To Love In Sin

            It had started off as just another cold night in New York City. A torrential frigid rain hammered down on the skulking gutter rats festering in their alleyways. Somewhere beneath the exhaust pipe ambiance and the swelling sound of sirens I could almost hear that faint familiar song. That last chord in the maddening shroud of the drunkard’s melancholic tune. All the while, the civilized folk scurried away, all as if a little water would wash away the masks that hid their crueler nature. 

            The last seven years had been hard on my city. In a time when most would sell their own flesh and blood for a meagre morsel, somehow, more and more were casting aside their civility to simply sate their sins. Husbands chose the bottle over their families, children rummaged for scraps in the trash, while wives and daughters turned to the trade just to make a penny. A pretty picture to say the least, but after ten years on the force, I had seen it all. So as far as I could tell, it was just another night in the city.  

            In the beginning, filled with that youthful idealism that had ruined so many before me, I had thought I could change things if I had gone out on my own. A private eye for hire, or at least for anyone with the right sort of job that could make a difference. After being on the force, and having seen the best broken by the weight of red tape and backroom politics, I had blamed the system that had broken them. When the cold truth at the bottom of the barrel was that it didn’t matter what form it took, cruelty, cruelty was just a part of the human condition.      

            So, after a few months, the little jobs had not been enough anymore. After you chase down enough booze hounds and mistresses, the lackluster of it all soon becomes apparent. In the face of mundane reality you start looking for something more, you start looking for a cliché. A fantasy like one from the stories, because reality just isn’t good enough anymore. You think some damsel in distress will walk through your door, you’ll solve her case, and be the hero. One of those, get-the-girl kind of scenarios. That had been exactly what I was looking for when she walked through my door. 

            Her named was Scarlet May, and she was all the right kinds of wrong. A drop dead knockout who knew just how pretty she was. The type of girl that could play you out of every cent before you even knew you had opened your wallet. She had one of those thousand-yard stares that told you she had seen enough in her life, enough to call her anything but innocent. A sultry sort of smile beneath two sad eyes that made no apologies. Then, somewhere between her perfect curves, there were a hundred hidden bruises from hard lovers and lonely mistakes.

Little did I know it, I had already taken the case before she even said a word.

            “Detective Johnathan Hart?” she softly asked stepping in from the hall.

            The nicotine filled my lungs as I took the half-smoked cigarette from my lips, “The one and only. But no one’s called me Detective since I was working out of the precinct. It’s just Johnny now. And you are?”

            “Scarlet May,” she declared closing the door behind her. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything. I was told by a friend you might be able to help.”

            Old habits kicked in as I studied her reactions, the twitches on her face, and the dancing blacks of her eyes. All of it seemed steady, too steady, all as if she had practiced the lines for weeks before. Her finger wouldn’t stop tapping against the skintight dress that hugged her thighs, and her gaze kept shifting back towards the hall. There were a dozen signs that told me to say no before she even sat down, but beauty is blinding.

            Needless to say, there was no resisting the itch for the cliché, “Take a seat Miss May.”             

           “It’s Mrs. May, if you please,” she corrected before taking a seat. “I apologize if my demeanor seems off putting. I’ve simply...well, I’ve never done anything like this before.” 

            “Like what?” I asked finishing the cigarette.

            “Going to a detective and all. It feels rather…” she bit her lip as she thought about that old forgotten feeling, “…thrilling.”

            Pulling back the chair in front of my desk I sat across from her already feeling the itch to light another smoke, “So who was it that told you about my services?”

            “A one Elizabeth Copps,” she stated with an air of confidence. “Perhaps you remember her case?”

           “Vaguely. The name sounds familiar,” I lied, remembering the paranoid wife the two timing ex-judge all too well. “Something about a cheating husband if I remember it right.”               

            “Precisely,” she smiled moving her chair in closer. “A fact you alone were able to unearth while the police simply ignored her.”

            “Hate to say,” my hand was already around the pack. “Infidelity isn’t a crime.”                          

            “Perhaps for a man.” Scarlet crossed her legs leaving just enough showing to leave any man screaming for more. 

