Chapter 8: Delectable Detective

After serving her man bagels and cream cheese and coffee and returning to bed, watching him put on his coal gray suit, pale blue shirt and burgundy tie, getting a too brief heartfelt kiss, Marta nodded off.

A couple hours later her cell phone woke her. She bounced out of bed and caught it before it went to message. "We have a noontime client," said Mary. "I could use the money and I miss getting intimate with you if only for show."

"I'll be there."

"Thanks. I'll book a room."

By five they'd had three twofer specials, accepting only clients willing to pay the extra for both of them, satisfying their clients' needs and Mary's. Turning on her phone after the last client left satisfied and wanting another appointment, Marta discovered Joe had left a message.

"I probably don't want to know where you are. We have a meeting at 7. Call me ASAP."

Marta called back. "Hey Joe," she said quietly, mocking Mary's scowl.

"We're meeting a private investigator."

"That was quick."

"I felt some urgency."

"Okay. I'll buy dinner to make up my absence."

They ate a delicious Thai dinner near the office of the PI. The building turned out to be a beautiful brownstone with a filigreed façade dating from the twenties. On the third floor, stepping from the slow moving lattice gated disturbingly old elevator, they found the door done in frosted glass like in thirties movies with J & L Johansson, Problem Solvers etched in and knocked.

"It's open," yelled a woman throatily. Busy reading a file, she sat on the edge of her large oak desk, bespectacled with horn rimmed glasses, early thirties, chestnut brown hair, wearing a skirted suit of a golden brown hue and an open beige blouse revealing abundant cleavage. Removing her glasses, she smiled. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence. Tamping out her extra long cigarette and setting the file down, she stood, revealing her stature, barely over five feet and approached with hand reaching towards Marta. "L," she introduced.

"Marta," Marta responded, quelling her surprise, squeezing the seemingly delicate petite hand which gave as good as it got. "Just L?"

"Short for Linda, but I use it as my name, like French for she. Dad's named Jay, so it's like a gimmick, one letter names. Joe didn't tell you? That I'm a woman?"

"And beautiful at that," said Marta at last released from the grip.

"Right back at ya, honey," she said. With the long held handshake and the lengthy perusal, Marta realized another woman preferring the fairer sex entered her life. "Have a seat."

They did, finding the padded oak chairs with armrests comfortable. "Joe told me the job's independent from his company. Unfortunately that means a retainer along with my fee and expenses," explained L returning to the corner of her desk to sit.

"How much?" asked Marta.

"Fifteen hundred. I won't charge my hourly fee up to five hundred, but you'll pay expenses."

Along with stripping, Marta's work as a fairly expensive escort, earning four hundred an hour, had filled her bank account past ten thousand dollars. She could afford this. "Okay."

"I can only..." began Joe.

"I've got money Joe. It's my problem. Don't start getting macho on me."

"Fine," Joe reluctantly agreed.

"First let's find out if we're compatible," said L grabbing a legal pad. "I promise discretion. I have clients depending on it."

"I'm being coerced," began Marta.

When she ended her monologue, L said, "Shit. Let me talk to Dad. Follow me."

Passing through another glass door they entered a larger office lined with files and mostly thick books above them. L sat at a maple desk at a maple desk chair. The desk had only a blotter calendar, a cup filled with pens and two phones. The red one had a glass cover over it and appeared to be made of translucent plastic. L lifted the heavy glass cover and set it aside. "Secure line. My dad loves Batman and spy gadgets," she explained. Lifting up the receiver, the phone glowed stop sign red. "He's semi-retired, mostly at home with Mom tinkering. He's got several patents and more on the way. He's my technical advisor and sounding board and rarely takes a case on his own, only ones from old clients he respects enough to allow for their misogyny. Most old clients he tells to fuck off if they object to my presence. Hi Dad. I bet you were in the basement. I got a ... potentially dangerous case. It has to do with a Chicago boss. I thought this was secure. Okay." She hung up. "He'll be here in an hour. Pretend like I'm hired. In fact write me a check. I can tear it up."

Marta pulled out a checkbook. "Wait," said L. "Maybe a bank check or cash might be safer." Marta pulled out a fistful of hundreds and counted out fifteen. It disturbed Joe.

"Sorry," said Marta.

"You make a lot of money, don't you?"

"Yes."

Joe shook his head. "Maybe..."

"I want out Joe, okay?"

"Yes Marling." They shared a smile. It released tension for both of them.

Handing Marta a contract, L ended up giving it to Joe. "Of course," L said with a smile. "You're lucky he's your boyfriend. I've heard great things. He's perfect to approve the contract. It's something most people don't have, but I advise it even though I know he'll accept it."

It didn't take long. Joe had a couple questions which L happily answered. "Go ahead Marta." Marta signed it. Joe signed beneath.

"How serious is this boss about you?" asked L. "How much friction would it take to make him not want you?"

"Maybe that's the problem," replied Marta. "Maybe he's another Teflon Don."

"It just seems strange, a strange way of having a mistress."

"Uhm..."

"Maybe Joe should go."

"I want to hear it all."

"No you don't," Marta responded. "It might provoke ... bad things."

"I promise I won't think any less of you. I understand the coercion."

"Maybe not, but you might want revenge."

"That's the plan."

"I mean violent revenge."

"Me?"

"Have you ever been violent because of retribution?" asked L.

"Yes."

"Tell me about it."

"Yes please. I want to hear too," said Marta surprised.

"Okay. One time..."

