[b][color=9e0039][h1][center]Calvin Lovegrove[/center][/h1][/color][/b]
[color=9e0039][h2][center]The Apartment of Danielle Raymonde[/center][/h2][/color]

Cal took a seat on a wooden bench in front of the marvelous stone building and watched Detective Gallagher's taxi disappear down the busy street. He plopped another cigarette into his mouth and lit the end. He wasn't going to tail Miss Raymonde. No--he was giving her a final chance to run after him, unless, as he suspected, she was through with him.

As the next hour gradually evaporated in what felt like a span of years, Cal received his answer. Sunset engulfed the outlines of Manhattan's behemoth skyscrapers. He was on his own again. He couldn't return home to Ossining. He'd gotten close enough to the case that it was within the realm of possibility that this sadistic fuck could find his way to Evelyn. "No rest for the wicked, I suppose," Cal mumbled as he stood from the bench and brushed the dust off his coat.

[color=9e0039][h2][center]Club Carousel[/center][/h2][/color]
[img]http://www.boweryboyshistory.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/14.jpg[/img]


The lights adorning Club Carousel had turned back on. Cal grimaced. For a day, the lights of the club had shut off out of some vague respect for due police process, and perhaps the brutal deaths within, although the latter was unlikely. He peered inside the window. Business had resumed as usual. He opened the glass doors and stepped inside.

The hostess, an eager but articulate young woman, smiled in Cal's direction. "Are you alone?"

Calvin shot a strange glance toward the red haired--he didn't have the patience to deduce whether it was artificial or not--woman before slowly nodding. "Yes, yes."

The hostess gave a knowing smile. She had clearly worn this pitying face many times before, and would many more times before closing time. Calvin Lovegrove had become one with the hopeless and desperate wave of married men who wandered into this shiny hellscape. She beckoned for Cal to follow her and let him to a single table against the window, a glass canvas of the whirlwind of lights found outside. He took off his coat and dropped into his chair. "Thank you."

The hostess folded her arms and adopted a warm smile. "Is there anything I do for you?"

Calvin furrowed his brow again and snapped out of it. He felt hopelessly on-edge, as if he was a stylish gazelle that had wandered straight into the savanna. "Uh....yeah...I'll take a rum and coke. If you can help it, please don't let me see the bottom of the glass."

The hostess pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow, her visible pity becoming borderline insufferable. "Sure. I'll get that right out for you." As she walked away, Cal gently grasped the sleeve of her outfit and cleared his throat. 

"Will...uh...'Emerald'...be performing this evening?"

The hostess grimaced and shook her head. "I'm afraid not."

"Why? Isn't she the 'belle of the ball', so-to-speak?" asked Cal.

"She's taking a small bit of vacation. Rest-assured, you will be able to enjoy the sights in no time."

Calvin shrugged. "All right. Thank you." He dipped his hat over his eyes and sagged into his chair as the hostess walked away. He surveyed the crowded room, trying to make some bit of sense out of the infinite-combination lock that was the Carousel. It was no use. He hadn't even a thread to hang on. He simply rotted in his chair, waiting for the hostess to return with his medicine.