Here is a sneak peek of Chapter One of The Last Word from the first book in the Lacey Stocking, Private Detective series.
On the mad dash to catch the bus, I stopped at the newsstand and bought a paper. As I skimmed the front page, a headline just below the fold caught my eye: Forest Park Teen Reported Missing! My stomach tightened. The engine roar of the approaching bus snapped me back to attention.
Mondays have always had a reputation for being bad, but this particular Monday was beginning to feel like the Monday-ist of all Mondays. I was over an hour late for work thanks to my crummy alarm clock dying on me. If Hardley hadn’t called from the office, I still would have been warm and snug in my bed. And, of course, it was raining. It was that bone chilling rain that comes in early October to remind a person of the dreary Pittsburgh winter days ahead.
I tucked the folded paper under my arm as I boarded, wanting nothing more than to read the front page in peace. The bus was crowded, unfortunately, and the only available seat was next to a woman reeking of cheap perfume. My nose burned at the potency of her god-awful scent. With my stop coming up, I could soon escape her stench, but until then, I held the newspaper up over my nose, inhaling the smell of printer’s ink for the next seven blocks. As soon as the bus stopped, I jumped up out of my seat and sneezed three times in a row.
The woman stared at me innocently. “Is my perfume too strong?”
Why ruin her day with the truth? “No, just getting over a cold.”
I stepped off the bus just as the rain came down harder and ran as fast as I could to our office building. As I bolted inside, I nearly collided with Lois, the nosy switchboard operator, who was sweet on my partner.
“You’re late,” she said like an angry schoolmarm.
Lois always wore her mousy brown hair in a tight bun and had a plain looking face. With just the right amount of rouge and lipstick, she could break a few men’s hearts. She looked older than her years but not in an unkind way. Her abrasive personality was hard to take at times, but she had a good heart.
I took my rain bonnet off and shook it dry. “I’m finding it harder to come to work lately.”
“Welcome to life.”
I hated when people older than me said stuff like that. I got it. The idea of work wasn’t lost on me. My brothers and I took odd jobs when we were kids just so we could have spending money, and I watched my parents work themselves into the grave, but this was something else.
“I’m surprised to see they let you out of The Cage,” I said.
“Just fetching some supplies. There’s coffee and crumb cake in the kitchen upstairs. You’re welcome. Oh, and tell Hardley I said, hey.”
She probably made that cake especially for him. I called for the elevator and pressed 2 for our floor. I pulled a compact out of my purse and gave my face a once-over. A soggy mess. Just as I suspected.
If only my late father could see me now. I had wanted to be a cop ever since I was little, just like my father and my two brothers, but Dad wouldn’t stand for his only daughter putting her life in danger on the streets of Chicago. So, after he passed away, and a huge fight with my brothers, I moved to Pittsburgh in a snit and became a secretary at Standard City Bank where I met Hardley. In his police uniform. Standing in the lobby. Looking bored out of his mind. We became friends and soon found ourselves in compromising situations that usually involved thugs, thieves, guns, Hardley getting a black eye, and me calling on the police to help him out. I suggested going legit, and after getting our license, we started the Hardley A. Witt Detective Agency. Unfortunately, without his name on the door, no one took me seriously as a private detective. Most of the time, I played the role of secretary while he pretended to do all the dirty work.
I pushed the door open to suite 203 and found Hardley toiling away at his desk. Tall and lanky, he was the spitting image of Hollywood actor, Dan Duryea. He had a mix of toughness and charm about him, but mostly Hardley was, I hated to say it, a little on the goofy side.
“You know, if I was your boss, I’d dock your pay for being late.”
My purse and the newspaper fell to the floor at my feet because of course they did. I let out a frustrated growl. “Good morning to you, too.” I stepped over the mess and removed my rain slicker, shaking the water off before hanging it on the coat rack. Hardley scooped my things up off the floor and placed everything neatly on my desk. “Thanks. There’s coffee and crumb cake in the kitchen. Lois says, hey!”
“I know. I already said good morning to her at least five times. You seem to be all out of sorts. What gives?”