            “Welcome to the twentieth century Miss May,” I replied diverting my gaze and lighting a fresh smoke. “Whether you like it or not, there are more swinger’s clubs and speakeasies popping up every day. Especially in a place like New York. If you’re here about a cheating husband, you can show yourself out.”

            “Nothing of the sort Detective Hart,” Scarlet looked back at the door before she leaned in closer to almost whisper the words. “I’m here about a missing person.”

            There was an eagerness in her stare, a viciousness upon her lips that remained veiled beneath her mask, “Mr. May I take it?”

            “Oh no. I’m afraid the case is nothing quite so simple. Perhaps I should begin at the beginning,” she stated leaning back in her chair. 

            Every bone in my body was happy I had lit that second smoke as I gave her the silence she needed to spin her tale. 

            “You see, I’m an immigrant Detective Hart. My family originally hails from northern Italy but were driven out by fear of the war. We arrived in 1913, I was still a young girl when we came to America, and no more than ten when our parents died shortly after arriving.”

            The word had caught my attention as I asked the obvious question, “Our?” 

            “My brother Tony and I,” the sadness couldn’t be hidden from her voice. “It was less than a year after our parents passed that Tony turned to a less than reputable line of work to generate the means to survive. While I stayed with distant relatives who offered us both a place to stay. Nevertheless, it was not until some years later, after I had married Mr. May, that my brother reappeared. It seemed as if he was in some trouble, but shortly after, he disappeared. And now I’m here, speaking with you, in hopes of finding my brother again.”

            There were too many holes in her story, a vague simplicity that raised red flags, but I ignored them, “Sounds like a job for the cops.”

            “Indeed,” she cast her gaze down towards the floor. “Precisely what I thought as well. But when I went to them, well, let us just say they had written off the case before I had even finished my story. Tony was a name they had heard before, and it was not in light of his kindhearted generosity. You could say they saw more criminal than the crime”

            “Sounds like our standard American definition of justice,” a sly smile crept across my lips thinking back to the days protecting that system. “To serve and protect, but only if you’re the right kind of citizen. That’s the name of the game sweetheart.”

            “Yes well,” Scarlet’s ebony eyes struck deep as they fixed on their mark. “That is why I need you Detective Hart.”

            “Like I said, call me Johnny,” the cigarette had gone stale. “But this doesn’t sound like my sort of gig. If you want a quick answer, your brother is probably dead. And darling, I’ve got no time to go digging up graves.” 

            Scarlet had begun rummaging in her purse as I leaned back and watched the frost settle outside the window. Before I could even turn back I heard the wad of dough drop onto the desk. When I counted the stack, it was more money than I could make in a year’s salary back on the force. Hell, it was more money than most of the poor bastards living on the streets would see in a lifetime. 

            “Please?” she made sure to accentuate the desperation in her voice.

            Whether it was the money, or just for the sake of chasing that cliché, I knew what my answer was despite playing hard to get, “Alright. I’ll look into it. But there’s no promises here. Two weeks from now, maybe a month, if I still got nothing you’ve got to face facts.”      

            “Of course,” she smiled doing her best not to let the tears show. “If that is my dear brother’s fate…then so be it.” 

            There was some inkling of hesitation in the depths of my mind, but the moment my hand reached out for the money there was no going back, “So what do you know? 

            The cold had been one of those kinds that cut right down to the bone. Every drop of rain felt like a harsh reminder of death’s lustful longing creeping across your skin. Even after I had found an overhang to light my next smoke, none of it helped. It was one of those nights where I would have been alright just wasting away with a stale bottle of bourbon from the week before. Especially after hearing where I would find my first clue. 

            The place had come to be known as Hoover Lane, an old shanty town built up from cardboard boxes and moldy pieces of scavenged wood. Built between two of the taller buildings that sprawled out onto the docks, it was a kind of makeshift home for those who were too entrenched by disparity to afford even the cheap places on the low end of town. There were plenty more like it across the city, and with the rising rate of folks going flat broke, something told me there’d be plenty more to come.

