No requiem for the tin m.., p.10
No Requiem for the Tin Man, page 10
I wasn’t certain, but for some reason I felt known ... too well known by that mechanical. That made no sense, and I tried to let the idea go. But I’m a stubborn sucker and once I get an idea into my head, well, I’ve been known to kick it around until its beyond recognition.
And usually, I’m right to keep on that thought.
Not at this time, of course. Clients first. I back-burnered the creepy feeling.
The elevator was a caged cell of gold ornamentation, tarnished, and in need of repairs. Still, despite clanging and banging in several distressing moments, it deposited me on the correct floor.
I’m taking the stairs back down.
Finding Gus’s room wasn’t too hard. The floor was mostly empty of visitors. Only the remnants of the War were there: defeated victors, cowards, and heroes. Men staring into the distance, not seeing the reddened clouds and sunrise, but the fields of Flanders. Men waiting to become specters in the cold hallways beyond or around the corner.
Gus’s room had a soothing voice coming from it. Inside, a gorgeous woman sat at his side, holding his hand, and speaking to him in a sickly sweet sort of way.
Mrs. Landis. Mrs. Regina Landis. Hair up in an innocent sweep, if a Harlow bleached blonde can ever be innocent. A blouse covered her neck demurely with a soft bow, and a figure-flattering, dark wool suit covered most everything else. The tilt of her simple hat couldn’t help but emphasize her sulky red mouth and allow her bright blue eyes to glow like police lights out from under the shade it provided.
The notion jumped in my brain that I was seeing a lot of blonde haired - blue eyed folks these days. Gus fit the same bill.
She stopped speaking the moment I reached the doorway. I was lucky that my life didn’t rely on the nature of her stare, otherwise I’d be stone cold dead.
“Are you lost,” she asked, in a silky voice even I found alluring.
“I’m an acquaintance of Gus.” I glanced his way, hopeful he might remember me. This might get a bit awkward ... more so than it already was ... if he didn’t recall having a tizzy in my office.
Gus appeared confused. “I ... I think I recognize you,” he slurred. His eyes couldn’t quite find me as if there were three of me and he was deciding which was real.
Think fast, Lulu. “You weren’t at your best when we met. It was a couple of days ago.”
Mrs. Landis’s head snapped towards him, her eyes wide. Gus simply looked at the olive-drab blanket covering his legs. “I wasn’t at my best, to be sure.” He picked at the threads for a moment. “I apologize —”
“August! You don’t need to apologize!”
“Your friend is correct,” I added, moving in closer. “No need to apologize. It was a difficult day for you.”
I guess the closer I got, the fewer of me there was for him to track. Medications, such as sedatives, can work on the old bean that way. He was high as a kite but low as a stone. Gus wasn’t going anywhere.
He was at least washed now, a strong whiff of medical soap floated my way. Remnants of dishes and utensils implied that he might be fed, if he’d actually eaten. He was clean shaven too, not to mention his hair was cropped even shorter than before. I suppose that’s what happens when you get involuntarily admitted: bathed and shaved.
When his head flopped back and he lifted a couple of fingers to examine the non-existent texture of the ceiling, I thought Mrs. Landis might cry. “You’ve never seen him like this before?”
“Not ... like this,” she muttered out from under her hands. She would smear that pretty makeup job doing that. Maybe she didn’t care so much.
I perched myself at the end of the bed, mostly to watch the scene play out. Might as well. I couldn’t run off without causing some questions to get into her head, and I sure wasn’t tailing her any closer than this. Mrs. Landis sat with her face in her hands. To my left, a chart hung off a hook at the end of the bed frame. With Gus enthralled by the roof and Mrs. Landis having a sob or two, I took a gander at the doctor’s notes.
Doctor? My, my, my, call me surprised. Dr. Frederick Gruber.
So the family doctor was the doctor of record. Wasn’t there something ethically wrong about that? I guess money adjusted any question of medical ethics. I’d have to get Marley on it, but my gut was already telling me that this was one hospital Dr. Gruber had free reign and control over patients.
