The Cabin in the Sky

Kalchik stood, and walked from the room, no sweat on his pale morbid features despite the heat. I made a decision that night. I don't know what came over me, to this day, I still do not know if it was my choice or something else compelling me.

With Kalchik gone, I ran forward and snatched one of the queer metal ingots, yet untouched by the fire. I shoved it under my coat and fled the hotel, stuffing it under my bed. I told no one. What could I say? The metal was in my house.

There it stayed, whispering faintly in my ear. Calling to me night in and night out. Gloria, blessing of blessings, could not hear it. Perhaps because she had not made contact with the strange metal. But I heard their whispers, pleading with me to help them. To save their brothers and sisters. To fuel their trip free of our planet and across the stars.

Eventually, I tried to be rid of it. I took the ingot and locked it away in a shed on one of my uncle's properties although I feared someone else might find it and be cursed as I was.

I often considered doing as the metal asked, but could not make sense of their whisperings - they wanted something profane for their fuel. Abhorrent to common decency and morality. Finally, I decided to do as Kalchik had done, to reforge the metal in hopes of silencing those voices.

It was here we came to this place, this cabin. I had it built as a retreat from the world, to pull back above it and look out all this glorious creation has to offer. A Cabin in the Sky.

I built most of this with my own hands, and one night, I lit a forge and melted down that last ingot, laying it as the metal framework for my cellar stairs. It was unlike any other metal I'd ever laid hands on - malleable, easy to warm but strong upon cooling. The work was completed in a single night.

Since then, I only hear the voices when I go down to fetch something down there, and even then, they are muted and distant. I pray I have done the right thing, for still that accursed hotel stands. I have visited it though never stayed the night. Kalchik knows me and I fear, suspects me. The hotel feels unearthly, and I worry what foul magic I have helped bring into this world.

Thank you, dear reader, for helping an old man unburden himself of these wretched memories. I go now to see Gloria in peace and serenity.

-Sincerely

Harry Robertson

July 29th, 1989

Caroline sets down the letter. "Okay . . . I think that's confirmation."

You stand up decisively. "We have to go back to the basement."

"Whatever this man may have done, he's created magic down there, and they have a hold on our friends. We have to get them back." Caroline nods.

"Okay, but how?"

The mood was somber as the two of you stood before the ominous hat in the corner.

"Why this one?" Caroline asks. You furrow your brow.

"It appeared. It wasn't here when we first came down here and now it is. All the other objects, as I traveled into them, they vanished. This one appeared. That has to mean something."

Caroline harrumphed. "That's as a good a reason as any." The two of you stand for a moment, neither one reaching for it. You take a deep breath.

"Okay, let's do this." You reach for the hat.

"Hold up, before we do this, I just want to say something." Caroline takes your hand. Surprised, you find her deep brown eyes.

"I understand that this trip wasn't what I think it was. But I just want you to know that even if this is some weird creepy alien thing, I would have liked doing a trip with just you. I was really excited to be with you and I just want you to know that."

"Oh Caroline." You reach up, cupping her cheek. She leans in and kisses you, full of love and kindness.

"No matter what happens in there, I love you." You give her a firm nod and together, the two of you reach for the hat.

WHOOSH

The hard leather seats twist beneath you as the street lights flicker across the interior of the car. You see the driver, a stooped black man with a cigarette in one hand, silently steering in the front seat.

"This is SO COOL!" Caroline exclaims. She's in the back of the car with you - you do a double take. She is wearing a shimmering red sequined dress that clings to her every curve, the front taking a dazzling plunge, showcasing an impressive diamond necklace. Her hair is up in curls, and her legs stretching out to your side of the car. She has retrieved a small mirror from the black clutch and is admiring her makeup and hair.

"Caroline?" You ask. She looks at you. "Damn, Brenna, you look HOT!"

You blush. You look down, black shiny shoes, complement a long coat, black slacks held up by suspenders, white shirt and of course, on your head, a black fedora.

"Okay, so clearly we've both still got our minds. And you're the dame and I'm the detective." The driver looks at you in his rear view mirror but says nothing.

Caroline laughs, "The butch look works for you." You are turning out the pockets. Cigarettes, a blackjack club, a couple books of matches, a detective license and playbill. The playbill is for a show at the Sea Breeze Jazz Club - thursday night featuring Maybelline "Babs" Siegly and an illustration of a busty woman in a red dress.

