I pull out my deck of Marlies, grab a butt, and light it up as I approach the crime scene.  The hoods always come out after the midnight rain.  Damn street looks like a mob startin' shit at a dive.  These coppers gotta learn some control.  As I walk towards Lieutenant Hammett nearby, I pass by a bum being questioned.

 

     "So who's the boob?" I ask as I near Hammett, dressed in his usual glad rags.

 

     "Hey, Westlake.  Oh, forget him.  He's just some dope fiend who was a witness here.  We're puttin' the screws on him.  Here, let me take you to the stiff.  It looks like we got Spillane and his trouble boys involved in this," Hammett replies, leading me towards the crowd. 

 

     "Doesn't surprise me one bit, bo," I drum under my breath.  We squeezed our way through the mob, mostly shutterbugs, to the center of the circle where the body was lying, covered by a sheet.  Hammett pulls back the sheet to reveal the corpse.  "Lucky" Ross Bellem, one of the newer gangsters in town, clipped in the face twice.  His face and shirt, a bright ruby red.  Not so lucky today, are ya Ross?

 

     "I'm sure you're familiar with this butter and egg man, Westlake," Hammett starts out.  "It turns out he's been runnin' this clip joint here for the past six months.  He was also using the joint to sell some of his coffee-and-doughnut

hop to bums and goons like the one you passed earlier.  Looks like his mistake was taking away some of Spillane's business."

 

"So Spillane sends over a couple of his hatchetmen to bump off this sap and glaum some of their business back," I respond.

 

     "That's exactly what I was thinking," Hammett returns.  "We have to get this piece of shit nailed, bo.  I got-"

 

     Flash!  A news hawk pushes his way through the circle, stepping on my flogger and nearly knockin' me over as he flashes his camera at the stiff.  As I gain control of myself, I paste him in the pan, bustin' his camera at the same time.

 

     "If I ever see ya do that again, asshole, I'll squirt metal in ya!" I bark at him.  "Now would somebody get this gink outta here!"

 

     Finally the law jumps in, slap the bracelets on him, and takes him away.  On his way out the news hawk tells me to go climb up my thumb.  Huh, what a ringer!  The crowd spits in half to let the egg out with the flatties.  That's when I made the bright red lips out.

 

     She is standing outside the circle, smokin' a butt and getting a third from a cop.  Long black hair with red streaks, green eyes, long blue dress, even longer gams, curves even an artists can't draw.... I could've sworn that sewer smoke came from her.  But it's her lips that grab me.  Those lips... they draw you in.  She's wearing a thick layer of ruby red lipstick, enough to give another man his own layer with a kiss and still have some for herself.  They're the most beautiful pair of ruby red lips I've ever seen.  The way they wrap around that smoke makes you wish you were a butt in her deck.  She looked like a worker, but man, she would make you forget who Rita Hayworth was.

 

     "Who's the skirt?" I ask Hammett, trying not to show much interest.

 

     "Oh, she's, uh, what's-her-name..." he mumbles, snapping his fingers for thought, "...oh, yeah, that's Ruby Ellison, she was 'Lucky's' girl.  Watched the whole murder right in front of her, but she seems to be okay.  Ain't she a looker, don't ya say?"

 

     "She's a poor dame with an rich pair of red lips, is what I say."

 

     "Whatever, pal," he says, not knowing what I'm talking about.  "Anyways, we're just lightly grilling her.  See what she knows."

 

     "You think she might know something?" I ask Hammett.

 

     "Hey, man, you're tooting the wrong ringer here," he says as he walks away to grab some wire from the other buttons.  I, myself, move out of the crowd to let the flatties handle it.  First thing I gotta do is find some of Spillane's boys and see what I can grill out of them.  I turn around and there she is again.  The Ruby Red Girl.

 

     She is a gorgeous doll to see in that streetlight.  I start giving her the up-and-down.  She looks lonely.    I walk coolly towards her, trying not to startle her.