A Wandering Daughter Ch 01

The clock ticked on the wall, the minute hand finally reaching the 12. Ten o'clock, thought Eddie. Quitting time. He got up to pour himself a drink. It was best for a private eye to keep slightly later hours than your average business. Women usually waited at least a while for their cheating husbands to come home before finally making the decision to seek him out. Sure, some came during the day while the scumbags were at work, but you'd be surprised, he thought, how often they'd wait. Besides, he had nowhere else to go, and quitting time merely meant drinking time starting and sending Gladys home.

Right on cue she opened the door to his office. "Still no clients, Eddie. I can't complain about the workload, but if this job doesn't start paying better, you'll be out one assistant."

"Come on, baby," Eddie replied, pouring himself a glass of bottom shelf scotch, "you know you'd never leave me. Where else can a dame find a boss who treats her right?" He had to admit, they'd hit a dry spell lately when it came to clients. He could barely afford the rent on this office, let alone a receptionist's salary. But he had always afforded himself that little luxury.

And what a luxury she was. He glanced over at her again. Her hair was up, but he could tell she was anxious to let it down and take off those glasses. She tried to hide the girl he'd found in a lousy bar with those glasses, just like she tried to hide her hourglass figure in her high-cut blouse, but neither of them worked on his detective's eyes. It didn't hurt that he'd already seen what she was hiding. He wouldn't mind seeing it again, he thought, bringing the glass to his lips.

"Yeah, yeah, you can take off. Looks like another day of nothing doing. Unless of course you wanted to stick around?" he gave her a wink. "Eddie, I've got better places to get drunk and higher class men to get drunk with," she said, turning to leave. It burned a little more than the whiskey in his throat, but he didn't mind watching her leave.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do, doll," he said to her retreating figure. "But I know you'll be back tomorrow."

"We'll see about that, Eddie," she said, turning to wink at him before disappearing out the door. He settled back into his chair and considered his options. Gladys was right, the business needed a client more than a drunk needs just one more drink to get him through the night. Go back to the force? Nah, they'd never have him back after what he'd pulled to get him kicked out in the first place. What else could an ex-cop, ex-soldier, ex-everything do for dough? A shadow across his desk interrupted his thoughts.

"Your door was open, so I assumed you were still seeing clients. I took the liberty," a voice came from his doorway. He looked up with a start to see the silhouette of a tall woman, the lamp from Gladys's desk leaving her face in shadow. He took to his feet to hit the lights.

"Yes, yes, come on in Miss...?" he said, flipping the lights back on, revealing an elegant woman, perhaps ten years his elder but wearing the years well. She wore a wide hat, a long, high-cut black dress, and a fur throw over her shoulders. She carried a purse with her. He took the throw and gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

"Mrs., actually," she said, seating herself, "Mrs. Jeremiah Stevens."

"Ah, I see," said Eddie, hanging her throw on the hatrack. "Jeremiah's a funny name for a woman," he joked, circling back around his desk and seating himself. The woman's lips curled only the slightest in the politest suggestion of a smile. "Yes, rather. It is of course my husband's name, the reverend Jeremiah Stevens. My own name is Prudence."

Her manner was cold, but Eddie noticed something in her gray eyes, a sort of fire. A cold fire, perhaps, he thought. In the light he was better able to make out her appearance. Maybe ten years had been an overestimate. Her hair was a light brown, pulled up in an elaborate fashion. Her dress, while modest in cut, did little to hide her figure. The reverend was blessed, indeed, he thought. Her complexion was white, almost unnaturally so, and her full lips were unadorned with lipstick and pulled tightly into an expressionless line.

"We would like to engage you in a delicate matter. Your reputation for discretion proceeds you," she continued. "Ah, yes," Eddie replied. He couldn't imagine how a reverend had any idea of his reputation. "And what is this...matter?" He fought his urge to suggest anything untoward about the reverend; most of the "delicate matters" that crossed his desk were of that unsavory sort.

"Our daughter, Lilith, seems to have gone missing..." she trailed off. "Gone missing?" Eddie asked, "and you haven't gone to the cops?"

