Case of the Glass Heart

 Chapter Six

Mondy, July 7th, 1947; 3: 08 p.m.,

Lower East Tampa, Florida, The Brownstone.

Ms. Maggie Sullivan

Mike lazily opened a heavy eyelid when he heard the office door creak open, and the sweet sound of Maggie’s voice. “Hello, stranger. I’d just about given you up for dead.”

He forced a smile. “Mornin’ to you too.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Morning? Oh no, dearheart, it’s past three o’clock in the afternoon.” She stepped across the office and pulled open the curtains, allowing the midday Florida sun to pour in.

Mike lifted an arm into the air and declared. “It’s morning somewhere on this planet, I am sure of it.”

He hired Maggie Sullivan, about a year ago, as his secretary, as a promise to her husband when they were over in Europe during the war. Mike and Danny were inseparable, they always had each other’s back; right up until the day Danny died in Mike’s arms in a burnt-out café in a little German village south of Berlin.  He took a Nazi's bullet in the gut, a bullet aimed at Mike.

As Danny lay, bleeding out, he made Mike promise to look out for his wife when he returned stateside, and that’s what Mike Paladin has been trying to do ever since. Although most of the time, it’s usually Maggie looking out for Mike.

As Mike sat up and adjusted his shirt, he caught a suspicious look in Maggie’s emerald eyes. He realized that she had spotted the lipstick stain on his collar.

She softly shook her head as she put on a pot of coffee. “Here I was worried sick about you, no word from you, missing for the last five days, but it looks like you were well taken care of.”

Mike looked everywhere except in Maggie’s direction, he didn’t understand it, but with Mag’s, he always felt the need to explain himself. “It’s not what you think.”

She gave her famous side-eyed glance. “Umm-Hum,”

She stood over Mike, looking down at him with those amazing jade peepers of hers. He couldn’t tell if she was amused or disappointed. He found it funny how he’d made a living out of reading people, but not when it came to Mag’s, she was special.

 “You do realize that you only have two, maybe three, good white dress shirts, right? I am going to have a hard time getting that stain out if it has already set in.”

He wondered ‘How in the hell did she know how many shirts I have, I sure didn’t?’ He started looking around the room for his cigarette case. “I’ve been working a case for an old friend of Pops.”

“A case huh? Good, maybe we can actually pay some bills this month.” She trailed her slender index finger along his ruby-stained collar, lifting an eyebrow. “Or are you getting paid by other means?”

Mike couldn’t tell if she was amused or disappointed, and once again, he felt the need to, not only explain, but defend himself. He tilted his head from her touch. “I told you, it's not what you think.”

She handed him a cup of black coffee and sat down on the sofa next to him, “And tell me, Mike Paladin, exactly what do I think this is?”

Mike stood, crossed the room, and leaned against his cluttered desk. Peering over the rim of his coffee mug, he said, “You think, I’ve been out boozing it up and having my way with some seductress of ill repute; some sexy femme fatale,”

Ironically, that’s exactly what he had been up to, just not with Miss De’Marco.

He found his cigarette case sitting on the desk and lit one up. “Well, I can assure you, Mrs. Sullivan ... that is not the case.”

“Really?”

He caught the look on Maggie’s face, and this time, he knew it was disappointment.

Her eyes drifted past him, fixed on something behind his shoulder.

Then came the voice. Whispery. Familiar.

“Morning, Mikey. Who’s your friend?” 

Vivianne leaned in the doorway of the backroom, draped in one of Mike’s white dress shirts and nothing else.

“Hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t find my clothes.”

She bit her lower lip, feigning innocence, as her fingers traced slow circles along her curves.

Mike couldn’t help noticing that the shirt buttons were working overtime at keeping her busty figure under wraps. He looked down, shaking his head. No matter what he did, a guy like him never caught a break.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I hung your dress out on the fire escape to dry.”

He glanced up at Mags, who stood there looking at the half-dressed woman, then back at him.

He nodded toward the redhead.

“Mags, this here, is Miss Vivianne De’Marco, She’s a lounge singer over at the Flamingo Club.”  

He stepped toward Mags with an outstretched arm. “And this is my assistant ... the beautiful Ms. Maggie Sullivan.”

Vivianne’s whispery voice turned sweet as she greeted Mags. “Hello, pleased to meet you, hun.”

Maggie rolled her eyes and flashed Vivianne a fake but polite smile. “Charmed, I’m sure. Forgive me if I don’t shake your hand.”

Maggie’s face turned a shade of crimson as she snatched up her handbag and made for the door. “Well, Mikey... it looks as though you’ve got your hands full. I’ll come back another time, I’ll just see myself out.”

She had never called him Mikey before. He caught her by the arm. “Mags, please ... wait. Vivianne, could you give us a minute?”

