“Soft spot. It’ll probably be the death of me one of these days.”
“Well luckily today wasn’t the day.” Frankie gave me one of those calculating looks of his. “So through all of this did you have any… breakthroughs with your memory? Anything come back to you about your missing past?”
“Nope. Why would it?”
“Just a theory, Mick. I figured that you lost your memory in an obvious moment of extreme trauma. So if you experienced another type of extreme trauma like say the murder of your only friends, then you might possibly get your memory back. Or at least parts of it.”
“What? How would you be able to prove something like that unless…?”
“Like I said, Mick. Just a theory. Obviously an incorrect one at that. I offer you my congratulations. Stop by the Gaiden sometime. Your drinks are on my tab.”
He winked and signed off, leaving me with a few alarming thoughts that I didn’t wanna give credit to. There was no way Frankie could have been involved. He was just a stoolie. Just a nightclub crooner with an ear to the wind. Manipulating an entire murderous scheme just to jolt my memory was way beyond his means. He didn’t have the means or motive to orchestrate a high stakes grift like that.
It just wasn’t possible.
“Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Desiree was one of those dames that you see in advertisements or on the picture screen. She had one of those flawless faces that you never expect to see in real life, and a taut, curvy figure that turned heads from men and women alike. With looks like that I’d figure a dame could go anywhere she pleased with some rich chump bent over her wrist and worshipping the ground she walked on.
But Desiree was a working girl. Specifically at La Lupanar, where I’d gotten to know her quite well in the months after waking up on the riverbank. Something went wrong on her way to furs and feathers, something tragic that she hid behind her perfect features and night-colored eyes. Beauty can attract in various ways, and if a dame isn’t aware of that early on, a lot of men will take possession of all that beauty and grind out everything innocent and decent about a lady before dumping her in their past.
“I’ve been busy, sweetheart. I’m sure you barely noticed I was gone.”
“I noticed.” Her eyes glanced downward to hide her sudden vulnerability. “I… heard that you brought a girl here. You coming back for her?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I guess I won’t be seeing you anymore.” Her eyes met mine, searing with scorn and tiny slivers of regret. You’d thought I’d have learned by then, but somehow I always managed to hurt a moll even when I went out of my way to keep things as detached as possible.
But she was right. I’d changed somehow. Natasha had crept up on me and invaded the walls of my solitude. Even though I knew that I could never have her, she was still that jewel that shined in the darkness somewhere, safe so long as I never touched it.
“I guess so. I’m sorry, doll.”
Desiree tossed her head back. “For what? It was only business, right Mick? Just a transaction to you.”
“Desiree.” Madam Esmeralda’s face was stern as she looked from the doorway of the private quarters. Desiree’s face flushed, and she turned away without another word. I watched her go. It was like watching a dream fade away in the sunlight.
“You must excuse her.” Esmeralda gestured for me to follow her. “Being devoid of attached feelings is the hardest thing for women in this profession to master.”
“I don’t blame her. I understand how she must feel.”
“Do you? It appears to me that you do not understand, or you would never habit a place such as this. You think that you’re paying for the company of a lady. The reality is that you pay for the opportunity to leave. No fuss, no emotional mess to trouble your already calloused conscience.”
I winced. “You must think of men like me as the lowest of the low.”
Esmeralda’s eyebrows rose. “You nearly set this city on fire to avenge a friend and protect a woman that you care about, Mr. Trubble. So what does that say about you?”
“That it’s safer not to get on my bad side.”
“Or that there is more to you than you allow yourself to believe.” Esmeralda studied my face. “You are dangerous, Mr. Trubble. Dangerous and complicated. But at the same time you live by a personal code of honor. Your heart is not yet so cold that you do not care about others. That’s hard to find in a city like this, so far be it for me to judge you. We all have virtue and vice in our character. The degree to which we indulge either makes us who we are.”
We stopped at the end of the hallway. Esmeralda gestured at the door. “Your lady friend is inside. She hasn’t spoken about the incident since you left. I don’t know what she remembers about it. But I do know that it has damaged her deeply, and I am not sure if she will ever be as you knew her before.”
I nodded. “Takes time. Maybe she’ll come around.” I placed my hand on the doorknob.
Esmeralda stepped closer. “You know that you can never have her so long as your life remains as it is, Mr. Trubble. She doesn’t need to experience any more pain than she has already endured.”
“I know. She won’t get any grief from me, I promise.”
Esmeralda tilted her head and studied my face. “What will you do?”
“Whatever I can. Thanks for looking out for her. I owe you one.”
“See that she is cared for and you owe me nothing. Farewell, Mr. Trubble.” Her hair and the tiny fringes on her dress sashayed in time with her swaying strides as she sauntered back down the hallway.
I opened the door and stepped inside. Natasha had all the lights at their brightest. She sat in a chair in front of a painting canvas that someone had set up on a stand for her. She had changed into a dress obviously loaned to her from one of the working girls. Meant to be seductive and enticing, on Natasha it was almost innocent with the exposure of her pale legs and bare shoulders. Her eyes were lost, her fingers on their own as they applied broad strokes of paint to the abstract work of angry blacks and reds.
She spoke without looking up from her work. “Case closed, Mick Trubble?”
I exhaled a sigh as I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her. It was a relief to hear her voice. To know that she wasn’t so far gone as I had feared.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Case closed.” I paused, because I didn’t know what to tell her. She was safe, and the people responsible were taken care of, but that couldn’t heal the scars that would be forever branded on her consciousness.
“I’m glad it’s over. It’s been awful lonely over here. Are you taking me back home soon?” Her voice was distracted as she determinably focused on the painting.
“I don’t know, Natasha. I’m not sure that home will be good for you right now.”
“I know I won’t be going back to the apartment. It’s… ruined.” Her paintbrush flicked red spatters across the darkened surface of the canvas. “But I can move into another apartment, Mick Trubble. The one across from yours is vacant.”
She never mentioned her parents. It was as though the Red-Eyed Killer had erased them from Natasha’s memory.
“Not fair.” I removed my Bogart and scrubbed my fingers through my hair. “It’s just not fair. I’m sorry, Natasha. I’m so sorry…”
I remembered the way Mrs. Luzzatti’s eyes would light up as she laughed at something that Luzzatti said. The quiet moments that Luzzatti and I spent on his terrace outside, drinking and watching the air traffic go by. The inquisitiveness of a young lady just blooming into the woman that she’d become. All of that taken away… by what? Greed and bad business.
I winced and massaged my temples with my hand.