The Purple Door
When I saw it I knew I should have turned around and left. Leave be to what ever force or abyss it came from. Leave it to those that really were looking, those that were into it.
But I didn’t.
It started with a case. A pretty little women, golden hair bobbed just above her shoulders, petite and innocent looking stepped into my office.
“This is the office of private investigator Mark Sinclair, right?” I jumped a bit. I wasn’t used to people walking straight into my office. My secretary was at home nursing her head with a pile of ice.
I pulled my hand away from my drawer as I looked up. “You found him” I kept alert, plenty of women would gut you for one reason or another.
She moved gracefully to sit, her white dress seemed to have a perpetual wind blowing through it.
“Pleasure Mr.Sinclair. My name is Dorthy Gilford. I have lost my husband I would like you to investigate his whereabouts for me.”
I smiled “You lost your husband or he is off with another gal? Which one?”
“Definitely lost Mr.Sinclair.” The way she smiled and said it put me on edge. A crack in the angel statue. What could you expect though. No one was perfect, no matter how hard you prayed.
“Well, Mrs.Gilford, I’m a bit stacked with active cases right now. I might need to defer you for a while, but this seems to be a time sensitive matter.”
Her hands rustled into her purse and pulled out a large stack of bills and slammed it on the desk.
“Oh, I see. I can be bought?” I leaned back into my chair.
“Mr.Sinclair, my husband is very important to me and many others. This money is nothing compared to getting him back.”
“Why not go to the police if he is so important?”
“It cannot be known that he is missing” she stated.
I rubbed my temples. It had to be another broad this guy was with. Which it would make it easy to find him, the after math wasn’t my problem. The money looked at me with its printed eyes. It was a lot. More then I made in half a year. I peered up at Dorthy. Her face was smooth, a small smile cut through it, pleasant.
“Where was he last seen?”
“North side of the city, at a bar called Presidential Cross. The code word to enter is ‘Fallen One’. He was there last Wednesday for a meeting, one that he always attends there. After that he would usually return home promptly at ten O’clock on the dot to discuss what happened. As you can tell, he never returned. I cannot reach him or get in contact with him. I am willing to to triple the offer if you find him this in the next couple days. Time is running from us”
The Presidential Cross. Damn. I knew the place. Avoided it like the plague. It had more security than Fort Knox. I cased the place once for a client, thought his wife was having an affair with someone in there. I watched anyone who was someone enter that building. Senators, police chiefs, even the president of the United States showed up. They knew I was watching too. The guard would glance up at my in my perch, look at me straight through my binoculars. Gave me the creeps.
The money looked good on my desk though.
“I’ll look into it for you Dorthy. That place isn’t my favorite, but I think I can stomach it for the arrangement.” I took the pile and cut it in half. “Half now, half later. If it is unfavorable or can’t find him, the rest of the bread is yours to keep.”
Dorthy put the rest of the cash in her purse and stood up. Her blue eyes looked down at me as her head tilted slightly up. This woman meant business.
“I am very gracious that you can assist us Mr.Sinclair. I look forward to your results. You can contact me at this number” She set a slip of paper on the desk. “For all the days we live, may this be the one be bathed in glory”
The she left.
The fan squeaked above me. Needed to get that fixed. I looked at the money. Soon.
Dorthy Gilford was the start of it all. A demon wrapped in an angels skin. A messenger of doom wearing a smile and white dress. My gut told me something was off, I knew it, but the damn thing was.
I wanted to know what it was.
The next day I put on my best suit and tie, slipped my revolver in it’s shoulder holster and looked at my self in the mirror. Best I looked all year. I waited till the night when the club would open.
The Presidential Cross was not just a club, but a whole building on the north side of town. It rose thirty stories into the sky, art deco facades aligning every inch of it. It looked like a billion bucks, because it was. Part hotel, condo’s and club, the entrance opened up to it’s concierge desk and check in counter. Statues of gold and suns gold illuminating the lobby. Velvet red couches and chairs that held patrons of high class sprawled around and then a small bar for guests sat along one of the sprawling walls. I looked around, this wasn’t the place I wanted to be, but I needed to scope out the place first. Some curious eyes glanced my way and I exited. No need to stay my welcome. The real place I wanted was around the corner. A door on the back of the building. It stood tall, ten feet, adjourned in zig zags of gold and silver, an eye in a massive pyramid beamed out from the center. Men fully nude embossed on the door reached towards the sky which held a large sun and some strange symbols.
It always creeped me out.
Below the eye was a slit which slid with fluid motion making no sound. A pair of eyes looked at me with vicious intent.
“Fallen One” I said.
The eyes stared at me for along moment. “Name? and the one who sent you?”
“Mark Sinclair, Dorthy Gilford sent me” at that the slit closed and a large clicking came from the door. Instead of opening it slid out of the way letting me in. I took a deep breath. I had watched a lot of chums come in here, looks like it was my turn.
