A Young PI in 1946

(A/N: For this thread I wanted to experiment with writing a noir style crime story, just with a lesbian private investigator instead of the usual grizzled male cop. If things seem off and not totally historically accurate.... just imagine it's an alternate timeline or something)

I wiped away the condensation from the mirror and saw myself. I wasn't much of a looker (ironic considering my profession), yet I somehow managed to keep some of the gal's who's G. I. Joes had been shipped off happy.

My name is Dorothy Gallagher. I have a very simple job. I make sure that anyone who's being unfaithful gets what's coming to them, make sure scumbags don't turn this Hellhole into an even worse one and occasionally I'll find a missing person, whether they want me to or not.

I'm a private investigator. A dick, if you will. And yes, I do see the irony of it. I do what the usual Micks and Ginos down in the precinct can't and won't do.

My most common catch would be the husband unhappy about his marriage, but too ashamed or just too damned lazy to do anything about it other than sleep with some sleezy street walker, but whenever he slips up I'm there with my film to catch him in the act.

But my favorite catch off the clock would be like I mentioned, the gal who gets curious and lonely while her man is an ocean away fighting them damn Natzis and I'm right here.

I dried my firey red hair, put on my dark suit, lit up a cigarette then I went out to the dusky Boston streets on this chilly November night. Most folks get a bit of a shock whenever they see that the Detective Gallagher on the door is actually a five foot three leggy Irish lass with a bit of a drinking problem, but not the most recent woman.

My latest case was from a broad who's husband went missing a few days prior. Seemed like a clear case of a man just out looking for some floosies, but she insisted that wasn't like him, something else must have happened. I exhale smoke into the already foggy air.

If I had a dollar for every time a little Suzy Homemaker said her husband "wasn't like that" I wouldn't need to have this job.

I poured a small glass of the whiskey I keep and offered it to her, which she turned down. I couldn't help myself but to stare at her chest as she went on about her missing man.

Truth be told, I sorta hope the man is cheating. The dame looked mighty nice leaving my office.