The Fatal Lie: Pt.1 free porn video

The heat was on in the city, and it wasn't just Chicago's sizzling summer. It had been a decade since the Prohibition era had started and as a result, Chicago was a lawless town of corruption and anarchy. Gangsters controlled everything in the city. Only a few months earlier, Al and Bugs had a little Valentine's Day party that had the Feds all over the city like dandelions on a summer lawn. The weather? Yes, the weather was hot too. Records were being set as fast as the Bambino was slugging homers for the Yanks. It was July 1930, in fact the nineteenth, and the mercury read one hundred one outside the window of Cliff's third floor office. Business was slow, but not the ceiling fans that were spinning faster than the wheels on a runaway locomotive.

The office phone rang at precisely 3:06 PM. Cliff noticed the time only as a courtesy to the clock that woke him up six minutes earlier. One ring, twice, three rings and four before the private dick picked up. "Bradley here." It was his secretary, Stella, on the way to the beauty parlor for her third appointment of the week.

"Why the hell aren't ya here, Songbird?" he slurred.

Stella answered with a question of her own, "Why would you expect me at work today?" It was another of Stella's incessant rhetorical questions. She spoke in rhetorical. "It's Saturday, Cliff. You've been drinkin'?"

"Haven't stopped since we were together last night, honey."

"Oh, so it was that bad."

"Not that I can remember."

"You do remember our little romance in my apartment, right?

"Romance? Is that what you call it? How could I forget it, doll? My cock is still raw. You were so fuckin' horny, you nearly put me in the hospital."

"I'm not talkin' about that, Cliff. How'd I sound last night at the club?"

"You know I love your voice as much as your ass, sweetheart. I only stayed for your first set, then took a break and headed upstairs to try my luck at the wheel. Lost a fortune. Ya know, doll, easy come, easy go. Sorry, that I didn't get to hear it all."

She ignored his apology and changed the subject. "Hey, my hair looks like Larry Fine's frizzle. I gotta get it done for tonight's gig. You want me to look good on stage, right?"

Cliff sounded surprised and said, "You on again tonight, babe?" By the way, which of your boyfriends is this Larry Fine?"

"Where have you been, Cliff? He's one of the Three Stooges with the frizzy hair. Stop drinking and take a shower. I need a ride to Kelly's tonight. Pick me up at my apartment at eight thirty sharp."

She had a way with words and when she barked, Cliff listened. Stella continued to bark. "The band starts at nine," she lectured, "and I'm on after their first number. And Cliff, look nice and try to stay sober. I know where you went last night before you took me home, and it wasn't the roulette table. Give Molly's girls upstairs a rest."

Stella was right about not playing roulette, but he wasn't with one of Molly's girls. Cliff was on a bender before shacking up with Stella.

"Okay, Songbird. See ya at nine."

"Eight thirty, Cliff. Be there on time."

Cliff Bradley, PI, had three main passions in life, jazz, booze, and women, but it was women that he couldn't resist the most. Cliff was a serial womanizer. He had spent most of the day sleeping it off trying to sober up from the hangover he cultivated the night before. He felt almost human as he rode the 'L' home that afternoon. He browsed Walter Winchell's column on the train looking for the latest gossip on the Chicago mob. Winchell wrote like he spoke with staccato phrases saying that the Feds were puttin' heat on the Chicago outfit. Winchell went on to write, "No luck with the big guys; only puttin' a few small timers behind bars."

That wasn't news to Cliff. He was on Bobby Farrell's payroll and the mobster had the cops over on Division Street on the take. Bobby was pretty much free to run his speakeasy, numbers racket, strip club and brothel exactly as he wanted. Bobby Farrell was a friendly entrepreneurial type in the city, and got along with most of the big time hoodlums.

He got along with law enforcement too. The cops got their monthly bribe, and the Feds were more interested in bootleggers and the crime outfit than Bobby's small time establishments.