"We..." she hesitated, "don't believe there is any, what I suppose you call 'foul play' involved. To put it simply, she has always been a bit of a disobedient child, and we believe she may have run off with some unsavory friends. It pains me to bring the matter to you, but we have not as yet had any success in tracing her whereabouts. Perhaps you might have avenues available to you that we do not." She pulled a photograph of a girl, perhaps in her twenties, from her purse and passed it to him.

"I see," Eddie said. "Well, I'd be happy to. My rates are $100 a day, plus expenses. As much as I hate to ask that of a man of God." She did not hesitate at the number and he immediately surmised he should have increased his rates. "Money is no object. She is, of course, of much more value to us than any earthly possessions."

"It's settled then. Now, if I could just have you fill out this form," he said, bringing a standard contract out of his desk drawer. Now she hesitated. "To be quite honest," she began, "we would prefer not to...leave a trail? I suppose that is the parlance. We would be happy to pay extra if necessary." She reached into her purse and withdrew an envelope, clearly full of something, placing it on the table and pushing it towards Eddie. He picked it up and pulled from it a stack of bills. Quickly putting the money back in the envelope and secreting the envelope into the desk drawer, he replied, "Yeah, who needs all this paperwork, anyway, right?"

She got up to leave, and he joined her, taking the throw from the hatrack and placing it on her shoulders. Leaning in close he picked up a scent of something. What was it? Floral but, no not quite, but intoxicating in its own way. "Is there anything else you can tell me before you go?" he asked.

"I don't suppose it will be of much assistance, but the last time she disappeared, she came back reeking of alcohol. Perhaps you will find her in one of those awful bars." She slipped out the door, leaving Eddie to consider his luck. No doubt this girl would turn up in one of the local joints and all he would have to do is pick her up and take her back to...

He realized he hadn't even learned their address or any way of contacting them for further payment. He somehow had a feeling that wouldn't be a problem, though.

***

That night Eddie hit the bars. He started downtown, where he figured a preacher's daughter might try her first taste of something high class, showing the photo off to every barkeep along the way and any customers he thought might be receptive. Same story, no dice, everywhere he went. Not that he minded, what with the good reverend Stevens footing the bill for the night.

He made his way to seedier and seedier places, and by the time he'd reached the type of joint where his own face would be familiar, he was already feeling the whiskey having its effect. By this point he was down near the docks; he doubted a preacher's daughter would take up with any of the sorts he knew were partaking here, but he found the dim lighting and cigar smoke eased along his thoughts as well as his appetite for that good, old fashioned rotgut.

"Say," he approached the bartender at the Anchor in facsimile of friendliness, "you wouldn't have a wine list on you, would you?" The burly man behind the bar did not seem to find this as amusing as Eddie did and merely let out a grunt. "Nah, I didn't think so. Scotch, then, on the rocks, and make it the good stuff tonight."

The bartender silently poured the drink, glancing up at Eddie as he did so, briefly, before returning his attention to whatever he was trying to pry from his teeth with his tongue. Eddie surveyed the room. Not much to see here, just the usual assortment of drunks and lowlifes. He turned back to the bartender as the drink slid his way and pulled the photo from the inner pocket of his trench coat. "Any chance you've served this broad lately, my good man?" he asked.

The bartender's eyes narrowed but he said nothing. He turned and walked down the bar, leaving Eddie to wonder where this girl could possibly have gotten herself off to. He picked up his glass and took what one would call a sip if one were trying to be polite. He settled back to thinking, this time about mother Stevens. Maybe his ex was right, he mused, about him having some sort of strange ideas about women. His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a pair of heavy hands around his neck, grabbing at the collar of his coat.

The hands pulled him off his barstool and he momentarily mourned the loss of the remainder of the scotch before realizing he was being dragged across the room. He looked up and noted his assailant was the bartender, who dragged him around the bar to a back room, tossed him inside like a sack of potatoes and slammed the door behind him. He pulled himself together, brushing his hands off and got up to his knees only to be met with the steely gaze of an all-too-familiar dame.

Her hair was blacker than a shoeshine boy's hands after a day's work and her thick full lips stood out in contrast to it like a blood stain on someone's new carpet. Her eyes were the same green as he remembered. "Hiya, Maude," he said, starting to get to his feet, "if you had wanted to see me again so bad, you could have just asked nicely instead of leaving it to that chatterbox bartender of yours."

