The Rose of New York

I looked down at the rain slicked streets and watched the people scuttle to get out of the hot rain and get into their comfortable homes. I turned from the window, hit the switch to the “Open” sign and was about to pick up my coat, until I realized the landlord would be waiting at my apartment to collect the rent.. I sighed and flipped the neon sign back on. I trudged back to my desk and flopped down in my creaking old chair, flung my feet up on the desk and leaned back.
A loud knock sounded at the door and I started, almost losing my precarious balance. The door opened and there stood a tall blonde, though well dressed, looking slightly disheveled. “Gorgeous,” I thought as I tried to keep my cool. I stood up.
“Welcome to the DeSilvo Detective Agency. What can I do for you, sir?”
“My name is Todd Hunnicut. I’d like to meet with Mr. DeSilvo if he hasn’t already left for the day,” he replied.
I smiled at him, “Sorry Mr. Hunnicut, no Mr. DeSilvo here. You’ll have to settle for Ms. DeSilvo.”
He blinked at me as if he didn’t understand. Slowly I could see the realization spread across his face.
“I heard you were the best in town. I didn’t realize you’d be…”
“A woman?” I finished.
He gave me an embarrassed smile.
“I hope I haven’t offended you.”
“I wouldn’t be a female detective if I was easily offended,” I said to him. “Now let’s talk about why you’re here in my office, after hours, and soaked from head to toe.”
I gestured towards the slightly less old and slightly less creaky chair in my office and he sat down. I sat down across from him and waited for him to begin.
“I can’t say I have ever employed a private investigator before. I have never needed to. But now…,” he trailed off as his voice began to break. He blinked his eyes hard and cleared his throat. He looked me straight in the face. “My wife is dead. Murdered. And I have no one else to turn to. The police are out of leads and I think they are starting to suspect that I had something to do with this. I am out of options. I need help.”
“Alright.” I said reassuringly. “You’ve come to the right place. I can help you. Tell me a little background on the situation. Did your wife have any enemies to speak of?”
He laughed softly, “Alice was the kindest, gentlest woman on the planet. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm her. That is one reason I am here. It all seems so senseless.”
I reached my hand across the desk and patted his. “Mr. Hunnicut, I am sure your wife was a lovely woman. Now, I am going to ask you some questions and I need some honest answers. What do you do for a living?”
“I am a stage actor. I am working on a play that is set to open on Broadway in just a few days called “The Rose of New York.”
“Had you and your wife lived in the city long?
He sighed, “ We moved here from Hollywood only a couple months ago, after we found out I had gotten the lead in the show.”
“The lead, hmmm,” I said. “Pretty impressive. Have you made a lot of friends since you have been here?
“Only the other cast members. We haven’t had time for much else. I have been rehearsing so much in preparation for opening night. Thank God for Jo or I think Alice would have gone crazy with boredom.”
“Who is Jo?” I asked
“Josephine Carr. She is the female lead in “The Rose of New York.” She is the “rose” I guess you could say. She was so kind to Alice and they got along great. Towards the end she and Alice were spending time together almost every day.”
“Now, tell me, Mr. Hunnicut. What were the circumstances of your wife’s death?
He winced. I reached out again, “I know this is hard for you but I have to know these things.” I said sympathetically.
“I came home late one night after rehearsal. The apartment was dark, which was strange in itself because Alice would usually leave the kitchen light on for me if I was going to be late. I turned on the light in the hallway and headed for the bedroom. I thought maybe Alice had waited up for me. When I got into the room, she was lying on the bedroom floor right outside the bathroom. She had just gotten out of the shower and put on her robe when someone shot her in the belly. Her hair was still wet,” he looked down and stopped.
“I think that’s good for tonight.” I told him. “I am going to assume that you rehearse at the theatre house, is that correct?
“Yes.” He said, not picking up his eyes.
“I am going to come down tomorrow and talk to your co-stars and see if they have any information you may not be aware of.”
He looked at me questioningly. Then he reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a wrinkle piece of paper.
“There is one more thing,” he said, standing up. “ About a week before Alice was killed, we came home one night and found this note on our kitchen table.”
He tossed the note down on my desk and started towards the door.
“ I am afraid I don’t have it in me to talk anymore tonight. I’ll just see you tomorrow and you can tell me what you think.”
He turned back towards me, “Thanks, Ms. DeSilvo.”
“It’s Dinah,” I told him.


The next day, walking towards the theater house, I went over the letter Todd Hunnicut had given me. It had said:

Your luck is about to change. It would be a shame if something were to happen to such a bright young star. I would make sure that you know your place.