"There's been more?" asked an even more surprised Marta.

"I admit I'm passionate about things, about Marta for instance. About studying and practicing law. About protecting a loved one. It happened at a party invaded by jocks. I was a sophomore in college. I had a girlfriend, beautiful, blonde, petite. She liked flirting. When she got drunk she flirted excessively. At this party in the backyard of some fellow student, Amy my girlfriend got wasted. These big football players, well not then, maybe they played baseball then cause it was Spring and school neared ending, anyway they crashed the party. Drunk before arriving they finished the keg. Of course Amy flirted. I tried suggesting she stop. That didn't go over with the lunkheads. They lured her to the corner of the yard and began touching her. Three of them in all. One grabbed her and tried kissing. Amy struggled. Immediately I had a game plan. That's the way my mind works, I strategize. I wrapped Amy in my arms and actually tossed her to the ground. Startled, the goons froze a moment. Then they attacked. First the head goon, the one molesting Amy, but the others quickly followed. Perhaps mentally slow, physically athletes are quicker than the normal person. I'm somewhat of an athlete albeit tennis and basketball so I'm wiry. And quick. They landed a couple blows by the time I kneed them and slammed my fist into an abdomen or two and brought my knee up to the one who bent over and knocked him out. I ended up with a torn lip surrounded by bruises and some pain in my ribs. They split, figuring it wasn't worth the aggravation, especially when confronted by a seemingly crazy and pain delivering supposed wuss. Amy didn't find me heroic until later when she sobered up. Being the flirt, despite professed love which when I look back might have been pure horniness, she was fun in bed, when we separated for summer, she had another lucky boy enjoy her."

"And?" asked Marta.

"Well I was younger, in high school. My dad started getting spastic. He has cerebral palsy. He came to school for some reason I can't even remember. This guy started imitating him and another guy caught on. I told them to stop. They didn't. I tossed one to the ground and poked the other in the throat. Being a star student, I only got a couple days suspension."

"My hero," said Marta with a wry smile.

"I know I can't go up to a boss surrounded by professional goons and kick him in the balls as much as I want to."

"Point taken," said L.

"I'd never hurt you, Marta."

"I know." She held Joe's hand. "Okay. It didn't start abusive. If it did I'd probably run home or something. No, he treated me like a virgin, which in a way I was: my first moment as a prostitute. Because of his gentleness it didn't strike me as a mistake until afterwards, and Mary comforted me. She's my roommate now. She wanted to seduce me, but I'm not a lesbian."

"You and your roommate work together?" asked L. Marta couldn't be certain her not liking girls sexually disappointed L, but felt a hint of it. The thought made her smile secretly because she had that fantasy.

"Yes we do."

"Can you trust her?"

"She loves me."

"But..."

"I ... I never thought of that. I'm not sure. Sex business is pure business with her. She's pretty mercenary."

"Bribable or ... if Joe ends up ending your relationship..."

"Revenge filled. You may be right."

"Have you discussed my involvement with her?"

"I didn't even know Joe had talked to you until tonight. She was there when Joe told me, but I didn't mention it. She knows how I feel about the situation. She's been my sounding board and I've been hers and her fucked up life, sort of unprofessional therapists. But I've never gotten specific. In fact when Joe mentioned getting involved I shot it down immediately."

"Yeah, I remember."

"Good. Don't change the attitude, and don't say anything to her about hiring a PI if of course we agree to be hired."

"One way or another..." Joe began.

"Yes Joe. Anyway, after that first sort of pleasant encounter, he sends his soldiers to the strip club to set a second date. I refused. They offered even more money than the first time, which had been enough to tempt me. I still refused. When Mary and I left the club, they basically kidnapped me, but only for a couple minutes. They scared the shit out of me, but I remained stubborn. I think Mary gave me a switchblade soon after that. A week later the goons arrive at the club. One of them insists I give him a private dance. I wanted to refuse, but noticed the manager looking seriously at me, another goon whispering in his ear. So I go with the guy. He pronounces the threat to my parents.

"The next date the boss and a couple of his 'best friends, ' some mucky-muck politicians I think, proceed to fuck the shit out of me. Mostly the boss, who starts out raping me, makes me dance with Mary and fool around with her, lets the friends have me, then rapes me again. His cruelness physically lessened, although from time to time he gets pretty nasty. But verbally he built this misogynistic hell in which I represented the star. He needs me L. He needs the subjugation. His orgasms are prodigious. At least he wears a condom, protecting him from my diseased cunt he says."

"Motherfucker!" yelled Joe shaking in anger.

"I didn't want you to know," sobbed Marta.

"I'll fucking kill the motherfucker!"

"No you won't!" yelled L even louder. The power of it from her petite body surprised both Marta and Joe.

"Won't what?" asked J stepping into his office. Dressed in a denim shirt and khaki slacks the man stood a few inches taller than his daughter. His white striated blonde hair brushed from his face and reaching just below his neck still held strong with barely a retreat. Handsome and developing a paunch, he looked attentive and intelligent. He reminded Joe of Alan Ladd with aviator glasses and a few more wrinkles.

Marta reiterated the case.

"Do you know the characters in Milwaukee?" asked J.

"No, but my dad might."

"I want you visiting your parents," said J.

"You'll take the case?"

He looked at his daughter who expressed more than usual for her cool demeanor, a plea. Marta's story affected her. She smiled when he said, "Yes. Linda, I want you to accompany Marta. I want you to make sure she's not followed."