The Dame – (Superhero/Noir Mashup)
I really wished the Dame would get out of my office.
No, not a dame. Come on, even a hardened gumshoe can’t get away with that kinda talk these days. Know what I mean? I said the Dame and I meant it, as in the superhero. All six feet of hard muscled beauty dressed like the soul of patriotism in red. white, and blue. Of course, you’d need a dozen of her outfits to have enough material to make one flag, but that’s all part of the supe image you know?
Normally I could look at mountains majesty and star-spangled briefs all day. My thing for women who could bench press a car and snap me like a twig had gotten me in trouble more times than I could count. Still, I hate a pushy client. Especially one who wants every detail of how I did my job, after the job was already done.
“Look,” I said, waving a short cigarette as I talked. Supes have their image to maintain, and so does a PI. “You lost it. I found it. You pay me for results, not a play by play.”
Only she hadn’t paid me yet, and that was the only thing that kept me from tossing her out. Well that, and the very real possibility of her throwing me out of my own office. Say through a wall.
“I just want to know who had it is all. Who had the audacity to pilfer from the Dame?”
She tossed her head back and made her voice echo as she said her own name. I guess you don’t fight super villians and pose for the cameras if you don’t have a bit of showmanship in your blood. Me, I prefer to work in the shadows. Publicity makes my line of work harder, not easier.
“Sorry sweetheart, I was real clear. You hired me to get the goods. Not to get between you and some villain.”
The goods in question were in the form of twenty-seven inches of tooled leather, dyed gold and humming with disquieting power. I had the Dame’s magic belt laid out on my desk. I didn’t like touching the thing. You hear all sorts of origin stories about the Dame, and never know which are true and which are just PR flak. That belt though… just carrying it to the office had made me believe half the darker stories.
“You won’t be between me and the vile wrong-doer,” she assured me. “They will not live long enough to do thee any harm.”
“Look, can you tone down the act? I could almost ignore the vile wrong-doer thing, but you start with the thees and thous and a buddy of mine at INS might just have to take a close look at your green card, know what I mean?”
Her eyes narrowed and the belt, a good foot away from her, started to crackle and singe my desk. So I may have pushed things just a bit too far. To cover my nervousness I took a slow drag at the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray right next to her belt. I just ignored the heat from the belt, and the rank smell of the hairs on my knuckles burning away.
“Fine,” she said, sounding pissed but a whole lot more regular. “Just give up the perp. Was it my evil twin?”
“Nope, checked her out first. She’s opening a law practice again.”
“How about Robodame?”
“Half a country away, shooting a commercial for some car dealership.”
“Then surely someone must have slipped in from the Negaworld, or perhaps one of the Forbidden Realms.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, and hastily pulled my fedora down a bit to cover the move. I tried to keep the agitation out of my voice, and I’m sure I failed.
“Please. They’d set off alarms up and down the Eastern Seaboard, and why would they bother raiding your closet? No, and it’s not Dr. Detroit either, or one of your many hanger-ons and stalkers parading around in Halloween costumes. Trust me on this. No one stole your belt!”
“Then where did you find it!?”
Her voice alone caused the frosted glass in my window to melt, and I could smell smoke that pretty much had to be coming from my fedora. I carefully pushed my chair away from the desk, settling back and trying to look as calm and unworried as possible.
“Seven Dragons Laundry,” I said.
She blinked.
“Never heard of it,” she said.
“And I doubt they ever heard of you. At least outside of the news. Like I said, they didn’t steal the belt.”
“Then how did they get it?”
I licked my lips, wondering how far I could push. Then I decided to Hell with it. It was my love of danger and women that got me into this grimy business.
“The butler of a certain nocturnal crusader frequents the Seven Dragons Laundry. One early morning he dropped off his usual load of three-piece suits and Kevlar reinforced cowls, along with a few extra items found no doubt on his master’s bedroom floor. Your belt was among them.”
I couldn’t hide a small smirk.
“Of course,” I continued, “repairs for my window will be included in my expenses, but I think I’ll hold onto the stars and stripes panties until we’ve negotiated a proper confidentiality bonus.”
Damascus Fool 