The Detective and the Dame

The chair creaked under my weight as I leaned back. The dim light from the streets illuminated my office, the fan spun slowly. This was one of those slow moments between jobs. I enjoyed it, the peace between the storms...

Click, click, click, click, click...

I looked up at the sound of clicking heels. Even through the door, I could hear it clearly. I reached to the desk and grabbed a revolver - Smith & Wesson Triple Lock. I made sure it was loaded and put it in a holster under my shoulder.

Better be prepared, after all, you never know...

The door opened and I was greeted by the sight of one hell of a dame.

She walked with grace as if she owed the place. The way she moved, woke up the fire in my guts and a a drolling tenager. I quickly squashed those fillings. It would only bring trouble.

“Private detective Boyd?“ She asked and that voice made the hairs on my neck stand.

“Yes...“ I answered simply, my voice hoarse.

“I need your help.“ She said.

Business then. It was somewhat disappointing that she did not come here for me...

“Please sit down, Mrs?“ I pointed at the chair.

“Hale. Miss Laura Hale.“ She sat on the chair in front of my desk and took out a cigarette. I took out a match and lighted it, bringing it closer to her cigarette. The light from the match allowed me to get a better look at her face.

God, she was beautiful.

I sat down and lighted my own cigar. I took a moment to collect myself, before finally looking at her.

“How can I help you, Miss Hale.“ I asked.

“Are you familiar with the Silk Butcher?“ her voice was intense.

“Who isn't?” I shrugged. The entire city was talking about the mad killer. “He is attributed to killing eight women. He usually aims at elegant dames, good-looking ones, wearing elegant clothes, middle to rich class, beautiful ones...” I summed up. There was also a reason he was called a butcher, but I decided against going deeper into that.

“I witnessed him killing his ninth victim.” I froze at her statement and snapped to look at her. There was a ninth? I narrowed my eyes.

“Why not go to the police?” I asked the obvious question.

“Because I recognized him. The Silk Butcher is a policeman.” I opened my mouth, but she continued. “It's Detective Graham.”

“Ahh...” I nodded with understanding. A cousin of the senator. That was troublesome. “What do you expect me to do?” I asked as I leaned back in my chair.

“I want you to investigate him and gather enough evidence, that even without my statement, his guilt would be unquestioned.” She explained.

That, was a good plan... but, going against a policeman and a senator...

“This will not be cheap.” I looked at her sharply and she nodded.

“Don't worry detective. I can afford your services...” She reached into her handbag and took out an envelope. I took a look at the banknotes that were inside... it was more than enough. “-and throw a little extra.” she said as she reached down and pulled her dress a little up, just enough to show the straps and lace of her stockings.

I will admit it, the doll knew how to play her cards... and I was all too willing to let myself be played.

“You will need to hide until I finish my investigation. There is a place where you should be safe...”

…

The raindrops drummed on the roof of my car. I observed the house Miss Hale was hiding in, a small house in the middle of nowhere. I was tempted to light up a cigar, but I knew better than to make such a basic mistake. I wrapped my coat tighter as the night was cold.

It was on nights like this, that everyone would prefer to sit home by the fireplace, not caring what was going on outside. On nights like this, no one heard your screams.

Graham, was a detective, a damn good one at that. If the doll saw him, then I was sure that he knew of her as well. He probably let her go, to play around chasing her, enjoying her fear. Graham was screwed like that.

If I thought correctly, this would be the night.

I opened a bottle of whiskey and took a swing, a wave of warm washed away the cold. I looked at the building and narrowed my eyes. Something was... different. I could not tell what and was tempted to ignore it due to the rain... but the little voice in my head was whispering to me that this was it... and after years in the police, I learned to listen to it.

I got out into heavy rain, and in a moment I was soaking. I made my way to the building. The windows were covered and I could not make out what was going on inside. I could vaguely make out gramophone playing. Cursing quietly I looked around – there. A hatch to the cellar.

I opened it and quietly slid inside. As I closed the hatch behind me the music became more prominent. Jazz. As I made it deeper into the cellar, I realised that the floor was not placed well. I could make out rays of light here and there and-!

There!

I made it to the place where shadows moved. Now I could make out sounds... moans, clicking of heels. I looked up.

There they were – Dame Hale stripped to her stockings, heels and jewellery, hands cuffed behind her back... and beside her Graham. She was moaning as he toyed with her, trying to pleasure him as well, to his amusement. It would buy here a few moments, maybe hours... but I could easily recognize what Graham had intended to do to the doll. I knew that spark in his eyes quite well.

I took out my revolver and aimed. Slowly, very slowly, I pulled the hammer.

Click.

Graham froze. Somehow, he heard... no, his instincts screamed. Too late.

I pulled the trigger.

“Ahh!” He screamed as a bullet ripped his thigh. He fell on the floor, holding his wounded leg. The doll screamed as she fell on the floor. I aimed where Graham fell and pulled the trigger. Then again, again, again, again.

As I started walking upstairs, I reloaded the revolver.

Graham was still alive, blood purring from his leg, chest and neck. He was holding his neck, trying to stop the bleeding his other hand in his jacket. His eyes widened as he saw me.

“B-boyd-”

I aimed at his head and pulled the trigger. His body jumped then stopped moving. His hand slid from his chest, the revolver clanking on the floor.

I pulled back the hammer and holstered my weapon. I turned to Dame Hale, who visibly relaxed at my sight.

“Don't worry. This copycat of Silk Butcher will not threaten you anymore.” I said as I approached her.

“Thank you.” She said as she sighed with relief.

I walked up to her, my eyes landing on various whips, ropes, knives and other tools that Graham laid out on the table. This was an impressive collection.

I helped Miss Hale to sit and she looked at me with fire in her eyes, her nipples hard, her breathing quickened... I could smell her excitement. I leaned forward and kissed her, I could feel her eagerness and lust in how her tongue moved in my mouth. The Jazz trumpet played slowly in the background. We parted our lips and looked at each other hungrily.

She licked her lips and smiled... then frowned.

“Wait, what do you mean Silk Butcher's copy... cat...” I smiled as her eyes filled with realisation. Her breathing quickened as she looked up at me with new feelings.

“I-” I put a finger on her lips, silencing her. I slowly moved my finger over her lips...

“Hush.” As the rain intensified the Jazz trumpeter started a new song.