Besides being a small time hood, Bobby was a showman and knew how to market a product, his product. He had a flair for the dramatic by adding excitement at his club. To make things appear more authentic, he put a bouncer behind the door of the speakeasy asking for a password. The patrons liked the cloak and dagger intrigue enjoying the delusion that they were taking a risk in coming to Kelly's Pleasure Palace. It was all a sham because Bobby's establishment was safe from the law.

It was a typical muggy humid summer night in Chicago when Cliff drove his beat-up Hudson coupe to Stella's place. He didn't mind giving her a ride to Kelly's, because she wouldn't expect a lift home. Stella knew Cliff well, maybe too well. She figuring he'd be busy with some dame he collected from the bar. As often happens, she would also be occupied by spending the night in a cheap hotel room with one of the guys in the band.

Months earlier, Stella had spent several nights with the band leader, Lug Malone, when she worked upstairs for Molly. After a few paid encounters in the bordello, Lug gave her the job as his band singer. Stella figured it wasn't her voice he liked. It was her warm tight pussy he wanted for himself. At least that's the way it started until the rest of the band got wind of Stella's non-musical talents. Stella had 'romanced' most of the guys in the band at one time or another, but was partial to the lead trumpet and the tenor sax guy.

Anyway, Cliff's plan that night was to catch a few of Stella's numbers at Bobby's speakeasy, then slip away to Kelly's Pleasure Palace with one of Molly's whores. It was good evening entertainment, and he got an employee discount.

After a fifteen minute drive from Stella's apartment, Cliff parked his car just outside Kelly's, and went inside just as the band assembled on stage. Cliff and Stella didn't go in the door where the customers whisper passwords. Instead, they took the hidden tunnel from the parking lot. The tunnel was intended to be an escape route, but was never needed given the monthly security payments Bobby gave the cops. 

Cliff took a table far away from the stage where he wouldn't be noticed. He ordered a boilermaker and told the waitress, "Honey, be sure it's the good stuff, not the watered down booze Bobby serves in this joint."

She said, "Sure, Cliff. You know I always take care of you." It was true. Bev had taken good care of him several times at Molly's. It wasn't unusual for Molly's girls to double as waitresses at Kelly's speakeasy, especially when business was slow upstairs.

Bev was back with a beer and a shot of bourbon just as the band struck up their first number. As usual, it was "Bobby's Bounce." It was the theme song at Kelly's.

The drums snared, the horns roared, the reeds wailed and the band was swingin' from the downbeat. The beat and the raging sounds didn't stop at the first sixteen bars. Cliff loved the powerful seductive jazz of big band swing. It got his hormones flowing, putting his sex drive in first gear. The piece ended with a thunderous chorus of brass followed by a standing ovation from an ecstatic group of early bird patrons.

Bobby came on stage welcoming everyone and said, "Thank you, everyone. And now ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to our beautiful songstress, Stella!"

Enthusiastic cheers and clapping greeted her entrance on stage. She was dressed in white satin with a rose colored lily in her hair. Stella was a looker, a knockout, and the audience loved her. It really matter to them how she sounded. She just looked great!

Stella smiled and bowed and said, "Thank you. For our first number, we're going to do a new song written by Johnny Green. It's called, 'Body and Soul'. We hope you'll like it."

Cliff wasn't much of a music critic, but he knew what he liked and he loved this new song. It was the kind of song that drove his hormones into romantic overdrive. He figured on waiting until Stella finished her first set, then he would head upstairs to get relief from one of Molly's girls.

But that had to wait.

Stella had just started her second number when a drunk in the front table started yelling, "Sing 'Melancholy Baby' for me, baby," laughing at his own stupid joke. Stella ignored him, so he slurred it again in an even louder voice, "I wanna hear 'Melancholy Baby'."

Stella smiled and said, "Maybe in the second set, sir."

"Come on bitch, sing it now."

Things were getting ugly. Stella looked bewildered and didn't know what to do other than have the band strike up the chords of her next song. That didn't stop the drunk who became more persistently obnoxious.

Bobby slipped over to Cliff's table and said, "Take the guy for a walk and teach him a lesson."

