…I ain’t never been afraid of no woman…just terrified a few times…
Monroe D. Underwood
The rain stopped at dusk.
It was a steamy suffocating evening.
Neon signs were winking on as I drove north to Candi Yakozi’s place.
The Blinking Dog.
Ye Olde Hades.
The Thirsty Knight.
The Gay Dragon.
Old Style and Budweiser and Pabst.
I popped my cassette of Alte Kameraden into the player.
A friend had taped it for me.
Alte Kameraden seven and one-half times.
The Royal Netherlands Guardsmen.
Music to enlist by.
It got my adrenaline moving.
By the time I reached Candi Yakozi’s street I was ready to fight thirty-two Royal Bengal tigers.
I counted doorways from her address to the corner.
I parked and walked up the alley to the back door of her garden apartment.
I knocked lightly.
The door opened instantly.
Candi Yakozi was wearing a smile and spike heels and a white sharkskin blouse that came to a screeching halt something like fifteen inches north of her knees.
It looked like that might be all.
She took me into the living room.
She dropped onto a huge white sofa.
She locked her hands around her knees.
She drew them up to her chest.
She rocked back and forth slowly.
That was all by God.
I sat down.
I had to.
Candi said do you like my white blouse?
I shrugged.
I said it’s fine as far as it goes.
Candi said I am very partial to white.
She said especially light white.
I said that’s probably the best kind.
She had a cute little apartment.
All fluff and frills and white and pink.
Candi popped to her feet and went into the kitchen.
She had the lightning-quick grace of a kitten.
She came back with a cold bottle of beer.
She placed it in front of me.
She sat beside me on the sofa.
Very close.
She fired up a brace of cigarettes and handed one to me.
She said ooh I’m so glad you could get away from that nasty old blackmail case.
I said it wasn’t easy kiddo.
I said I had to pull a few strings.
Candi said the man isn’t out there yet.
I said let me know when he shows.
She said do you want some music?
I shrugged.
I said do you have a recording of Alte Kameraden?
Candi said I don’t dig grand opera.
She got up and found some syrupy stuff on FM.
Faceless supermarket music.
She sat beside me again.
Much closer.
If possible.
She said I bet you meet an awful lot of girls.
I said some.
The small hand on my knee was soft and very warm.
Candi said do you take them to bed like the private detectives in the books?
I shrugged.
I said well not all at the same time.
I chuckled a nervous chuckle.
Candi said I bet you are just peachy in bed.
I said is he out there yet?
Candi cocked a Venetian blind slat ever so slightly.
She said I don’t see him.
I said well if he was out there you’d see him wouldn’t you?
Candi said oh sure.
She said it’s probably too early.
I said I wish he’d hurry.
Candi squeezed my leg.
She had a grip like a seven-hundred-dollar vise.
She said you didn’t tell me.
I said I didn’t tell you what?
She said how you are in bed.
I said you got another beer?
Candi whisked into the kitchen.
On her way back she paused to turn off one of her pink table lamps.
She put the beer down.
She sat beside me.
With her left leg over my right leg.
I said you could pull a hamstring muscle that way.
She said aren’t you ever going to tell me?
I said just what was it you wanted to know?
Candi said my God for a private detective you sure got a lousy memory.
I said is he out there yet?
Candi scrambled to her knees.
She looked over my shoulder through the aperture in the Venetian blind.
Her white sharkskin blouse caressed my jowl.
It made great rasping sounds.
Her perfume swept over me like a tidal wave.
My heart sounded like a washtub being beaten with a leg of mutton.
Candi said not yet.
I said why that dirty bastard.
Sweat cascaded from my forehead.
I said Jesus Christ it’s hot in here.
Candi said the thermostat is set at seventy-two.
I said you can’t always trust them damn things.
Candi said Betsy told me you are simply wonderful in bed.
I said yeah well maybe Betsy ain’t such a good judge.
Candi said she ought to be.
She said Betsy’s a whore.
I said call girl.
I said you’re always supposed to say call girl.
Candi said Betsy told me you know just what to do for a woman.
I said my God isn’t that sonofabitch out there yet?
Candi turned out the other pink table lamp.
She looked through the Venetian blind.
She said huh-uh.
I said how come you turned out the light to look?
My voice had risen about fourteen octaves.
Candi said so he can’t see me looking.
I said how the hell can he see you looking if he isn’t out there?
Candi said don’t get all excited.
She said he’ll get here.
I said I’m not all excited about him getting here.
I said I’m all excited about him getting here too goddam late.
The FM was playing “Help Me Make It Through the Night.”
Candi put her head on my shoulder.
She hummed part of the bridge.
She said such a beautiful song.
She said it has great meaning.
She said it’s so sexy.
She said what’s your favorite song?
I shrugged.
I said Alte Kameraden.
I said also “The Teddy Bears’ Picnic.”
Candi said “The Teddy Bears’ Picnic” can’t be so very sexy.
I said that just shows how much you know about teddy bears.
Candi said are you sex-oriented?
I shrugged.
She said I am sex-oriented.
I said I was beginning to wonder about that.
I said you got another beer?
Candi said you haven’t finished the first one yet.
I finished the first one.
I drank the second in three gulps.
I said I have this raging thirst.
I said it’s probably just a relapse.
I said bubonic plague you know.
I said if he isn’t out there I’m going looking for him.
Candi sighed.
She said I’m going to wear this damned blind out.
She looked.
She said well dammit all to hell anyway.
She said he’s out there.