From Riches To Rags Part 2

I followed the beautiful woman into her office, and it too could have pa.s.sed for an art gallery. The woman reminded me of Lauren Bacall the way she moved, the way she dressed, the way she looked up at me with her head tilted down. She was wearing a silk draped crossover pink blouse underneath a sheer back wool ivory blazer that gave her a fluid motion as she moved. Her long, thick brunette hair draped over her shoulders, added to her style and grace.

"My name is Francesca Bonner but most people call me Frankie. May I get you some tea, or perhaps something stronger?" She held out her perfectly polished hand, so soft and slim, and I embraced it.

"No, thank you, I drank on the plane." I said it in jest, and she received it with a chuckle.

"Was it a rough flight for you?" She asked as a matter of conversation. She waved to a Victorian mahogany armchair with faux leopard skin upholstery, and as I sat down, she sat down beside me in a matching armchair. Im glad Blackie is paying for this, because I dont think I could afford the woman.

"No, but I dont like to fly, so I temper my anxieties with liquor. It seems to work well for me."

"And when did your flight get in, Mr. Kirk?"

Ah, she knows her stuff. "Not to worry Ms. Bonner, I got in last night, took a cab straight to the Peabody and slept in this morning. I am perfectly sober and ready to do business."

"Forgive me for prying; its the nature of the business. So, you said on the phone that you need someone found, is that right?"

Her accent was positively delicious. Her voice was smooth as silk, and the slight southern drawl was soft, and sweet, like cotton candy, but distinct in its southern charm. Unfortunately, she had a wedding ring on her finger, so... wait, what am I saying, Im gay!

"Yes. I am here on behalf of a client, who requires your services and your discretion. Shes looking for a girl that she accidently got fired from a restaurant last week. Shed like to make amends for her grievous mistake."

"Of course." She retrieved a pen and pad from her desk and asked, "Would you mind if I made some notes?"

"That would be fine, if you intend to take the job?" I didnt see a reason to takes notes unless she was going to, but I wanted to clarify that up front, because I didnt know what I was doing.

"I will be happy to wait on the notes, if you would prefer to tell me first, who it is Im looking for, and who is requesting my services?"

"Fair enough. My clients name is Melinda Blackstone, better known as Blackie Blackstone. Do you know her?"

"Only through the media. I believe shes the heir to the Blackstone fortune in California."

"That would be correct, and she wants you to find Christine Livingston, a waitress about twenty-five, long sandy hair, medium height and green eyes."

I looked over at her and saw the most curious look on her face, as if I had surprised her somehow.

"Is there a problem Ms. Bonner?"

"No, not at all. However, if you have a minute, I would like to check on something, and be right back with you."

"Thats fine, Im not in a hurry."

I watched her disappear through a side door, and a moment later, her receptionist came in from the reception area, asking if she could get me anything. I told her no, and she politely left. I entertained myself by looking closer at the paintings, until Ms. Bonner returned with a slight smile on her face. Another woman, slightly taller, darker and stronger, disheveled looking, like she hadnt slept in months, followed behind her. My gaydar was ringing so loud I almost told it to be quiet.

"Mr. Kirk, this is my wife, Meg b.u.mgartner. She is also a private investigator."

"Its a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. b.u.mgartner." She extended her hand and I shook it, noticing that unlike her wifes hand, her hand was hard, with a firm grip and she squeezed my hand tightly. Then I turned back to Ms. Bonner. "Im slightly confused. I thought you were an independent detective?"

"I am. We both are. You see, we were recently married and have not had a chance to consolidate our business. But sometimes we will consult with each other, at no extra charge to the client of course. I believe that Meg may have some insight into your missing girl, if you wouldnt mind answering a few more questions?

Whats another question or two, if I get twice the help at half the price. "Id be happy to answer any questions you might have."

Ms. b.u.mgartner wasted no time in asking, "Mr. Kirk, you say your client, Blackie Blackstone, is looking for a waitress named Christine Livingston, is that correct?"

I nodded my head, trying to hide the curiosity I was developing over her interest in an unemployed waitress. Am I missing something here?