He was met with a slap to the face. "You're lucky the rookie's on shift tonight. You wouldn't have liked it so much if I had my real veteran staff out there. They know that the garbage goes out the back."

"Ah, Maude, is that any way to treat one of your best customers?" he asked, getting to his feet. "I might just have to find myself a higher class establishment."

"The term customers," she replied, turning and walking back to a big wooden desk a few feet away, "generally implies paying. I think 'boozehound' is probably a more fitting appellation for a fellow such as yourself." She seated herself and removed a cigarette and lighter from a drawer. The desk was illuminated by a small lamp that sat on one of its corners, providing the only light in the small office. "I prefer my customers by definition," she continued, placing the cigarette gingerly between her lips and lighting it, "over deadbeat PIs who can't pay their bar tabs and bother my staff with questions about missing broads."

"That missing broad," he said, coming to the lone chair in front of the desk and seating himself, "is the target of an active investigation, for your information. A well-paying investigation, I might add. So you can can your worries about bar tabs, babe. Ol' Eddie's hit the jackpot with this one." He leaned forward to get a better look at her face, now mostly hidden in the murky darkness.

He was greeted with a puff of smoke in his face. "So the little bitch finally got tired of daddy's fire and brimstone routine and flew the coop, eh? And they're paying you to turn over whatever rock she's hiding under and bring her back to fold, I suppose." Maude had taken the cigarette from her mouth, grasping it between two fingers casually, it's smoke making dusty trails in the dim light.

Even drunk as he was Eddie picked up on the clues here. He was almost proud of his detecting. "So you're familiar with the good reverend's daughter, I suppose?"

Maude, seemingly displeased with herself for giving anything away unnecessarily, brought her face into the light, inches from Eddie's face. "One might suppose that, yes." She casually blew more smoke into his eyes.

"And exactly how familiar," he asked, "would you be with her? I don't remember personally you ever mentioning an interest in such pretty little things, but I guess we never did get around to a whole lot of talking."

"That was a long time ago, Eddie." She pulled back and he saw the end of her cigarette form a warm orange dot in the dark as she inhaled.

"You almost sound sentimental," he continued. "But let's cut the personal talk before I get teary-eyed. What do you care about this case or about my tab. You know I'm good for it."

"I suppose I should thank you," she said, getting up and coming around the desk to him. He swiveled the chair as she approached. "My father made more money in this place back when it was a speakeasy and Stevens was railing against the evils of the devil's brew than I ever will with lousy customers like you. He's practically an ally."

"So I'm a customer now," Eddie said. She put her cigarette out in an ashtray on the desk.

"Oh, you're practically one of my favorites," she said. She all-too-easily slid onto his lap, her legs straddled across his. "It's a shame you're not more of a regular."

"Well, a man of my stature has a lot of social engagements," he said. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Oh, I'm sure of that." She kissed him furiously on the lips. Breaking the kiss, "I bet you're very popular with the ladies." She began gyrating on his lap and Eddie found himself standing at attention. She kissed him again, her tongue wrestling his.

Eddie's hands found her legs and wandered up her thighs, pushing her skirt up as they went. He found nothing under it. Maude's hands ran down his chest to his belt, which she undid with the speed of a practiced pro who knows what she wants. She violently jerked his pants down, exposing his throbbing member. She broke the kiss again.

"There's my valued customer," she said. Her expert hands ran up and down his shaft for a moment, then guided him toward her lower lips. She began rocking back and forth again, coating his dick with her juices. Once they were both wet she commanded Eddie, "Just do it, Eddie. Get inside me."

He followed her orders, grabbing her by the ass and guiding her onto him. He felt her flesh squeezed between his fingers and he now kissed her hard. She was as wet and tight as he remembered, and she was already moving rapidly, pumping him in and out of herself.

"Oh, yes, yes, fuck me, Eddie! Fuck me like that! Give me your big fat cock, you bastard!" she shouted. He wondered how soundproof the door he'd been dragged through was as his hands began exploring her body. His right hand found her breasts and he teased them through her top briefly, but he felt the urge to rid himself of the impediment of the cloth. His fingers found the buttons and he pulled, her top coming open easily. She continued fucking herself on his dick while he pulled her bra out of the way. He tweaked her left nipple between his forefinger and thumb, causing her to gasp in pleasure.

