Characters:
Narrator
Stella
Macy
Mayor Glass
Stan/Voice
Tasha
Donna Maynard Grimaldi
Sammy "The Shark" Grimaldi
Bopko

Narrator: Parlortown stories rarely have happy endings.

Stella: Donna Maynard? She's the Mayor's bastard?

Narrator: Stella Decker and Macy Hayes were private detectives in a city with little concern for law and order. When its mayor, Robert Glass, had hired them to find a grotesque stalker, they'd seen it as a chance to pay the bills and nothing more. Their trail had led them to a mysterious woman who called herself the Widow, a vicious crime lord who was willing to pay big money for the illegitimate children of the Mayor. All the while, a mysterious man whose voice they knew but whose body they'd never seen was stalking the detectives, willing to push them within an inch of death to scare or brutalize them off of the case. But Macy and Stella didn't get where they were from scaring easily, and now that they'd discerned the identity of the Mayor's final daughter, the news was not necessarily welcome.

Macy: (gradually getting less hoarse) Of all the people to be related to Glass...

Stella: (chuckling. At this point, the insanity has become almost comical to her) And to Tasha. I've seen her photo in the newspaper a couple of times, always thought she was the spitting image.

Macy: What do we do now?

Stella: Well, it's obvious, isn't it? We call up the Mayor and the Widow, tell them that his kid's a Mafia queen, and sit back to watch the fireworks.

Macy: Glass was so worried about his daughter being abandoned or abused. How do we tell him that Sammy Grimaldi's wife doesn't need to worry about a thing?

Stella: Oh, he'll want to know. You saw Glass' face when he found out he had a child. His own flesh and blood; it's like a dream come true to him.

Macy: But that still doesn't tell us what we're going to do about the Voice.

Stella: Well, if he isn't working for the Widow, it's open season. I don't think she'll be too happy about one of her employees running loose.

Macy: If that's the case, we may just want to tell her. She'll probably want to take care of it herself, do our work for us.

Stella: Good call, Mace. Your voice is sounding better, by the way.

Macy: Thanks. Still hurts like a mother, though.

Stella: Let's head home; I could go for something to eat and we've got to take a look at that.

Narrator: At home, Stella put some tea on for Macy and then set about going over the wounds where the Voice had tried to strangle her. Macy sat nervously, unsure of how to handle Stella's ministrations. The two of them had fought earlier that day, leaving Stella mad enough to strike Macy on the way out. For a woman confined to a wheelchair, she still packed quite a punch. Macy marvelled at Stella's apparent calm now; though Macy had more formal training in killing people, her partner had been doing it longer and with more enthusiasm. Those who knew Stella back when she was a gang member often commented on her strength and implacability in the face of opposition. Feeling the cool hands of a murderess caress her neck, Macy had never felt this comment to be truer.

Stella: It's still not too pretty, but at least you can wear a scarf or something over it now. Here, have some tea.

Macy: Thanks. (beat) Listen, Stel...

Stella: (quiet, thoughtful, but determined) Listen, Mace. I don't know what's going on with you and the nurse. You don't trust me to stay faithful with Tasha around. But this is nothing new. There's plenty of things we haven't told each other, plenty of things we've lied about. I don't know if we can make this better when we don't trust each other. But we've got a case in front of us that could get us pretty set for a while. Let's solve that. Once we're done we can see if we want to stay together or if we might be better off alone.

Macy: (after a long pause, almost tearful) Sounds like a plan.

Stella: I thought so. Trouble is I'm lost about what we do next.

Macy: I think we should at least talk to Donna Grimaldi. Sammy's a hardass, but he won't kill us just for talking. Before that, though, I think we've got a little reunion to plan.

Macy: I think we should at least talk to Donna Grimaldi. Sammy's a hardass, but he won't kill us just for talking. Before that, though, I think we've got a little reunion to plan.

Narrator: An hour or so later found them at Cherry Street General Hospital, a squat gray compound where the poor went to die. Their fifth floor was the Psych Ward, and it was here that Mayor Glass and his security guard were waiting when the two detectives arrived.

Glass: I came as soon as you called. Is she really here?

Macy: Yes. But Mr. Mayor, there's something else you need to know.

Glass: Besides the fact that my daughter is a former gang-member, rape survivor and requires psychiatric evaluation?

Stella: That's just the one daughter Mr. Mayor.

Glass: The one - Oh my god...you can't mean...

Macy: We're still making some inquiries, but all signs point to yes.

Glass: Ms. Decker, Ms. Hayes...I don't know what to say...I can't thank you enough...

Stella: Double our normal rate is adequate thanks, sir.

Glass: Triple. You'd be a steal at twice that. But...(suddenly insecure) may I go in? I brought some flowers, although I don't know what kind she likes, so I just got two of every kind they had...

Macy: Stella, If you'd like to introduce them?

Stella: No problem.

Glass: Thank you so much. Um...how do I look?

Stella: Well, it's not really a look she'd like.

Glass: (panicked) What do you mean? What does it need?

Stella: Well, breasts, for a start.

Glass: (after a beat, laughs) Oh, I see, Ms. Decker. (braces himself) Well, let's do this. Stan, stick around out here, okay?

Stan: Yes sir, Mr. Mayor.

Narrator: Tasha lay drowsing in her hospital bed. Stella and she had been an item way back when, and though Stella'd moved on after almost twenty years, Tasha still felt ver deeply for her former paramour. The rejection had been too much for her to take, and she'd torched a brothel in an attempt to end it all. Learning that she was the Mayor's daughter hadn't done much to calm down a girl who'd grown up on the streets, but she'd become lucid enough for this first, awkward meeting.

Stella: Tash? How you doin'?

Tasha: (weak, but less drowsy than last time) Still crazy, I guess. Who's he?