"And you say that Ms. Livingston is about twenty-five, long sandy hair, and medium height, with green eyes, correct?

"Yes, do you know her?" I would be very happy indeed if that were true and I could return to LA tonight. Not to mention how pleased Melinda would be.

"I apologize, but I need to make a phone call. Please be patient with us for one more minute." Ms. b.u.mgartner left the room, leaving me gaping after her.

"What is that all about?" I asked.

Ms. Bonner enticed me with her cryptic explanation, "It is complicated, but I promise you, it may well be worth your patience."

"In that case, I think Ill take that drink now, if youre still offering?"

"Id be happy to offer you a libation. What would you like?"

"Scotch on the rocks, please."

The surrept.i.tious way that the two women were acting made me wonder if they were going to hit me up for more money, but I soon lost my train of thought when Ms. Bonner handed me my drink and sat down beside me again. She was very polite and very interested when I answered her question about my friends.h.i.+p with Blackie. I explained that I was her parents biographer, and someday would be Blackies as well. And by doing this favor for her, I could also do some research for my next book. I hadnt realized that we had been talking for twenty minutes until the clock struck two and Ms. b.u.mgartner entered the room again.

"Mr. Kirk, Im so sorry to have kept you waiting. I needed to check something out before I spoke with you further."

"That seems to happen a lot in this office." There was something going on I was beginning to get irritated. Still, I smiled at them and waited for the explanation.

The two women looked at each other and suddenly a legal doc.u.ment was handed to me.

"Mr. Kirk," Ms. b.u.mgartner handed me an ink pen, "I know who Christine Livingston is, and where she lives, but I cannot divulge that information until you sign a release form stating that you have hired my wife, and in doing so, promise not to reveal what I am about to tell you."

"But I must tell Blackie, thats why Im here."

"Im sorry, I wasnt clear. I meant that by signing the doc.u.ment you agree that you will not write or publish anything on Ms. Livingston without her signed consent, or should she become incapacitated, her parents consent."

"d.a.m.n, who is she, the Presidents daughter?" I asked jokingly, but their staid stares revealed nothing.

I read the contract completely, and saw that it was the standard confidentiality form that Ive signed before for the Blackstones, and others. I signed it and handed it back to them, waiting almost with bated breath to find out who this unemployed waitress really was.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Kirk. You may tell Ms. Blackstone that Ms. Livingston can be found at this address.

She handed me a slip of paper with the name and address of a restaurant, "Whats this? I thought you were going to give me her home address?"

"Im sorry, but that would be too much of an invasion of her privacy. Ms. Blackstone will be able to find her there, but considering what happened at their last meeting, dont expect Ms. Livingston to speak with her."

"You know about that?" I asked disbelievingly.

"I was there." She pushed the edge of her jacket aside to put her hand on her hip, revealing a dark holster filled with a 9mm pistol.

Though Im sure it wasnt meant as a threat, I got the distinct impression that this woman was very protective of that waitress. Why I dont know, but would love to find out.

"I a.s.sure you, Ms. Blackstone only wishes to apologize, and perhaps offer her a compensation for her trouble."

Ms. b.u.mgartner was about to say something when her wife touched her arm, and then looked at me.

"Allow me to show you out, Mr. Kirk."

I leaned back on the edge of the desk and watched as Frankie showed Mr. Kirk out, a million questions going through my head. Blackie Blackstone had a reputation that caused mothers to grab up their children and run away in fear. Her answer to everything was money. If she got into trouble, which she did often, shed write a check and the problem disappeared. If she wanted a friend, shed write a check and a hundred people were instantly her friend. If she wanted a new toy, shed write a check. If she wanted to apologize to a waitress she had fired, shed write a check.

For reasons that Im privy to, yet, Mr. Livingston wanted to give Blackie some leeway and see where it led to. I had told him everything I knew about Blackie, but it didnt seem to impress upon him the danger of having an alcoholic billionairess around his daughter. He told me just to keep a close eye on her and report back to him. My fear was that by the time I could determine what Blackie was really after; she would have wreck havoc on Chrissie before I could stop her.

"So, what do you think?" Frankie asked when she walked back in.

