smirked. “It was regrettable really. I would have loved to have taken my time; really savored his screams. But business before pleasure. It had to be done quickly. I needed many men dead in a short time. So when all the bosses got together Ned decided I should serve drinks. I had a Tommy gun stashed in the oven, had it there for months. Not like a man was going to cook.”

Lidia seemed very pleased with herself as she went on. “I learned about the ledger from Ned. Everyone they have dirt on it, but more importantly, it also has the exact locations where all of it was stashed. Every picture, every receipt, every bit of evidence. And I want it, not to keep on blackmailing these pigs but to shove it down the public’s throat. Make it so obvious they can’t pretend anymore. When they can’t be comfortable they’ll get angry, angry enough to fight back.”

She pointed to her hip, the one that she carried so delicately when she sat and walked. “Conway was playing piano. I was foolish enough to think him unimportant. So when I exited the kitchen and sprayed down all the men in the room I missed the piano player. I took the ledger. I had it in my hands. And then Conway, the little sleaze, took a potshot at me. Ripped it from my hands and ran off.”

She looked downward at her wound. “I was ready to topple the city, but a greedy little piano player fucked it up. Ain’t that some shit.”

“So who’s the dame riding Tomb?” The story started lining up. I understood where she was going but I needed some details spelled out.

“Arlene Jowoski.” I snorted. Looking back at me Lidia met my amusement. “What did she call herself? Abigail Nighthawk?”

“Midnight.”

“So dramatic. Arlene was a good little money earner. Been doing the job for years. Smart enough to have a bunch of stooges desperately in love with her. Conway was in for her bad. Cops apparently found him running away but thought he was just some drunk wandering the streets. Took his things, stuffed them in an evidence locker, and let him go the next morning. He went running to his broad and told her everything. I suppose she thinks she’ll have everyone on the take.”

I shook my head. “She’s an idiot.”

“You think?”

“What you are telling me is in this ledger, it’s a damned atomic bomb. And she’s a child fumbling around with it.”

Lidia reached over and took my hand. “Poppie, you are far too keen to be wasted on this bigoted world. I would be surprised if she lasted a day if she tried anything.” The car pulled into the driveway of The Princely, the highest-end hotel and bar this city had to offer. Every power player in the state dealt out of this joint. “We’re home.”

“Good evening Miss…” The valet opened the door and stopped. This was a segregated place. He sneered at me.

“Frank, watch that fucking look on your face when eye my new friend.” I was stunned, no white person had ever stood up for me before. Lidia stared him down as he mumbled an apology and held the door for me. Satisfied for now she turned back to me. “I’m sorry, Poppie." She looked at the twins. "Boys, have a meal sent up for us. We’re famished.” I realized that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, she was right.

“Take my arm Poppie. If you’re with me no one will give you hell, at least not to your face.” So I did, I laced my arm through hers and walked through that glitzy lobby right to the elevator. It was unlike anything I had felt, on her arm I was powerful. There were dirty looks and whispers, but no one dared act for fear of my companion. And so we went to her room, ate a meal that likely cost more than I made in a month, and talked.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

I wanted to ask about how she got here, about her past. But when someone aims to burn down the world you can assume it’s not pleasant and I never did. I never would either, I think she appreciated that.

“Tell me about Tomb. Do you think he can get the ledger?”

I thought about the question. Tomb wasn’t entirely bright, but he was charming and quick on his feet. The Devil’s luck seemed to be with him as well. I was sure he should have been killed at least three times while I worked with him but he always came back. “He might be able to pull it off.”

She brought a crystal glass of old wine to her lips as she looked over the city. “What do you suppose he will do with it.”

He wasn’t a complicated man. “He’ll look at it, realize it’s a code. He’ll likely ask me to translate it, then when Abigail… I mean Arlene shows back up and probably hand it over as soon as she brings those tits back out.”

“Hmm, men. Here’s to them, Poppie. May they always be so easily led by their cocks.”

I giggled and raised my glass to that. We were both a little tipsy at this point. “Miss Lidia, I must say I like your style.”

