Private investigator Max Sterling examines a bloodstained manila envelope beneath a rain-soaked alley streetlamp.

Some secrets are worth more than a man's life.

Paper Trail

Written by Don Blinebry | Noir and Nonsense Originals

Synopsis

A man dies in a rain-soaked alley. The only thing left behind is a bloodstained manila envelope. As private investigator Max Moxie follows the trail hidden inside its pages, he uncovers a conspiracy that reaches all the way to crime boss Ludlow—and discovers why someone was willing to kill to keep its secrets buried.

A complete detective story you can read in one sitting.

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Louie had said seven o’clock. It was well after eight. I thumbed the hammer of the Smith & Wesson and eased it onto an empty chamber. That was something I did subconsciously when I was bored or edgy or just mulling things over.

From my vantage point in the alley, I watched a car turn at the corner, its headlights reflecting off the barrel. Just a tool of the trade, I thought, slipping the .38 into my pocket.

An ancient Toyota pulled to the curb under a malfunctioning street lamp and chugged to a stop. The streetlight blinked a welcome, flickered and went dark again. A ferret-faced man with weasel-gray eyes and a rumpled suit slid from the driver’s seat and stepped into the shadows.

“You’re late, Louie. This better be worth my time.”

“Jeez, Max, I had to make sure I wasn’t followed.” Louie cast a furtive glance over his shoulder at the empty street and pushed further into the shadows. “It wouldn’t do me any good if people knew I was talkin’ to you. I ain’t exactly makin’ anybody’s top ten these days. You’re takin’ a helluva chance with this stuff.”

Louie slips into a dark alley carrying a manila envelope as Max Moxie waits in the shadows.

“I can handle the fat man.”

“Yeah, maybe the great Max Moxie can, but if Ludlow gets his hands on me… .”

“He’ll crucify you, Louie.” I finished the sentence and watched him shudder. “He’ll stick you on a cross and drive the nails himself and don’t think for a minute that he won’t. What made you think you could get away with blackmailing Ludlow anyway?”

“Aw, Christ, it wasn’t blackmail. It was a one-shot deal. I had something he wanted. I just needed one big score and me and Angelina could move away and start over.”

“You had something he wanted because you stole it from him.”

“That’s what I do. You know me, Max. I steal things for a living. Ludlow should be happy for the chance to get it back. It’s not like I put it out there for the highest bidder.”

“You’re not looking at it from the fat man’s perspective, Louie. If he lets you get away with this, then every hotshot and hustler in three counties is going to try to follow your lead. On the other hand, if he snuffs you, he sends the message that not playing nice has serious health consequences.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t hangin’ around waitin’ for my health to deteriorate. Angelina has a cousin in Des Moines. We’re going to stay with her for a couple of weeks.”

Louie speaks with Max Moxie in a deserted alley, explaining how he came into possession of the manila envelope.

“Getting out of town isn’t a bad idea.” I was absent-mindedly thumbing the hammer of the .38 again. “I wouldn’t count on coming back though, leastwise, not any time soon.”

“Hey, that’s a nice piece,” Louie reached for the weapon. “Can I try. . . .”

My reaction was instinctive. Pulling away from Louie’s grasp was enough to coax the hair-trigger into releasing the hammer on a loaded chamber. The muzzle flash lit the alleyway like a road flare and the stray bullet ricocheted through the concrete canyons.

“Whoa, Max, that’s some muzzle flash.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Louie? Never touch the hardware. Never. Ever.”

“Um, sure Max, whatever you say. Y’know, when this is all over, maybe you should think about taking some time off. Get a little rest. See a shrink. That kind of stuff.”

“It’s never over, Louie and that’s the problem. You said you had information. . . .”

“Oh, yeah.” Louie refocused on the purpose of the meeting and produced a manila envelope from an inside pocket of his jacket. “These are the papers I took from Ludlow’s office. They ain’t worth dying for, but it’s enough to put him away for about a thousand years.”

Louie lit a smoke while I checked the contents of the envelope. Names, dates, amounts. There was plenty, alright—enough to kill for.

“It’s all there. I ain’t holdin’ back nothin’. You said if I gave you the stuff, you could give me some money so me an’ Angelina could get to… .”

A car had rounded the corner and a burst of automatic gunfire interrupted Louie in mid-sentence. A mixture of blood and air foamed at the corner of his mouth and his sightless eyes no longer blinked. I stepped out of the shadows as Louie fell forward.

Louie bounced once off the concrete and came to rest. I was on the sidewalk, emptying the .38 in the direction of the fleeing sedan. The muzzle flashes nearly blinded me in the darkened street. The car was gone.