"I think Blackie wants more than to apologize, and I hope this time, she doesnt get what she wants."

New Beginnings Christine Livingston The bane of my existence is doing laundry and taking the garbage out. I have to take the garbage to the chute two floors beneath me, and the reason I hated doing it was because the chute was always full and supposedly, were not allowed to leave our garbage bags sitting in the hallway. So that means I have to trudge down the stairs with my garbage, and carry it back up again with it if the chute is full. Its not that Im out of shape, its because the stairwell has no lights, and smells of urine.

As I was returning from one of my trips to the garbage chute, I heard a door creak open and I braced myself. I had become so paranoid, and so jaded, that I wasnt sure who might come out of that apartment and attack me. But to my relief, it was a little old lady who was as scared of me as I had been of her. She had a garbage bag in her hand, which she quickly set in the hallway and slammed her door shut. I heard a chain slide across the latch, a double bolt lock click and a security bar thump against the door k.n.o.b. Feeling generous, I picked up her garbage and went back down to the chute. Her bag is really heavy, jeez, how much garbage can one old lady have? Finally, with my ch.o.r.es done, I laid down for a much deserved nap.

Thirty minutes later, the kitten, who was happily plump and vermin free, not that she had any fleas to begin with, had Eskimo kissed me awake.

"I start my new job tonight, Blackie."

I treated her to a bit of tuna, while I prepared my new uniform, which consisted of a pair of my blue jeans and the restaurants crested T-s.h.i.+rt. The restaurant, called The Kings BBQ, is down on Beale Street, wedged between two other barbeque restaurants, and a steakhouse, and all of them have a live band playing at night. Realizing that, I jumped up and took two aspirins from the bottle and tucked them into the empty coin pocket of my purse, just in case the music tonight wasnt any good. Frankly, I was looking forward to some festive music and good food. Since I lost my first job, thanks to the evil Melinda Blackstone, Id been walking the streets, checking every restaurant window for a help wanted sign. There was nothing in my area, so I got up early yesterday, the day after my birthday, and walked over to Beale Street. It took me over an hour, but it was worth it, I saw the help wanted sign almost immediately.

The manager actually seemed grateful. Had I been more experienced, I might have seen that as a bad sign. Maybe he didnt have enough help, which means that I would have to pick up the slack. I convinced myself that I would be so tired Id actually sleep through the night for a change. Considering my s.h.i.+ft wouldnt end until two in the morning, it was a safe bet.

Then it dawned on me, I would be out walking the streets of Memphis for an hour, at two A.M., I felt a sudden s.h.i.+ver of trepidation. Id been on those streets before at that time of night. I was usually unconscious, but I always felt safe, or was that because the liquor drowned my fears? Im not so brave anymore, nor so stupid, so I resolved that I would use some of my tips to take the bus home. An instant feeling of relief enveloped me. I wonder how much it costs to ride the bus. If this job works out, I will have to move closer to the restaurant, just for my own peace of mind.

Maybe Ill have a chance to see some old friends down on Beale Street. I use to hang out there when I was a teen. Wed pick a club, show our fake I.D.s and dance the night away. That was so much fun. The problem was that we also drank the night away. Now that Im sober, Ive realized that it wasnt as fun as I made myself believe it was. Im going to have to be real careful not to fall into that trap again. After all, I have someone who depends on me now.

I picked up Blackie and scratched her head. "Isnt that right, Blackie?" the kitten purred for me, "youre my baby now, and Im going to take good care of you."

I snuggled with my kitten one more time, then put her down on the bed and watch her play with the ta.s.sels on the bedspread that had to be left over from the seventies. She was still playing with them as I got dressed; catching her tiny little claws in the yarn, and then growling when she couldnt break loose right away. I made sure her little water bowl was full and spread out some old newspaper in the corner, for her to use as a bathroom. As soon as I get paid, Ill get her a plastic litter box and use shredded newspaper instead of buying litter. Satisfied that my child was taken care of, I grabbed my purse and keys to the apartment, and headed to work.

New Beginnings Melinda aka Blackie Blackstone "What do you mean they wouldnt tell you where she lives?"

