Ruby Glass

by Devon Greene

It was a dame. It always was. Lana Turner look-alike. I lived in the apartment across the hall. Someone heard fighting, called the cops. Lt. Joseph Zierofsky was there within minutes with the whole team.

I studied the blonde dish sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. Bruised face. Her eyes stared at the ceiling. Even in death she deserved a second look. In life, she got third or fourth looks. Stunning was a word I'd heard used.

I looked at Moe's eyes as they handcuffed him. Blood streamed down his face. She must have got in a few licks before he konked her. When he caught my eye, he wore an expression that seemed like he was saying, "Sorry to disappoint you, pal. Guess I'm not as good a guy as you thought." Then they escorted him out of the apartment and down the stairs.

I told him to stay away from her. Dames like that always seek out the Moes of the world the way cats chase bugs. He was no match for her. I'd never seen a guy fall so hard.

A bracelet in her hand glittered in the soft light of the lamp. Sparkled like rubies and gold from here. I stepped closer to take a better look. Seemed more like red glass and brass from that angle. Up close, nothing much looks good. I saw the gift box lying beside her other hand. And the hammer.

Lt. Joe approached me shaking his head. "You his friend?"

"Nah. I knew him but can't say we're friends."

"Can you think of any motive?"

"Yeah, love."

The lieutenant laughed. He was a good cop and the only one I still liked after all my years on the force. I worked occasionally as a PI now. Less money, less politics.

"Ain't love grand?" He sighed and bent down to examine the jewelry in her hand.

A uniformed officer came down the hallway from the bedroom, "Hey, Lieutenant, you gotta see something back here."

Lt. Joe tossed a tired glance at me as he stood up and trudged down the hall like a condemned man. I remember him when he walked erect with the grace of a lion, eager to examine everything at a scene, eyes filled with the confidence that he could solve everything. Now, at fifty, I knew he just thought of his pension, and how much longer he had to do this gig, just like I had. Too bad. He was good at his job.

He disappeared around the corner of the bedroom door and, ten seconds later, I heard a loud, "Oh, shit!" from him.

I took one more glance at the blonde dish and headed toward the bedroom. When I entered they were both staring into the closet. Her clothes were pushed aside and sunken down in the corner was Brandon . Blood smeared all over his face. Looked like multiple blows to his head - maybe with the same hammer.

Lt. Joe sighed and said, "Looks like I'm not getting home for dinner tonight either. Sheila'll be pissed . . . as usual." He went to the phone to call his wife and tell her the good news.

The uniform laughed and said, "This'll be an all-nighter, for sure." Then he returned to the living room to tell the photographer to snap shots of two beautiful people who usually took great pictures but who had looked much better alive.

When Joe got off the phone, he gave me a beseeching look. "What do you think happened here, Bob? Any idea on motive?"

"Well, it's just a guess. Moe told me earlier he was leaving town tonight, taking the last train to Boston , and she was going with him. Said Brandon wouldn't get in their way anymore. He musta come back earlier than she expected. Gave her the bracelet. She musta laughed at his cheap gift like she always did. Her type expects real rubies, I guess. "

I couldn't help thinking, if only the poor sap had gotten on that last train out. He coulda had a new life in Boston . Why did he have to come back?

I liked Moe. He was a nice guy. A sucker but a nice guy. Putty in her hands. I shoulda warned him she wasn't on the level, but how do you break a nice guy's heart by telling him he's being played by some blonde? I leave the precision work like that to the real experts - women. They're better at it.

"Can you ID them?" Lt. Joe asked me. "Bob? Can you ID them?"

"Huh? Oh, sure. The blonde is Mona Morse. He's Brandon Wilson." I was lost in my own thoughts.

"Good looking couple. Were they seeing each other?"

"Yeah. Off and on maybe a year. I've seen him in and out of here for that long. Said she met him at a bar. Only he made it clear to her he was on the prowl and always would be. I guess she accepted it. Wouldn't think she'd have to with her looks, huh? Can't figure that."

"Nah. She coulda had anyone. Why put up with that?" Joe shook his head.

"Guess he treated her the way she treated Moe. And she got hooked on him. Just like Moe was hooked on her. Maybe she got Moe to ice him for her. Promised to leave town with him. He believed her. After he did the deed, she changed her mind and attacked Moe. He hit her the deadly blow before he passed out. That's how I see it anyways."

He shrugged. "Doesn't make sense does it, what some guys do for dames?"

I shook my head and stared out the window at the blinking neon sign, with one letter missing, over the door of the corner bar.

"That'll help cut down the paperwork. Pretty cut and dry, I guess."

"Yeah, cut and dry." I ran my hand through my hair a couple of times. It was hot in the little apartment.

