Edgar & Shamus Go Golden: Twelve Tales of Murder, Mystery, and Master Detection from the Golden Age of Mystery and Beyond (2022) by Gay Toltl Kinman; Andrew McAleer (Eds)

Author:Gay Toltl Kinman; Andrew McAleer (Eds) [McAleer, Gay Toltl Kinman; Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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No Place for a Dame

Lori Armstrong

September 1942

Minneapolis, Minnesota

When he sauntered into the Marlow Detective Agency, I knew he’d be trouble.

Trouble with a capital T—T for Tyrone Power. This guy, sporting slicked-back hair, a tight-lipped smile, and haunted eyes, was a dead ringer for my cinematic crush.

God, but I’d mooned over that man. I’d seen The Mark of Zorro and Jesse James so many times my friends had teasingly called me Mrs. Power.

When I became Mrs. Marlow, my Power crush remained, even after my weekly Saturday matinees ended. I still resented my husband for taking that simple joy from me.

Trouble pointedly cleared his throat.

My gaze caught his as I lifted a stack of papers, realigning the edges with a snap snap on the wooden desktop. “You lost? The Barton Talent Agency is on the second floor.”

“If only I had some talent besides being mistaken for a famous Hollywood film star.”

Add charmingly self-deprecating to his list of attributes? Oh he was trouble, all right.

He ambled closer; his gait smooth enough I barely noticed the cane gripped in his right hand. “But I believe I’m in the right place. I’m looking for Dennis Marlow.”

You’re not the only one, pal. I hadn’t seen my husband for two weeks.

While Dennis regularly skipped out on me for some big “job,” he’d never been gone this long. Since he had a habit of making enemies more often than friends, I had good reason to be wary of this guy, not knowing which category he fit into. I opened the side drawer on my desk to file the papers in my hand, double-checking that my H&R top break revolver was within grabbing distance. Someone had broken into the office two nights ago. Nothing had been taken, but all the files had been tossed around like confetti.

“What does your business with him pertain to?”

“I’d like to hire him.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Marlow is unavailable. He’s already on a case.”

His gaze flicked to the closed door behind me. The opaque glass revealed a silhouette of a desk and an empty coat rack. “Do you know when he’ll return? I need to speak with him. Quite urgently.” Then he glanced at me again.

Good Lord. Even his eyes held the same smolder as his famous doppelganger. “Mr. Marlow’s schedule is unpredictable. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Blast it, that doesn’t help me at all.” He gestured to the chair in front of my desk. “Mind if I sit? Hoofing it up six flights of stairs with this cane was a chore.”

“Be my guest.”

He lowered himself into the chair, taking a moment to prop his ornately carved cane against the desk and adjust the cuffs of his shirt, the cufflinks glimmering gold against his wrist. Then he straightened his silk tie, drawing my focus to his long fingers, pale and smooth. Definitely not the rough mitts of a working man. The diamond inset into the gold band encircling his fourth finger flashed when he rested his left hand on an upholstered armchair.

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