            New York wasn’t the only place that had seen shanty towns on the rise. Most big cities were seeing them take root nearby soup kitchens and overcrowded shelters. Places like these were just a symptom of a bigger problem, an excessive desire that kept every poor sucker only wanting more when they already had enough to get by. Luxury is all good and fun until everyone wants a piece, then it’s just a matter of time before everyone sees the bottom. President Hoover hadn’t done much to help the slipping state of our once great nation. Even what had been proposed hadn’t been much of a plan.  It had been born from the sort of thinking that constituted your typical American idealism, throw money at it and it’s bound to bounce back. But looking at places like Hoover Lane, it was easy to see the only way we were going was further down.

            Walking through the booze covered alleyways that reeked of shit stained linens and unwashed piss pots, I held my gaze as I peered deep into the black. In places like Hoover Lane, moonless nights meant cold winds and darker shadows in which to disappear. Only the low glow from the few fires kept alive late into the night illuminated this world. The rest was drowned away by the wailing moans of the forgotten. A chaotic medley of sounds that had resounded as the distorted echoing chorus of their abandonment. But after having traversed the dark so many nights before, the madness all made sense. 

            Off to the side I could hear a trick gone wrong, a woman demanding compensation for sating a broken man’s loneliness. Further down, a bottle shattered against the concrete, the scream that followed told me the man wouldn’t be finding his fix anytime soon. Even the silence told a story, a tale of those taken by the cold, those that wouldn’t be seeing another morning. Lowering the black brim of my hat I reached back for the Smith and Wesson tucked in the back of my trousers, it was the only friend that had ever made me feel safe during my midnight strolls.  

            Just before the mouth of the alley that spilled out onto the docks I found the place Scarlet May had mentioned. A shack with a red clay roof that looked as if it had been set ablaze on more than one hazy occasion. It stood as a charred testament to the madness that waited within. A madness that went by the name of Red Roy. 

            Before I even pulled back the shambling curtain two wild eyes filled with fear peered out from the shadows inside, “What do you want? Go away…no need…don’t need nobody. No sir…nobody.”

            “Shit,” I whispered flicking my smoke as I pulled back the curtain. “Looking for a cat that goes by the name of Red Roy.”

            “Ha, ha, ha,” madly cackled the shivering creature whose bones nearly protruded through his skin. “Ain’t nobody here named Roy…just Red…yes sir. Red is as Red does.”     

            There was a voice that told me to turn back, to close the curtain and leave the madman where I found him, alone in the black. Even if I could get any information out of him, there was no way of telling whether it was a solid lead or just another waste of time. I knew it was dangerous to get too close to a person with nothing to lose, and just how much deadlier it was to step between them and the drug that lost them everything. But this had been the case I had been waiting for. For me, the moment I had taken the cash there had been no turning back.

            Without waiting for permission, I stepped through the small hole for a door and crouched inside. Broken needles half covered in blood from late night morphine binges, dirt covered bottles emptied of their last drops, and a hundred hazy regrets written across the walls. The moment I stuck a foot through Red had recoiled like a creature waiting for the slaughter. It wasn’t so much fear that had sent him into shock, but rather the reflection of himself that he found in my eyes. Whether I could see it or not, there was something about me that reminded him of that world he had left behind. A distant mirage of a life that had just been too good to be true. 

            “What you want! Huh?” questioned Red. “Ain’t got nothing for you!”

            “Relax,” I let the chill settle in, realizing the cardboard shelter did little to keep out the cold. “I’m not here to give you any trouble. I’m looking for someone.”     

            “You got a bottle?” he asked avoiding any direct questions.

            There was a moment of hesitation before I reached in and pulled out the half-filled flask from my jacket. Prohibition was not an easy time for anyone to find booze, let alone the folks who couldn’t even afford to walk through the doors of the only joints that sold it. I held the flask out but pulled back just as Red reached for it. 

            “You only get it if you tell me what I need to know.”

            A building rage lit up his blackened eyes as he swallowed the anger and hissed, “Fine. Got a smoke at least. Red ain’t had a real smoke in a while. And I’m not talking about that cheap black crud they roll up down here.”

            The request was an easy one as I lit one for myself in the flammable home Red had to call his own, “I’m looking for someone. A cat named Tony. Ever heard the name?”                                  