Cliff walked toward the stage and quietly slid along side the drunk. In a low but forceful tone, Cliff asked the man to accompany him outside. The man paid no attention to the invitation until he caught sight of Cliff's .45.

"Okay, okay. I'll quiet down."

Cliff answered by taking his arm and walking him out the back door to the alley. Cliff said in a charming voice, "Now here is something melancholy to remember," and he slugged the guy in the choppers. The drunk fell like a ton of bricks. Cliff turned and walked back inside leaving the goon out cold on the pavement. The fella didn't return.

As soon as Stella finished her first set, Cliff left for a different kind of entertainment. At the top of the stairs, Cliff rang the bell. Molly opened the door and said sounding delighted, "Well it's Clifford. Come on in."

"So it's formal night tonight, Molly?"

"I guess so with you all cleaned up and looking almost handsome. You're not even drunk, yet. Did Stella put you up to the new you?"

Cliff wasn't what you would call handsome, but had rugged features like the young actor John Wayne. He wore a Clark Gable mustache making him irresistible to women. He had another asset that women adored as well. Clifford wasn't shy about accommodating them.

Cliff peeked inside the room that looked a little like a hotel lobby, only the interior decorator was partial to red. He took a quick survey of Molly's stable of girls and said, "Where's Ginger?" Ginger was his favorite.

"She's busy with Gary tonight. That was her screaming when you came in. She sure loves her job."

"Yeah, I know. Who's the young blond dish?"

"That's Trudy. She just came in on the train from Des Moines last night. She's a sweetheart and just turned nineteen."

"Kinda young to be one of your girls, don't ya think?" Cliff offered.

"She's okay. Bobby checked her out and said she's a keeper. Cliff, if you use her, be nice. She's a little scared."

Giving Molly a wink, he said, "Aren't I always nice to your ladies?"

"One more thing, Cliff," Molly warned, "Don't set your sights on takin' her away like you did with Stella."

"Hey, Stella has done alright for herself."

"Right, for herself, yes, but not for my business. She was a real cash cow for me."

Cliff smiled, then stepped slowly toward the girls with each of them offering their services, each using their seductively practiced voices. They all knew him except for the new girl, and he knew them. Reaching out with a hand as if asking her for a dance, he said to the new girl, "How ya doin'? I'm Cliff."

The girl, who was young enough to be his daughter, understood it was her queue to join him and took his hand.

"Where we headed?" Cliff asked.

In a shy and soft voice she said, "Rhapsody room."

Cliff's impression was that she had just graduated from high school. That might have been because she was dressed more like a schoolgirl than a prostitute.

Inside the room, she began undressing. Cliff said, "Wait, let's get acquainted." He had found getting to know a girl gave him more personalized service. He asked, "What's your name darlin'?"

Almost inaudibly she said, "Trudy."

"How old are you, kid?"

"I turned nineteen last week."

"You're very cute, Trudy." He was right. She was adorable with childish features. Cliff especially liked her pigtails with a tiny pink bow on each end. "What made you come to Chicago?" he asked.

Feeling a little more relaxed, she spoke up saying, "Well my boyfriend suggested it, in a way. Tony was my first boyfriend. I started having sex with him at sixteen. He was my first. Tony was eighteen, and he had already graduated. Anyway, when I graduated a couple of years later, Tony said we could make a lot of money in this business. So I went along with it. It didn't quite work out that way. I fucked a lot of his friends, but he took most of the money, saying he was saving it for our honeymoon."

"So why come to the Windy City?"

"Well, this wasn't my first choice. When I found out that Tony used the money to buy himself a car and nice clothes, I just wanted to get away from him. So I took a train to Cedar Rapids. I couldn't find a job there. I needed money and went to bed with a couple of guys just to earn enough to eat. One of them suggested I go to Chicago. He said I could earn real money in a place like this. The guy was connected, and called Molly asking her to take me in."

Cliff asked, "Have you had a customer here yet?"

"I've only been here for a day, but Bobby took me for what he called a test drive."

Cliff's curiosity got to him and asked, "Did he pay or was it a free one?"

"He paid and it was twice what I got in Des Moines. Bobby is a very nice man."