I folded the letter back up and shoved into the pocket of my slacks. I arrived at the great wooden doors of the theater house and pull them apart. Inside there were people bustling about; some shouting orders, others following them. I looked towards the stage and saw Mr. Hunnicut standing in a pool of soft white light. He looked a considerable amount better than he had the night before. He was looking down at a script booklet he held in one hand and had the other hand placed on his hip. A blonde strand of hair hanging down in his face, a look of concentration pulled at his boyish features. He looked up and saw me immediately. He bounded off the stage and trotted down the aisle.
“Good morning, Ms. DeSilvo.” He said with a smile.
“Good morning to you, Mr. Hunnicut.” I said. I put on my best business voice and told him, “After reviewing my notes I think it would be best if I interviewed Ms. Carr first, since she was the closest person to your wife besides you. Can you point her out to me?”
“That’s her. The one on the right hand side of the stage,” he said pointing.
I hadn’t really needed him to point her out to me. I knew who she was. Everyone knew who she was. She was a star in every sense of the word. There was a glow about her. Her dark hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head, yet she somehow seemed ready to go to a ball. She had on satiny red lipstick, her mouth taking up the entire southern hemisphere of her face. Her dark, doe eyes fell on Todd and me. She looked surprised to see my unfamiliar face.
“Do you think she has time to speak with me?” I asked, half to myself, half to Todd.
“She isn’t in this next scene so this probably the best time,” Todd answered.
I headed up to the front of the theater, never taking my eyes off of the striking woman. I suddenly felt shy, an alien feeling for me. I drew in a deep breath before calling out to her.
“Ms. Carr?”
She turned to and said, “Yes, dear?”
“Ms. Carr, my name is Dinah DeSilvo. I am a private investigator under the employ of Mr. Hunnicut. I am investigating the murder of Mrs. Alice Hunnicut.”
“Oh my, yes!” she said with wide eyes. “Todd told me he was thinking of hiring one of you. I guess I didn’t realize there were any female private investigators around here. It must be such an exciting profession!”
“It has its moments, “ I replied with a grin, trying not to seem too star struck. “May I ask you a few questions? “
It was then that I noticed huge man approaching us. He was looking at me threateningly and I wondered at what I could have done to upset this behemoth of a human being. Josephine noticed the man stalking the two of us.
“It’s okay, John,” she said shooing him away with her hand. “That’s just John Heft, my bodyguard. I know he can be quite frightening,” she laughed. “That’s why I hired him. A girl can never be too careful these days and in this rough city.”
“Did you hire a bodyguard after what happened to Mrs. Hunnicut?” I inquired.
“No, John has been with me for years. But if I hadn’t already had some protection I certainly would’ve gotten some after all that has happened.”
“Mr. Hunnicut tells me that you and his wife were becoming quite close. Is that right?” I asked.
Josephine’s eyes were quickly welling. “Yes it’s true. Alice and I were great friends. True friends are hard to come by in this business,” she told me wistfully.
“Ms. Carr, where were you the night that Ms. Hunnicut was killed?”
“I was right here at the theater rehearsing. We had run late that night. I was uncomfortable with the dialogue in one of the scenes. I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible. If I had just left well enough alone maybe Todd would’ve gotten home in time to….”
She burst into tears.
“Ms. Carr, I know this is very hard for you but I have a few more questions if you think you are up to it,” I said in a soothing voice.
“Of course, dear,” she said pulling herself together. “Let’s sit down.”
We walked to a couple of plush, red theater chairs. John the bodyguard was not too far behind us.
Josephine Carr took my hand in hers and looked at me intensely. “Ms. DeSilvo, I will do anything I can to help you catch the bastard who did this!”
“I appreciate your cooperation, Ms. Carr. Now tell me, did Alice have any enemies that you may have caught wind of? Anyone at all that would have benefited in any way from Mrs. Hunnicut’s death?”
“I just can’t imagine anyone having anyone reason to hurt Alice,” she said shaking her head.
“What about Mr. Hunnicut? Anyone that might have it out for him?” I questioned.
“Everyone loves Todd!” she exclaimed. “Well not exactly everyone,” she corrected herself. “But…”
“That’s alright Mrs. Carr. Even if it seems insignificant it may lead to something helpful,” I coaxed.
“Well,” she started. “Do you see that man over there in the corner with the wardrobe girl?”
She pointed to the far left corner of the theater. I saw there a slightly heavyset man being squeezed into some sort of a girdle by a less than amused young girl. He was red faced from the effort and his hair was graying but I recognized him anyway. His name was Monty Fullbrook. He had once been the toast of New York City. He had been the most loved actor on the stage in his day. He was still a regal looking man with his salt and pepper heard and his neatly trimmed, black mustache.
“Do you mean to tell me that Monty Fullbrook has something against Todd Hunnicut?” I asked, surprised.
“Absolutely! Monty originally was supposed to play the leading character in this show. The our casting director took a trip to Hollywood and saw Todd in a show out there. He came straight back and demoted Monty to second chair! Can you imagine?”