            “Tony!” his eyes went huge as he let the smoke linger along his lips, “What you want from Tony?”

            “Gone missing is all,” I let the words hang in the air. “Some people are looking for him.”                                 

            Red cocked an eyebrow as he clung on to something I had said, something I had given away or gotten wrong, “Is that what you think? What if Red don’t want to tell you? What if Red told you Tony don’t want to be found?”

            “Then Red ain’t getting’ the rest of my supply,” I flashed the flask and watched as the sweat trickled down his face. “I’m sure a fellow like you can manage without my help.”       

            The thought of a night without the bottle was too much for an addict like Red, “Nah, just a joke. Red knows what you need. But how about just a little taste first?”

            “Talk first,” I took a drag, “Then you get your drink.”

            The red rage flickered again across his blackened gaze before he pressed it back, “Alright. Red knows Tony, oh Red knows Tony all too well. Was a time when Tony and Red needed each other. A time when we didn’t sleep most nights. You know?”

            “You said Tony doesn’t want to be found,” I repeated aloud. “Someone after him?”

          A blank stare followed as the cigarette lit up his hollow face, “No, nothing that simple. Truth is, Red don’t know where Tony is, just where Tony’s been.”

           My cigarette was already half burned from impatience, “Spill it.”

             “You see, Tony goes to this place, a place Red ain’t ever been. No way Red would be allowed in a place as classy as that. Joint’s called, The Dive. Speakeasy down on the upper east side. Not too hard to miss with all the well-dressed folk hanging around. That’s all Red knows. Red swears it.”

            “Well Red ain’t getting what he wants then,” I took a sip from the warming nourishment that sat inside as I waited for the animal to claw its way through.

            “No!” he screamed. “No! No! No! That’s all Red knows, and Red needs that! Red needs what you got!”

  The pistol was already in my hand as he readied himself to lunge at me, “The only thing Red is going to get is a bullet if he’s not careful. Now, you sure that’s all you know?” 

            Red’s eyes were fixated on the gun, like a child who knew the belt was coming if he didn’t behave. Once again, he swallowed the anger, becoming only more agitated with knowing how close he was to prize, “Yes! Yes! That’s all Red knows! That’s all Red can know. Tony ain’t come around here for a long time. Now come on! Red just needs a taste....”

            There was an honesty in his desperation, the sort of honesty only the broken could testify, so I threw him the flask. What little was left inside was gone in seconds. Red lunged onto it like a dying man in a desert drawn by a droplet of water. Even his cigarette had been forgotten as it began to burn his arm, but Red didn’t even seem to notice. 

   “You got anymore?” he asked through a heavy set desperation. “Ain’t enough for Red. Never enough for Red once he gets that taste.”

            “Yeah well, you’ll be tasting nothing but lead if you try anything stupid. You gave me what I needed. Something tells me we won’t be seeing each other again.”

            A final crooked smile crept along his lips as the whites of his eyes shone through the black, “Can’t see what’s already dead. Red ain’t nothing but a name no more…ha, ha, ha…just a name….”

            Even as I stepped back out into the lightless alley that held Hoover Lane, the twisted laughter continued. Red couldn’t stop rambling to the ghosts that lived in his head. A tale told too many times before, a broken man left within nothing but his memories. I knew how the story would end. Another forgotten man dies alone in the cold with only a whimper, remembered by few, and loved by none.

            The Dive had been anything but what the name had implied. Unlike the typical Black and Tans, or the Blind Pigs built in half-finished basements or private rooms tucked at the back of legitimate fronts, this place was something else. Despite gambling on Red’s need to find a drink, he had been right about how to find the place. All you needed to do was find the line of expensive dresses and suits rounding the block to know you had found the place. Even as I watched from across the street, high end cars pulled up every other second, and by all appearances, it looked like no one was trying to hide what the place really was. 

            It hadn’t been the first time I had heard of a speakeasy that had been passed over by the law. Prohibition had left everyone dry, not just the lower end of the food chain. But for those who could pay the price, it was always a little easier to find a drink in New York City. Places like The Dive catered to just those sorts, the upper echelon of society that made sure the wheels stayed greased just long enough for them to find a drink. But it always helped having a free round ready for the boys in blue. 

