Violet Dahlia (Part 2)

I kept a bottle of cheap whiskey in my top desk drawer, and I was going to need it tonight. I had to hit the bricks and find a killer, before they were a killer. It seems like an impossible task, but that’s what I’m paid to do.

I put on my fedora and trench coat and made my way into a steamy night. Why was I wearing a trench coat on a night that was better suited for a light shirt and a fan made from a newspaper? I don’t know, I got an image to maintain. I’m Sly Silverman Private Eye and I always look the part.

My first stop was the seedy underbelly of the cities seedy underbelly. The dark spot where even rodent and snakes won’t go. If I was going to find a killer for hire, it would be there.

The Pussycats Meow was Marcus Dahlia’s club, and that was where I was going. Maybe heading a little too close to home, but danger was my middle name. Actually Steven is my middle name, but you see where I’m going with this. Red neon lights painted the puddles in the street that lined the front of the pitch black building. Only the glow of the lights broke the abyss of unsavory dominion that was the underbellies most violently reputable club. I use the word reputable loosely though.

“Sly, you here for a good time?” Did I mention they know me hear?

“Nah, I’m here on business Sweetheart.”

“You know I love it when you call me by name.” Sweetheart was a very large and burly man that looked like a bull mated with a gorilla.

“What else would I call you.”

“Everyone else calls me Brutal, but I hate that, doesn’t fit my personality at all.”

“I’ll agree with that. you’re a soft pastry in the middle of a mud pit.”

“Exactly. So what business do you have going on tonight?”

“I’m looking for a killer.”

“Just a specific killer or any in particular? This place is full of those.”

“That’s why I came her first. I’m actually looking for a killer that hasn’t killed the victim yet.”

“I’m very confused Sly. If they haven’t killed the victim yet, how are they a killer?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out the answer to that since I took this case.”

“Well, when you figure it out, will you tell your old pal Sweetheart?”

“You bet your bippy I will. You’ll be the second to know. I got to tell the victim first. You understand, paying client and all.”

“Sure thing Sly. Be careful in there Sly. You’re one of the good ones.”

“I don’t know much about that, but I’ll do my best.”

Sweetheart opened the door into pure darkness. There was a long hall before you got to the curtain that opened into the club, and when you opened that curtain, it was an entirely different world. Lights, music, and dancing. Decadence didn’t begin to describe what was going on. This place made Sodam and Gomorrah seem tame. Naked bodies undulated in every corner, while the stage was full of live animals in cages. There was a small balcony that was the seating area for the king of this court, Marcus Dahlia. He seemed to be out of his kingdom tonight. The balcony was dark and lifeless. That didn’t mean his hired assassin wasn’t here, or that someone might now something.

I slunk my way to the bar, and put my ear out to see if I could sniff out a clue, but the chatter was less appealing than a drawer full of silverware being dropped on the floor.

“Hey barkeep, can I get a whiskey straight up?”

“Sure thing, coming right up.” He poured the glass in short order and slid it in front of me.

“Before you go, you mind if I ask you a question?”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“If I need someone to do a job for me that wan’t necessarily on the up and up, where would I look?”

“That depends on the job. What do you have in mind?”

“Say, I wanted to separate someone from the rest of their birthdays?”

“You want the dark corner under the balcony, but make sure you are prepared to really ask for what you want. They don’t take too kindly to indecisive people.”

“Thank you sir.”

I slid him a sawbuck and walked towards that dark corner. There was a table underneath with two men at it, in rather sharp looking suits. When I say sharp, I mean they could give you a paper cut just by looking at them. They also didn’t looked pleased, maybe one of those indecisive sorts stopped by a little earlier. I took note of their faces, and believe me, they were faces you couldn’t forget. Brooding and full of scars. Tonight wasn’t the night for a conversation with those two, but I would have to have it soon. Time was running out, and the worst part was, I didn’t actually know how much time I had.