I stepped down a hallway that was aligned with small theater lights to a set of double doors. No on was there to greet me. I pushed through them.It was crowded. Much more then I thought it would be. I didn’t see anyone enter from the door I came in. Must be guests or residents at the hotel. I stood over looking what looked like a ballroom. Spiraling marble columns lined both sides of the room. A massive bar that shot up into the vaulted ceiling sat at the back of the room. The place was multi tiered. The middle was completely open, to the right and left, tiers of stairs and sitting areas moved up to a balcony that disappeared behind the bar and extended more beyond. Every where I looked I felt poorer by the second. In the center of the room was a fountain. A woman status in marble covered her eyes tilting her head towards the ceiling revealing her full form, water ran down under her hands as if she was crying down into the pool of water at her feet. The water glistened with an other worldy shine of purple and aquamarine. I stepped down into the room. Figures dressed to the nines click glasses, smiled, laughed and partook in some sort of revelry.
I moved to the bar trying my best not to ruin anyones clothes.
The bartender wore a mask that covered her eyes. I couldn’t see them, but I knew her eyes were on me as soon as I appeared.
“Mr.Sinclair, what can I get you?”
“Know me? Door guy moves fast”
She smiled and nodded. Who else knew?
“I’m actually looking for someone -“
“Mr.Gilford, correct?” She put her thumbs together and connected her index fingers to form a triangle and put it on her forehead. “We know” then she giggled.
It felt off. Everything felt off. This place, these people. I peered over my shoulder. Everyone was still doing their thing, but now their ears were open, pointed straight at me.
“So, where might I find this Mr.Gilford? His wife is missing him dearly” I thought about a drink, but I didn’t want to front the bill.
The bartender leaned against the bar putting her elbows on it and resting her chin on her fists then pointed behind me.
“Our final guest has arrived.” A man spoke. I turned.
Party was over it seemed.
A man in a red and white suit stood behind another man sitting in a chair. The guests had stopped all their motion and watched.
“What an honor, who might you be?”
The man was older, gray hair brushed back and skin had seen better days. He reminded me of a talk show host. His suit coat was red and fell below his knees, while everything else beneath was white. The man in chair was dressed in tuxedo, his arms and legs were tied to the chair legs and arms. He didn’t seem bothered. I had a feeling who he was.
“Just the devil in a suit. We didn’t need you, but we wanted you. Tick tock, you didn’t make it in time to save your quest, but just in time to witness the birth of a new world” He whipped his arms and a large knife seemed to materialize out of thin air. A magician then.
I unholsterd my gun “Whoa there pal, let’s not do anything hasty. Devil or not, 45’s going to put a few holes in you if your not careful. Why don’t you step away from Mr.Gilford”
The mans smile grew so long I thought his face would split. “Perceptive as ever Mr.Sinclair” The knife went to Gilfords throat and stopped inches above his neck.
I breathed out and shot.
Then I shot again and again. The man stood motionless, they all stood motionless. Not even a flinch.
“Just my luck” I started to reload as fast I could.
“Lucky indeed” the knife plunged into Gilfords throat. Well there goes the rest of my money. Gilford didn’t even seem to react as blood poured down his neck and down his white shirt. The mans outfit now fully red as blood splattered as he held the knife in Gilfords throat. He stood looking at me with that stupid smile.
Off, everything is off. I finished reloading and aim down the sights again. The mans eye brows rose in amusement. This was no longer a party I wanted to be at.
I holstered my gun and ran towards the door. No one tried to stop me, no one even moved. As soon as I got to the top the stairs the door was sliding open for me to exit.
I stepped out into the night air. I could hear sirens coming from all directions, fire trucks speeding along. Screams and glass breaking. It sounded as if the whole world had gone mad. I sprinted back to my office.
I didn’t know what to make of it, everything had gone batty in an instant. I pushed through into my office, searching for more bullets, a knife and anything else that could be useful. I looked towards the bottle of whiskey. I needed clarity.
The door opened, I spun around pulling Mrs.Gilford into the sights of my 45.
Her dress was now black. Her sweet little face still splashed with that small smile.
“Unsuccessful were we Mr.Sinclair?”
“You could say something like that” I squeeze the trigger. She howled and fell back crashing into my front door. Her face was twisted in pain, but it shown a more demonic form. Eyes in places there shouldn’t be, teeth larger then any animal he had seen.
But she bled.
She stood and shook off the pain. Her new grotesque form standing tall and proud. She no longer needed to hide.
“Well Mr.Sinclair, looks like our contract has concluded. We needed a curious witness. Your eyes worked just as well as anyones. Welcome to the new world. I really did want to travel into the new world with my dear husband. He was oh so important. We might reunite again. He was picked for a reason”
I shot again, but in a flash she was gone.
Where she had been a card floated down to the floor. She left a calling card, what a broad. I picked it up.
In the center of it was a purple door with a sun above it. On the right of door it said Central and on the right Plaza and under it said Tower.
The last place I wanted to know about or even think about.
The Purple Door at the Central Tower Plaza.
I slipped the card into my pocket and picked up the phone and dialed. It rang for a moment then someone picked up.
“Henry, you still alive?” Sinclair said.
I love private investigators. I wrote this in the noir style. It is a style that I do not see that often anymore and when ever I read something like the Maltese Falcon or watch some old noir movies it sucks me in.
This is an introduction to our fateful investigator Mark Sinclair. I have a feeling this won’t be the only supernatural case he gets into.