            This wasn’t my usual sort of place, the sort where even the dishwasher stuck in kitchen was better dressed than I was. Joints like these were private clubs for the privileged few, those who didn’t want the common rabble spoiling their view. Making my way over towards the line I could already tell I stood out. Feeling the stack of cash that still lined my pocket, something told me it would be a lot lighter by the time I had found my way out.     

            Took a little close to an hour to finally find my way inside, even my stack hadn’t been fat enough to grease the monkey watching the door. Even then, the attendant at the front had insisted on an accommodation fee, a nicer way to say I was underdressed. Once I was in, the scenery had changed as the rich cultured veneers quickly faded. Most already had a head full of liquor, swinging themselves around like there was no tomorrow, and forgetting the facades they checked back at the door. Judges whispered sweet nothings into the ears of girls working the room. Husbands and wives cast aside their vows for a taste of one-night satisfaction. All the while a swinging jazz band filled the room with their tune, setting the rhythm for another night of reckless debauchery. 

            The smoke was already at my lips as I walked through scanning the room. My first instinct was to head towards the bar, buy a drink to fit in with the others, and maybe ask the bartender a few questions. Just as I expected, a single name hadn’t been enough to catch a lead. Most of the regulars who came through used fake names or paid handsomely to make sure they were kept off the books. Next there came the servers who knew a Tony or two, but not the sort of characters you could find at The Dive.

            Another dead end, and maybe the most expensive one I had ever run into. Tony was just a name, and without anything else to go on there was little left to do but take in the sights. After paying my weight in gold to find a way in I figured I’d at least enjoy the drink before showing myself out. Looking around it was hard to tell the streets left back outside were going to hell. Things like Prohibition and Black Tuesday were just words to these people, bleak horrors that only existed in the columns of their newspapers. A blissful state of well financed ignorance. Every time a drink was spilled in here someone out there would go another day without a meal, and with each fit of laughter there was some poor sucker about to die out in the cold. 

            Part of me felt like an idiot for coming so far on so little, but there was an old itch that made it feel like the answers weren’t too far away. The liquor had long since stopped doing its bit this late into the night. So with that, I knocked back the aged scotch and made sure I didn’t leave a tip, figured the richer cliental would compensate for my lack of generosity. Half way out the door I suddenly turned back, urged on by a little voice that told me a stone had been left unturned. Beside the door stood an attendant I had written off on my way in. A cat whose only job was to take the names of the people going in and then say his goodbyes as they made their way out. 

            “Say,” I approached waiting for a small break in the endless line that waited to get in, “You worked here for long?”

            The host gave me a stern look as he coldly examined my choice in attire, “Long enough I suppose. Is there something I can help you with Sir?”

            “You see,” the bills were already sliding across his counter. “I’m looking for an old friend. Was hoping to take a look through your book to see if he’s come through lately.”            

            The host slyly examined the bills before deciding the information was worth more than I had guessed, “I’m sorry, but I cannot allow that Sir. Policy and what not.”   

             Reaching inside my pocket I could feel my stack grow a little lighter as I produced another two bills, “I’m sure policy can be broken for the sake of an old friend.”

            With that the host stepped back from the book and stationed himself to the side as he watched for any unwanted witnesses who might stumble onto our little exchange. There was no time to spare as I started flipping through the pages. From what I could tell, the black bindings held the name and alias of every patron who had frequented the less than legal establishment over the course of the last month. There were Tom’s, Tim’s, Tabatha’s, and everything in between, but not a single Tony who had come through. That was when I found a name I had not expected to see, Scarlet May.

            The host showed an evident sign of relief as I closed the book and took a step back,

             “Say, you ever heard the name Tony before?”

            A curious brow was raised, “You mean Toni? The dancer who used to work here? No one calls her by her real name though. Most simply refer to her by her stage name, Violet.”            

            There it was, the piece of the puzzle I had not expected to find, “Let’s assume we’re talking about the same person here. What’s her story?”

