Private Dick Casefile 01 - Lily White Rose Red

out that Reggie spotted a clue and hadn’t blown the whistle, well, he could be off the force or scrubbing the johns for the rest of his career.
    While I sat there puzzling over what kind of clue it could be that would only mean something to me, I pulled his bowl of chili closer and sampled it. It was excellent, much better than I would have expected given the kind of dive this place was. The coffee was good too, and that surprised me. Maybe Nancy had more on the ball than I thought.
    While I ate, I came to the conclusion that this clue, whatever it was, had to have a meaning that other people would get too. After all, if 20

    CATT FORD

    it meant something to me, it had to mean something to Reggie too, or he wouldn’t just—
    Aha. Something we had in common, then. Perhaps some potentially career-ending fact about us that we wouldn’t care to have become public knowledge. While that told me why he was being so cagey, it still didn’t tell me exactly what to look for, but at least I knew there was something the cops had missed, maybe something that could break the case wide open.
    I finished the chili before I left. Who says there’s no such thing as a free lunch?

    Lily White, Rose Red: Grey Randall, Private Dick Casefile #1
    21

    Chapter 2: The Meaning of a Clue

    IT COULD have been a setup. I didn’t want to believe that of a friend, but a man has to be careful in my line of work.
    After leaving the diner, I went straight to the train yard, ignoring what Reggie said about waiting till after dark. But when I got there, I realized the wisdom of his advice. However the place looked at night, by day it was full of trucks and men on forklifts bustling around moving freight.
    Not much chance I could slip down the alley unnoticed in that hubbub, but I took note of the location. A few amateur criminologists standing behind the rope, including some newshounds with flashbulbs, helped mark the spot.
    I parked my jalopy a couple of blocks away and took a walk, glancing into the alley as I passed by. This wasn’t the glossy face of Vegas. Here on the wrong side of the tracks it was mostly warehouses, some shacks left over from when the tracks were first laid, and tumbleweeds, blowing through the alleys in front of the constant wind that came in from the desert.
    The cops were long gone, having collected their evidence and left the scene of the crime. I took it easy, casing the dirty windows for a glint of sunlight off a pair of binoculars. Or a rifle. I saw nothing to get my motor running. I returned to my car and sat there reading the paper, wondering if anyone was going to ask questions about just why I was sitting there.
    But the stray cat and lone drunk I spotted weren’t interested. They just went about their business and ignored me.

    22

    CATT FORD

    Along about dusk, everybody had gone home or onto more exciting pursuits. I got out of the car and stretched, in case anyone was watching. They weren’t. I could see the glow of the neon lighting up the dark blue sky past the station over on Fremont. Everyone on the other side of the tracks was having a good time, with the lights and the booze and the gambling.
    It was quiet here, quiet as the grave. The alley was so dark I couldn’t see a thing. Luckily, private dicks carry a lot of the tools of the trade, which in this case was a flashlight. I was going to need it; none of the bright lights penetrated into the alley. I flicked it on and proceeded, taking each foot of the alley slowly, hoping to see this item that the coppers had missed.
    Next time I saw Reggie, I was going to thump him. The police were careful; they didn’t tend to leave anything behind, even if it didn’t look like clue. I mean, if the dame dropped her bag, it’s not like they’d leave it there all handy for me, maybe with a note tucked inside it, saying who had it in for her. Or a message in invisible ink.
    Yeah, right, it should be so easy. In my dreams.
    I peered down the alley. It was empty, as far as I could tell. No way to tell from this end if there was some way out down there, but if there were, a smart broad would have taken the emergency exit instead of riding the dead-end train to nowhere.
    I decided to play it cagey. If anyone saw me, I might look like a fool, but better a live fool than a dead one. I drew my gun, keeping the flashlight in my left hand. I hoped it wasn’t going to come to squirting lead, not yet. It would be murder to get killed when I didn’t even know