Savage Tales

later the girl emerged, her hair slightly mussed, and she left as well. I took a leak and washed my hands.
    Back in the bar Bogart was nowhere to be seen. I paid my bill (unlike Bogey) and went to the parking lot. I saw him get into a beat up car that looked like a stunt double from one of his old gangster films.
    I got in my Chevy and tailed him, easily keeping pace with his rusty bucket. I thought he'd be going to Beverly Hills or somewhere like that, but he drove in a different direction and ended up in Glendale at a boring apartment complex. What was Bogart doing there? Why was he driving this ratty car? And why had he acted that way in the bar?
    Instead of going to his apartment and asking him, I decided to put on my Sam Spade shoes and go to the rental office. I rang the bell and an old woman answered the door.
    "I'm looking for an apartment," I said.
    "Oh, we've one available. Just give me a moment to find the key and I'll show you around."
    She led me to an apartment not too far down the balcony from Bogart's and I feigned interest until I could get to the real questions.
    "And I'll have a covered parking spot?"
    "Oh yes. One."
    "Say… this may sound strange, but I could have sworn as I was pulling in here that I saw – don't laugh at me – Humphrey Bogart! I know, ridiculous! I must make an appointment to get my eyes checked."
    "Oh, that's Mr. Blake."
    "Mr. Blake? You mean it wasn't Humphrey Bogart?"
    "No, Mr. Blake bears an uncanny resemblance to that great actor. But no, he's simply Mr. Blake."
    "Is he an actor as well?"
    "Oh no. He worked for a while as a children's magician, I believe, and now… I think he mainly collects unemployment. But he usually pays the rent on time."
    "I see."
    "Well, does that make you more or less interested in the apartment? I can get you an application."
    "Sure, sure. I'll take it home and chew it over with the wife."
    "Take your time."
    Back in my car I lingered a while. Mr. Blake's beat up Ford was where he had left it, and I just watched, waited. Finally, after another hour he emerged in a gaudy suit and got in his bucket and let the tank roll. I was after him for a while until he pulled down a narrow alley. It looked kind of dodgy but I followed.
    About halfway down it he got out of the car and ran back to mine. I was too tightly wedged to make a clean reverse, so I waited and tried to stay calm.
    "So it's you , bathroom boy."
    "Hello, Bogey. Or should I say… Mr. Blake?"
    "Someone's been poking his nose where it don't belong. And let's get this straight right now: I don't like to be tailed. You got something to say, you say it now. Otherwise get out of here. And I catch you following me again you'll get a lot more than a talking to."
    "All right, Blake. I'm going. I just thought you'd like to see. You know, that just because you look like him doesn't mean you are. You're just a speck on the windshield, near as I can tell."
    "Yeah, you and your mother. Beat it."
    I let it go at that and pulled out, drove away and got a burger. While I ate, I got to wondering why a guy like that went and did the things he did. He could make a million bucks as an extra to Bogart if he really went for it. I'd never seen such a perfect shoe-in for Bogey.
    I decided to try and prevent any more Chinese girls being taken advantage of in the men's room at Louie's and wrote a short but accurate letter to Bogart's studio, care of his agent. I didn't know the agent's name, but I just addressed it as "Humphrey Bogart's Agent" and hoped it would get through. I told them about Mr. Blake and how he resembled Bogey like a mirror, and that if that could ever be used in Hollywood they should eat it up.
    A month went by and nothing, so I put it out of my mind and hoped I'd never see Blake haunting Louie's with his drunk on again. But then one day I got this letter.

    August 5, 1944

    Dear Mr. Saxton,
    Thank you for your letter concerning a lookalike for Mr. Bogart. We are actually quite aware of this man, both myself and Mr. Bogart. However, due to personal reasons, Mr. Bogart has no desire to work with or be associated with Mr. Blake now or at any time in the future. Mr. Blake is well aware of this. Good day.

    And that was that. Whatever connection between Blake and Bogart that might have been, it was no good. Bogart himself apparently said so.
    And I was left with a pile full of mystery for my trouble.

THE PERFUMIST

    My coach pulled up to the viscount's residence, and I was relieved to find him not