Chapter 37

The room smells of fish. Frying fish. There is no air conditioning in the whole tenement, and the room is hot with the humidity close to 100%. The window is open to let in any small movement of air. Outside the rain falls in vertical rods hitting the sidewalk like machine gun rounds on a ponds surface. Opposite the window is a neon sign that flashes alternate red and green, throwing it’s eerie light into the room. Leaning on the wall by the door is a tall elegant black man wearing a fedora. Under the left arm of his suit can be seen the bulge of a gun in a shoulder holster. Sitting on the couch is a blond hooker shooting up. Her arm has track marks like Pen Station. Sitting at the piano by the window is a large black man wearing a brown derby and striped waistcoat. He has a wide grin under a pencil moustache. His left eyebrow is arched, giving him a devilish look. He is playing “Honeysuckle Rose” A big red haired man enters the room, he is officer Getz of the NYPD off duty but ready for trouble. Behind him tumble in a fleet of sailors most of them drunk but good natured. Getz eyes them all with suspicion and offers a bit of advice to stay this side of the law. They have been caught in the storm and drip water all over the floor. The flashing neon sign is reflected in this water giving floor a carnival feel. A fat black woman comes into the room from the kitchen carrying a large platter full of fried catfish.

‘All you can eat for a dollar’

One of the sailors gives her a 10 spot.

‘That’s for me and my ship mates.’ He produces a bottle of rum and hands it to her.

‘Here take a swig’

She takes a long pull on the bottle then hands it him back. He waves his hand.

‘Plenty more where that came from.’ He says and sways over to the hooker.

‘Hey darlin, how about a kiss?’

She pushes him off and looks over to the black man leaning by the door. He nods his head and she lets the sailor kiss her awkwardly missing her lips. He walks over to the sailor and says she is his for a consideration. The transaction complete the sailor sits down on the couch beside her and grabs her breast. She gives him a right to the jaw and he slugs her on the nose. The black man in the fedora grabs the sailor by his shirt and hauls him upright. He tells him to behave when in the company of a lady and to apologise.  The sailor’s mates gather round and threaten the black man. He draws

his gun from under his arm and the sailors back off. Getz watches this from his vantage by the piano, but does nothing he is after all off duty. The sailors, none of them more than eighteen years old, start pushing and punching each other playfully. The hooker staggers to her feet and grabs her molester by his lanyard.

‘Come with me buster, lets see what you’re made of?’ She drags him down the corridor and into a room 3 doors down. The time is getting on and more stragglers from the clubs and speakeasies are arriving. The joint is really jumpin’.

The hooker is doing big business, I count a dozen Johns knocking on her door. Her pimp keeps an eye out for trouble, but she must be good as no one complains or wants their money back.  About 3 am Doil walks up the stairs accompanied by Veronica. My heart does a little flip at the sight of her. As usual she looks the business dressed in a clinging silk evening gown and a fur stole. Both as white as her hair. Doil stops by the door and has a word with Getz. Veronica walks over to me all eyes turning to watch her as she moves. The neon sign is lighting her up, alternate red, green, red, green. The green turning her lipstick black, as it is in the movies.

‘Hi Fats, play me a waltz, I feel like a dance.’

I play Blue Moon in three four time. Veronica grabs the nearest sailor. His cap is pushed back showing blond curls, and he shows his delight by throwing his cap across the room. Veronica is a head taller than him and his nose tucks nicely into her cleavage. They waltz around the room clearing others to the periphery. Doil and Getz stand like sentries either side of the door. I quicken the tempo and break into a foxtrot. Veronica doesn’t break stride and the sailor follows her lead. He has the look of  Gene Kelly about him. He may be Gene Kelly for all I know or a prossed up ringer from The Agency. I have learnt that you can’t take anyone at face value . An older sailor, a boson or a petty officer, fresh from a session with the hooker, tries to cut in on Veronica. He pushes Gene Kelly aside and grabs Veronica by the wrist and pulls her into him. She hits him with a left hook to the face, and he pulls a blade. Doil leaps forward to separate them, but before he can reach them the sailor sticks her in the stomach, then, turns on Doil. Doil pistol whips him, as Getz shoots him in the leg.  The sailor goes down, but his shipmates pile into the two detectives. Doil and Getz are no amateurs and the young sailors back off. Veronica staggers over to me blood seeping through her gown, and grabs my hand.

‘If I survive this Joe, come up and see me.’

Paramedics arrive and place her on a stretcher and attach lines into her.

The sailors retreat dragging the boson with them. Doil comes over and asks what Veronica said. I say I couldn’t hear her. He gives me a look.

‘No return for you tonight Fats, you may be needed.’

It looks like I’ll have to look up Big Sal for a crib.