            “What’s there to say?” sighed the host who was already preparing for the next patron. “We see plenty of acts come and go in this establishment. Violet, or Toni, was a dancer just like any other. Worked here for a few months before abruptly taking her leave. Most didn’t even get a chance to know her real name.”

            “Then why do you?” I coldly questioned.

            “Because it is my job to know…Sir,” he snidely replied.

            “That can’t be all there is to it?” I dug a little further. “Any regulars she hung around with? Maybe a sly gentleman by the name of Mr. May?”

            “Mr. May? Ha!” he pompously snickered. “Why, Mr. May would have never engaged in such outrageous conduct as infidelity. Especially considering Toni is a close friend of Mrs. May.”

            It had been my first real clue, “Come again?”

            “Miss Toni was a close acquaintance of Mrs. May. If there was anyone with whom Miss Toni spent her time with during her brief stay with us it would have been her.”

            “Know where Miss Toni might be working these days?” 

“Perhaps,” another brow was raised as I slipped him a bigger bill. “Miss Toni has taken on a new role as an…entertainer. Last I heard she was working as a burlesque dancer at a less than reputable hole known as the Midnight Lounge. You will know it by the blue door in the alleyway.”

            The host wrote the address on a napkin and slid it over. Making my way out of The Dive I couldn’t help feeling like I had been played like a fiddle. There was now more to the story than ever before. The game had suddenly changed, and all the while I had not even realized I was a player. Only problem was, where I thought I had been cast as the hero, I had actually been made the fool. How many half-hearted truths had been fed my way? How many lies had been fit into that skin tight dress along with those killer curves that had walked through my office the night before? 

            Walking into it, I thought I knew how the story was going to end. A dead crook found in an alley somewhere and a grieving sister who would never get to see her brother again. But what I had expected to find had blinded me from seeing the bigger picture. In my search for a cliché I had missed the everyday bullshit that never gets written into the stories, the truth. And now that truth was something that might not set me free.

            Bathed in the lone lamplight of the dead end road the telephone booth smelled as if it had been used as someone’s toilet on more than one occasion. A singed refry hung from my lips, but the smoke did little to mask the smell. A crumbled piece of paper with a number written across it sat in front of me. The phone rang on the other end as I saw the blue doorway of the Midnight Lounge fly open. Two drunkards stumbled out into the alleyway across the street as the first rays of morning spilled through the twilight. A few more rings followed before there came an answer. 

            “Hello?” began a half dazed voice on the other end. “Do you have any idea what time it is, or are you simply that inconsiderate?”

            Even exhaustion couldn’t hide her voice, “Mrs. May. I found her.”

            There was a silence on the other end that said more than words ever could, “Where?”                              

             I took a drag, weighing out whether I should give her the full story, “Why didn’t you tell me who I was really looking for?”

            “Must we discuss this now?” she argued.

            “Yeah,” I snapped back. “I don’t like being lied to.”

            Scarlet sighed on the other end, I could hear her closing the door of the room she was in as she lowered her voice, “Omitting the truth is not the same thing as lying Detective Hart.”                                

             “Listen sweetheart, I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of lying,” I corrected, watching the drunkards madly laughing across the street. “And it’s just Johnny.”

            It was easy to tell she hadn’t been in much of a joking mood this early in the morning, “We can debate colloquial semantics all you wish in person Detective, now please, where is she?” 

There was a feeling in my gut that told me to keep it to myself until I had the full story. Assumption had been the death of better men than me. But that was not how the job went anymore. Working the private sector wasn’t the same as wearing the badge. The job only went as far as the client said it did, and once the cash was in my hand, I went my way. With that in mind I gave her the address of the Midnight Lounge and hung up the phone. 

            By the time I was done making the call my cigarette had been all but ash. Even the drunkards had disappeared with the rising sun. It was right then and there that I should have walked away. I knew I should have just called it a day and gone to get a drink at one of my usual spots. But somewhere along the way my curiosity had gotten the best of me, and now I had a tic that wasn’t so easy to brush away. The answers were just behind that blue door, and I had come too far to turn back now.