You hand it to Caroline and tap on the glass separating you from the driver.

"Sir? Where are we headed?" His shoulders raise in surprise but his voice is level. "The Sea Breeze Club, ma'am, just like usual."

You nod to Caroline, and pull out your Los Angeles detective license. "Let's see why Detective Jane Elliot and Babs Siegly need to be at this club tonight."

###

The hot LA air hits you like stepping into a locker room, pungent and moist, as you help Caroline out of the car. She's navigating those heels without too much difficulty but neither one of you wanted to take any chances. You go to pay the driver but he waves you off,

"I'm on the payroll, boss. Meet you back here at 11pm, unless I get your call at the office."

You nod, trying to shake off the fumble but Caroline, well, Babs, is staring up at her name in big lights above the shining Sea Breeze Jazz Club. The glowing sign, shaped like a large open clamshell, was as tall as a car and the doors gleaming polished silver.

Straightening your coat, you offer your arm for Babs and the two of you walk into the club.

"Ah, Ms. Elliot, and the star of our show. Right on time!" announces an overly cheering maitre d. He leans over his podium and whispers, "Do you think you will catch your man tonight?"

You give him a stern waggle of the finger, "Not if anyone gets too chatty."

He twists his fingers in front of his mouth with an invisible key. "Mums the word, of course, my dear. But chop chop, I mustn't keep you. After all, Babs, you must get to your dressing room, the show must go on!" He swishes through the lobby as the two of you take long strides to keep up.

Lush stairs with gleaming railings opens up into a beautiful hall, with white linen-clad tables, a polished wood and bronze full length bar along the side of the room, an elevated stage with red velvet curtains and, in your mind, a rather gaudy clamshell painted behind it. Electric lamps on the tables give the smoky air an atmospheric glow.

Caroline's eyes are wide, taking it all in. "This. is. AMAZING!" She whispers to you under her breath. You can only nod as the two of you follow the Maitre D along the back wall, through some velvet curtains to a hallway adjacent to the stage. Two men in stagehand black give you both a familiar wave as your host ushers you along, through a weaving maze of hallways. He pauses in front of a door with a big star reading "Babs Siegly".

"Good hunting tonight, you two." The Maitre D says before turning smartly on his heel and striding back towards the lobby.

The two of you slip inside the dressing room. You survey the space, a well-lit vanity covered in makeup, a small shower and quarter sink and a floor to ceiling wardrobe. Exactly what you'd expect.

"This is SO COOL! So THIS is what you've been doing?" Caroline exclaims, trying and utterly failing to whisper. "I figured it would be like a vision quest sort of thing, we are here. We are living this!" You nod noncommittally.

"It certainly feels real." You answer, rummaging through the sequined dresses in the wardrobe.

"Do you think we are here? Is it time travel or something else?"

You push your hat back and take in the room. "I'm not really sure. I don't know any of these time periods well enough to pick out something that doesn't fit."

Caroline waits, her big warm eyes following you as you finish your circuit around the room. This detective thing is actually kind of fun.

"Well, Caroline, it looks like you are the regular star here. The love notes on the mirror, your big poster on the back of the door, all the dresses in your size. You've been headlining here for a bit."

Caroline sits. "You go ahead and keep doing your thing. I'm going to make sure I'm ready." She begins rummaging through the make up.

"The Maitre D and the stagehands recognized both of us, so obviously, they know who I am and that I am working to catch someone? I need more information." You make your way towards the door. Caroline jumps up.

"Wait, what about me?"

"Don't worry, all you have to do is sing, baby doll." You tip your hat and try for a wink. She busts out laughing.

"You did NOT just do that." She wheezes.

"Needs some work?" You ask. She struts over to you, wraps her arms around your neck and plants a full kiss right on your lips.

"Not at all, worked like a charm." She pulls you in tight, and you are suddenly aware of just how form fitting that dress is on her before she slips away, back to vanity.

You leave the dressing room and weave your way backstage till you come out in the main hall. Already it is filled with patrons; laughing, smoking and drinking. The place is a flurry of activity as a solo pianist warms up the crowd from the stage. In all this activity, what is a detective to do? Best go get a drink of course.