Flipping through the pages, I noticed that the handwriting was horrible. Even with that, I “noticed” something else: a change in his meds. The scribble was different. I couldn’t begin to guess what the medications were, but I could see that they were not the same ones he’d been prescribed earlier..
Mrs. Landis comported herself and tucked a few stray strands of hair back into place. “So, Elsa isn’t coming herself today?” The words were loaded with distain.
“I wasn’t sent by anyone. I’m here because I met Mr. Gruber the other day.”
Big surprised eyes stared at me. “You’re not with my husband’s cause?”
“No.” Instinct told me to refrain from any commentary or explanation — let her fill in the blanks. Right now, my opinion about the “Cause” was neither relevant nor helpful. I had no idea if Mrs. Landis was a believer or not. If I want to avoid an argument, perhaps it was best not to say anything disparaging. Yet.
“Great,” she snuffled again. “Then Elsa will be here soon. You probably don’t want to meet her. She’s ... ah ...overly fond of her brother. You know ... protective.”
Gus played with something in the air. “She doesn’t like me.”
Mrs. Landis set her hand out on his arm. “That’s not true, August. Your sister loves you.”
He made some sort of noise that might have been stifled laughing. I almost made the same noise.
Instead, I decided to play my opinion cards tight to my chest and keep asking directed questions. “He does seem to be out of it, doesn’t he?”
“I’ve never seen him like this before.” She watched me with a side-eye as I put away the chart. “You a nurse?”
“Who me? I’m a nobody. I had the fortune to meet Mr. Gruber. Gotta’ say, that scribble didn’t make much sense to me.”
“Doctors are notorious for bad handwriting. Frederick is the worst.”
First name basis. Hmmm. Shall we try something? “So, Mr. ... Gus, behaving this disoriented ... it’s new for him, isn’t it?”
Mrs. Landis nodded.
Let’s see what she knows. “That explains the different scribble.” I reached over to pluck the chart off its hook again and showed her. “New medication. Maybe it isn’t right for him. But don’t ask me. I could be wrong. As I said, I’m not a nurse and I’m certainly no doctor.”
She took the chart from me like it was the only food she’d had in days then gripped it like a life preserver. The pages whipped up and down. Her baby blues got bigger by the second. “You’re right, Miss ... uh?”
“Heinreid,” I lied without batting an eyelash. And no, I reminded myself, I don’t feel guilty for yanking a little on her leash. Why should I? Even if she isn’t cheating, she married a Nazi. Probably is one too.
“Why,” she asked to no one in particular, forgetting that I was in the room with her. “Frederick, why?” came out as a whisper so desperate my ironclad heartstring got strummed. Damn it.
The chart hit the floor.
Her pretty, made-up face landed in her hands again. Sobs fell out from between her fingers.
Gus lost interest in the ceiling and petted her arm.
I felt like a real louse. Fine, I’m no Philip Marlowe, that’s for sure. He’d never be bothered by using a witness or even a client. All it’s taken is a little throb in her voice and I’m the easy push-over.
Ten minutes later, my handkerchief was soaked and stained with mascara and war paint. Gus was on the verge of sleep and Mrs. Landis was calmer.
“Look, Lady, you don’t know me from Eve, but I like Gus.” That was true. “I got no designs on him. I wanted to check on him. What’s all this about? Maybe you’ll feel better if you —"
“Oh no! I can’t say anything. Please don’t take this the wrong way. It is so lovely of you to care. I’m being silly and everything is fine.”
Sure it is. Why is it women, like us, always say it’s fine when it isn’t. Come on, sister, spill it!
She folded my hanky and handed it back to me. “Thank you, Miss Heinreid. I believe you are correct, the new medication isn’t working as it should. And if a non-doctor can see that clearly, it must be truly obvious. I’ll ask Frederick to change Gus’s medication back to what it was before and he’ll be fine.”
“Will he do that?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, he will.”
That was rather confident of her.