"How about if I pay what Bobby gave you? If you are really good, maybe I can add a few extra bucks as a tip."

"What would you like me to do for you, Cliff?"

Now Trudy was sounding more like a whore, not the schoolgirl type she first appeared to be.

"Let's see what you look like under that schoolgirl outfit."

Trudy knew how to tease a man and make him suffer with anticipation. She slowly and deliberately removed her blouse, then her skirt leaving on a bra, panties and shoes. Turning away from him, she removed her bra, then turned back still covering her breasts. Giving a tantalizing smile, she dropped the garment and put her hands on her hips."

"Do you like them?" looking down at her boobs.

"Yes, very nice."

Cliff was surprised at the look of her nearly naked body. He had imagined her breasts to be small and perky. Instead they were well developed and mature. There was little not to like.

She sat on the bed and motioned for him to join her. "You want to touch them, don't you? All the boys want to feel my tits."

Cliff felt much older than his thirty-eight years when she said, "boys." He was no boy, but had the same inclination. For a brief moment, he felt like a kid in the candy store about to put his hands in the peppermint jar. He didn't touch them. He ravaged them at first with his fertile imagination.

Trudy wasn't idle. She knew her job and unzipped his pants. Her fingers found their way inside the opening.

"Oh Cliff, you are so big and hard. Let me see it," she squealed in her girlish voice.

He decided it was the young girl squeal that her male clientele would love as she pulled his cock out from his bulging briefs. No doubt she had perfected the girlish voice in Des Moines. Anyway, she was right about him being hard and there was never a doubt about his size. He had the nickname of "The Bull" among Molly's girls. After all, he had sampled all of their charms over the years.

Catching sight of his erection, she said, "Oh my, Cliff, you really are big. I don't think it's going to fit inside me." she said massaging his lengthy pole.

"Oh honey, it always has." The tip of his penis was already oozing a prodigious amount of manly lube as he stroked her full firm breasts.

But something was wrong this time, very wrong. He was about to fuck a child, at least, a girl barely nineteen was a child in his mind.

Cliff abruptly stood up, tucked in his shirt and zipped his fly saying, "I gotta get a stiff drink, honey." He left the room wishing she was more like Molly's other girls, older and detached. Before leaving, Cliff threw a sawbuck on the bed and said, "Baby, you're in the wrong profession."

Molly saw him leave and observed, "That was quick. Short hitter tonight? You're usually around here until sunrise." What's wrong Cliff?

"Nothin'. You're right, Molly. She's a sweetheart," and he headed downstairs to try his luck at Bobby's casino.

Most of the night Cliff played cards at the table where he occasionally dealt blackjack. Dealing was a favor to Bobby when the casino was short of help. The cards were stacked against him this night. Aces and face cards were hard to come by except when going bust. Cliff packed it in early.

Still thinking about Trudy on his way home, Cliff decided he was too solicitous. Beneath his rough demeanor, he was actually a very sensitive creature. On the other hand, he loved women and fucking Trudy would be a special treat. He hadn't screwed anyone that young since high school. Cliff made a mental note to have a do-over with Trudy.

Sunday morning, Cliff cooled off with a cold shower, then made a few phone calls. There was something about Trudy's story that didn't quite fit. He needed to check it out.

Cliff didn't consider himself to be much of a baseball fan, but with another day predicted to be a scorcher, he decided to get some fresh air and take the 'L' to Comiskey Park. The White Sox were playing a Sunday double header with Boston, so it seemed like a good way to spend the day. His idea was to sit in the shaded grandstands, hope for a few breezes off the lake, and find a beer vendor that came by early and often.

It worked out better than expected. The Pale Hose swept the double header trouncing Boston in the first game and holding on to win the second. Cliff also found a friendly and obliging beer vendor. Only the lake breezes didn't cooperate. It was a very humid nine-nine degrees on the Southside, and nothing could keep Cliff from sweating out the beer as fast as he drank it.

