The Heavenly Gates

... from the Archives - circa early '80s. The second short story I ever wrote after a week in which I quit my job, bought a house and found out that Mavis was 'with child' - to become a writer. Still wondering what a full-time writer-guy job would pay. Looking back, I'd say I made the right decision.

This is Part One of a three-part serial. Stay tuned.

This week's installment is dedicated to my boy - Sonny Jim.



... That made five in a row and a total of thirteen that morning. Flies that is. I had a piece of baloney sitting on my desk and when one would land, I'd swat it. I gave them a sporting chance though - the sun was beating down on my desk top and if they were smart, they'd notice the shadow of my swatter.

In between flies, I was doing my job. I'm a private investigator and that means that at the time I was drinking a cold cuppa joe, re-reading the newspaper and wondering where I'd get the scratch to pay my secretary, keep an eviction notice off my office door and still be able to buy a few boxes of Kraft Dinner to live on.

I had my eye on a fly that was about to land when my intercom buzzed.

"There's a Miss Da Lovely here to see you Mr. Divine."

"I don't know any Da Lovelys, Deb."

The fly had landed and was inspecting the piece of baloney which was sweating like an over-ripe tomato picker.

"She would really like to see you Mr. Divine. Says she didn't have time to make an appointment."

The fly sat up on his front set of legs and washed his other set as if he'd just disgraced himself on my desk and was washing his feet before dinner.

"I don't know Deb, I'm awfully tied up with this newspaper right now."

Debby just laughed and said, "I'll show her in."

A cloud had just passed in front of the sun, taking away the fly's protection. My shadowless swatter cut the air as I threw the ideals of sportsmanship out the window. The fly got away and I turned off the intercom and said, "You do that, Deb."

"Miss Da Lovely, this is Guy Divine. I'm sure he'll be able to help you."

Debby turned around and left the woman standing in the doorway. The sun was in my eyes but I could make out more than just a silhouette.

She sauntered into my office in a way that turned over erotic images in the grey matter between my ears. Sitting down opposite me, she casually arranged her long legs and gave me the once over.

I reciprocated. She was a cool looking number. Long blonde hair, thighs that could squeeze a man to death and a smile that would get him between them.

Glancing up, she gave me a look I could feel in my crotch. I pulled out the office bottle and made hers a double. Then we got down to business.

"Now, what's the problem Miss Da Lovely?"

She looked down into her lap. I could feel the old 'little girl lost' routine coming on but she surprised me by looking up into my eyes and asking, "Can we talk frankly, Mr. Divine? I'd like some kind of reassurance that you can help me before I say too much."

I leaned back in my chair, drawing smoke out of Lucky Strike in an attempt at looking thoughtful. "Well, I can't very well help you at all until you tell me what this is all about."

I sat up and gestured at her with my cigarette. "Now whether you realize this or not Miss Da Lovely, but a private detectives licence entitles you to confidentiality and the best darn service I can give you."

I leaned closer, inadvertently blowing smoke in her face. "If you don't trust me enough to confide in me, we may as well stop wasting our time right now."

She pretended to look hurt, but I wouldn't fall for it. "I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Divine," she pouted.

Normally, I wouldn't have taken any more. I'd been through the same nonsense with countless housewives wanting me to witness first hand their husband's foolish indiscretions through the curtains of second-rate motel rooms. But she had a different effect on me.

Maybe it was the fact that I never tired of playing this little game. Maybe it was because I liked the pulling teeth part of the routine. Maybe it was because I needed a distraction from looking at the same newspaper for the fourth time that morning. Or perhaps it was that look in her eyes that put the word 'maybe' on my mind.

I smiled apologeticly. "No offence taken. It's just that a lot of people who come through that door waste more of my time than I can afford to lose."

A burst of laughter came from Debbie's desk outside my office and I got up to close the door. I'd have to have a talk with that girl.

It was hard to keep a straight face as I returned to my chair. It was harder still to keep my hand steady as I lit the cigarette she took when I offered one.

"I can assure you that I don't intend to waste your time. I only wanted some sort of assurance that I can trust you." She still hadn't lost the frightened little girl tone in her voice - a quiver meant to make me put my arm around her shoulder, pat her on the back and say, 'Now, now, now. Don't you worry your pretty little head about anything.'

Instead I said, "I think this is where I came in. Now - what can I do for you?"

She turned to ice. The glare from her eyes could have split a diamond. The only thing warm about her now was the tip of the cigarette which lay fuming between her fingers. She was the kind of woman where the pretension of polite friendliness dropped like a loose unbuttoned dress when they didn't get what they wanted. Her warm smile had cooled down to thin tight bloodless lips. The look from those eyes was cold and hard. Like her body, I thought miserably. She was the kinda dame you could crack an egg on her breast.

But remembering the dirty looks my landlord always gave me when the rent was overdue, I made the necessary polite overtures. I let on that she had put me in my place and suggested we get down to business.

Judging from the smirk on her face, it wasn't hard to tell that she thought she had me right in her hip pocket. For the moment I thought I'd stay there. It wasn't comfortable but that could be changed. She'd be more inclined to be careless if she felt confident.

"Okay. Now that we know where we stand, I'll give it to you straight. Drop the Jeffrey Thomas case. That's the bottom line, mister."

She was referring to a missing persons job I'd been investigating off and on for the past few days. So far I hadn't come up with anything - until now.

"I happen to be associated with a very large corporation who want to assure both you and your client that Mister Thomas is perfectly alright."

"What's in this for you, Miss Da Lovely?"

"That's no concern of yours. We understand that you've gone to considerable expense already and so we are willing to compensate you for your trouble." She passed me an envelope. "I'm sure that you will find this satisfactory."

Inside were a number of crisp new bills. I didn't bother to count them, but I knew it was way too much.

"I don't know what your game is, sister - but I can't accept this. Take it back to your boss and tell the dirty pimp he's going to have to use more than a cheap bribe to get me off this case."

I tossed it into her lap, took a good pull on my glass of cheap rye and swished it around my mouth. There was a dirty taste inside. Turning down large amounts of money always had that affect on me.

"Listen gumshoe. You're going to work with us, understand? If you don't buy my bill of goods now, you'll answer to a back-alley beating, but believe you me buster, you'll be whistling another tune soon enough."

"Does this mean we can't still be friends?"

"That depends, wise guy." She stood up and leaned over my desk. She was wearing a low cut dress and I admired the view. The Catskills were nothing in comparison. She wasn't wearing any perfume, but the heavy sweat beaded on her heaving chest registered a considerable rise on my erogenous scale.

"It all depends on whether or not you want to co-operate," she cooed and then gave me a smirk. You could tell she'd been a snotty brat as a kid. "Don't worry then hot shot. We'll be in touch with you again. Real soon."

She breezed out of my office like the silent wind before a storm. I closed the door behind her and opened the window. Then I poured myself another belt from my office bottle into my styrofoam cup, lit another Lucky and settled back to enjoy the calm.


... next week - Part 2 (of 3) - entitled, The Second Act.