According to Jonas, Rolf Metzger was known as The Butcher. He had few loyalties and could be bought by anyone with enough capital. Most nights Rolf could be found at Apollonia’s, a notch-house on the dirty end of Vine Street. Moe had never been to this particular brothel, but he figured it the same as most: worn out whores hiding years of damage with heavy paste and bad lighting. Not that Moe gave a rat’s ass - knowing the pickings didn’t keep him from partaking on occasion.
Metzger’s main gig was playing the muscle at Apollonia’s. He kept the second-hand Sues on their backs and the tricks paying. Metzger wasn’t afraid to use whatever was handy to accomplish that goal. And his shiv was always handy.
Apollonia’s was like most of the chippy houses in Cincy - you could only find them if you already knew they were there. Backdoor entrances were the norm, with an extra exit or two on each of the other sides. Most had been juice joints in the twenties - speakeasies that lost their trade with the end of Prohibition. People seemed to like the underground aspect, so natural evolution had turned the joints into hump houses.
Mid-afternoon was usually a down period, so it gave Moe plenty of time to snoop around, maybe find out more about Metzger before a face-to-face. Thanks to the payroll from Dutch, Moe had plenty of cash to encourage a canary to sing, and if spearing her clam became part of the agenda, he wouldn’t complain.
When he pushed open the door, a bell chimed. The foyer was clean but cramped. Two settees of glossy wood and pastel-colored chintz lined either side of the narrow space. A second door, further back, was closed. Standing in the foyer was a peach - a brunette with painted eyes and pouty lips. But a man’s eyes weren’t drawn to her face so much as the knockers that barely fit in her flimsy nightie. She shivered with the cool breeze let in from the outside, and her nipples perked up like ripe raspberries.
“May I help you, sir?” She spoke briskly and held the flaps of her shiny robe, but she didn’t bother to close it.
Moe deliberately skimmed her entire frame before looking back into her whiskey eyes. “I’m depending on it.”
She turned soft with Moe’s perusal and let go of her robe. She used her hands instead to outline her hourglass shape. “Something special you’re after?”
“I hear a man can get a little half-and-half here without it being up for scrutiny.”
“So this your first time?”
“Yeah, doll. I’m a virgin.”
She giggled a high pitch sound that reminded Moe of the door chime.
“Well, Sugar. I’m a good teacher, but I doubt you need many lessons.”
“How much?”
She eased back and folded her arms across her chest. It forced her two fleshy globes together and deepened her cleavage to below sea level. “You a copper?”
“Not a chance.”
“You smell like one.”
Moe dug in his pocket and flashed a fat roll before stuffing it back in his pockets. “And you smell like roses and heaven, doll.”
She smiled. Her hands fell to her hips and her robe pulled apart like matinee curtains. “Okay, honey. What do you like?”
“Besides you?”
She giggled again in that high-trilling way that only movie sopranos do. “I’m waiting for a special friend. But if you want to come back in, say, an hour?”
“I’m not a patient man, doll.”
She sighed and absently ran a finger along her well-defined cleavage. “Hold on, I’ll get Lily Mae.”
“Is she like you?”
“Honey, there’s no one like me,” she said it with a wink. “But she’ll do for an impatient man.”
She left, leaving Moe alone in the closed off foyer. He looked around, but there wasn’t much to see. The action took place behind the oak door she had disappeared through.
Minutes later the door opened. A different brunette entered, this one with coltish eyes. She was dressed in the same fashion as the first gal, but this one filled her nightie a little differently - less tits, less hourglass, and less bravado.
“Lily Mae?”
“Uh-huh. You looking for something special this afternoon, Mister?”
“Call me Moe.”
“Moe.” Her voice was soft, kittenish.
“Yeah, I’m all pent up and itching for a little release.” It wasn’t entirely true. Moe was still battling with the aches in his gut, but Katarina’s peep show proved Moe was up to playing the part.
“This way.”
Moe followed her into a long corridor with walls papered in dark damask. There were eight doors, four on each side, all but one closed. Lily Mae led him to the one that was open. He stepped inside. The room was an interior room with no windows. It was small but as spit-shined as the rest of the brothel. A small bed with a white chenille coverlet was tucked in the corner. A flickering lantern sat on a table next to the bed. And a high-back chair was propped in the corner opposite the bed.
Lily Mae closed the door behind them and stood with her hands held behind her back, still holding the doorknob.
“Apollonia said you had cash.”
“Apollonia? The dame at the door?”
“That’s her.”
Moe figured he’d caught a lucky break. He doubted the madam of the joint would have given up much on Metzger, seeing as she probably paid his salary.
“I got cash if you’re the right dame.”
Lily Mae was shorter than Apollonia and younger. Her robe hung loosely without getting caught on flaring hips and ended at the top of a great-looking pair of gams. She had a heart-shaped face that hinted at dimples if she would smile. “I can be anything you want me to be,” she said. Her words were bolder than her actions. She stared at the floor with her hands still clasped behind her back.
“How long have you been here, Lily Mae?”
“I’m older than I look.”
“Yeah, how old?”
“Old enough.”
“A pup.”
“Hardly.” She laughed and moved away from the door. She pushed her robe off her shoulders and let it puddle at her feet. When she turned to face Moe, the light from the lantern added depth to her eyes. And years.
“Come here, Moe. Help me get bare.” She was a more confident Lily Mae when it came to her trade. “And let me help you too,” she added.
Moe moved closer. Close enough to smell that Lily Mae didn’t wear rosewater like Apollonia did. Lily Mae had one of those spring smells, like lilac or honeysuckle.
She tugged on the tails of Moe’s shirt and pulled them from his trousers. She moved to the buttons and started yanking at the buttonholes. Moe held her hand.
“No need to rush Lily Mae.”
She shrugged. “You do know how this works, don’t you?’
“How?”
“Ten bucks for half an hour. Twenty for the whole sixty minutes.”
“I got time. I got cash. How about you?”
She stared up at him with her coltish eyes. “I got whatever you got cash for.”
Moe reached in his pocket and pulled out five sawbucks. “Will this square us?”
“Two and a half hours worth?’ Lily Mae fingered the bills, brought them to her nose, closed her eyes, and inhaled. When her eyes sprung open she looked at Moe. “You got a slow pecker or something?”
“Maybe I like a little chatter.”
“Jiminy! You’re not one of
those
freaks, are you?” Whores were the only dames in the world that thought chitchatting was weird.
“Okay, Lily Mae. You want to fuck? Fine.” Moe grabbed her and jerked the last slip of material off over her head. She stood perfectly still, and he thought he’d scared her until he looked at her face. She was grinning for the first time since he’d met her.
“So, Lily Mae, you do know how to smile.”
“So, Moe, you do have fire to go with those rugged looks.”
She smirked and reached again for the buttons on his shirt. This time she sneaked from one to the next. Button by button. Until the last one gave way. She shoved his shirt down off his shoulders and moved to his belt, slowly loosening it.
As she bent to slide his pants down, Moe glanced at the walls of the room. Too many of these creep joints had secret panels that could open while a man was too busy to notice. Someone would enter, empty a man’s pockets, and leave without the sucker suspecting a thing. To be on the safe side, Moe kicked his trousers under the bed.