Showers and a break in the heat wave were predicted for Monday. He didn't head for the office until one in the afternoon. Business was slow, so there was no need to check in earlier. After dodging raindrops from a steady rain, he walked up three flights of stairs happy for the break in the weather.

Upstairs, Cliff reached into his pocket to unlock the door where his name was freshly stenciled on the glass panel. It had been painted there a week earlier to make his office appear more professional. It read, "Clifford Bradley, Private Investigator." A light visible through the glass suggested someone was inside. His first instinct was to reach for his revolver. He wasn't packing it. Absent mindedly, he had left it in the office before leaving for the ballpark the day before. Carefully, Cliff opened the door. He was relieved to see Stella sitting in front of her Underwood in the outer office.

Cliff greeted Stella as always. "How's my songbird today?"

She responded with her usual rhetorical question, "What brings you in so early?" Stella emphasized the word 'early' dripping with sarcasm.

"Okay, enough of the sarcasm, doll. Any calls?"

"Yeah. Your landlord says you're two months behind on your rent and the DA wants to interview you about that little dustup at the club Saturday night. Apparently you picked the wrong guy. The fella you slugged was the district attorney's brother-in-law."

"Shit! Okay, now give me the bad news?" smiling at his ironic joke.

"There's a young girl in your office."

"Who?"

"I'm not sure, but I think I've seen her before."

"Is she a looker?"

"Very." Stella paused then said, "But she's a little young for you. She's been waiting a couple of hours, Cliff."

Cliff threw open the door in his inner office and saw a girl seated with her back to him in front of his desk. As he hung his rain soaked fedora on the hat tree just inside the door, she turned to look at him. It was Trudy. She wore high heals and a short purple dress with a plunging neckline that showed more than a little cleavage. She was there to seduce.

"How's business, kid?" he asked.

"Slow, very slow. It's too hot, Mr. Bradley, and don't call me a kid. I told you I'm nineteen."

"First, cutie, you are not nineteen. You just turned seventeen and your name is not Trudy. It's Marjorie Olsen."

Surprised, she said, "How did you know that?"

"That's my job, kid."

"You're a spy," she countered without hiding her annoyance.

"Nope, just a PI checkin' around for the truth. Go back to Des Moines and finish school, sweetheart."

"I can't," she said with tears rolling down her cheeks.

Crying chicks was Cliff's nightmare. He never knew how to handle them. He lit a cigarette from a pack of Chesterfield and offered her one. She nervously accepted.

"Have a light?" she sobbed.

Cliff flicked his Zippo and reached over the desk. She moved forward just far enough to get the cigarette lit. He watched as Trudy took her first few puffs. She tried her best to give him the sexy appearance of movies star like Carole Lombard. He decided she had a long way to go before matching their sultry looks.

Taking a flask from the bottom desk drawer, he unscrewed the lid and took a sip. Then he turned to Trudy. "So what you doin' here, kid? Did Molly throw you out for bein' underage?"

Taking nervous puffs on her cigarette, Trudy said, "She doesn't know my real age and please, Mr. Bradley, don't tell her. I need the job."

This time Cliff guzzled a more generous drink from the flask and asked, "Why can't you go back to Iowa?"

"Mr. Bradley, I'm in trouble."

"That kind of trouble can be fixed."

"I don't mean that. I'm not pregnant. I'm always careful about that."

"Then what kind of trouble?"

"Big trouble. A couple of gangsters are looking for me. Mr. Bradley, I didn't tell you the whole story the other night at Molly's."

"You mean you didn't tell me the truth?"

"Well, some of it is the truth." Trudy looked down for a moment, then said, "You already figured out I didn't finish school. The thing is, I started turning tricks for my boyfriend, Tony, in my junior year, just like I told you. The money was okay and he talked me into quieting school and doing it full time.

"Tony promised we'd go to California on our honeymoon, and we'd get in the movies. He said he was saving the money I earned, and we would go west once we had enough. It sounded so exciting, so I went along with it. But as you know, he spent it all on himself."

"Yeah, so?"

