Hotel Noir Page #3

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Yes, why?

Cause your accent ain't so hot.

Ain't so hot? No capisce.

It sounds foreigny.

Funny?

Foreigny.

I think your accent sounds foreigny.

I don't have an accent.

Everybody has an accent.

What is your name?

That's not important now.

How long have you known Otto?

In one way it is like we've

always known each other.

And in another way?

Six months.

You want a cigarette?

Are you his mistress?

Just a friend.

A kind of friend who likes

to do errands for him, right, Mary?

What do you mean?

Drop things off...

pick things up?

Like his dry-cleaning?

I do not like your insinuation.

I don't like your accent.

This is your problem.

I thought you said your name was Rosa.

I know what I said.

You didn't flinch when I just called you Mary.

I know what you are trying to do.

It won't work.

He liked giving gifts?

I do not remember.

Jewelry, diamonds?

I want a lawyer.

Then get one.

The city's full of them.

I mean I want a lawyer now, here,

to answer your questions.

You're not charged with anything,

we're just having a chat.

Oh...

You think you're so tough

with your big gun, don't you?

I do.

Why are you smiling?

The only good thing about this moment

is I'm sure that as long as I live

I'll never feel this lonely again.

Am I free to go now?

Took me by surprise.

I liked that she dropped the accent to say it.

The whole thing just clicked.

And I decided then that I liked Swedish Mary.

Patience is an overrated virtue,

but I waited.

Then I pounced.

Took me only one year.

Have we met before?

I think I'd remember.

Otto kept all the loot intact.

Except for one harmless little diamond.

I guess he couldn't resist.

Who could blame him?

Sometimes I hate my job, you know?

What job?

Mary...

We've been tailing Otto and his crew

for three years.

I've gotta close this case.

What are you talking about?

Sorry.

I thought you liked her.

More than I'd like to.

Love? You don't say.

It wasn't in love yet.

Something nearly identical.

But still you busted her.

No, I gave her an out.

You had her turn against Otto.

Well, they call it between a rock

and a hard place for a reason.

I don't like snitches.

It's an ugly word.

Ugly job.

Sounds like you're talking from experience.

Your husband downstairs?

Vance?

Not my husband.

You said you were married.

I got married at sixteen to a travelling salesman.

What kind of salesman?

A nice and boring one who talked a lot.

What did he sell?

What's the difference? The point is...

a young wife gets left alone at home

all day in the big city

she's bound to get restless.

That's how I met Vance.

Before he was a victim of the Santa Ana racetrack

he was a jazz guitarist.

A good one, too.

He offered you private lessons.

I told him I was married.

What did he say?

He said many great guitar players were married.

Vance's gambling took its toll pretty damn fast.

Next thing I knew I was a...

what did you call it?

An accessory.

Is she alright?

What question is that?

Two.

Kinda keeps you out of jail.

Two.

She'll keep her mouth shut,

just leave her out of it.

I got a different idea.

Yeah? Since when do you have ideas?

I think we should use her as a decoy.

I mean, there's no sense in cutting in

another piece of ass if we got her around.

Who gave you permission to talk about her ass?

What would I have to do?

Stay out of this!

Don't talk to me like that.

I'll talk to you however I wanna talk to you.

In front of your friends, you mean?

Why did you put up with him?

I don't know.

Guess I can think of a couple of reasons.

But when his partners got pinched after the job

I lost all respect for the creep.

Bad day.

Bad day?

It was a roll of the dice.

Why not you?

Cause I have a lucky charm.

You.

I saw you at that pay phone, Vance.

You got it all wrong, baby.

Do I?

Right, now look... if you wanna split

if you wanna say we're history,

that's fine,

but don't go running your mouth

about stuff you know nothing about.

That can make my life pretty messy.

Your life is a mess.

You can't pin that on me.

I'm warning you.

You're threatening me!

You call it what you like.

I don't like being threatened.

You're a coward and a cheat.

But I love you.

You don't love anybody.

Baby, I wanna make you a star, alright?

I have the money now.

I can take you all the way.

Get out of my sight.

Or what?

Or I'll throw this vase at your head.

I'll duck.

Not quick enough.

Anyway, he ended up in the hospital

with thirty stitches.

How did you manage such perfect aim?

Captain of my high school softball team,

all star.

I can almost see him now.

Then what?

I skipped town.

Travelled the country several times...

the pursuit of happiness and all that.

I pursued it everywhere, with different guys...

even with a nice lady tennis player once.

It didn't take.

I kept singing, some crackpot idea.

Turns out I'm not the world's greatest singer.

Sounded good to me.

Do you mind if I ask you a question?

Is it about the nice lady tennis player?

It caught my attention, I won't lie.

She was the wife of a club owner.

Couldn't believe a modern girl such as myself

had never played.

Played what?

Tennis, detective.

She offered to teach me.

More private lessons, like the guitar player.

I can see how you'd make that leap.

You don't get all your facts,

just your bits of someone's life story

you maybe take me for a person who gets

lots of offers for private lessons.

I've never met anyone with said

proclivity before.

I never met a detective who said proclivity before.

So, what happened to you?

Had a few private lessons, then what?

Decided you didn't like the game?

Call me old fashioned.

But it wasn't just that.

Lady tennis player was complicated.

The lady tennis player was alright.

The problem was...

Let me guess.

Her husband.

What makes you say that?

My job description.

What is?

Intuition.

Ten bucks that he liked watching the lessons.

No, that wasn't the problem.

He was a club owner who once a month

performed in his own club.

He had a famous act called...

The Concubines.

of the cunning Calibenos.

I woke up alone in a room...

no idea how long I'd been there.

But shortly after the three concubines came in

and began to undress me.

I tried to fight back,

but they were expert ticklers.

Ticklers?

I know how it sounds, but they were vicious.

I was powerless.

Ticklers...

They undressed me,

and then he walks in, still in costume.

They held me down and caressed me.

I have never been caressed like that before.

And then...

And then?

I fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning I woke up...

in my hotel room, still naked.

No sign of my clothes anywhere.

I found out later

I had slept for two whole days.

Or at least I couldn't account

for two whole days.

Like time just vanished into the ether.

Who is it?

Maureen came to see me.

Who's Maureen?

The lady tennis player.

Not Maureen Chapman?

Associated Press female tennis player of the year?

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