How Gaily We Kill

HOW GAILY WE KILL

PERLEY J.THIBODEAU

DEDICATED

TO

THE LATE

W. CATHERINE KOCH

Mrs. Murray Lebowitz

1915-2010

STILL MISSING YOU

PERLEY

U.S. Copyright © 2012

Perley J. Thibodeau

Tales of Mystery Publications

All rights reserved.

The following is fiction based on many instances of fact.

HOW GAILY WE KILL

CHAPTER 1

CRUISING WITH YOU

It’s a festively decorated New York City sight seeing boat that a gala New Year’s Eve party is being held on. The party is well attended by both well to do looking tourists, and many, like LuLu and Detective Bill Halloran, who live in Manhattan but have chosen this way of ushering in the New Year, as opposed to yet another planned, and carefully staged party in the ballroom at the Waldorf.

LuLu notices that billionaire show business entrepreneur Ronald Harriman’s young gay and handsome boyfriend is in attendance, and he’s accompanied by Darla DeLong, the newest girl to be getting the build up from the movie studio that Ronald owns and carefully manages.

He’s the young actor who played the stable boy who wore white jockey shorts in Mabel’s completely rewritten for the screen book called, Passion Under Southern Skies. LuLu further informs Bill. He’s now the new heart throb of millions of movie going fans, and the not too secret lover of billionaire Ronald Harriman, himself."

Yes, I see that young couple. Bill Halloran agrees, when LuLu points them out to him from across the crowded room. I recognize his outstanding all American boy type features, but the sight of the girl he’s with just doesn’t seem to be recognized by my slightly drink addled brain."

She’s the newest discovery for Ronald Harriman’s new movie company. LuLu immediately clues him in to that fact.

I like the black hair, but the shade is much too deadly black to look real. Bill says, with professional police detection. The gown is expensive, but the wig could stand for a vast improvement.

That’s the whole purpose for it. LuLu says, knowingly.

I don’t quite understand what you mean, Bill protests, lightly. "If she’s being groomed for so called stardom by a major film studio, then I should think they would want her looking her best at all times.

And she does, Bill. LuLu assures him. Believe me she does.

Well, now that you mention it, he concedes. I have seen pictures of her in the Daily News. And if one can pull one’s gaze way up from her barely there g string of a bathing suit it shows that she’s really quite blonde on the top of her head, also.

Publicity! LuLu says, succinctly.

Oh, I realize that’s what the pasties and dental floss size swim panties are for. Unless, of course she always goes to a nude beach.

That could be true, too. LuLu now concedes. But can’t you in your detective’s analytic mind fathom what she is doing here at an open to the ticket buying public commercial New Year’s Eve Party with a handsome and well known actor, he in a black tie, and her in a fairly cheap looking black wig disguise?

No, Bill says, bluntly. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you to explain the mystery of it all to me, LuLu. He raises his voice to be heard over a brief roar of unknown approval emanating from the surrounding crowd.

She’s in disguise so people will recognize her, obviously.

I can’t say as I understand. He claims, slightly baffled.

Don’t you see, she asks, patiently. He looks as he always does, and that makes him easily recognized to any members of the news media who might be present. However, her having her looks temporarily altered makes it look as if she doesn’t want people to know who she is.

And? Bill asks, blankly.

That will pique people’s curiosity to know who she is, and when they realize that, and then they’ll assume it’s really a secret romantic rendezvous that they don’t want the world to know about.

This is getting way over my head. Bill says. But you have to realize that I’m used to dealing with dead bodies, and not living ones like that.

If you get your eyes off her barely covered breasts you might be able to see the whole situation better, LuLu challenges, with a twinkle in her knowing eye.

She does have nice ones. He admits.

As a biologically unaltered man, I’m ashamed to admit I now have ones that are bigger!

Bill quickly decides to leave that remark alone. And the purpose of this charade is? He asks, instead.

Publicity. Pure and simple. She confides. Notice how the cameramen are all taking photographs of the partly disguised couple with their zoom lenses extended to the fullest degree. And, also notice that the couples are quietly trying to look unaware of the attention as they make sure their every movement shows their movie star features to their very best camera angle.

What a way to have to live. Bill grunts, loudly.

I know, LuLu, sighs deeply. And to think that I turned the chance down years ago.

So, what caused the paparazzi to show up tonight for this little commercial venture? Bill now wants to know.