"I found out from a buddy of his that Tony was runnin' numbers for the mob. I didn't care as long as long as it would help us get to California. What I didn't know was that Tony was skimming money off the top. The mob found out and put a contract out on him. Tony blew town in a hurry.

I didn't know he was skimmin', but the outfit thinks I knew and was part of it. A couple of hit men were askin' around for Tony and me back in Des Moines. I don't know where he went, but they think I do. They also think I know where their money is stashed. Anyway, I thought a smaller town like Cedar Rapids would be safe, so I skipped town and headed there."

"So Cedar Rapids wasn't safe?" Cliff inquired.

"It was for awhile. One of the guys I was with in Cedar Rapids turned out to be a small time hoodlum from Des Moines. When he got back into town, he bragged about screwing a teenager in Cedar Rapids by the name of Trudy. The news got around, so I decided to come here. I figured I could get lost in a big city like Chicago, and they wouldn't find me."

"So, you figured it would be safer here in Chicago?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Now it depends on you, Mr. Bradley. It depends if you are willing to help me."

"So you figured wrong. What did you think I could do?"

"Find Tony and make him give back the money."

"That might not be easy, making him return the money, that is."

"Maybe you can just find him, and let the Iowa outfit do the rest."

"You mean you want me to find him so the mob can bump him off?"

"Kinda like that, yeah."

"Okay, but I get a hundred a day plus expenses."

"I can't afford that much."

"Looks like you'll have to find him yourself."

"I've tried that. Now I'm here to get your help. Maybe we can exchange our services."

"Hmmm, sounds interesting, but with that arrangement it might take me a very long time to catch up with Tony." Cliff thought his comment was funny and laughed. She didn't. Cliff figured she didn't get the joke.

"Please, Mr. Bradley, I can't do it alone. Look, I'll give you a blowjob right now as a good faith payment." At that, she slowly spread her legs so Cliff couldn't avoid a tantalizing view of her thighs and long sensual legs.

Cliff really could use her offer. He badly needed a woman's touch. It had been a couple of days since he had felt the comfort of a woman's pussy. Yet, the age factor was a lot for him to overcome. The guilt of taking advantage of a young girl chafed at his conscientiousness. Of course, she was seventeen and not really a child, but she was a child in his eyes.

Looking more like a slut, Trudy gave Cliff her best salacious gin, and opened her legs wide enough to reveal her lightly trimmed pussy.

His balls began to ache. His loins were bursting with lust at the sight of her tender genitalia. And Cliff's resistance was low. He succumbed to her charms and pulled down his trousers welcoming her attention.

She moved toward his desk and knelt beside him. Trudy knew exactly how to handle the situation. Her hand caressed his balls as she licked the full length of his shaft. She took her time at the round bulb at the end of his throbbing erection before finally taking him into her mouth.

While she was slurping on his cock, he took a gulp from the flask, then a few puffs from the stub of his Chesterfield. Leaning back on his chair, Trudy continued to pleasure him. She was good, very good. Cliff was amazed at how good she was at only seventeen. Any guilt he might have harbored, had totally vanished.

"Mr Bradley," she whispered, "do you want me to swallow when you cum?"

It was another rhetorical question like Stella's. All he could do was nod his approval. That's when he exploded with a mammoth load down her throat.

Trudy stood up and licked her lips. "Gee, Mr. Bradley, that was fun. Now can you help me?"

Out of breath, Cliff said, "Let me look into it. I'll get back to you tomorrow."

"Thank you, Mr. Bradley," and she gave him a peck on the cheek before leaving. "I'll give you the retainer when you find Tony."

"I'm lookin' forward to it," Cliff responded. "One more thing, Kitten. What's Tony's moniker?"

"It's Tony Rossaleno. He's Italian."

"I might have guessed."

As he watched her walk through the door swinging her tiny ass back and forth, he almost called her back to demand an immediate retainer. Instead, he took another slug from the flask and followed her to the door.

"Songbird, get me Bobby on the phone. We need to straighten things out."

"Sure lover boy. How was she?"

"She's a client," Cliff said contemptuously. He turned and gave Stella the bird.