She nodded appreciatively and joined me on the sofa by the fireplace. She moved carefully, trying to conceal the limp. The penthouse took up the entire floor and could have housed an entire family. “Then we wait, you go to work. Let me know when he gets a hold of it. If he can’t, we make a move. It will be dangerous though, we are just lucky the dumb coppers have no clue what they’ve got.” She stretched her arms into the air and sighed. “Enough business.”

She put her arm around me and pulled me close. “Poppie, you are a surprising new friend. I’m glad we’ve met.” I suddenly felt quite hot in her grasp, and I’m sure I flushed as she turned her face and pressed her lips on my cheek. Her gentle kiss melted on my skin and I rubbed my thighs together. Feeling bold from the drink and an insane sense of greed I went for more.

I was taking a risk, it could have just been a friendly gesture. But when her head tilted as I drew in I knew she felt the same. She caressed my cheek and let the softness of her lips grace mine. She wore no perfume, just a wonderful smell of leather and high-end tobacco overtook me. I let her dictate the pace, how long we held each kiss. I realized I had closed my eyes, and I slowly opened them to see she was watching me the entire time with those wonderful eyes.

“Mmm, Poppie. Help me out of this dress.” She turned away and I began to fumble with the zipper. “Calm down. Enjoy it. Slow.” Her voice was low with a slight rasp, like the purr of a cat. So I did as she asked. Tooth by tooth I slid the tab downward, savoring every bit of pale flesh as it was exposed. My mouth went dry as the zipper came to an end right below the crack of that round ass.

She stood and let the dress slide to the floor, nude and beautiful. The firelight danced over her skin. “You too, Darling.” In a flurry that was likely showing very little grace or restraint, I undid every cruel button on my dress till I could slip it off. I removed my undergarments, slowing as I realized Lidia was surveying my body. She smiled at me as she sat back down on the mohair sofa. “Touch me.”

I knelt beside her and looked upon that body. Clumsily I groped at her breasts and started to suckle at her neck. I was in heaven until she berated me. “Stop. Not like that.” Taking hold of my wrist she pulled my pawing hands from her skin. I stopped dead, shamed at the clumsy way I handled her.

She shook her head and turned to me. “Lean back, relax.” I did to the best of my ability what she asked. I found it hard to relax with her naked body over mine. “Don’t paw at me like those hungry men have done to you. Like I said before… calm, slow, be in the moment.” And with that, the tips of her fingers started to explore my quivering body.

I realized then what she meant. Men had always taken from my body, gotten something from it. This was for me, about me. She traced invisible meridians over my skin, finding what made me squirm, what made me moan. “Please,” I begged. I took her hand in mine and tried to guide her hand downward, I wanted those fingers in my wet slit.

“No.” With a single stern word, she let me know who was in control. I was being teased and built up. This wasn’t something to be rushed, no matter how much my body ached for release it would only happen when Miss Lidia allowed it. That’s when she began to play with my tits.

At this point, I was already aroused enough to cut glass, and when she rested her warm palm on them I could only arch my back and bite my lip. Softly, she spread her fingers out. Painfully slow in her pace, she drew them inward, pressing softly into the flesh of my breast. They met together and gently pinched my pert nipple. “Oh, God!” I squealed and began to suck in air as I had just sprinted a mile. Lidia’s lips approached my ear. She moaned softly as her tongue gracefully flicked my earlobe.

She took her time. The fireplace was my only marker of time. When we started it blazed hot. She had explored and drawn beautiful, invisible maps across my skin. She fondled, teased, and licked. And when she finally ran those well-manicured fingers over the lips of my womanhood only the red embers remained in the fire. “Oh! Oh!” I couldn’t voice my pleasure, my body acted on its own. Lidia’s middle finger parted the lips and slid inside.

I raised my feet onto the sofa and dug my heels under my ass, spreading my knees wide. I pressed my back into the couch, my hips rising gratefully to Miss Lidia’s indulgent strokes. Never in my wildest dreams did I understand that sex was supposed to feel like this. She fingered me gently, studying my reactions with an academic interest in the causes and effects. “Poppie, you’re going to cum now.”

