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My face was getting to be too well-known to pass unnoticed in many parts and, if I was going to make any headway on the two cases, I needed to be in several places at once. I decided to employ a couple of other professionals; good though Gumshoe was, he wasn't going to be much help down here in the Lower Realms. To that end, I was currently hanging out in a bar in one of the better class of downtown hotels, toying with a small bar snack and a large Scotch, and waiting for the ladies to arrive. A few quiet enquiries on street corners had led me to this joint; apparently the ladies I sought would come in here maybe four nights in seven. I was hoping my luck held this evening. Using the mirror behind the bar, I kept half an eye on the guys - they were mostly male - who started appearing in the room. Most were part of two or three groups which rapidly got louder and drunker as more individuals joined the party, then the whole group would peel away, off to a restaurant or some other entertainment. The remaining few sat quietly, nursing expensive drinks and toying with Club Sandwiches, generally reading magazines or typed documents that practically had Important Work written on them in large letters. I was three-quarters of the way down my over-priced and bland whiskey when the ladies I sought arrived. The noisy parties had long since departed, and the quiet room collectively held its breath as the two pretty females made their entrance. Grinning, I turned around on the bar stool and waved unsubtly for them to join me. It was a pity to spoil the drama of their entrance, but needs must. "Good evening, girls," I said cheerily as they approached, "Buy you ladies a drink?" Arlie and Lorny were definitely professionals, yes, but not detectives; the ladies were both long-standing members of the oldest profession of all. They had no other names that I knew or they would admit to - not that it really mattered who they really were, as far as I was concerned. Their professional rates are probably higher than mine, on a daily basis at least, but both of them owed me a favour, after a case I worked on years ago seemed to lead to them being implicated in a grisly murder. They were innocent - of the murder, at least - and I got them off without unnecessary entanglements with the police. "Findo Gask," Arlie said, her hands firmly on her hips, "Turns up like a bad penny. I knew life had been too good to me recently." "Now, now, ladies," I admonished, a wry smile cracking my features as I looked them up and down, "That's not very friendly, is it? No way to greet an old friend, a guy who needs to call in a favour." "Huh," Lorny responded, "Now he wants something." Arlie wore a low-cut crimson top which exposed a considerable amount of décolletage and was barely held in place by thin shoulder straps, set off with a black leather miniskirt and teeteringly high-heeled boots, also black. Lorny had eschewed the subtle approach of her friend altogether and was clad in an eye-wateringly tight cat-suit in some shimmering blue and exceptionally elastic material which left even the most casual observer in no doubt exactly where all her curves were. Lorny turned to the bartender, who had approached with professional efficiency. "Champagne," she said firmly, to Arlie's evident approval. Then she turned to me. "Then, Mister Findo Gask, you can tell us all about your little problems." Were they trustworthy? Almost certainly not, at least, not entirely. But the offer of a small payment in advance and the promise of more money would ensure their cooperation, and all for a little meeting and greeting, a little careful observation, with their clothes on, and not even having to bed anybody at the end of the evening.
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Part 42