Once Stella reached Farrell, the two men discussed the Saturday night incident and how the DA was puttin' heat on Cliff. Bobby was getting heat too.

"Look, don't worry about it, Cliff. I'll take care of it. The DA wouldn't be too happy if it got out that he's been spendin' time with a teenager at Molly's."

Cliff asked, "Do you know a guy by the name of Tony Rossaleno?

"Rossaleno, Rossaleno, it rings a bell. Isn't he the small time hood in Iowa?"

"That's the guy. Do you know where he is?"

"I'll ask around. If I find out anything, I'll give you a ring. What's he done?"

"Nothin' I give a damn about, but one of my clients needs to know."

"Okay, I'll keep in touch."

Cliff was at his office desk at ten the next morning. It was early for Bradley and Stella wasn't in yet. He figured she was seeing her hairdresser again. That wasn't the case, at least in the morning. Stella came in a few minutes later. As always, she combed her hair and checked her makeup as the first order of business. Satisfied, she was at her desk at ten fifteen.

A little past ten thirty, the phone rang. She answered with the standard business greeting, "Clifford Bradley, Private Investigator. How may we help you?" Stella listened for the answer, put the phone down, then called to her boss, "Cliff, Mr. Farrell is on the line."

Cliff picked up his phone. "Bradley here," answering in his familiar way.

He heard Farrell say, "Yeah, Cliff, the boys talked to the DA, and he better understands the situation now."

"Thanks, Bobby. I owe ya one."

"Well, maybe you can with this Rossaleno character. Apparently the Des Moines outfit has a contract out on him for skimmin' the take. He also walked off with a bundle from one of their biggest games. They want him more than you. There might be some dough in it for you. They're payin' good money on that contract."

"Where's he at?" Cliff asked.

"They aren't sure. They twisted some arms out in Iowa. One of Rossaleno's acquaintances thought he might have headed to Nevada. A guy who is connected saw him gettin' on a westbound train a week or ten days ago."

"What the hell is in Nevada besides desert and snakes."

"Funny Cliff. A snake like Rossaleno would fit in perfectly in the Nevada desert. Anyway, apparently Rossaleno got wind of a big project out there and figured on settin' up some recreation for the construction workers. The Mafia already has a head start in Nevada with the gambling, but that wouldn't stop Rossaleno. If the gaming racket doesn't work out for him, he could be pimping dames like he was doing in Iowa. The place is gonna be loaded with guys lookin' for gambling joints and hookers. It's beginnin' to look a lot like the gold rush of forty-nine to me."

"Okay, thanks Bobby. That gives me a start. I'll be goin' out there for the next few weeks. If I find out anything, I'll give you a call."

"By the way, Cliff. They don't want you to put the big hurt on him. Just get the weasel back to Des Moines. He's just small potatoes to them, and they don't pay for stiffs. Gettin' their money back is what they want, and they can't afford to have a small punk like Rossaleno get away with it. After that, they'll take care of him, their way. Ya understand?"

"Sure. I'll be in touch."

It was Tuesday night when Cliff stopped to see Molly upstairs at Kelly's. He wanted to let Trudy know that he was leaving town and had a tip on Tony's whereabouts.

"Molly, I need to see Trudy."

"She ain't here, Cliff. I ain't seen her since a couple of thugs came lookin' for her yesterday. Is she in trouble?"

"Maybe. Do ya know where she's stayin'?"

"Not sure. Check over on Oak Street. I heard a young girl is hookin' over there. If it's her, she's finished here."

Cliff respected Molly for her honesty and thought she was a classy lady always protecting her girls like they were her own daughters. But Molly had no patience for her girls moonlighting.

"Ya want a quickie, Cliff? Ginger's available. No discounts today but quickies are on sale."

"Which room?"

"The Concerto."

"Thanks," and Cliff ambled into the room with Ginger fixing her hair wearing a sheer teddy top with a garter belt and mesh stockings.

"Hello Cliff. Long time no see."

"Hey Ginger, I've only got a short time. I can't stay the night this time."