He replaced his hand with his mouth, sucking on her nipple while he found his hips involuntarily pumping up into her. His hand continued up her body, up her neck, to her face, where his fingers stopped beside her mouth. She turned her head enough to take them between her lips. She sucked his index and middle fingers into her mouth and her tongue played over them. Eddie could hear her breathing becoming rapid and felt the sweat dripping from her body. He found himself sweating, too.

"You know what I want," she said, letting his fingers fall out of her mouth. "Give it to me Eddie, I'm almost there." His hand dropped back to her ass, and he let his fingers crawl toward her back hole. Well lubricated with spit, they only needed to tease the hole for a few second but he took his time and savored it.

"Just do it, you bastard! Make me cum!" she screamed at him. He pushed one finger into her ass forcefully. "Oh, god, oh fuck, yes!" she responded. He could feel her start shaking but he pushed her further, squeezing a second finger into her rear entrance. That was enough for her and her body rocked with orgasm, her pussy clamping down on his dick.

He grunted and fired a shot of cum inside her. "Oh, yes, fuck!" she responded, and he shot another hot wad of cum and then another. His shots grew smaller and less powerful and she came down from her own orgasm. After a brief respite, she got to her feet and his cock fell out of her, dripping as it softened.

"Thanks for the reminder of the good old days, Eddie," she said, pulling her skirt back down. "Now get the fuck out of here before I call in the staff. Her steely gaze told him she wasn't kidding. He pulled up his pants as she fixed her blouse.

"Before I go, you wouldn't happen to know how to find this Stevens, would you?" he asked.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie, you're the worst PI I've ever met. At least you're a pretty good lay."

Before he could ask again, the door opened behind him and he turned to see the silhouette of the burly bartender.

"No, thanks, my good man, I'll show myself out," he said, pushing past the man standing with folded arms. As he passed, he felt the muscular hands grab him by the collar again and before he knew it, he had been thrown out the back entrance, face down in a filthy alley.

He got to his feet and brushed himself off again. "I had a hat!" he yelled to the metal backdoor to the Anchor. No response came. He decided a new chapeau was going on the list of expenses for this case. Turning, he saw a thin dark silhouette in the mouth of the alley, face in shadow and features partially obscured by the fog coming in. Through the murk he could tell it was a feminine figure, cloaked in a long coat and wearing a hat more fit for a man.

"Terrible service in this joint," he said, approaching the figure. "You might want to find a better place to drink, ma'am."

"How about your office, Mr. Cain?" came a reply in a sultry voice. The figure stepped towards Eddie, her face becoming visible in the dim light. "I assume you have a bottle of something high proof stolen away in your desk drawer."

Eddie was startled to recognize the face as the one on the photograph buried in his pocket. No, wait, similar, he thought, but not quite. The dark must have played a cruel trick on his slightly inebriated eyes. "I don't generally make a habit of inviting strange women in for a drink. And I couldn't have forgotten a face like that. What's the deal, sister?"

"How apropos, Mr. Cain. The girl you are looking for, Lilith Stevens. She is my sister and we need to discuss her case. Now how about that drink?" Her eyebrows lifted and her head tilted ever so slightly.

Eddie admired the curve of her neck for a second, then snapped back to the reality of the alley. "Right this way, ma'am."

***

Eddie flipped on the lights to the office as they entered. The woman silently removed her coat and passed it to him expectantly, revealing a tight but not immodest black dress. He suddenly remembered he was dealing with a high class dame and took her coat, hanging it gingerly on the coat rack. He removed his own coat and hat, wiping his brow as he did so, and sat down behind his desk.

The woman stood awkwardly in front of the desk and he drank her in like a tall glass of something top shelf. "Have a seat," he suddenly broke out of the trance he seemed to be falling into. She was remarkably similar to Lilith, the girl in the picture. She sat and gazed here and there around the disheveled room with a look he wanted to characterize as unpleasant, but he thought he could detect a slight upward curl around the corner of her mouth. "So, Miss Stevens, it is miss, correct? About your sister...?"