Their career managers employ tipster on a retainer fee to call and tell the boys of the media where they will supposedly be, or actually are at the time so they can get the pictures for the next morning’s release.

Unbelievable! Bill mutters, loudly.

The unbelievable part of it is, is the fact that people really interrupt their everyday lives to follow that stuff in the press.

Well, some people like stories about drug killings on the street. He replies, knowingly.

And some people solve the crimes, while others write books about them. LuLu now laughs, out rightly.

That’s so true, too. Bill agrees.

Let’s put our coats on, and go upstairs to the top open deck. LuLu devilishly suggests in an adventurously care free manner. I hear they have a DJ there, an open bar, and they’ve even made a food bar out of the left overs from the buffet dinner tonight.

That does sound like a great idea, Bill says, standing up to help LuLu place her white faux fur wrap around her bare shoulders, and then proceeding to put his black cloth over coat on over his black tie dinner jacket outfit.

Wending their way carefully among the tables of celebrants they finally manage to get to the opposite end of the really overcrowded room, and through the doorway that is open to the small narrow iron stairway that goes up to the next deck of the excursion boat, and to the same scene of formally attired revelers wearing various tin foil and glitter crowns and tiaras milling about as they had just left on the lower level. Only now the whole vast festivities lack the confinement of a roof, and the beautiful New Year’s Eve starry sky is the only canopy of fresh salt water smelling New York Harbor air that surrounds the joyous drinking crowd, and flows coolly over their heads.

As usual, the lights of the city going up, and reflecting back from the sky are dimming all but the brightest stars, LuLu says, breathing in the harbor’s cool moist air."

I hate to ruin any otherwise perfectly romantic moment in time, LuLu, Bill says, but those aren’t really stars. The usual number of planets is the only points of light in the sky bright enough to compete with Con Edison’s electric lights.

Taking his hand, and walking over to the railing with their backs turned to the vibrantly noisy gala on the surrounding water going party craft, LuLu looks rapturously out at the nighttime scene which is encompassing her entire slightly champagne fogged gaze.

Oh, beautiful-beautiful New York City. She exclaims giddily, with arms stretched out to encompass the view before her. I do love it so.

LuLu, Bill explains, gently. You are facing New Jersey.

Oh? She hurriedly questions, as she turns halfway around to face the opposite direction. Oh, there’s Manhattan! She announces, pointing and speaking in a now pleased tone of discovery.

No, dear. That’s Brooklyn. He gently informs her.

How can you tell that for sure? She now wants to know.

Because, that’s the Brooklyn Bridge, and the lights beyond the span are on the other side of it.

I don’t see the lighted Pepsi Cola Sign. She pouts, knowingly.

When the boat starts up the East River and under the Brooklyn Bridge, you will.

What about the Nabisco sign? She challenges, lightly.

I doubt very much that we’ll be seeing that on this trip. He replies, while looking over to the lights of Brooklyn Heights in the near distance.

Why? she seriously questions.

They tore that down forty years ago. He drily replies.

And the Domino sugar refinery? She asks, aghast.

That too, he shakes his head in mock sadness.

Now looking at the view beyond with a deep sigh, and slightly more leery gaze, she says. Memories were made of this!

Just like the old Penn Station. He agrees.

Gimbels’, Stern’s Department Store on Forty Second Street, and not to forget; S. Klein on the Square. She laments, in adding.

Please, LuLu, he holds his plastic drink glass chest high in a silent toast to time. You are turning this festive occasion into a high requiem for the New York City that used to be.

Well, at least it’s not forgotten, she admits. The memories are in our minds, and the former structures are all resting in pieces somewhere. She lifts and clinks her plastic drink glass to his, in completing the silent tribute to New York, New York. To New York, New York! She exuberantly, announces.

And to all of its outlying boroughs, he now adds, solemnly.

If they tear the Brooklyn Bridge down, the local politicians won’t be able to keep selling it to their constituents.

A loudly audible, Ahhhh, of appreciative stunned emotion arises simultaneously from the other revelers on the top deck of the boat that causes both LuLu and Bill to take their gaze from each other, and to look in the forward darkness shrouded direction that the pleasure boat is sailing past. Bill and Lulu’s mouth fall open in struck wonder as the base of the Statue of Liberty herself hoves into view as close as they can get without colliding with it, and their eyes, along with the eyes of all the other guests crowding the railing rise slowly and silently, directly up the front of the electrically lit amber glowing enormous sculptured world symbol of freedom, straight up to her crown and lit torch that is firmly held in her welcoming hand.