The clock tower rang out the hour from over at St. Francis. Mrs. Landis checked her wrist watch. “Miss Heinreid, at the risk of sounding rude, I think you may want to leave. This is about the time Gus’s sister comes by. Elsa. She is exacting. Prompt. No errors or deviations.” Was that sarcasm I heard? “And I don’t think you’ll like her.”
I don’t think I’ll like having her see me here, talking to the Mrs. Can’t say I’m excited to see Elsa anyway.
Gus started waving me off. “She doesn’t like me. Just wants my package.”
“Gus!” Mrs. Landis scolded. “Don’t be so vulgar in front of Miss Heinreid.”
“Everyone wants it.” He curled up like a child and closed his eyes.
She returned to me. “I am so very sorry. He isn’t like that.”
“I wouldn’t think so. Has to be the medications.”
“Yes.” For the first time, she brightened, in a startling, genuine way. I couldn’t put my finger on it: maybe it was the softness in her expression or the relief in her voice. Overall, her muscles relaxed. She wasn’t scared of me. “Thank you.” After demurring a bit, she stunned me by adding, “I’m glad you came by. Not only for Gus, but I’m glad I met you, Miss Heinreid. Most of the people I meet are ... well, let’s just say I’m not the reason they are saying ‘hello.’ My husband is the star of the show.”
I shook her hand, stammering some sort of niceties that would have made my mother proud, and blubbering along about how I hoped her day would go ...
Yup. I’m a sap.
I left the room a little wiser. I had more information, but somehow I was further from an answer than I thought I’d be. Didn’t help I was beginning to like Mrs. Landis. If she was having an affair, I was of a mind to wonder if maybe she wasn’t due some comfort. Landis himself was slippery, but then, he did seem to love her. That love was tempered with his love for his career, a fact alone that could make things tough between them.
What did it matter? That wasn’t my job. I wasn’t here to judge.
I’d barely egressed the room when Elsa, with a pair of tough bruiser-like boys arrived from the opposite direction. I considered loitering across the hall until one of the toughs took up a guard post outside Gus’s room and the door was shut.
It sure didn’t take long before the shouting started, not that I could tell what was being said. The voices were strictly female. I figured the fellow inside with them kept to himself. Smart move.
The door opened allowing Regina to stand in the frame. The circles under her eyes appeared much darker than before. She took one long, deep breath, then turned back to the room. “If you care about him, you’ll let him go to the Marin Institute. It’s beautiful up there.”
“This hospital may not be much to look at, but at least the administration is run by pure, old world families who understand what is right and correct. Frederick is allowed to care for Gus here. And up there? You’d let him be touched by a bunch of Jews.”
“Elsa!”
“It’s true, Regina. I won’t be surprised if they have Dinge or Dago nurses soon. I won’t allow it! This country is being —”
Regina slammed the door and the screaming match continued.
I could only loiter close by for so long before it was obvious that I didn’t have much business there.
A nurse with a no-nonsense-glare ordered me along, and my inside surveillance was over.
Lingering outside the building, working on a pack of Strikes, I timed Elsa’s stay. Skeeter was reading one of my magazines. Twenty-three minutes later the Teutonic Queen emerged with Mrs. Landis reluctantly in tow.
Things were getting interesting.
The two tough birds moved in to get all frisky with the wife. She was having none of it. Good girl. I wouldn’t put up with that pawing. Neither did her chauffeur waiting with a beige Packard. The assured gesture from Mrs. Landis and the subsequent response told me the chauffeur was all hers. Okay then. Didn’t hurt he was about four inches taller than Elsa’s boys. That would help if things got nasty.
Elsa put her foot down.
Amusing. That didn’t achieve what she wanted it to.
Mrs. Landis maneuvered past everyone with a flourish of her fur stole and marched to the Packard. The chauffeur glared at the tough boys and sprinted past his boss to open her door.
Since I’m being paid to follow the wife, I knew which vehicle to keep up with. I loaded up in Skeeter’s cab, told him to follow the Packard, and we were off.
Chapter Thirteen
I may have sworn off relationships, but I’m not dead.