            Inside the Midnight Lounge the lights had been dimmed low as a sultry song filled the stairwell that led inside. Before I had made it even half way down, a thick cloud of stale cigarette smoke was there to greet me. It was that same familiar smell that normally clung to the air of the cheaper speakeasies around town. A subtle reminder that I wasn’t anywhere near the ritzy part of the city. This was the sort of place a girl came when she wanted to get away from it all, or someone in particular. 

            It didn’t take long before I found her, a real dime down on her luck with nowhere else to turn but the stage. Toni was a black haired angel that had been dragged through hell and back again. There was no hiding the hard times that had brought her to the end of the line. A frame that was nearly skin and bones from barely making enough scratch to eat, and two tired blue eyes that remained fixed on the bright lights that lit up the stage. Up there, the rest just faded away. The way she moved told me everything I needed to know, the girl was fearless. She had been broken a long time ago, in a life that had been lived so long before it was hard to believe it had ever existed in the first place. 

            The joint was all but empty as I pulled up a chair and watched her finish the dance. Most of the other patrons had been asleep at their tables and tightly wrapped around their bottles of liquor. Only a few still held their heads up as Toni’s number came to an end. There was a glimmer of sadness that replaced the bright lights as she stepped down and made her way over to the bar. There was no easy way to approach her as I took a seat and ordered a drink. 

             “Whiskey and whatever the lady is having.”

            Toni had her suspicions as she glanced my way, no doubt having had more than enough creeps try their luck at the end of the night, “I’ll take one of those Carl. Which one are you, cheating husband, or hopeless romantic looking to whisk me away from a place like this?”                               

            “Neither,” the bartender nodded as he waited for the signal that she would be okay. I waited until he came back before I kept talking. “You must be one hell of a lady to order a drink like that.”

  She didn’t wait as she knocked back the glass and put it down for another, “Maybe I’m no lady at all. Look, I’ll be frank, that’s always been my problem in life, you’re not my type.”

            “Oh yeah?” I replied before tipping back my own. “And what’s your type?”

            “Probably a lot like yours,” she sighed as the bartender poured her another.

             It had been enough to feed my growing curiosity, “What do you mean?”

            “Ha,” she laughed, not waiting for me to replenish my glass before knocking back her second. “I like other women. I’m sure that’s a huge blow to your fragile male ego, but, there it is. No changing it.”

            “Last I heard that was a crime in this country.”

            “So what are you going to do about it?” her blue dead eyes tried to excite a reaction. “Call the cops?”

            “What if I told you I’ve been looking for you?” I asked in hopes of getting to the point.

            “Ha,” she pulled out a smoke and lit it before ordering another drink. “Looking for the girl of your dreams or something?”

            I took a look back at the door half expecting Scarlet to walk through before I could answer, “I woke up a long time ago sweetheart, I don’t dream anymore. Truth is, someone hired me to find you.”

            “Came a long way for nothing,” she answered while turning away. “Besides, who would want to find me that bad?”

            Even as I said it I couldn’t help but notice the bartender vigilantly watching my every move, “You ever heard the name May before?” 

            It was then that Toni’s character changed, the name evoking a dark secret in the dancer’s battered blues, “What did you just say to me? Who the hell are you?”

            Even as the bartender reached below the bar she moved a hand to stop him. I knew I had to talk fast, “Just a pair of eyes for hire sweetheart, a Detective who is just doing his job. Figured I’d let you know the score, but I still can’t figure out why you. Mr. May two timing his wife behind her back? “

            “If only it was that easy,” she knocked back the next whiskey neat and pushed back the chair. “I need some air Carl. I’ll be back.”

            With that, I followed her, a quick glance from the bartender warning me to stay out of trouble. Outside, Toni was already in tears as the sun bathed the sky a crimson red tinged in the shades of blood. There was no strength left in the fearless dancer as she looked up, the black of her makeup running down her cheeks. She had been defeated with a single word.  

            “Does she know where I am?” there was a desperation in her voice. 

            There was nothing I could do but nod and light up the last smoke from my pack. 

            “Shit,” the tears weighed more than any she had cried before. “What do you even know? What did that crazy bitch tell you?”

            It was then that another voice emerged from the mouth of the alley, “What he needed to hear in order to take the job.”