I looked at Louie’s lifeless form lying face down in a pool of blood, steam rising into the cool evening air from the gaping wounds.

“Tough luck, kid.” I reloaded. “Somebody will find you before morning. In the meantime, you’ve given me enough information to bring Ludlow down and this time, I’ll bring him down hard. You done good, Louie. I’ll make sure I tell Angelina you done good.”

Max Moxie displays several shell casings while seeking the gunshop owner's help identifying the ammunition used in the alley shooting.

I drove across town keeping an eye on the rearview mirror. I wanted Angelina to hear the news about Louie from me, but first, I had a score to settle and the sooner it was done, the better. I parked on a side street off East Pine and walked back to the sporting goods store.

The sign on the shop entrance announced they weren’t open for business, but I pounded on the door until Emile’s muffled voice could be heard pleading for patience. “Alright. Alright. Don’t break my door. Who is it?”

“Max.”

“Oh, Max. Max, wait a moment,” The click of the latch and the rattle of a chain preceded the door swinging in on its hinges. “Usually, you call. What can…”

One hard push interrupted Emile’s question and sent him sprawling across the room. I stepped inside and slammed the door. “What are you trying to do, Emile, get me killed?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Max?”

“Muzzle flash,” I said, throwing a handful of cartridges at the still-cowering gunsmith. “I’ve got enough muzzle flash to weld two Buicks together. Maybe you ought to provide sunglasses with this load.”

“Hell.”

“Hell ain’t the half of it. These things gave away my position tonight and got one of my informants killed.”

“Max, I’m sorry. I… . I… .”

“You’ve been loading my ammo for years. You know it needs a fast-burning powder. What happened? You ran out of the fast burn and gave me the regular target load instead?”

“Well, Max, you go through so much ammunition. Sometimes it’s hard to keep up with you. Really, I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I noticed. Careful I don’t use you for a target.”

“Don’t say that, Max. You know you don’t mean that. I’ll make up new ammunition for you. Go in the kitchen. My daughter is back with me now. She’ll make you something to eat.”

Zoe recognizes Max Moxie at the gunshop and reacts with surprise after unexpectedly seeing him there.

“Zoe? Back?”

Emile nodded and picked up the scattered shell casings. “I kept telling her ‘call Max,’ but she didn’t want to. Go. Go. I’ll get a new batch for you.”

I walked through the shop and into the living quarters behind it. The girl looked up at the sound of footfalls. “Max?” Her hand at her throat.

“Hello, Zoe.”

“I wasn’t expecting you, Max. You always call.”

“Just happened to be in the neighborhood. I didn’t know you were back.”

“I got back yesterday.”

“Visiting?”

“No, for good. Do you realize you didn’t call me once the whole time I was gone?”

“I meant to, Zoe. I’ve been busy. You know how it is.”

“I know when we started going out, you’d call me every night. Sometimes the phone would be ringing before I even walked in the door.”

“That seems like a long time ago.”

“I guess it was. I remember before we were dating, Papa would say ‘Max called. Put on something nice and maybe he’ll notice you.’ I would always run and put on something nice. I guess this will have to do tonight.” She tugged at the over-sized sweatshirt and pajama bottoms I’d found her in.

“You look fine.” Zoe was the kind of girl who could walk into a room full of blind men and turn heads. Her shoulder length black hair framing the almost-too-small face and the perfectly chiseled features was an image not easily forgotten. She didn’t favor her father, so either her mother had been beautiful or the gods of chance drew three and came up aces. “And I would have noticed anyway.”

Zoe smiled, but the silent pause lengthened until the strain in our relationship became an unwelcome interloper. Zoe spoke first.

“A drink, Max. Would you like me to make you a drink?”

“You could dirty up a martini. I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“A martini sounds delicious. I think I’ll join you.”

“Two olives, if you don’t mind. I’m trying to get more green vegetables in my diet.”

“I remember how you like things.” She turned toward the kitchen. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been a year.” I was mumbling to an empty room. Now she was back. Now she would be a distraction, although she was never very far from my thoughts. I saw her every time I closed my eyes and her absence had done nothing to change that.

I pulled Louie’s envelope from my pocket and checked the contents again. The information was damning. Payroll alone would end a couple of dozen careers. I’d have to thank Ludlow for this paper trail to the Federal Pen. I licked the envelope closed and scrawled the D.A.’s address across the front. No return.

“Sanatos.”

We drank and once again, the silence became uncomfortable. “Aren’t your west coast friends going to be upset with you for deserting them?”

