Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

knew.”
    Jazz pursed his lips. “Captain Woods just naturally doesn’t like spades, but he never noticed me to pick me out of a crowd before.”
    “You think he heard about Miss Saint-Ville having a yen for you?”
    “Who knows? He has ears.”
    “Even here? In a queer underground club?”
    “You’d have to ask Mr. Martin about that. I’m sure he’s got a payroll.” He caught my look and laughed. “Cost of doing business in Vegas. Support your local crooked cop.”
    I was beginning to think all the cops were on the take. “Well, thanks for your time. By the way, I dig how you play.”
    “Thanks, little fish.”
    I left his dressing room, realizing he hadn’t had much of a break.
    But from the gleam in his eye when I talked about Reggie, I had a hunch that things might be looking up for both of them. I was looking forward to hearing Jazz play when he was in a better mood.

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    CATT FORD

    And now that that was cleared up, things were pointing Phil Martin’s way again. He knew where Marguerite Saint-Ville was the whole time she was hiding out. Someone could have called him when she tore out of here in a state, and he could have gone after her, found her walking and cornered her, although I didn’t know what reason he’d have. Unless he had a yen for her too. And there remained the matter of Mr. Big’s payroll activities. Who was he paying to stay in business, and who was paying him? Because however big the fish, there’s always a bigger one higher up on the food chain. I wasn’t quite sure how I was gonna sweat that information out of Mr. Big. I mean, I already pulled out the stops the first time I questioned him. Where was I gonna go from there? Shoot him? I didn’t want to do that for purely selfish reasons.
    And the other problem was where was I going to stash this pendant so it would be there when I needed it? Big Billy wanted it, and he had the resources to look everywhere I went. I’m sure he wouldn’t lose any sleep if his boys tossed my apartment and office every day without a warrant, and he might even think he could sweat it out of me if he put more effort into it. I wasn’t willing to put Artie or Jazz on the spot by giving it to them to hold.
    I started to chuckle when I thought of the perfect hiding place.
    Lieutenant Steele knew, but I was betting my life that Woods wasn’t aware that I knew Reggie, or he wouldn’t have brought him along to my office. Reggie was a cop; he could hold it for me. In fact, while he was at it, he could answer a few more questions.

    I WAS so concentrated on going over to demand answers from Reggie I never even noticed Phil Martin, even though he was standing there big as life flashing his dimples like he owned the joint. Which he did, so I guess he had a right.
    When I walked by him, he grabbed my left arm, I guess just to even up the mark he’d already left on the right, and said in a tone of seductive menace, “Can I buy you a drink?” I wanted to say, “Oh yes, please,” but I was working. I pulled my arm out of his grasp and snapped, “Not now, I don’t have time for Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
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    this!”
    He looked startled and a little angry, but then he chuckled and let me keep going. I was glad to see he had a sense of humor, because life with a man—what was I saying? There was no future in this. Besides, I’m sure he just wanted to get his revenge.
    I stalked over to Reggie’s table and shoved him back into his seat when he stood up.
    “Fuck off, Grey! Whaddya think you’re doing?” I grabbed Reggie’s wrist and twisted until he gave. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me about everything you saw that night.” To his credit, he didn’t pretend not to know what I was talking about. And to my shock, Mr. Phil Martin sat down at the table with us to watch. He even flagged down a waiter and ordered scotch all around.
    On the house.
    “Hey, I didn’t hire you, remember?”
    “But you want to make sure Jazz stays clear just the same, don’t you?” I hissed.
    Mr. Martin’s smile faded, and he leaned forward, looking back and forth between us like a tennis match.
    “I want him cleared, yeah,” Reggie admitted with a quick glance toward Mr. Martin, who was frowning now.
    “So who called the cops when they found the girl?”
    “Anonymous.” Reggie shrugged like it was no big deal, which it probably wasn’t; they probably scored two or three anonymous calls a day. After