With that, she adjusted her finger nearly flat along my cunt, not deep inside at all. Her hand pressed against my flesh and she exerted pressure on that little ball of nerves. She pressed against me and my hips met her force, grinding her hand. My erratic breathing and moaning turned into what might have been screams. My legs spread wider and my toes splayed as the waves of violent rapture swept over me.

Just as she commanded, I came. My thighs collapsed inward and my body balled up, trapping her hand between my wet thighs. There I held her as the torrid euphoria rose and ebbed, again and again. Only the gentle feeling of her skin on mine remained.

“Poppie, if you could… may I have my hand back.” I realized she was shaking. Without knowing it I had pulled her onto me, made her lean on her scarred hip.

I opened my legs and let her lean back. “I’m so sorry!”

She laughed and adjusted herself. “Did you learn anything then?”

I nodded, understanding what she meant now. “Calm, slow, in the moment.” I stood up and stretched my body. It had never felt so loose, so good. I went over to the table and retrieved a cigar. “May I try again, Miss Lidia?”

She nodded slyly. Walking before her I showed her the cigar. Using the guillotine cutter I snipped the end off. She raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to light that for me, my sweet Poppie?”

“Of course.” I had never felt so beautiful in my life. So I wanted to show off for her. I turned toward the fireplace, and got down on all fours. I looked back at Lidia, she stared at me with ravenous intent burning in those emerald eyes. I let my ass bounce a bit playfully as I extended my arm and began to slowly blacken the tip of the cigar over the embers. As the tip began to glow red I brought it to my lips and took the first slow drag.

With the Havana held in my teeth, I turned back and crawled to her. If I didn’t know any better I would say that she squirmed in anticipation. I approached her, my eyes level with her the wondrous bush of curly red hairs that crowned her honeypot. At her feet, I rose. I climbed over her, letting my nipples drag over her body as I brought my face to hers. Taking the cigar from my mouth I kissed her. Then I placed my offering in her mouth. “Just what I needed,” she purred as I lowered myself to touch her again.

So I took her lessons to heart. Slow, calm, in the moment. I explored her as she did me until the morning light washed the darkness from the city.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

It took Tomb three weeks to finally get around to the journal. During that time I acted as I always had. The hardest part was hiding my joy, the fact that I was now more awakened to the world than I ever had been. Dampening that light was difficult.

Every night Miss Lidia picked me up from my cheap boarding house and took me back to her hotel. We had dinner; talked business shared pleasure. We dreamed together of a world free of the ruling classes, work bosses, and politicians. A world where people were kind and fair to each other. It was a beautiful fantasy.

Just as I had predicted Tomb was successful, though he had the unseen hand of Miss Lidia helping. On the night of the heist, a particularly odd string of crimes gripped the city, leaving the station with only a skeleton crew. It wouldn’t be till the next morning that I could assess his success.

I arrived at work early in the morning on my last day. I made a beeline for the safe. Tomb would leave it here, his place was robbed on a monthly basis. I closed my eyes and opened the safe door wide. I took in a deep breath and released it. Slowly I opened my brown eyes and smiled.

I went to Jacob’s desk and took out my own green ledger, and a pencil. I had been studying the code before, practicing it. Seeing how fast I could turn the alphanumeric jumble into plain English. I took the cigarettes from my old employer’s drawer. Taking one long draw I thought of Miss Lidia’s eyes and smiled. It was time to work.

The clinking of glasses spilled out from those cheap walls as Tomb poured Arlene… I mean Miss Midnight a drink. I watched from my peephole as they toasted his success. Tipping back the glasses, they enjoyed his pilfering of the 6th precinct. He held the journal before her, and as she reached for it he snatched it back.

“Come clean with me, Doll. This ain’t a book of bank records. Nobody put that much effort into the family’s books.”

Abigail feigned surprise, “Tomb, you don’t think I would lie to you, do ya?”

