The night was cold, dark, and it felt human. A stiff breeze blew in from the Atlantic, ruffling the branches of the palm trees that lined this side of Canal Avenue that faced the ocean. There I sat in my Lincoln Continental parked a reasonable distance from the Mansfield mansion. From where I sat, I had a good view of the main gate and the upper story of the estate house. The lights were off and I was waiting for the signal I knew would come any moment soon. I reclined my seat, lit a cigarette and let my hat slouch over my face just a couple of inches from my eyes.
The night went on as usual with its quiet self. I didn't bother turning on the radio—the noise would only distract me from my job, though right at that moment I really would have wished being some place else. Some place where there was a comfy bed waiting for me and a pillow to rest my head on rather than sitting her playing stakeout. Still I sat there and continued my patient waiting.
Suddenly my phone started to ring. As I sat up in my seat and took it out of my pocket; the caller ID of the number calling me was unknown. at that point I looked up and saw a light in one of the upper floor, the room which in deduced could only be the master bedroom, come up. A figure—it was a female—stood there by the window looking out. I couldn't tell if she'd spotted me from where I was parked, meanwhile my phone was still ringing with annoyance.
"Hello," I said into the mouthpiece.
"Hi there Joe," a lady's cat-like voice spoke into my ear. It was a familiar voice and it took me less than five seconds to know who it was talking to me. The lone female standing at the window.
"Hello, Mrs. Mansfield," I replied.
"That's rather cold, pronouncing my name the way you do," she said. "Isn't it about time you and I went on a first-name basis? After all, you've been tailing my shadow nearly two weeks now, I feel like you're my personal shadow."
Dammit! She'd found me out -- but that was to be expected.
"I ... don't know not what you're talking about, Mrs. Mansfield."
"Oh yes you do, don't think I don't. And the name's Leah. Or hasn't my husband told you that?"
Indeed he had. Her husband was the one who'd put me unto her. One Friday afternoon he's presented himself at my office and laid out his compliant. His suspicion was infidelity. She assumed she was sleeping around, but with whom and for whatever reason was what he was interested in knowing. Money was no object with him—and why should it be? He already was a house-hold name in the city, a rich property developer who even played golf with the Mayor. As for yours truly, I'm nothing but a gum-shoe for hire. Majority of my cases were of modest variety:: the occasional lost and found kids or cousins, spying on cheating spouses, that sort of thing. All of a sudden, this rich bloke had waltz in through my door. How he stumbled upon my name, I'll never know. I asked but he didn't say. He needed someone to get the low down on his wife, so I guess I was his man.
What had seemed to me at first as easy pickings has now got me feeling like a tiger being caught by its tail.
"Ma'am, I still have no idea what you're talking about or referring to," I said, not wanting to fall for her ploy.
She giggled. "Whatever, detective. Since you're so nice and careful following me around the way you do, perhaps tonight you would kindly be my escort for the evening. Is that you parked across from the street?"
"Yes, that's me."
"Wait there, I'll be down soon."
The line went dead, and seconds later so too were the room where she'd been talking to me from. I returned my phone to my pocket and waited. It wasn't long before the gate opened and a hooded figure stepped out of the compound. I got out of my car as the figure approached, and she lowering the hood of her coat and revealed herself. She came round to the passenger side and jumped in just as I returned to my seat and stared at her, wondering what silly joke this was.
She gave me a modest smile. "Well, are you going to start the car and drive, or are you going to sit there staring at me all evening."
I wasn't listening to her. She reached into a purse and took out a silver case from within. Opening it, she took out a cigarette and brought it to her red-coated lips, was about searching for a lighter but I beat her to it, lighting her cigarette for her with mine. She took a drag from her cigarette and blew smoke out the side of her lips. She was a sexy, gorgeous thing, no doubt about that. The type of woman that could make any man turn weak in the knees, and I knew she knew it too.
"Please take me some place, Joe," she said.