George described his visit with the two detectives. My first thought was to pay them a visit myself, and force them to tell me what I wanted to know. But that d.a.m.n little voice in the back of my head was telling me not to. I had never listened to that voice before, but for some reason, I was now. Why are things so d.a.m.n complicated lately?

Ever since I met that frustrating woman, things have gotten complicated, as if she had jinxed me somehow. Things wont get back to normal until I find her and set it right, but I fear it may be too late. Something has changed inside of me, and the problem is that Im starting to like it. Its the new me.

"Itll be harder to talk to her over the music, but thats fine, I can still do what I need to do."

"Do you think its a good idea to bother her while shes working?"

He had a point. My last encounter with her at a restaurant did not turn out well for either one of us. She was fired and I grew a conscience, all because we stopped to eat at the first dive we came to. Never again, Blackie.

"Okay, Ill wait until her s.h.i.+ft ends, and then Ill talk to her."

And thats exactly what I did, almost, and it still ended in disaster.

Chapter Four.

Making Amends Christine Livingston and Blackie Blackstone "Miss, this isnt my order."

"Oh, right, you had the Shake, Rattle and Roll onion rings, with The King Has Left the Building spareribs, and he had the Memphis Blues Brothers steak with a side order of Beale Street French fries."

I switched their plates around, wondering why they couldnt just do it themselves, when something drew my attention to the main entrance, and that's when I caught sight of her. Oh my G.o.d, is she following me? I kept my head down, but watched from the corner of my eye, as Blackie Blackstone was escorted to a large round booth in the corner, away from the band playing sixties music. The owner himself, Robert Kline, scooted the table out so she could easily sit in the center, and then he scooted the table back in, removing extra utensils and empty gla.s.ses.

Why me Lord, why me? Kline found me hiding in the kitchen. He took my elbow and pulled me to the side.

"We have a very important guest here tonight who has asked for you personally, and on your first night on the job. Im impressed."

"You probably shouldnt be, Mr. Kline. Blackie and I have, shall I say, exchanged words before, and I think it might be best if someone else waited on her tonight."

"Oh, so you know her then, so much the better. Now get out there and treat her like a queen."

He didnt hear a word I had just said. When I hesitated, because I really liked this job and wanted to keep it, he gently but firmly, shoved me out the door.

I saw her coming out of the kitchen with a scowl on her face. Yep, thats the waitress who threw her ap.r.o.n at me. Well sweetheart, Blackie is here to.., I gulped, suddenly dry mouthed, to apologize.

I had been sitting in the car, waiting for her to leave work, but that became too boring. So against Georges advice, I had come into the restaurant an hour earlier than planned. I just couldn't wait any longer to get this over with. After introducing myself to the owner of the establishment, Robert Kline, I asked that he arrange for Chris to be my waitress.

I had rehea.r.s.ed several times, what I wanted to say to Chris. Things like, let me make it up to you by giving you five thousand dollars. No seriously, I want you to have it because you lost your job. Lame. I find you s.e.xy and want to sleep with you. Lamer, but enticing. I could just combine the two and tell her that Ill give her five thousand dollars if sh.e.l.l sleep with me and put me out of my misery. For some reason I didnt think shed appreciate that either.

I watched her walk towards me looking tired, looking beautiful, and looking like she was afraid. I dont think it was fear of me, but fear because of me.

I walked over to the water dispenser and grabbed a pitcher of ice water. Taking in a deep breath, I told myself to stay calm and treat her like any other customer, then I walked to Blackies booth.

"Are you here to watch me squirm, maybe have me beg you for mercy, or just to get me fired again?" d.a.m.n, thats not how I wanted to do this.

"Im here to make amends."

I looked in her eyes, eyes the color of charcoal, dark and foreboding, like she was. Except.., her eyes turned a slate gray, as if to tell me I could trust her sincerity.

"Thank you, but that wont be necessary. May I take your order, please, Ms. Blackstone?" I asked her as I poured a gla.s.s of water. I concentrated on my job, trying to block out the probability that she would throw a tantrum at any minute and have me fired again.