God Bless America. Bill manages to breathlessly say.

How stunning. LuLu says, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears in recognition of everything that the statue represents."

And then like the proverbial ships that pass in the night, the vision of Liberty and Justice For All seemingly slides away to the right and out of sight, just as if she had been floating past the boat, and not the boat gliding silently past her.

This is proving to be one fabulous New Year’s Eve celebration. A LuLu state, when she brings the welled tears to controlled order in her eyes, and catches her breath at the same time.

More so than last New Year’s Eve when we decided to become full time friends in the Lady’s Pavilion in Central Park’s Ramble, with two dead bodies at our feet, and rockets bursting colorfully and nosily over our heads? Bill asks his blue Irish eyes again twinkling merrily in the light of the disco’s light display on the ship’s top deck.

Everything to its own. LuLu covers Bill’s hand warmly, as it continues to rest on the ship’s railing. "I can’t help but feeling how the politicians and bankers have turned the American dream into a mockery of denial to so many people who want to live here, and especially to those who reside here now.

Are you sure that you are having a good time? Bill asks, skeptically, as he weighs her present words.

As much of a good time as my memory, caring morals, and beliefs will allow me to, she now laughs nervously, trying to dispel the gloom that has suddenly overtaken her.

For a while there when you were telling me that I was looking at Hoboken instead of Manhattan, Brooklyn instead of Manhattan, and all the landmarks that have been destroyed without my knowing it, She twitters on, teasingly. I was beginning to think that you weren’t having a good time yourself, and next year I’d come to the party with my Teddy Bear, instead.

But would the conversation be as sophisticatedly scintillating? He smiles out rightly.

Probably. She takes his hand into hers, and leads him out onto the small crowded dance floor. He’s the strong silent type just like you are, Bill.

With that said, he faces her directly in a dance position, and then adds. Come on; let’s boogey!

But the dance doesn’t last long, as the almost imperceptible rising, falling and swaying of the ship’s deck under them causes them to slightly loose their balance as they lift a foot in a dance step, and when they put it back down the deck is slightly lower on a slant than it was when the foot was lifted. This lack of communication between the deck, the foot and the brain causes LuLu to bump into another dancer causing her to stop in her tracks to catch her equilibrium, and to profusely apologize for the accident.

Oh, please, the beautiful girl in the black bouffant wig assures her. I was just telling Lance, my date for the evening that I’m having a tough time swaying to the music when the ship wants to sway in its own direction. She laughs, lightly.

I know what you mean, LuLu agrees, recognizing the handsome young couple now standing amid the crowd, and smiling at only Bill and her.

You are LuLu! The girl announces, now knowingly. The authoress, master amateur sleuth, television entertainer, fashion plate, and raconteur.

Well, you’ve named so many possible accomplishments; I very well must be at least one of them. LuLu laughs, appreciative that the girl recognizes her in return.

My name is Darla and this is my date for the evening Lance. The girl expertly takes over the introductions. Lance, this is LuLu of whom everyone is talking about these days.

Your accomplishments, of course, Lance smiles charmingly.

I should hope that’s what they are saying about me, and in a complimentary like manner. Not waiting for a reply, she goes on to add. And, this is my date for the evening, Bill Halloran, She doesn’t identify his occupation. Bill this is Darla and Lance.

The three nod their recognition of the introduction to each other.

Well, Bill says, just a little awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. ‘The two of you seem to be off onto quite illustrious careers in motion pictures."

Yes, Lance replies. But we’re really not here tonight, if you know what I mean.

Oh? Bill answers, in his very best interrogation police detective dead pan manner.

It’s a publicity stunt, Darla fills the conversational gap, thinking she’s telling a most choice secret to the public at large.

So, I’ve been told, Bill, answers, glancing quickly at LuLu with a, ‘ You told me so, expression in his eyes.

Cheap publicity, Lance admits quickly. But it’s used by the press as fillers between the ads, and the street shootings.

I know, Is all that Bill will congenially commit himself to under the present circumstances.

Having accidently bumped into the young and upcoming movie star couple on the small dance floor, and with the social niceties having been duly exchanged. LuLu finds herself being flattered that the young lady knows who she is, as does Lance the young actor.

