Black and White and Red

Black and White and Red





It's tough working as a detective in a town like this. You can go for months working on odd-jobs, nabbing the occasional cheating husband with your camera, and then one day a dame will walk into your office and turn your world upside down and inside out. Bianca de Witte was that dame. She was tall, but filled out. To use a five-dollar word, she was statuesque. She was as cold as a statue, too.


She was the death of me. Quite literally.




"Mr. Hargrave," she said as she walked in the door. I lowered my newspaper and took a look at her. It turned out to be a long look - she was wearing a white dress that hugged every curve with a black shawl around her shoulders. She had to clear her throat before I remembered to answer.

"Yep, that's me," I said. "Can I help you?"

"I hear you're good at finding people," she said.

"Only the ones that are missing," I said. I liked to think I had a quick wit, but it looked like she wasn't in the mood. "I've been known to find a mission person the police have given up on."

"Then I'd like to hire you," she said and removed an envelope from her purse and placed it on my desk. It was filled with fifties.

I slid the money back across the desk. "I haven't taken your case yet," I said. "Tell me about it first."

She sat down on the rickety wooden chair I have for customers and removed a white cigarette case. She placed a cigarette between her soft lips. I leaned forward and flicked my lighter open. "Thank you," she said. "It's my sister, Sable. She said she was going out four days ago and hasn't come back. All she left behind was a scrawled note in the mail that said she was going on a trip. I fear for her, Mr. Hargrave."

"Have you reported it to the police?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "They took my claim and said there was nothing they could do. She's a grown woman. It doesn't matter that she didn't pack anything, they still believe she went on a trip."

"I see." I leaned back. "Any old boyfriends? Enemies?"

"None," she said, taking another puff of smoke. "She didn't have any boyfriends and as for enemies...well, I can't think of any that would want to hurt her. She was always nice to people."

"Where was the last place you saw her?" I asked.

"Here," she said and removed a sheet of paper from her purse and placed it on my desk. I leaned forward and looked at it. It was an advertisement for someplace called 'the Piebald Club.' "Please, Mr. Hargrave," Bianca said, her voice wavering. "She's my only sister. Ever since our parents died, we've only had each other."

I always had a soft spot for a woman in trouble. "Okay," I said. "I'll take the job." I slid the envelope of money back and place it in my drawer next to a bottle of rye.

"Thank you, Mr. Hargrave," Bianca said.

The next day, I had a buddy of mine at the police station start running checks on Sable de Witte's credit cards while I checked out the Piebald Club. Turned out, it was a club for horse-owners - both Sable and Bianca were well-to-do in the cash department and both not only owned horses, but were members in said club. I, on the other hand, was but a humble private eye and thus had no horse to my name.

I did, however, have a lockpick set and some ample free time to learn how to pick a standard tumbler lock. Getting into the Piebald Club was easy. It was finding what I wanted that could be hard. The Piebald Club must have files on their members, so I sneaked into the back office and ruffled around, finally finding a set of cabinets that contained files. I found both Bianca's and Sable's files. Flipping them open, I found that they were Cancers, Bianca played tennis, while Sable played badminton. Basically, the files were useless.

That night I had more luck: my police buddy got back to me and told me that one of Sable's credit cards was used to charge a motel room downtown. It was a crummy neighborhood, but I figured that maybe Sable had gotten in deep with a bookie for her horses and she was laying low. All I had to do was convince her to call her sister and everything was aces.

Yeah, I am a fool. I really should have known better.

As soon as I walked in the lobby, I saw her. She looked exactly like Bianca, even dressing in a large overcoat and sunglasses. I sauntered up to her and said, "Hello, Sable. Your sister hired me."

It was then that she pulled a snub-nosed .38 from her coat and stuck it in my gut. "Don't," she said. "I'm not going back to them. You can't make me."

"I'm sorry, sister," I said. "I'm afraid you've got me confused. I don't want to take you back anywhere. Your sister's worried is all."

"I'll bet she's worried," Sable said. "She's worried about her silly offering to the Black and White Man. Well, you can tell her to go to hell."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said.

She squinted at me and pulled down her sunglasses. "You really don't know, do you? You have no idea."

"He really doesn't, my dear," an identical voice said behind her and Sable turned so quickly she must have got whiplash. There was Bianca and two thugs setting to the sides. Sable wasn't fast enough, though, because one of the thugs quickly grabbed the gun and pulled it away from her.

"You," Sable said, her voice spitting venom. "I'd rather die than go back."

"You have no choice, dear sister," Bianca said.

