Noir: The Home of the Ladies Luck

At first I was making sure my tail didn’t get lost. As I began to try very hard to lose him, things got a bit dicey. This guy was good, or just very motivated. Both presented certain dangers should he catch me.

Every alley I ducked into led to a side street up which the sedan would come rumbling. Every door that might have mercifully been open was locked tight. Every bright idea and quick turn around wound up being stupid, sadly predictable or both.

Luck finally pulled her head out and threw me a sordid bone of salvation. The lights were on at Madame Beaulieau’s Seamstress Union. They alwasy were, ever since she’d come back East from Seattle and set up shop. Like an actual customer of such a place I ducked inside, hiding my face and making it quick.

“Tugger!” came the chiding voice of Ethel, their floor boss, so to speak, “Your uncle send you hear again? He ever gonna’ learn?”

“Came on my own tonight, doll,” though I added before she could be too shocked, “just to hide out for a few hours.”

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