Vehemently Vitriolic

I needed a holiday. Everyone says they do, and in my case, it happened to be true, so I did something about it. The name’s Johnny Rocket, and I’m a PI. At least, thats what it says on the door I rent.

I sat in my office, looking over the days racing form. Nothing to write home about. I had a T-bill to play and it was burning a hole in my suit. File Put Contents in the first to show maybe. I put my Camel down long enough to grab for the phone to let my bookie know, when my door opened, and she walked in. A short drink of water with blond hair. The kind of dame that will lead you to nothing but problems, and I couldn’t wait to follow.

“Whats the deal, sweetheart?” I said drinking her in. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. No matter. I was having whatever she was selling.
“Um….are you ready to go to the airport?”

So that was her game. The Airport was a two-bit gin-joint about an hour out of town. I had been there before. Nothing good ever came out of it. I couldn’t figure out why a bird like this needed to go such places, but I played along.

“Sure baby, sure. The Airport.” I replied. I had nothing better going on today anyway. The ponies would be there tomorrow, and the leads on my other cases were drier than a bombay saffire shaken.

“Um, great. Why are you talking like that? And put on some pants, we’re already late”

Already late, eh? This broad had some class. I still couldn’t see her angle, but I went along for the ride. We took her car. She said we needed to make a stop first at her old pad and pick up a pair she would only identify as “the In-Laws”. Shoulda known it. A bird like this wouldn’t fly solo. The plot was thickening quicker than a stew on Sunday.

After our pickup, we headed out to The Airport. Conversation in the jalopy was kept at a minimum, just the way I liked it. I didn’t like the extra strangers, though. And what was their role in all this? Dumb muscle? Bag man? This caper was starting to get interesting.

We continued on to The Airport. We pulled in to a lot, and got approached by someone. From a distance, they lookied official enough. Could be the 5-0. Everyone tensed up a bit. I lit up a Camel and breathed in the smooth flavour of confidence.

“The long term lot is full, but since you have a reservation, we upgraded you to our valet service for no extra charge. Just drive on through and check in with them.” the lady said. I breathed a sigh of relief and took my hands off my trusty .38-special. So, that was their racket: the old parking upgrade numbers game. I shoulda guessed it from the start. But, this dame didn’t fit the bill. Maybe she was the brains, maybe she had another score in all this. I was in too deep now. I dragged of the Camel and waited as we continued on.

Next stop, a guy runs over to the car.
“Take your luggage, sir?” he asks.
“This some kind of setup?” I ask as I slowly pull on my brass knuckles in my pocket. He wants trouble, I got some for him in spades just begging for a reason to bet let out.
“Sorry?” he replies. Shifty character, but maybe just the doorman or lookout. I walk on past him with a keen eye for whatever he might pull. He looks confused, but I figure thats his cover. Play the schmuck with me, buddy, and see where that gets you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” the dame says as she grabs my arm and pulls me in to The Airport. It’s changed a lot since the last time I set foot in there. Looks like the kinda place a thousand stories from a thousand places comes together. We follow the In-Laws through the giant hall, to a desk with a dame behind it.

“You folks check-in already?” she said coyly. Some sort of code to get in to the meaty part of The Airport. Maybe there was a high-stakes poker game in the back room. Maybe cock-fighting. All I new was, this blonde bomb was taking me deeper into unfamiliar territory, and I followed happily.
“Yes, we checked in online” she replied. Not the most sophisticated code, but the password was obviously correct as we were shown into the seedy backroom. It quickly became apparent the broad at the front desk was only a lookout for whatever hoods we were about to encounter. As we continued down a hall to the back room, there was a maze of muscle to go through. This was no time to play the hero, so I followed my dame through the gauntlet.

“Okay, just shut up and answer their questions.” she said. I was falling for her, and falling hard. She was the kind of chick you would kill your mother over, then have Sunday dinner with a goose. She was direct and to the point. I liked that.

“Sure toots, whatever you like” I replied. Whatever this back-room was, it was popular. There was a lineup of people getting frisked before entering. Could it be one of the local Don’s was seeing people? The mean streets had taught me a lesson or two about queues. They could be like a cup of mud: black, bleak and without sugar.

I get my chance to talk to the man. He stares me down. So, this is goign to be a shakedown, huh? A lowdown dirty snake hunt. What a fine how-do-you-do.

“Please go over there, sir”. Crap.