You head over to the bar, where a slender man with dark hair and high cheekbones, an LA Benedict Cumberbatch you decide, makes you a gin and tonic.

"Ms. Elliott? We have a guest today that asked to be seated at your table. I assumed she was an employee of yours but if not, we can have her removed." He points towards a table three back from the stage. A good spot, you note, with little lighting but a good view of both the stage, the entrance and the hallway to backstage. Sitting at the table in a breathtaking silver dress, her brunette curls pooling around her bare shoulders, is Pixie.

Before you can move, the announcer comes on. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the star of our show this evening, the incredible, sensational Babs Siegly!"

The crowd cheers as Caroline strides onto the stage.

With drink in hand, you make your way over to your appointed table. Pixie turns as you approach. Even in the dim light of the electric lamps on the table, she is a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Her knowing bright eyes accentuated by glittering chandelier earrings, her graceful neck and beautiful shoulders fading into a snug, plunging silver dress.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind me joining you, Ms Elliot?" She moves as if to stand but you wave her down, taking the seat with your back to the wall. From here you can keep Caroline, and the hallway backstage in your range of vision, while still facing your guest.

"I heard, never you mind where, people these days are chattering like birds," She gave a short little laugh but carried on at quite a clip. "I heard that there was a prestigious private detective in our midst! Not only that, but not some loathsome cigar chomping gorilla but,a member of the fairer, and dare I say it, vastly superior sex?" She looks you up and down.

"Oh what a brave new day we are enjoying in bold 1936! Liquor's legal, Roosevelt's undeterred and women can solve crimes! And they were not lying, you are."

"A detective?" You ask, trying to keep up. Pixie leans one elbow onto the table, spilling herself towards.

"Superior, of course." You are briefly seized by the vision of her, writhing on top of you in the throws of passion in far away Italy. You shake the mirage, pleasurable as it was, from your mind.

"You are quite kind. Whom do I have the pleasure of dining with this evening?"

"Gloria. Or maybe Glory-be-to-yah!" She raised her hands in mock rapture. "If the saxophone hits that low note just right on that swing. Oh, I tell you, the Sea Breeze has been lit up the last two weeks since your gal, Babs, started belting those hopping lines. She's got a great set of pipes on that gal. And legs too!"

"My gal?" You ask. Gloria scoffs.

"Oh, I don't mean to imply you were sweet on her. Unless you are, in that case, hot damn, Suzie owes me two nickels! But that's her client, you know?"

You nod noncommittally, trying to memorize the faces of the stagehands slipping in and out of the hallway to backstage. Caroline is still shining bright on the stage, no sign of nervousness on her warm cheeks, she is basking in the experience, snapping her fingers with the slim latino drummer with his brushes beating out a staccato on the high hat. Her hips swap back and forth, and the whole room sways with her.

"Anyway, listen to me prattling on while you are appreciating a good show!" Pixie, or rather Gloria gives you a swat on the arm. "Boyoh, I do love a good show. Me and Suzie, I mentioned Suzie right? Suzie and I always catch all the great acts here or the Hot Cat up on 19th. You know the Hot Cat right? What am I saying? Of course you do, with all your contacts on the seedy underbelly of this city. Must be so thrilling."

Gloria is only half watching you, her eyes on the stage. You glance over at her, taking a measured sip of your drink as Kalchik takes a seat in a dim alcove on the other side of the club. You cough, splutter and paw at your mouth with your napkin.

"Oh my, are you okay?" You wave her off trying to keep quiet. Kalchik, how useful it is for the pale man from the hotel to have a name, is with three other men in nice, pressed suits. The men are drinking, he is not. The men are softly talking, smoking. Kalchik is nodding along but his eyes are on the show. On Caroline.

"Oh! Did you see someone?" Gloria asks in a whisper, leaning in, suddenly serious. Then shooting a look over her shoulder, trying to follow your gaze.

"Don't look!" You whisper. Gloria claps a hand to her mouth.

"Oh shit, you are on a case. This is so exciting! Work your craft." Pixie says sagely. You give her an indulgent smile as Caroline completes a number, gives the crowd a wave and slips backstage. Gloria has flagged down a waiter and is negotiating for another drink.

At Kalchik's table, two of the men are talking while Kalchik and the third are reviewing some paperwork with the dim light of the centerpiece lamp. Gloria suddenly nudges you.

