THE BETRAYAL OF SID
The sun was just beginning to set, sending red bloody rays over the downtown office
buildings.
‘June 6th 1941. It was hot, too hot. I knew in this heat nothing truly interesting
was gonna happen, at least nothing I’d get paid to handle.’ Sid thought to himself,
mentally composing tonight’s diary entry. A diary he kept religiously as he always planned
ahead, and the diaries would form the backbone of the memoirs he would compose once he was
retired somewhere in a nice little country without an extradition treaty.
The office was typical of its breed. So was Chicago’s greatest detective both
self-proclaimed and otherwise. He had his feet up on his desk, leaning far back on his
swivel chair. His trench coat and hat hung on a stand in one corner, a long-barreled very
large caliber compensating firearm, prominently visible; impractically seated in his
shoulder holster. A cigar sent curls of dark smoke towards the ceiling, set across an
ashtray on the desk so the ash dripped onto his scarred, battered oak instead of the glass
ashtray; but he didn’t care.
Sid Balajarski, 44 years old and as hard-boiled and cynical as they came had a
glass of whisky in his hand; a bottle on the floor within his easy reach but set where
clients wouldn’t see it. He aimed for the tits as he idly tossed darts at a playboy pinup
taped to his dartboard.
He had nothing else to occupy his time, or his mind. ‘According to our agreement
when I’d hired her, my secretary had to give me two blowjobs a week; it was Saturday…I had
to wait till Sunday to get it again. There was nothing else to do. I thought about
slipping out early to hire a hooker, then a pretty…and interesting shadow appeared in the
pebbled glass of my inner office door.’
Knuckles rapped lightly on glass.
“Come in!” Sid yelled, knowing his secretary was doing her usual bang-up job.
At his call the inner office door opened and a beautiful women in her late twenties
let herself in with a tremulous smile. Dressed in a classic skirtlazer combo with a
matching fedora and a tiny, useless but pretty purse hanging off her arm; she was a
stunning dame, a real looker, a twelve on anyone’s ten list.
She spoke softly as she closed the door, “hello I’m Miss Hemlocke, your secretary
said I could go right in, you weren’t doing anything,” she paused, “but I thought it best
to knock?” A clear question, seeking approval.
Sid smiled, sipping his whisky, ‘So much for going for a hooker, things were
starting to perk up, perk up nice and hard, just the way I liked ‘em. And I could scent
money!’ He dropped a dart onto his desk, lowering his feet to the floor.
He spoke, “that’s alright sweetheart, come right on in and sit your pretty little
fanny down.” Lifting his head a little he raised his voice as well, “go home sweetcakes! I
won’t need you for the rest of the night!”
As usual his pert secretary didn’t deign to answer, but a moment later they could
both hear the outer office door slam loudly; he kept her around for a good reason.
At his brash words, Kitty smiled a little hesitantly and moved to perch nervously
on one of the chairs before the detective’s desk. He rose to his feet.
‘The dame couldn’t be over eighteen if she was a day, I wondered how much work it
would take to get her in bed, more importantly, how much work did she want me to do for
her and how much money could she pay me? I’ll try the smile.’
With a brash confident smile he spoke as he moved around to perch on the edge
corner of his desk, looming, “so, philandering husband, pretty one? Jealous ex-boyfriend
and you just want to be left alone honey?" He paused quirked an eyebrow, “missing
sibling perhaps doll?”
She jumped in quickly nervously at the last one, “those last two together come
close, my lover’s missing and I’m afraid her ex might have done something to her.”
‘A fucking delver? She was no longer interesting, she’d better have the money to
afford being triple charged.’
“She? Your lover’s a female? Too bad doll, that’s a waste of perfectly good tail.
I’m not sure I can help you, I have a lot of cases you know and…”
She cut in desperately, “Oh please! I can pay you! Quadruple your normal rates if
you like, and unlimited expenses. I just,” sniffles, “I just.” She lowered her head and
sobbed just once sharply.
‘Okay, this was slightly more interesting, time to push it, see if she was too
desperate. I wasn’t a fool.’
Soothingly, “Okay doll, cool it, I can help you. Just one thing, the money’s fine
but after I find your,” a pause, “er, friend, you’ll have to have a threesome with me,
give me a chance to turn you two back to a more natural path if you get my meaning.”
Kitty lifted her head tears in the corners of her eyes, “Yes Mr. Balajarski, I get
you just fine. If, if that’s what it takes, I’ll talk her into doing it. You’re the best
in the city, just please get her back. Bring my love back to me.”
Danger bells went off. ‘Dame didn’t even hesitate.’ Sid thought to himself.
Aloud he spoke, “Whoa, hold on pretty little thing. Your wool gathering ways aside,
most people, no matter the provocation don’t make exes, even exes who switch sides on em’,
disappear. I think it’s about time you told me about your lover, and who her ex is. And
call me Sid.”
Kitty dug around in her purse a moment, finally producing and handing over a
picture. Though black and white, it was a stunningly beautiful glamour shot of a
professional model or actress Sid assumed.
Kitty spoke through her thick throat, “her name is Bunny, Bunny Rondo, her former
boyfriend is,” quieter, “Gino Novenco.” She shivers, “I’m afraid he’s killed her.”
He tore his eyes off the picture, sharp gaze falling on her.
He scowled then suddenly smiled as his thoughts raced, ‘Danger bells fuck, it was
an orchestra. Gino was a made boy, really made. His father had just died a month ago and
although it could not of course be legally proved, Gino had stepped in to fill the gap,
announcing it big time with a bunch of murders. It was good news for me, I bring him down
and I can triple charge anyone I want with no complaints.’
Murmured, “well now I’m interested.” Louder, “you mean the new mob boss? The guy
who kills for the slightest mistake, or lack of respect, and does it laughing?” He paused
meaningfully as she looked up at him. “No way he’d just let a girlie walk away from him
doll. Your lover made a big mistake, and so did you having anything to do with her.”
Miss Hemlocke spoke, “maybe, but it’s a mistake I’d make again, I love her. Will,
can you get her back?” A catch in her voice, “I don’t care what it costs…Sid.”
He was studying the picture intently, “oh I can get her back doll.” He gave a wolf
whistle, “pretty isn’t she? Yes I’m going to help you. We’ll all have fun after too.” He
looked at her, “stand up.”
Hesitantly, unsure of his intentions, she did. He stood as well. Gently he took her
arm and turned her so she faced him side on; she turned her head to look at him, not
resisting his positioning of her. Causally, as if he had a perfectly acknowledged right to
do so, he began stroking and fondling her ass.
He went on, “don’t worry, I can handle Gino Novenco and his crew. Tell me” he
squeezed hard enough to make her gasp, “why does a perfectly squeezable arse like you
waste it on another dame? It’s not like you don’t have a pretty face to go with it.”
She answered through tears of pain, “I love her, and she loves me, we just want to
be together.” A plea, “please?”
“Hmmm.” He scowled as he took his hand off her.
‘Things to do she shouldn’t see, don’t want to spook her.’ He thought, attention
already racing ahead to his next few moves; now that he had a case to occupy his mind.
Gallantly he swept a hand out to indicate the door, “let me walk you downstairs, I
have to get started on this.”
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