Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

he did glance around enough to notice the people staring over at us.
    “And if you do, you still wouldn’t know where it was. And I couldn’t tell you, because I’d be dead.”
    He went all cagey at that, remembering his assignment. He put the gun away and even attempted a condescending smile. He was going to have to work on that too. “I could throw you up against the wall and frisk you.”
    “You think Woods didn’t already try that? Or maybe you think I just like giving peep shows?” I flapped my shirt at him again.
    He poked his finger into my chest to emphasize each word. “You shouldn’t mess with the police if you want to stay healthy.”
    “And you should trim your nails.”
    He couldn’t resist: he darted a glance at his fingers and then growled softly. “Watch your step, shamus. Wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

    Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    135

    “So that’s why you didn’t come up with the captain. I never knew you cared so much,” I said. I took out a nickel and flipped it to him.
    He dove after it as if after swallowing a thumping from Big Billy, I was just going to toss him the pendant on the street because he scared the bejeebus out of me.
    “For the paper,” I said.
    Guthrie was shaking with rage when he realized what it was.
    “You’ll get yours, dick! ” he hissed at me.
    I shook my head at him. “Empty threats? Big Billy didn’t buy himself any bargains when he bought you. So how’s the wife?”
    “I’m a bachelor, just like my dad. Runs in the family,” he said.
    I wondered if he realized what he was saying but decided to hold my laughter in until I could enjoy it without breaking a rib. “Your girlfriend then.”
    “Women. Got no use for ’em.” He spat on the sidewalk to make sure his feelings were clear. “Or you either.”
    “The feeling is mutual, Bertie.”
    I turned and shuffled away to my car. He made an effort not to be obvious about following me, while I waited courteously for him to remember that tailing a man in a car on foot was doomed for failure. He was doomed anyway, he just didn’t know it yet.
    While he was getting into his car and starting the engine, I pondered the implications of his statement. He might not have any use for women, but he wasn’t queer, I’d bet on it. Maybe Guthrie preferred to rent his girlfriends by the hour. Less wear and tear on everyone, and in Vegas, he could have a new one every time he felt the urge.
    Just to show him how it was done, I lost him before I got home.
    Of course, he knew where I lived, so I had to shake him all over again as soon as I went out, decently clothed for public consumption. For fun I went over to the Flamingo, hoping he’d think I really was meeting someone. I drove into the parking lot, backing into a spot near the front so I would be ready to leave when the time came.

    136

    CATT FORD

    He parked at the other end of the lot, front end in. I led the way inside and lost him amongst the roulette tables and slots. He got a little distracted, getting so fancy with his tailing me from behind machines and trying to eyeball me in the mirrors, I was already ducking outside while he was still maneuvering. I watched him through the window, figuring I had a ten-minute lead while he made sure I wasn’t still inside.
    I lucked out when a truck came by just as I left, giving me some cover. It would have been fun to stay there and watch him, maybe even instructive, but I had a busy night ahead of me.
    I watched my back, taking the long way around. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Guthrie had double-teamed me, but if there was another shadow, he must have been doing air reconnaissance. If the cops weren’t onto Lambda, I was damned if I was going to lead them there, even though Big Billy seemed like he might be wise to it, as he had a nose for sin. I especially didn’t want him there tonight, as I had a feeling I would be seeing Reggie. No way did I want to blow his cover.
    Although if he were smarter, he’d stay out of there until this caper was over. But who was ever smart when they were thinking with their dick?

    Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    137

    Chapter 7: T-Girls and B-Boys

    WHEN I parked the car down in the train yard, I had on a clean shirt, dusted off and looking as good as new. At least where people could see it. The bruise on my right side was coming along nicely and promised to be a lovely shade of purple by