“Sweet talker! I bet you say that to all the girls.” I collapsed onto my chair, peeled off my galoshes, and stashed them under the desk. “Just one of those days, I guess. Something feels, I don’t know, off.”
“It’s the weather. Rainy days make me feel that way all the time. Go get some of Lois’s mighty fine cake, and when you’re ready, we’ll go over these cases and coordinate details.”
I tilted my head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Now I know something is off.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re eager to work.”
I flashed a quick smile and strolled to the kitchen down the hall and around the corner near the Lafayette Insurance Company’s office. One of their top salesmen, Melvin the Masher, as we ladies called him, came dashing out the door and nearly crashed into me. He was a notorious skirt chaser and started making his moves as soon as he saw me.
“Hey, Red. Lookin’ good.”
The last time someone called me Red was in the third grade. I gave little Timmy Burns a black eye and got a few days off from school.
“Do you mind?”
“Come on, Red. Smile a little. Although you sure look cute as a button when you’re angry.”
“I’m running behind.” I moved to the left as he moved to the right and when I moved to the right he moved to the left. We did that whole awkward dance of who’s going to get out of the way first, except I could see by the mischievous look in his eyes that he was doing it on purpose, so I stopped and stood still. “Jeepers creepers! Move or I’ll move you.”
He threw his hands up, pressed his back against the wall, and laughed obnoxiously. “You can move me any time you want.”
I rolled my eyes as I walked away. “Don’t hold your breath.”
After a quick trip to the restroom to freshen up, I secured coffee and cake and headed back to my desk so I could ease into the day at my own pace. The radio played quietly in the background as Hardley hummed off key with the music. I cradled the hot mug in my hands and felt the chill slowly slip from my body.
“Want me to read the headlines to you?”
“No, I want you to start working.” Hardley was firm in his reply. Why did it feel like everyone was yelling at me? “We gotta keep our noses to the grindstone. These two infidelity cases are almost done.”
“But I don’t feel like working today. ”
“Remember: Money, good; poverty, bad.”
“Say, this cake is all right. Did Lois make it for you?” I mocked him, already knowing the answer.
“Natch!” Hardley chewed on the end of a pencil. “It only makes sense that you trail Mr. Carter’s wife and I’ll shadow Mrs. Graves’ old man.”
“Wouldn’t it be funny if they were having an affair with each other?” Finishing up the last bite of cake, I scanned the top news stories. “Hey, get this. Good news for Chicago, I guess. WNBQ is the fourth television station to sign on in the city. Radio better watch out.”
“It’s just a passing fancy.”
“Yeah, that’s what they said about them talking pictures, yet here we are.”
“I can barely afford the upkeep on my radio.” Hardley yawned, stretched, and put his feet up on the desk. “I can’t imagine owning a television.”
“Oh, and WXYZ starts broadcasting in Detroit.”
“WXYZ? How original. Do you want to start work today or not?”
“I am working—working on this cup of coffee. Back off, chum. This is the first time I felt good all morning.”
“Fine. Read the newspaper to me while I nap.”
I searched the paper for something I knew would interest Hardley: the sports page. “Huh. Not sure if this is anything important, but game five of the World Series at Cleveland stadium drew a crowd of over 84,000 people—the largest crowd to see a Major League baseball game.”
“Now that’s news! Too bad the Cubs weren’t involved.”
“The Homestead Grays won the Negro World Series against the Birmingham Black Barons.”
“More good news.”
I slowly flipped through the pages and folded the paper. “Well, that’s it for the sports.”
“Feeling better yet?”
“Give me a few more minutes.”
I looked down at the paper’s index to see what page the crossword puzzle was on when I remembered the brief headline that caught my eye earlier.
“Hardley, listen to this. Forest Park Teen Reported Missing. Seventeen-year-old Ken Anderson, a student at Sacred Heart Academy, was reported missing by his parents on Sunday. He was last seen at the football game on the night of Saturday, October 9th. The police are encouraging anyone with information of his whereabouts to contact them and ask for Sgt. Marelli.”
A confused look on his face, Hardley jerked his head back. “Marelli? Why would Marelli be involved?”
“I thought Marelli was with homicide.”
“He is.”
