24 — Working Late
October 24, 1938
Dwight grumbled as he shuffled back up towards the office. The lead in Jersey had been useless on the Hartlepool case, and his call through to his guy in Connecticut revealed little in the way of good news about the whereabouts of either the decamped Mr. Kentish or the secretary Mrs. Kentish was certain had gone along.
The office was locked; Dwight checked his watch. Pauline was probably well home by now.
"Hope I got my damn..." he muttered, slapping his pockets until he felt the exquisite jab of keys into his thigh.
Digging the ring out of his coat, Dwight unlocked the office and slid happily into its familiar confines. He paused near Pauline's desk to see if there were any messages, as well as to grab a sip of water from the fountain. There was one scribbled yellow slip on the desk, a note that Barry had called in from Philadelphia, of all places, with a possible sighting of Kentish.
"Damn," Dwight sighed, then tossed his little paper cup in the waste basket and stepped on through to his own office.
He froze just inside the door, acutely aware of a faint scurry of noise from his private room. Someone in there, sounded like, maybe looking through the extra-confidential files.
Carefully, Dwight reached into his coat and slipped his .44 from its holster. Easing across his office, he narrowly avoided the three squeaky boards just beyond his desk, then stopped short near the door of his room.
For a moment, he thought of giving a warning shout, but if they were armed... Well, he'd hope they weren't armed.
Deep breath. Heave the door open, swing in, gun raised.
There was a frightened shriek and an annoyed grunt, followed by one of the two intruders rolling suddenly out of Dwight's bed and thudding to the floor.
"Boss!" Pauline cried.
"Jesus Christ, Pauline, what the hell... Who's that?"
Dwight trained a finger of his right hand toward the half-clad figure on the floor.
"This is Nunzia," Pauline managed, scrambling out of the bed and helping her shaken and confused lover to stand.
"Damn," Nunzia said, "give a person a warning next time."
Staring at the dark-haired woman, Dwight felt his jaw wobble.
"This... This is Nunzia?"
"Yes. Now, will you for heaven's sake put that damn gun away?"
Automatically, like a chastened child, Dwight holstered his weapon and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"She's... You know who that is, Pauline?"
"Lina knows all about me," Nunzia cut in.
"Me an' my family. You got a problem with that?"
"You... Pauline, what in the hell..."
"She came to fetch me home. You said you wouldn't be back tonight, so we had a quick dinner together in my office and..."
Pauline shrugged, then finished her thought.
"Things got out of hand."
"I'll say they did!" Dwight thundered, and tried not to look square at Pauline.
He'd never seen, nor desired to see, her naked. From what he did glimpse, when she blushed, it was head to toe.
"Look," Nunzia said, "this is my fault. Lina... Well, I like her a lot, and sometimes things..."
"Get outta hand," Dwight concluded.
"I gathered that."
"Boss, I'm awfully sorry. I didn't... I mean, I'd never..."
"I'm gonna leave you two to get dressed," Dwight said, "and then you better head out."
Turning, Dwight closed the door behind him and paced back into the front office. A few minutes later, the young women followed, now properly attired and both looking nervous.
"I changed your sheets," Pauline said.
"Thanks."
Dwight watched as, hand in hand, the two moved to leave the office. Just as Pauline disappeared out the door, he called to her.
"Pauline?"
She looked back at him sheepishly.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Don't be late the tomorrow, ya hear?"
Posted Oct 24, 2019, 7:15 AM UTC · edited