            Standing behind us, and dressed in her finest red dress, stood Scarlet May. The car was still running behind her, the driver’s side wildly swung open as she stood unflinching beneath the bitter chill that clung to the early morning air. Looking back at Toni I saw a fear I had not expected, like a hunted animal caught in a snare. It was then that I noticed the pistol firmly wrapped in Scarlet’s hand. 

            “No! I told you I never wanted to see you again!” screamed Toni. 

              “You know I couldn’t just walk away. Not after everything…” the words stuck in her throat. “…after everything we shared. I loved you!”

            “Mrs. May,” I interjected in a soft low voice. “Put down the gun and let’s just talk.”                         

            “No!” she screamed as a bullet left the chamber and burrowed itself into the brick wall beside my head. “Stay out of it! This is between us!”

            “You’re insane,” sobbed Toni. “You think I didn’t love you? After all the nights we shared, after all the secrets I had never told anyone before, this is how you want to end things between us? With a bullet?!” 

            “Shut up!” Scarlet screamed back, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek before hitting the cold concrete. “Why did you have to leave me?”

            “Because I couldn’t have you,” argued Toni, unable to rekindle the fearlessness I had seen only moments before in those battered blues. “I asked you to leave with me…we could…we could have been together! But no…all you ever cared about was what people would think. How the world wouldn’t let us be together!” 

            “That’s not fair,” whispered Scarlet, the pistol’s gaze remaining fixed. “You know I couldn’t have left. It’s not that easy.”

            “Yes it is! It really is,” Toni slumped down against the brick wall. “All you had to do was say the word and I would have been yours.”

            Scarlet May’s gun wavered for only a moment, her lip quivering, and her nerves lost before she regained her composure, “It’s too late for that. I have a husband…a reputation…I have a life. We would both be thrown in prison for our crimes.”

            “What crime?” she pleaded. “Love?”

            The struggle was becoming harder with each passing second, but still, Scarlet held the gun firmly in the air, “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about. No one can know what happened between us!”

            Toni was back up on her feet, the black mascara long since having faded from her bruised countenance, “I already disappeared once for you, wasn’t that enough? Look at where I am now. I gave up my life because…because I loved you…because I still love you! What more do you want me to do?”

            The words were but a whisper, “I love you too…but if you truly love me…I need you to die….”

            Amidst those fleeting moments of violet fading twilight that signaled the dawn, time froze in the alleyway outside the Midnight Lounge. One bullet was all it took as the blood trickled down into the wet pavement. A single trail followed the thin river of water that flooded back out onto the street, all as if it belonged. Scarlet May lowered the gun as she stared down at her lover’s lifeless body. It was then she uttered a final silent message to her dead love, the only thing she had ever truly wanted to say: I love you.

            By the time the business had been done, I had already reached the bitter tasting filter at the bottom of my cigarette. Scarlet May gave me a final look as she produced another bundle of money and threw it at my feet. Another tear had formed in the corner of her eye as she brushed it away with the shaking hand that was still holding the pistol. There was no need for words as she gave her lover one parting goodbye before getting back into her car. No sirens could be heard in the distance, no one had stopped their busy lives for Toni. The echo of the bullet had simply faded into the sinful sounds of New York City. 

            In the end, I picked up the money and just walked away. The bartender would eventually find Toni’s body, but with no witnesses and no names, there would be no one to blame. Even if I had called my friends on the force my word would have meant nothing against that of Scarlet May. The woman had too much to lose, and with her lover now dead, the truth would never be heard again. Just outside the alley, with the sun having pushed through the weight of the horizon, I took a final look back.

            Even in death, Toni was a beauty like none other. The expression across her face spoke of a sadness she would carry with her into death. A sadness born from never being allowed to live the only life she had ever wanted. For Toni and Scarlet had been two lost souls subject to the shackles of conformity, a conformity that belonged to a world neither had ever wanted to be a part of. The dead angel with her battered blues was just another victim of society now. A fading footnote of another forgotten story.

                It was a headline that would never hit the press. A tale that I would take to the grave and no one would believe, even if they spared the time to listen. A woman lay dead outside the blue door of the Midnight Lounge. Just another day in New York City.