A sinful grin played across Vivianne’s lips; she really enjoyed making other women jealous. She flashed a wink as she stalked away. “Sure, I’ll be in the back.... getting dressed.”

Mike looked into Maggie’s soft emerald eyes as sincerely as possible and said. “I know what you’re thinking...honestly, nothing happened, she had nowhere to go last night."

She jerked her arm away. “Since when are you in the habit of bringing home strays?”

“She’s Tony Mariotti’s gal, I’m just looking out for her while he’s outta town.” 

“Yeah, I can see how well you’re looking out for her. Isn’t she a little too old to need a babysitter? I’m pretty sure a gal like that can take care of herself.”

Mike arched an eyebrow and smirked. “You’d be surprised, and I’m not a babysitter.”

Maggie seemed to ease a little. She cocked her head toward the backroom. “So… she’s our payday?”

Mike hunched his shoulders and replied. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Maggie shot back. “What do you mean, not exactly?”

He looked down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… this one’s sorta off the books. A favor-for-a-favor type deal.”  

Fire lit in her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “I see. We’re short on money, behind on all the bills…” She yanked a PAST DUE notice from the desk and waved it in the air. “…and once again, Mike Paladin plays knight in shining armor to another busty damsel in distress ... free of charge.”

She pulled back from him, the fire still burning in her eyes.

“Honestly, Mike?” The heat in her eyes dimmed into disappointment. “Look, you don’t owe me an explanation. It’s none of my business who you choose to spend your time with. But I’ll tell you this much, I don’t approve of you seeing another man’s girl.”

“Seriously, Mags there’s nothing going on. I’m telling you, everything’s on the up and up.”

Mike crossed to the desk, snatched up the envelope from Hector Alonzo, and handed it to her.

She thumbed through the bills. “Three-fifty? Where’d you get this?”

“Told you, I’m working a case for an old friend of Pops.”

She turned away, blinking fast. “I just worry about the bills and putting food on the table for my mother.”

Before Mike could answer, Vivianne’s sing-song voice floated out from the backroom: “Mikey! Be a darling and zip me up?”

Maggie rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “I think your stray is calling, you’d better go put her back on her leash before she wanders off again.” 

Mike smirked and tapped the envelope. “Yeah, yeah. Look, take what you need for yourself and then use what’s left to pay a few bills. Widow Simmons was busting my chaps the other day.”

He kissed her cheek as she stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”  

She nodded her head and walked away. As the office door closed, Mike couldn’t help but think, If I’m not careful, one of these days I’m gonna lose her.

~*~~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Monday, July 7th, 1947; 4:38 a.m., lower East Tampa, Florida.

Mike called a taxi to take Miss De’Marco back to Mariotti’s room above the Flamingo Club. He slipped Betty a couple of Andy Jacksons to keep an eye on her, with instructions for her to call him immediately if Miss De’Marco tried to leave or stirred up any more trouble. For the first time in nearly a week, Mike Paladin found himself alone.

He leaned against the cold, black cast-iron fire escape outside the backroom he called a bedroom, smoking a cigarette, lost in thought. A light rain was falling, carrying the smell of saltwater off the bay. It was either very late or very early — depending on how you wanted to look at it. Either way, the sun was still hours from making an appearance.

Mike stood there, turning things over in his head. Mariotti would be back in town in a few days, which meant the Vivianne De’Marco fiasco would be behind him.

As for Alonzo’s skimmer, it had to be an inside job. One of his employees.

Tomorrow night Mike would mingle with the casino staff himself and get a feel of the place and the people.  

He took a long drag, then flicked the butt into the night. Maggie was playing on his mind.

She was a good woman, one of the best. A man could count himself lucky to have a gal as devoted as her. She was easy on the eyes and heavy on the heart. She was as gorgeous as she was smart, a dangerous combination, but there was more to her than all that, she also had a beautiful soul. Not many guys deserved a woman like her.

Mike muttered.  “I know a bum like me sure as hell didn’t.”

The gumshoe continued to talk to himself. If he were honest, he’d admit he’d thought about him and Mags making a go of it, maybe once or twice. Foolishness or loneliness talking. Before reality smacked upside his foolish head.

“She deserves someone a hell of a lot better than a washed-up gumshoe like me. No, there was a doctor or a lawyer or someone more deserving out there just waiting to meet up with her, someone more capable of providing for Mags.”

Mike hadn’t realized how far behind he had gotten with the bills. He looked up into the night sky. “I’m sorry Danny, I am. I made a promise to you, I have to stop taking Mags for granted.”

He shook his head as he crawled back through the window and stretched out across the cot. He needed shuteye. Needed to clear these ridiculous thoughts before they ate him alive. This was why he hated being alone.

Maybe tomorrow would be better. For now, the only plan Mike had was sleep.