Stuart Kaminsky - Dancing in the Dark

I woke up with Dash sleeping on my chest, my tongue twice its normal size, and my behind still screaming.

The next day, Friday, I took the pillow from my sofa, the one that had “God Bless Us Every One” sewn in red on it, placed it on the seat of my Crosley, and found that I could drive with less discomfort than I had the day before. With Shelly, Pook Hurawitz, and Jerry Rogasinian as backup, I returned to the Monticello Hotel for a final try at convincing Luna Martin that Fred Astaire wasn’t coming, not ever.

As it turned out, it wasn’t necessary to convince her.

I stood in the middle of the finely polished white floor and placed Pook behind me on the left and Jerry on the right, after paying them both up front and assuring them that there was no danger.

While we waited, Jerry reminded me that he had been trained in Shakespeare in Fort Worth, and I was suitably impressed. Pook said he had an audition in Culver City for a Roy Rogers movie at one.

Lou Canton shuffled in a few minutes after us, carrying a small metal toolbox in one hand and a folder of sheet music under the other arm.

“Lou,” I said. “I told you I’d call if I needed you.”

Lou continued toward the bandstand.

“You said today. I’m here today. You pay today.”

He began setting up and I decided to deal with Lou later.

Another five minutes and Shelly showed up. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, adjusting his glasses and stumbling toward me.

He was wearing denim pants, a blue work shirt, and a brown leather flight jacket that was at least a size too small for him. It was Shelly’s tough-guy attitude. When he was close enough to see Pook and Jerry, Shelly stopped cold.

“Are these?. .” he whispered to me so that his voice echoed through the room.

“No, this is Pook and Jerry. They’re with us.”

Jerry shook his head in disbelief. Pook gave me a what’s-he-playing-comic-relief? look.

“Shelly’s the perfect decoy,” I said to Pook and Jerry. “They see us and we’re just what they expected. They see Shelly and they get scared. He must be something special. Nothing else explains his being with us.”

“Thanks, Toby. Great teeth,” Shelly said, admiring the actors. “Who’re we?. .”

“Woman named Luna Martin and a man named Arthur Forbes,” I said, watching the doors. “Stand over there, Shel.”

I pointed in the general direction of the bandstand, where Lou had the top of the piano open again. “They didn’t fix it,” he groaned. “How can I play on this? You want rinky-dinky ragtime, I’ll give it, but forget quality here.” He stood up, toolbox in his hands, and headed for the door. “I’ll be back,” he said. “I’ll fix it myself and charge you.”

I didn’t try to stop him.

Shelly set himself up in front of the bandstand and turned, looking out at us with his best scowl. He pulled a fresh cigar from his jacket pocket and put it into the corner of his mouth. He was doing his Al Capone, but it was coming out as a nearsighted Lou Costello. Then it hit him.

“Arthur For-Fingers Intaglia? The one who cut Stew Edelstein’s fingers off and fed them to his German shepherds?”

“He wasn’t convicted,” I said. “Wasn’t even charged for that.”

“Because Stew put his hands through the opening of his steering wheel, started the car with his teeth, and headed for Key West,” Shelly said, looking at Jerry and Pook, his face in putty panic.

From the hallway beyond the closed doors, we suddenly heard the sounds of an argument-a woman’s shrill voice, but no words.

I looked at Pook and Jerry. They were character actors, but not in Thomas Mitchell’s salary category. They were looking scared and starting to wonder if they both had immediate auditions at Republic.

“Toby,” Pook said after exchanging a meaningful look with Jerry. “You didn’t tell us. .”

“Look,” Shelly broke in, stepping off the bandstand. “I just recalled. I’ve got a patient waiting. .”

It was then that the double doors of the ballroom flew open and Luna Martin in white silk dress swept in, her hair wild, her eyes wide, her breasts heaving. She looked at us and came straight for me, swaying, heels clacking-showing me, I thought, that she had indeed learned the fox-trot. I didn’t notice the blood on her neck till she stood before us, held out both hands, and melted to the floor, her dress clinging, her hair billowing out on the marble. It was an entrance worthy of applause but nobody clapped. I moved to Luna’s side.

“Who did this?” I asked, kneeling.

She looked up at me, pointed at Shelly, and closed her eyes forever.

“Hey,” said Shelly, hurrying toward us, “I didn’t kill her. Never saw her before this second.”

“She dead?” asked Jerry, moving toward me.

I nodded.

“A looker,” said Jerry.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Pook said, holding up two hands palm-down to keep the situation calm.

“Maybe I looked like someone else to her,” Shelly pleaded.

“Nobody else looks like you, Shel,” I said.

I got up and was about to tell them that we didn’t have much choice, that we’d have to call the police. Pook took a couple of steps toward the kitchen door. It opened and Kudlap Singh filled the doorway. Our eyes met. I automatically put both hands on my tuchis. I looked toward the double doors through which Luna had staggered. Arthur Forbes stood there, looking first at me and then at the fallen Luna. His face showed nothing as he walked slowly forward, glared at me for an instant, and glanced down at Luna.

“She’s dead,” I said.

“That I can see,” Forbes said. “I know a dead person when I see one.”

His face didn’t change, but his eyes were moist. He knelt at Luna’s side and touched her hair and her cheek, let out a deep sigh, and stood facing me.

“You are dead,” he said, waving his arm in a gesture that took in me, Jerry, and Pook.

“We didn’t kill her, Forbes,” I said. “She walked in and fell right there a few seconds before you walked in.”

“I said,” Forbes repeated. “You are dead.”

“Hey,” said Pook, stepping forward. “We’re just actors. Peters hired us to come in and play tough guys.”

“That’s right,” said Jerry. “Did you see May Time ? I was one of the Indians.”

“Right,” said Pook. “And when she came in she said the fat guy killed her.”

He nodded at Shelly.

“He’s right,” Jerry agreed.

Shelly was too scared to speak, but his glasses were starting to slip down his nose the way they did when he had a particularly reluctant tooth in his pliers.

“Forbes,” I said. “She walked in right in front of you. How could any of us?. .”

“He here with you?” Forbes said, nodding at Shelly, who plunged his hands in his pockets to protect his fingers.

“Yes,” I said.

“No,” Pook stepped in helpfully. “He came late, just before the lady.”

Shelly’s mouth was open. He had lost his cigar. His brow was wet and he was shaking his head no and looking to me for salvation.

“Got it,” Lou Canton called from the door.

Forbes turned his eyes to me. They were very gray, very cold eyes.

“That’s two bucks extra for repairs,” Lou said, moving past us without noticing Luna’s body in the middle of the floor. “Plus it cost me two bucks plus to take a Red-Top cab here from Glendale.”

“You weren’t supposed to come today, Lou,” I reminded him.

Lou glanced at the trembling Shelly and said, “You teach her to dance and you can keep my pay.”

Lou was back working on the piano when he finally took a good look in our direction and saw the bloody Luna on the floor. He calmly began to collect his music and put it back in his portfolio.