Darla, the movie starlet gushes how much she enjoys LuLu’s appearances on television talk shows, and of course LuLu tells her how happy she is for her to be signed on as an up and coming player in the Harriman enterprise world.

And you yourself were starred in the recently released film called, Passion Under Southern Skies. LuLu says, as the four people move from the center of the dance floor to a spot a little less crowded. Now the other gyrators will have more room to do their own thing." LuLu says, having arrived at a more appropriate spot on the otherwise crowded deck.

Not that everyone isn’t doing their own thing as it is, Bill agrees. A person nowadays can go out for an evening of dancing without a partner, and not even bother to pick one up when they get there, no one would even notice as everyone manages to dance alone.

Notice that it’s not even called social dancing any longer, LuLu laughs.

Yes, I was starred in the film, but it was renamed, ‘ What the Stable Boy Saw. Lance goes back to the previous conversation in order to keep the center of conversation on him. But you are right, he adds. It was generally based on the book called, ‘ Passion Under Southern Skies.

I know, LuLu admits.Maybelle Trueworthy, the author of the book is my next door neighbor.

This causes Lance to drop the smile, and to look rather primly at LuLu until Darla resumes the conversation.

LuLu, I must admit that I’m a very devoted fan of yours and I do have quite a few parties mostly for publicity purposes and I’d just love to add you to my favorite’s guest list. She now gushes on. Please give me your street address e mail and phone number so I can give it to the studio I’m under contract to so they can place you and a guest on the preferred invitation registry? She now quickly draws in a much earned deep breath.

That sounds like fun, LuLu says, reaching into her small sequined bag, selecting an embossed business card, and handing it to the young woman before her. Oh, dear. She frets. This is the only card I seem to have in the bag, and as you can see I just accidently tore the upper right hand corner off getting it caught in the zipper of the bag.

Oh, that doesn’t really matter, the girl, says, gratefully. As long as it has the needed information on it, then that will do just fine.

Of course, this is the information that I hand out discriminately, and just a trifle more readily than my personal information, but have the person doing the invitation e mail me at this address, and I’ll supply the information requested in order to be put on the list.

Thank you, LuLu. I’ll have it done tomorrow, I mean the next business morning of this week, she immediately corrects herself.

A burly looking man dressed in a tight fitting suit comes up to them, apologizes for the interruption, and whispers something into Darla’s ear. She turns to the others, and now exclaims. Lance and I are going to have to leave now, as we’re required by studio contract to always work the room. She laughs quickly at the old theatrical saying. And with that they bid LuLu and Bill goodbye with the promise that they’ll meet up with each other again really soon.

I’d say that performers are always on, Bill surmises, as he and LuLu find an empty spot at a table, and go to it to sit down.

Well, I thought that you learned that from me. LuLu argues, lightly.

I didn’t want to point any fingers. Bill says, picking up the unopened complimentary bottle of Champaign, peeling back the tin foil wrapped around the cork, and loosening the stopper expertly with causing a drop to spill on the white paper table covering.

These plastic Champaign goblets are still wrapped so I’d say they are safe to use, LuLu says, opening the cellophane packet, and releasing the contents to be passed to Bill for filling on the table that is loaded down with cheap colored aluminum horns and noise makers that signify the expectation of soon ringing in the joyous New Year.

Hold the stems to make sure the boat doesn’t hit an unexpected wave and spew the contents all over the table. Bill instructs her. When he sees she has complied with his request, he commences the pouring of the clear bubbly liquid from the bottle held tightly in his hand.

Flat! LuLu says, trying hard not to spit the drink out of her mouth and forcing herself to swallow it, instead.

Wouldn’t make a good mouth wash, Bill agrees, after swallowing what he had ingested.

New Year’s Eve and we’re drinking domestic grape juice. LuLu laughs, ironically.

Well, I’d better buy a good bottle of 80 proof rye from the bar because, if what I’m seeing is real, then we’re going to have to fortify ourselves for the rest of the evening ahead.

What are you seeing? LuLu asks, craning her blonde wigged head around in the direction that Bill is trying not to look in.

Suffice it to say that you spoke of the devil on at least two occasions tonight and she’s now wending her way through the crowd and heading in a bee line for our table.

Who, she insists.

Maybelle Trueworthy. He says, simply.

Does everyone know I’m here tonight? LuLu says, perplexed.

I don’t know, LuLu. Bill replies. "They must because Mercedes LaTour is walking arm and