Brisco Waters, Private Eye (Case Finale) (standard:mystery, 1308 words) [5/5] show all parts
Author: Red Storm	Added: Jul 31 2001	Views/Reads: 2584/1895	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
All things considered and all lessons learned, Brisco has to make some sense of the senseless acts of corruption. The final chapter of the Brisco Waters, Private Eye serial.

I woke up around seven o’clock that night. Honestly, I was a little
disoriented at first, and could hardly remember what day it was. Then 
it all came rushing back at once, like a tidal wave to my brain. Was it 
possible that Natalie Schillaci had come only a day before to ask for 
my help? It seemed like so long ago, and since then I had been roughed 
up, shot at, nearly drowned, saved at the last second by a good friend, 
and found out the truth behind it all. It was a lot to swallow, and my 
head was still spinning as I lay there on the hard floor of my office 
and thought about it. Well, the spinning was probably from the shots of 
bourbon I had before I dozed off, but it was still a lot to swallow. 

Now came the hardest part of the job. I was going to have to get down to
the Chaotic Charter, Schillaci’s nightclub, and let her know why her 
husband had been killed, in case she hadn’t already figured it out. My 
guess was that she was playing the denial game, telling herself that 
Big Al hadn’t killed her husband simply because she had let it slip 
that he would rat their operation out. A naive girl caught up in the 
wrong crowd, and it cost her husband his life. How was I going to break 
it to her? 

I knew from the restaurant and nightclub guides that Schillaci’s joint
was an upscale one on the Northside. Probably a black-tie sorta place, 
but all I could manage was a brown suit and tie. It would suffice. The 
building itself looked like something out of a movie, with its huge 
columns and Greek-style architecture. Valets were in front of the place 
parking guest’s cars for them, a needless operation in my opinion. I 
parked my own car, around the side of the huge club, and walked to the 
front doors, French-style glass around twenty-five feet tall. 

“Are you on the list, sir?” 

I pulled out a Chicago P.D. Lieutenant’s badge that Chuck Mallard had
given me a year earlier, to avoid such inconveniences as the one 
presenting itself at that moment. I had appreciated it beyond words 
ever since. The doorman stepped to the side as he motioned me inside. I 
entered the great hall, amazed at the decor and glittering persona of 
every dancer and drinker in the palace. It was probably the most 
elegant place I had been. 

“Sir, may I offer you a glass of wine?” A waiter, dressed in black-tie
formal, appeared from nowhere with a silver tray and six crystal 
glasses of red wine. 

“No, thanks, I’m on duty. Do you know where I can find Mrs. Schillaci?”
The man nodded to a far corner of the ballroom and disappeared back 
into the crowd. 

I slowly made my way through the crowd, oblivious at the moment to all
of the confused and snide glares that I was receiving from the crowd, 
in the direction of a woman wearing a red evening gown. Her back was 
turned to me, but I could tell that it was Schillaci by her 
perfectly-contoured body. A band was busy entertaining the guests on 
stage, bellowing out Louis Armstrong tunes to the letter. The large 
walls were decorated with Picaso, Rembrandt, Michelangelo, Poussin, and 
Bourdon. Impressive to the last piece, the place made me wonder why the 
hell Natalie had ever even wanted to make extra money in the first 
place. 

“Oh, Mr. Waters, how are you this evening?” She had turned and noticed
me approaching as I admired the paintings. Those who had previously 
been conversing with her turned and went their own ways, leaving us 
alone. 

“Mrs. Schillaci, I think we should talk. Somewhere private, most
likely.” 

She had an empty look in her eyes, like the body was living but the soul
had long-since passed on. She responded slowly, moved slowly, and 
seemed to know something that nobody else would ever know. She led me 
through a corridor, then to a gold-plated elevator lift. The lift 
operator got out at Schillaci’s request, and she took me to the rooftop 
of the twenty-story building. I looked up into the frozen night, a 
curtain of purple and blue sky spotted with millions of white stars. It 
was something that I had never really noticed before, but it was a 
beautiful sight. 


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