I walked back to the living room and the lieutenant followed me.

I asked him, "Did you get anything out of Moe?"

"Not yet, she musta hit him pretty hard. Seems he came to just before we got here. Doesn't remember hitting her or the guy. He's too groggy. Dame with a hammer is as dangerous as one with a gun. Guess she didn't have time to poison him." He laughed at his little joke. I smiled to keep him company.

I took one last look at the blonde, but I wanted to remember her alive. Laughing. Moving. Curvy. Bright dresses, elegant hair-dos, sparkling eyes. I'd never see her again. Didn't want her dead eyes to be my last image of her.

The lieutenant wrapped it up about an hour later and everyone left. I went back to my own apartment and dressed. My bags were already in the car, and now I had Moe's train ticket in my pocket. New life for me instead of him. Why'd he have to come back?

She begged me to kill Brandon for her. Said he deserved it. Said she'd do anything I wanted if I'd do it. I was just lonely enough to believe her. Not many broads out there who want an ex-cop living on a pension and occasional PI jobs. So I agreed to do it if she'd run away with me afterwards. We could drive to Mexico . Start over together. She smiled that dimpled smile that always melted me. Much as I hate to admit being so stupid, I'd have done whatever she wanted that night. She played me like Heifetz played his violin. A real artist.

But then she laughed at me when I gave her the bracelet. Said she only wore the real stuff. An old guy like me should save his money for retirement. That's when the jerk knocked on the door. She handed me the hammer and turned out the light. I could see her shape in the darkness walking toward the bedroom.

Brandon finally opened the door with his own key just as she turned on the light in the bedroom. The light illuminated him so I could see him clearly. I waited for him to close the door and head down the hallway toward Mona.

When he got to the bedroom door she was spread across the bed in a provocative pose mewing like a cat in heat. He never knew I was there.

I waited for him to pull his jacket half-way off, then let him have it with all the strength an "old man" could muster. He fell to his knees - dazed. I hit him again and again until he didn't move anymore. Then I looked up at her, splattered with his blood on her dress and the bed.

Fear disfigures even the loveliest face. She couldn't move or scream. Suddenly, she appeared much older in the dim light. I guess she never expected to feel terror.

I suddenly realized what I'd done and why. It was the why that embarrassed me the most. Was she really worth it?

That's when she reached for the phone, but I blocked her. I grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the bed. She tugged and twisted away, running toward the living room. I caught up with her before she could open the door. When she started to scream, I hit her once with the hammer. She fell to the floor. I couldn't tell if she was dead or unconscious so I felt for a pulse. It was weak, but I could feel it. So I hit her in the temple as hard as I could. No more pulse.

I shoved Brandon 's body into the closet. Then I wiped my prints off everything I had touched. I put the hammer in her hands to make sure her prints would be on it. And at that moment, someone else knocked on the door.

My heart skipped a beat. The door wasn't locked, and I didn't know who would walk through it. I turned off the light, pulled out my handkerchief to wrap around the hammer, and waited for the door to open. In came Moe.

This guy had to have the worst luck of any sucker I'd ever known, and I'd known plenty. Why didn't he catch that damn train like he planned? As soon as he walked in, before he even turned on the light, I smashed him with the hammer. Not enough to kill him - just knock him out. He fell like a sack of flour. I put his prints on the jewelry box and the bracelet then placed the hammer in his hands instead of Mona's. When he woke up his whole life would change.

I returned to my apartment. It was perfect. Moe caught them together. Looked like he went berserk and killed Brandon . Then she hit him, but he was able to kill her before he passed out. When he came to, he probably wouldn't remember a thing. I couldn't have planned it better myself.

Let him take the rap. Guys like Moe take the rap all their lives. Don't know why. Law of the jungle, maybe. Everyone knew he was stuck on her. Just a nice little guy in love with the wrong dame. It's always like that. I felt sorry for him, but I didn't intend to do time for this. Ex-cops don't do well in jail either.

She'd made a fool of me, too. Called me old, a has-been, a never-was. Had a mean mouth in that nice package. Moe was still young. When he got out he'd still be young enough to start over. Me, I couldn't start over again. Didn't have the time or the means. So it came down to him or me. Easiest choice in the world.

I arranged them in a believable position. I'd investigated scenes like this myself a million times so I knew what to do.

When I spotted the train ticket in Moe's pocket, I took it, figuring Boston was as good as Mexico for now. I'd tell everyone I had a job offer. After I changed clothes, I went to the corner drugstore to make an anonymous call to the cops from the pay phone. Then I went home, showered, opened a beer, turned on the radio and waited for the cops to come.