"I do," I chimed in. "I didn't sign up for this. You wanted me to find her, not kidnap her."

"Sorry about the deception, Mr. Hargrave," Bianca said. "But I'm afraid you're coming, too." She nodded and the goon to her left came forward holding a blackjack in one hand. I hit him in the stomach, but it was like hitting bricks. The goon brought down the blackjack on my head and I let the darkness embrace me.

When I woke up, I found myself tied to a chair in the middle of the Piebald Club. Sable was tied to the chair next to me and I shook her awake. "Hey, sister, I need some information," I said. "My head may have been scrambled, but I'm not addlepated yet. What exactly is your sister Bianca involved with."


"I'm sorry she dragged you into this," Sable said. "It used to be a game we played as children after our parents died. We pretended that there was a man living in the forest behind our house. His face was all white and blank and he wore a black suit, so we called him the Black and White Man. Eventually, as we grew older, we forgot about him. He was just our imaginary friend." She took a deep breath. "But then, a few years ago, Bianca told me that the Black and White Man was real. She said she heard reports about other children who had seen him. She said she wanted to see him again, to go and be with him. I thought she had gone insane, but then she started getting followers. She bought out the Piebald Club and turned it into a front for her little group, her cult. Then, last week, she said that for the Black and White Man to arrive, she needed an offering. She decided I was going to be that offering. So I ran."


"Well, damn," I said. "I led her right to you. What a sap. I'm sorry."

"You didn't know," she said. "And now we're both probably going to die."

"Not necessarily," I said. "Your sister knows how to tie a good knot, sure..."

"Boating lessons," Sable interjected.

"Sure," I said. "But these chairs are made of wood and they probably weren't made to handle too much pressure. So what we need is to put a lot to put a lot of pressure on them and they'll break."

"And how are we going to do that?" Sable asked.

"Watch," I said and leaned forward, balancing on the balls of my feet, my legs still lied to the legs of the chair. "Now you do it." Sable copied me, careful not to trip. "And now we pushed against each other." We turned out chair so that the bottoms would push against each other. "Push!" We both pushed and the chairs connected, but it wasn't enough. We pushed again and again, straining against the ropes, until I heard a snap. "Good, it's working," I said and pushed again. This finally broke the chair and caused me to fall on the floor in a heap. I lowed the ropes off my body and quickly untied Sable as well.

"Come on, let's get out of here," she said.

We exited out of a side door into an alleyway. We started running towards the end of the alley when I heard the door open again and I turned back. There was Bianca with the snubnosed .38 that had belonged to Sable. "No!" Bianca said.

"Run," I said to Sable and then turned back. Bianca couldn't shoot Sable if I was running straight at her. She would have to concentrate on the target closest. Me.

Sometimes I'm a fool and sometimes I'm the world's biggest fool. And sometimes it doesn't matter at all.

She fired and I knew it went wild - who can concentrate on aiming when a madmen is running at you? I tackled her, but she was able to get off another shot and I felt it in my gut. I looked down and blood stained the my shirt. "Just had that dry cleaned," I said and tore the gun from her grip.

"You idiot," Bianca said. "When he arrives, she's dead anyway. He'll have his offering and then he'll come for me."

"No, he won't," I said and fired the snubnose. A red spot blossomed on her white dress and she raised both hands to it.

"But," she said and then fell to the ground. I dropped the snubnose and stumbled backwards, hitting the wall of the alleyway, then my knees gave out and I collapsed.

I stared up at the sky and heard someone's footsteps. One of her goons, I thought, but it wasn't. When he came into view, he was wearing a black suit and tie and his face was white and blank. The Black and White Man.

I coughed and blood speckled my shirt. Gut wounds were the worst. "Hey, kiddo," I said to the Black and White Man. He seemed to look at me as if I was a bug in a jar. "You've got your offerings. How 'bout you go now. I don't want the last thing I see in this world to be your ugly mug."

He regarded me again and tilted his head to the side. Then he turned and walked again. "Wait." He stopped. I knew he was probably a hallucination brought on by dying, but I asked him for a favor anyway. He picked up Bianca's purse and removed the silver cigarette case and handed it to me. I removed one cigarette and brought it to my blood-stained lips. "Thanks," I muttered and lit the cigarette.

The Black and White Man walked away to wherever he came from. As I smoked my last cigarette, I thought about Bianca and Sable and the Black and White Man. I thought about two lonely girls walking in the woods. I thought about Bianca's obsession and Sable's desperation. At least she was still alive, I though. At least I was good for something.

With that thought in mind, I smoked my cigarette and waited to die.

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