“Shut it with that. You’ve done nothing but lie to me ever since we met. I think the only truthful thing that ever came out of those pretty red lips was when you said you loved me.” I rolled my eyes as he threw the black journal onto his desk. “So what’s in this damned thing anyway.”

Turning to the window she folded her arms. “I… I can’t tell you Tomb. I care too much about you. You’ve already stuck your neck out enough for me!”

“Well, it’s my neck, sweetheart. Now start spillin’.” He approached her and put his hand on her shoulder. Then he stumbled and coughed.

She put a hand on the windowsill to steady herself. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, I’m sure her skin turned pale under all the makeup. “Tomb… I do love…” She began to cough now as well. Meeting eyes they came to the same conclusion, thought it was far too late to do anything about it. The poison Miss Lidia gave me to slip in the booze was quite effective.

“P…P…Poppie…” I was almost surprised, I didn’t expect Tomb to call for me in the end. “Poppie! H… help!” I figured that was a good enough time to finish it. Miss Midnight fell on all fours and began violently shaking as a yellow foam spilled from those her lips.

I walked into the office. “Yes, Mr. Tomb?”

I could tell in his eyes that he understood at that moment what was happening. He collapsed against the wall, eyes open and watching me. I walked over to the desk and picked up the journal.

“I should have been more straight with you, Boss. I got a better offer, one I knew you had no hopes of matching.” I looked out the window and saw Miss Lidia’s car below waiting for me. “Couldn’t have you following us though, it will take a few days for the plan to come to a head. So you two are a loose end that needed wrapped up.”

“The rent’s paid till the end of the month, I doubt anyone will come looking for you till then. My ride is waiting. Thank you for all the wonderful opportunities over the years but I regret to inform you today will be my last.” I waved as I closed his office door behind me. I slipped the ledger into my bag with the notes and put up the ‘Out o Lunch' sign.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

We drove to the safe house Miss Lidia arranged. She had sent out the twins to start collecting the goods. It would be a small operation over the next few days, a closed house. No one in or out till we were done. Making copies of everything and then sending them out all at once to every damned paper in the whole state.

I tittered on, joy in every word. “It was better than we could have ever hoped. They had dirt on fourteen active US Senators, 2 ex-presidents, and priests. So many damned priests… If this didn’t get people mad then nothing ever would! Forget just the state, we’re going to the entire country in fervor!”

She stared out the window, nodding as I talked. I longed for her gaze, her praise on a job well done. Yet she sat forlorn and quiet.

“What’s troubling you, Miss Lidia?” I nestled up next to her.

She turned to me and gave me a weak smile. She pulled me close and kissed my forehead. “My sweet Poppie, if this goes exactly as planned… what will happen?”

I knew what she was eluded to. I had a feeling we were both thinking about it. Still, I didn’t want to say it. “What do you mean?”

Holding my chin in her hand she turned me and looked dead into my eyes. “We finish this job, find all the pictures and receipts, send it out to every paper we can. What will happen then? Do you think people will fight, and tear this country apart? OR will they do what they always do, hide their faces and wait for it to pass?”

I had never seen her waver before, never seen her doubt. “I don’t know. People will get angry… but…” There would be an uproar, certainly. I’m sure quite a few of the individuals will fall. But revolution? People were cowards, would they actually stand up to the devils? I honestly didn’t know.

“What will happen to us?” Lidia pressed, petting my head as I rested it on her bosom.

We both knew the answer, and now for the first time, Miss Lidia showed me weakness; vulnerability. She couldn’t say it out loud and needed me to. “We’ll be killed. We’ll be lucky to last a month, even with all your resources. You don’t make this many powerful enemies and expect to live a long and happy life.”

She sighed. “You could hide. I could let you go now, let you leave town, leave the damned country. I could give you more than you would ever need…” Even as she told me to go I was held tighter.

I took her hand from my shoulder and brought it to my lips, kissing it. “Thank you.” I lowered her hand to my heart, letting her feel it beating. “Thank you, but I think you know my answer.”

She spread her fingers over my sternum and lost herself in the rhythm of my beating heart. I was resigned to being with her until we met our end, together.