"Hey Miss Elliott! I think your sweetheart is trying to get your attention." You whip around to see Caroline, hiding in the shadow of the hallway entrance, give you a frantic "come hither" gesture.

You grab your hat and crouched low amongst the smokey tables, try to make your way over there.

"Hold me a plate of olives, will yah Toby?" Gloria says, scampering after you.

Caroline doesn't wait, she power walks ahead of you back to her dressing room. You reach the door. She looks both ways, opens the door a sliver and slides in with you and Gloria moments behind her. Caroline locks it and whirls around.

"Pixie?" Caroline asks.

"What?" Gloria asks, turning to you. "Is that code for something?"

"Unfortunately no. What is it?"

Caroline reaches out, pointing with one shaking hand, at the dead man in her shower.

He was slumped over, the curtain half drawn. You aren't a coroner but you'd wager the bloody gash in the back of his head was probably the cause of death. His clothes are plain, worn and dirty, his build says he worked for a living and the wallet in his pocket pegs his name as Tony Lorsecco.

"Oh shit, is he dead?" Gloria asks.

You push your hat back on your head and take in the situation.

"If someone put a body here, then the police are already on your way. And we won't be able to do anything tonight if Babs is inside a jail cell." Caroline gives you a firm nod.

You turn to Gloria, and fix her with a firm and commanding gaze. "Gloria, we are working a case right now, and the last thing we need is interference from the authorities. You hear what I'm saying?"

She gulps and nods. "Not a problem with me, I've got no love for the heat, I've got priors!"

Caroline does a double-take. "What for?"

"Solicitation. How was I supposed to know that guy was an officer? He was giving me the eyes all evening." You surprise a smirk, it is enjoyable seeing cool and collected Pixie as a loud-mouthed party girl but you've got bigger issues at hand.

"Babs - step outside and see if you can get a tablecloth from one of the waiters - tell him you've got a bit of stage magic and he'll see it in a bit. Gloria, help me get him out of the shower."

Caroline slips out while you and Gloria lay the large man out on the floor. Riffling through his pockets, you find nothing else, no keys, notes, chewing gum or even lint. Just the wallet. He's been picked clean - which means whomever put him here wanted the wallet found on him.

With Babs gone, you take another sweep of the dressing room. He might fit in the wardrobe but it was too big to move. The vanity wasn't much good but . . .

Right there stuck to the side of the mirror, a picture of Babs laughing cut in the shape of a heart. Signed "your Tony". Was it placed here? You give it a slight tug. No it's been there a while.

Dead boyfriend in the dressing room. Never a dull moment. You turn to Gloria.

"Stay put here, and make sure you only let in me or Babs - no one else, you got it?" She nods.

"I'm on it Ms. Elliot!" She gives you a big thumbs up.

You step outside the dressing room as Babs rushes up with a large white dining cloth. "Get him wrapped up." You whisper to her and then make your way off through the maze backstage.

You catch your first lucky break of the evening. The exit to the alley way is only twenty paces and there's a large dumpster directly adjacent to the door. As you return from your scouting you intercept a stage hand knocking on the dressing door.

"Ms. Siegly, you are due back on stage. You are late!"

"I'll take care of this. She's got a case of the nerves." You shoo him along and slid back inside.

"Okay, Babs, you've got to go back on. We will take care of this. Try to play it cool." Babs, no, definitely Caroline, slides up next to you - her eyes big and shaky. You reach up, giving her cheek a squeeze. She leans in and then stops herself - with a furtive glance over at Gloria.

"Oh don't mind me, you two. This is my kind of show!" Caroline rolls her eyes.

"Look after her, will you?" You nod and Babs straightens her spine, takes a breath, and glides out of the dressing room.

"Okay, wait a few minutes for her to get on stage and right as she starts her first big number, we haul him out of here. If we are lucky, the stage hands will be too busy to notice."

"If we are lucky?" She exclaims, taking up his legs.

The applause pours in from the theater and with that the two of you haul, drag and cajole the body into the hallway, down some darkened steps, around a corner, and to the exit. You push close the door behind you, you thought you saw a pair of eyes watching you from the ropes next to the lights but it was too dark to see. With a grunt, the two of you hoist the body into the dumpster and shake the grim from your hands.

Gloria, her chest heaving from the exertion, tosses you a grin.