“Hardly. They’re too busy looking in the mirror to miss me.” A shadow of sadness crossed Zoe’s face. “It will take them a week to realize I’m gone and another week to forget I was ever there.”

“Nice friends. So, what was the matter with L.A.?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Lots of things. Did you know the ocean is on the wrong side out there?”

“I’ve heard.”

“I could never get properly oriented. I guess it just wasn’t New England. What’s the envelope for, Max?”

Max Moxie hands the manila envelope to Zoe after asking her to keep it safe.

“For you. If you don’t hear from me in twenty-four hours, put a stamp on it and then maybe give the west coast another… .”

“I’ve got a hundred rounds for you, Max,” Emile said, entering the room and placing a small duffle bag on the coffee table. “I’ll have more for you on Friday.”

“Papa, your nose.” Zoe noticed the tape that covered his swollen proboscis.

“It is nothing, Liebchen. I walked into a door. You know how clumsy I am sometimes.

“Oh, Papa, let me get you something.”

“No, no, I’m fine. I’ll just get some sleep,” Emile said, heading up the stairs. “Goodnight, Liebling. Goodnight, Max”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

“Perhaps I should be running along as well.”

“Not you too. Is my company that bad?”

“Hardly.” I saw her look of disapproval, but there was too much to be done before morning. It was time to go. “Thanks for dinner, Zoe. You always were a good little cook.”

“You could stay, Max.”

“Not tonight, Sugar, I’m on a case.”

“You’re always on a case.”

“There’s lots of bad guys.” I ignored her admonishing tone. “I’m just trying to get the worst of the cockroaches off the street.”

“I know, but that doesn’t leave time for us.”

“There used to be an ‘us.’ I didn’t know there still was.” I hefted the duffle bag. “Thank your father for the bug spray. Tell him I’ll be back for more.”

“When am I going to see you again, Max?” Zoe followed me through the shop.

“Soon, Sugar, soon. G’night, Zoe.”

“Be careful out there, Max.”

——

Louie’s apartment was across town in a neighborhood called South End. I wanted Angelina to hear about Louie from me, not the eleven o’clock news. I should have been thinking about what I wanted to say, but instead, I found myself wondering about the oddity of their relationship.

They’d only started dating recently. From the couple of times I’d met her, the girl was out of his league. I never said so though. Louie was all in, and besides, what the hell did I know? I’d screwed up every relationship I’d ever been in. Zoe was only the latest example.

Angelina stands in her kitchen holding a wooden spoon, pausing as she looks toward the window, lost in thought.

Angelina was different from the people Louie normally hung out with. Better educated. More sophisticated. She seemed to genuinely care about him. Made sure he ate. Wore better clothes. It was those unapplauded things that told the truth.

I parked in front of the red brick three-story affair that Louie called home. There was no elevator and no security. The central staircase was accessed from the front and staircases at either end of the building emptied into the parking lot in back.

The first two levels were a cacophony of loud music, crying babies and the echo of bad choices. The third floor was a little quieter. The dimly lit corridor that led to Louie’s apartment was an obstacle course of children’s toys and stacks of boxes from someone moving in or out.

Before I rang the bell, I listened. The sound of muffled voices told me Angelina had company. I backed down the hallway and ducked behind some boxes just as the door opened.

“If Louie’s dead, I’m not going to stay here and do nothing.” The woman's voice conveyed no emotion.

“Going off and doing something crazy won’t help, Angelina. I’m only suggesting you give it a couple of days and see what plays out.” The man’s voice was flat, matter-of-fact.

“Make sure the door is locked.”

“It’s locked. It’s locked. Two days. Are you listening… ?” The voices faded as they headed down the stairwell to the parking area.

Marble fragments and drifting raven feathers surround the shattered bust of Pallas in the quiet aftermath of gunfire inside a detective's office.

“Here’s something else you don’t know. The Harbor Patrol boys pulled a woman’s body from the bay this morning. Beaten beyond recognition, but you forgot about the tattoo, didn’t you? It won’t take the ME long to figure that out. I’ve made arrangements for the DA to find the diary as well. You won’t look very stylish in peels and patakis, but there you have it. Unless I miss my guess, twenty-five to life on the low side would . . . .”

“Nevermore! Nevermore!” The bird reached under his wing.

I was quicker.

The sound of a .38 in a closed room is disturbingly loud. Feathers and plaster flew everywhere. I’d have to add the cost of another bust of Pallas to Ed’s bill but that was okay. He could afford it.

It was late and the liquor stores had shuttered for the night. I picked up my fedora and dusted it off. The sun had long since set, but at least the bars in Tinsel Town never closed.