That said, I started my car. There was no need getting rid of her as she was already here with me. The least I could do was keep her entertained till whenever she decided my company was getting dull.
"Where to?" I asked.
She made a gesture with her hand. "I don't know—how about your place?"
I raised my eyebrow. "My place?"
"Yes," she affirmed, taking another drag from her cigarette. "I'm curious to know what a detective's pad looks like. Take me to your place, please."
Usually I detest dames that make as if they've got the world in their pocket along with everybody else that's in it. But watching the way she rolled that cigarette between those flaming red lips, I decided to make hers an exception as I put the car into gear and drove out of the rich folk's avenue.
******
Traffic on the streets was almost non-existent as we drove to my apartment which didn't take long than it would have during rush hour. It was a quiet, yet bustling neighborhood, far from what anyone would class as being decorous to someone of Leah Mansfield's status, though if there were any misgivings, she never showed it.
I drove into the parking lot situated across from my building and together, like a couple returning from a fun-filled evening, we crossed the street towards the building complex where I resided—my office was two blocks down from here.
My apartment was on the top floor of the four-story building; lucky for me the elevator hadn't broken down today like it usually did other days. I pushed the rail doors aside and allowed her to step in, which she did, and together we rode the elevator to the top.
"Well, it's nothing fancy," I said as I unlocked my apartment door and let her in, "but it's home sweet home however you want it."
She stood there in the middle of the living room, casting her eyes about my living room, and murmured, "Not bad. Looks cozy and simple—I practically grew up in a dump like this."
"I'll bet you don't really mean that." I took off my jacket and threw it over the couch. I was starting to warm up to her presence.
"Sure I mean it." She fell on a chair and crossed her legs seductively, giving me an eye full of her lovely, fat thigh. "So, how about you fixing a girl something to drink?"
"Sure," I went towards the kitchen. "What would your pleasure be?"
"Bourbon will do, if you have one."
"One glass of Bourbon coming up," I answered as I looked into my cabinet drawer where I kept my liquor stash and made her drink; I made one for myself, too. She'd taken off her jacket when I returned and was at the moment fiddling with my stereo set.
"Thanks," she said, accepting her glass then made a toast with mine.
"Think nothing of it." I assisted her with the stereo system, inserting a Miles Davies CD into it. We sat beside each other, sipping our drinks and enjoying the jazz music that was playing. "Let me ask you a question," I said to her. "How and when did you find out I was following you around?" I just had to know.
"Does your question have anything to do with why a rich lonely girl like myself is doing here with a shabby, lonely private-eye like yourself?" she flashed her eyelids at me coquettishly "Whatever gave you the impression that I was lonely?"
"I've never stumbled across one who isn't," she replied, then waved a hand around my apartment. "Besides, this doesn't look like what a family man would put up with. But I was a little scared though."
"Of what?"
"That you might have someone steadily available here—a girlfriend." She uncrossed her legs and folded them on the couch; my body yearned for whatever lay between those long legs. "You look like the sort of fellow that's got lots of women around town waiting for him. I've got a nose for such things, so I can tell."
Her words, sweet and amusing, made me laugh. "I never knew I was such a charmer as you paint me to being one. Though pardon me for doubting, but you don't look like anything close to being lonely."
"Oh but I am," she said, and then got up with her glass still in her hand; she took a sip of her drink before continuing. "I can't start telling you how awfully boring it is sometimes being camped day and night in that big house all by myself ... all to myself. Sometimes I just hate it."
"Your husband doesn't seem to think so."
She looked at me. "Exactly what did my husband say to you about me when he put you onto me?"
I saw no harm letting her in on this. "He said he was afraid of whatever you might be up to. That a lot of times you returned home late and sometimes you never bothered returning till morning. He also said that whenever he asked where you'd been, you'd give him a surly answer. He just wanted me to make sure you stayed safe and not hang around with the wrong type of crowd. Those were his words."