~Lou Tanner, P.I., 1935, Personal Journal
Even in my nice suit, I wasn’t dressed for access to the upscale joint across Stockton Street.. I certainly didn’t carry enough coin on me to grease any palms to get in either.
The café on the other side of the street was more my cup of Joe — literally. A high-class coffee house, perfect for business people expected to rush in, get their breakfast and coffee, then hurry off to work. A cross between a coffee cart on Sutter Street and a fine diner. Overpriced, to make sure a certain class of clientele was drawn to it.
The café’s window seating consisted of a row of stools and a long, oak table, allowing for even faster escape during the work morning. Midday, I decided to take up residence with a book, coffee, and cigarettes on one of those stools to watch my mark. Excellent view into the dandy restaurant over yonder.
The waiter first offered Mrs. Landis a window seat, which she absolutely refused, then an interior table. The confused waiter removed all but her cutlery and another set from the chosen table. I could see her well enough, through the Venice-lace curtains, so long as no one sat in the rejected window spot.
My coffee arrived via the hands of a tall, dark-red-haired fellow, with a sharp, smooth face, deep hazel eyes, and a coy grin. I don’t recall table service in joints like these. “Thanks,” I purred out, shaking a smoke out of my deck.. This could be fun, if I didn’t take it seriously. He was pretty. And pretty is my weakness.
Holding up my cigarette, I asked, “got a match?”
Red leaned his long, slender body over the server’s counter, lightly fussed for a moment, and returned with a lit match. Holding it for me, he allowed the other side of his grin to turn upward. I liked how the fire reflected in his eyes.
Lowering my eyelashes and dipping my chin while exhaling, I looked up at him over my cheaters. “Say, you don’t mind if I stay a while, do you?”
“We’re not busy. The lunch crowd moved through already.”
“Well. I don’t want to get you in trouble with the boss.”
He leaned against the window table, all casual-like. “I am the boss.”
“Oh, I like that. That’s even better.”
“I notice you keep watching the place across the street. Hoping to get a reservation? Or maybe a job over there?”
“Any reason to think I couldn’t do either?” I retrieved the pack and offered him one of my Lucky’s. Afterall, he is the boss.
“Can I have it for later? I got to set a good example for the kitchen crew. But I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m high-hatting you either.”
“Please,” I held the pack closer.
He took the proffered snipe, not with his lips — too bad — held it reverently, and nodded in appreciation, then tucked it into the shirt pocket under his apron. Nice flannel. He thanked me for the snipe with an enjoyable smile. “This is interesting. Not much ever happens around here, though there are some notable things, otherwise not much. So now I’m curious. About the other place? You have to know somebody who knows somebody. They don’t let just anybody sit in there.”
“’Bet they’re picky about who gets a window seat too. Gotta keep the reputation tight.”
He gave me a sharp, knowing nod. “And they only hire men. Used to be a men’s club, then someone’s wife got upset, and they started letting the ladies in for lunch. Otherwise, it’s for the boys and only the boys.”
Glancing across the way, I could see Mrs. Landis getting some coffee but gesturing sharply, then checking her watch.
“She goes there often,” Red said, out of nowhere.
“You know that?”
“A fella notices when a looker like that is a frequent visitor in a place with limits. Or here.”
“That’s pretty good. You like to keep an eye on things.”
He gave me a once over as if to prove his skill. “I sure do. But not just lookin’. I figure things out too. Like ... you’re not here for my coffee, are you?”
I took a sip as if to prove him wrong. Gotta’ admit, his coffee would be worth the trip downtown on any day. “You got me. But I think I wouldn’t mind coming back if this here is your average cup.”
He settled his tongue behind his teeth and narrowed his eyes. “You’re watching the woman across the street. Maybe hoping I know something or I’ve seen something. Okay. That tells me a few things. I know they’re hiring women into the police department, but something about you doesn’t say cop. That could make you a jealous wife?”
I paused him with two fingers then reached into my purse. He was suitably impressed with the shield-shaped bronze buzzer pinned to the flap of my wallet. “You are good, Mister. I’m a shamus. Bonafide Working a tail job.”