"That's okay. Drop your pants, and I'll take care of you faster than a short order cook at the diner."

Ginger was a pro and flopped herself on the bed spreading her legs waiting for Cliff to jump on board. Her legs were high over his head as he plowed into her warm juicy cunt. He pumped her like the handle on an outdoor water hydrant. He wasn't in a hurry. Ginger moved around so he could take her in different positions. She had been in the business for nearly a half dozen years, the last few with Molly. She was the consummate whore knowing exactly what men liked.

Ginger was almost thirty and despite being in the business for several years, she was still able to enjoy her customers with frequent orgasms. Most prostitutes had to fake it. Ginger didn't.

She also knew what men liked to hear. She pleaded him to fuck her harder. Ginger purred how big and manly he was, and that his cock made her insides tingle. She said dirty words and moaned and urged him to spill his balls inside her.

Cliff had been plugging her for a only a short time by his standards, maybe a quarter of an hour, when he released a blast of hot sticky fluid into Ginger's cum hole. Like always he waited until every last drop had been squeezed out of his pecker before pulling out. It took him another twenty minutes to recover before leaving.

With a sly grin, she said, "You know, Cliff, quickies are on sale tonight for a sawbuck. You can leave the tenner with Madame Molly. I trust her, but tips are still in season."

"Of course, doll. You're still the best," and handed her a fin.

Cliff stopped for a drink with Molly before he prowled the neighborhoods asking people on Oak Street if they had seen a homeless teenager. No one had seen her, but sometimes serendipity works better than careful detective work. She found him.

Cliff had stopped for a beer in the back room at the 'Flower Shop' on the corner of Oak and Dearborn. He was trying to clear his mind and think of where Trudy might be hidin' out. On his third beer, he was still mulling over some ideas when a hand lightly touched his shoulder. The female voice said, "Heard you're lookin' for me."

Cliff whirled around on the bar stool and was face to face with Trudy.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked.

"Cliff, let's take a booth over there so we can talk." It was no longer Mr. Bradley. They were now on more familiar terms. She pointed to a dimly lit booth in an isolated corner of the room.

"Want something to drink?" Cliff asked.

"Sure, gin and tonic with a twist." All of a sudden, Trudy sounded so much older and worldly. Something had changed.

Cliff asked, "Where d'ya spend the night? Molly was worried."

"I slept at the Renalto Theater. Guess what? They were showing a gangster movie with Claudette Colbert .

"What's it called?"

" 'The Hole in the Wall'. It was good, but I'm not here to talk about movies. Look, I came to your office yesterday because a couple of gorillas came looking for me at Molly's."

"I heard," Cliff responded.

"They scared me half to death and Molly was great. She told them she didn't know me. Molly said you could help and drove me to your office. After we had our little, ah, 'talk', I've been hiding out ever since. I was actually headed back to your office today when I heard you were in the neighborhood. Did you find out anything about Tony?"

"Yeah, that's why I was lookin' for you. kid. I got a lead, but I need to check it out. They say he might be in Nevada where they're building a big dam. There's a town nearby called Las Vegas where they're setting up casinos and brothels. Apparently, Tony sees an opportunity that's far away from the Iowa boys."

"Oh, Cliff, that's so much like Tony. He never passes up an opportunity he didn't like."

"Okay, stay out of sight. I'm leavin' tomorrow for Nevada to see if I can get this guy to show his face. Meanwhile, I want you to hang out with Stella until this thing blows over."

He went to the phone booth to clear it with Stella. Cliff gave the operator Stella's number and after a half dozen rings, she picked up. Three minutes of sweet talkin' and an offer to take her to dinner persuaded Stella to accept a roommate.

With Trudy under wraps at Stella's, Cliff left for Nevada early the next day. Although getting an early start was a novelty for him, Cliff knew he needed to be on the road at daybreak. Nevada was another world away and an endless drive from Chicago. He jumped on Route 66 and headed for St. Louis. By noon, Cliff had crossed the Mississippi. Six hours later he landed in a dusty mining town called Joplin, where he stopped to look around. 

TO BE CONTINUED