Glass: I'm Mayor...I'm Robert Glass, Tasha.

Tasha: Nice to meet you. I think I've seen your face around.

Stella: Listen, you guys have a lot of talking to do. I'll leave you be.

Narrator: Stella wheeled out of the door, the father and daughter behind her slowly settling into a reunion. Outside, Macy was nursing another cup of tea and looking deep in thought.

Stella: I think we've done all we can here. Ready to split, Mace?

Macy: (snapping out of it) Huh? Oh, yeah, right, let's go.

Narrator: Parlortown didn't have much to offer in the way of good neighborhoods. Most of the rich either left or took out enormous amounts of space, keeping a building or a wall in between them and the salt of the earth. Sammy Grimaldi was no exception. The building that housed Grimaldi Shipping had a ranchhouse on the roof that rivalled most European chateaux. Protected from ground view by a wall and the noise of the trucks and workers below by three solid feet of concrete, it gave the illusion of suburban life while sitting right on top of the capital of Grimaldi's criminal empire.

Stella: Nice place they've got here.

Macy: Our flat would fit into their kitchen, probably.

Stella: And they say crime doesn't pay.

Donna: (polished, dignified, but youthful) May I help you, detectives?

Narrator: In her presence, Stella and Macy had to conceal their shock. Donna Grimaldi had been Donna Maynard, actress, model and Playmate, before a marriage to a mob boss left her set for life. She was a Xerox copy, not of Tasha, but of who Tasha would have been. Nose unbroken by gang wars, breasts left to flower without malnutrition, belly swelling slightly where more than a decade of rape hadn't left her barren and unwilling to touch. Her curves were natural, her face effortlessly beautiful, her eyes clear and bright. Seeing this perfect form before her, Stella felt renewed fury at the life that had broken a woman she'd loved.

Macy: We hope so, Mrs. Grimaldi. I'm Macy Hayes, this is my partner, Stella Decker.

Donna: Charmed, I'm sure. Do you mind if I sit? It's getting difficult to stand for a long time these days, what with...well, you know.

Macy: Congratulations, Ma'am. When are you expecting?

Donna: Sometime early in June, probably. But this isn't why you've come here, is it?

Macy: Unfortunately not. We have a few questions for you.

Donna: (chuckling) Normally it's my husband who's getting asked questions by detectives. I hope it's not some affair of his you're looking into.

Stella: We're a little more interested in your life before you met your husband, Mrs. Grimaldi. Is it true that you never knew your real father?

Donna: Yes, but I think of Ralph Maynard as my real Father. In every way that matters, he's my dad.

Macy: Did you ever wonder who your biological father was?

Donna: Sure, all the time when I was a teen. Who doesn't look at their parents when they're thirteen and hope they're adopted?

Macy: Did you make any inquiries?

Donna: One or two. The records at Cherry Street are crap, so I didn't get very far. Just a report of birth and adoption. Six pounds nine ounces...I was scrawny.

Stella: And beyond that you never tried to find out?

Donna: Money was tight acting, and when I married Sammy I didn't want some gold diggers calling me 'baby'. Never really got the chance to find out.

Grimaldi: (gruff, a 'wise guy') Everything okay in here, sweetpea?

Narrator: Sammy "the Shark" Grimaldi was one of the richest men in Parlortown. He'd made a name for himself by being for sale and staying bought. When an unfortunate series of shootings left a power vacuum among the Parlortown families, he'd stepped in to fill it. Now, pushing sixty, a decade of unrivaled prosperity and years of marriage to a beautiful woman had only just begun to wear on his powerful physique. He filled the doorway in a casual button-down and jeans, a grin that belied, or perhaps confirmed his grisly reputation.

Donna: Hey big daddy. How was work today?

Grimaldi: Not bad. Caught one of the truckers trying to pocket the merchandise for himself. Had to send him on his way. Who's the company?

Macy: I'm Macy Hayes, Mr. Grimaldi, and this is Stella Decker.

Grimaldi: Hayes, Decker, the two private eyes who are...?

Macy: Hey, makes it easier to carpool.

Grimaldi: (laughs - loud, harsh) Bet it does. I hope you're not grilling my wife too thoroughly; don't want to upset her, what with the baby and all.

Donna: Awww, daddy, you worry too much. I'm not made of glass.

Macy: Funny you should mention -

Stella: Listen, Mr. and Mrs. Grimaldi, my partner and I need to run for now, can we talk again in a little while?

Macy: Huh?

Grimaldi: Hey, I'm just the spectator. What do you say, sugar?

Donna: Sure, though I'm not sure where you're going with all this. Give me a call, we'll set something up.

Stella: Thanks. Macy, let's get going.

Macy: Uh, right, of course. Thanks for all your help!

Narrator: Macy kept a pleasantly blank expression on her face all the way to the truck.

Macy: Okay, Stel, you'd better have a good explanation for -

Stella: I think I know what's goin on?

Macy: What?

Stella: I found the one that's the key to the whole puzzle. I found the lone number.

Narrator: Stella and Macy drove off in search of answers, while across town former-police-sergeant Bopko was in a bar, drinking away his unemployment and lamenting his position.

Bopko: (at least mildly slurred) Crazy bitch cuts off my hand, freaking orderlies won't let me leave, have to goddamn fight my way out of a goddamn hospital, guys on the force treat me like trash...I'll show them. They'll get theirs, oh yeah. Starting with those two dykes.

Voice: (clandestine whisper) You mean Decker and Hayes?

Bopko: You're damn right, man.

Voice: Shameful, really. People like them on the street when you're like this.

Bopko: Word right outta my mouth.

Voice: Somebody ought to do something about it.

Bopko: Hell with somebody, I oughtta do somethin' 'bout it.

Voice: I couldn't agree more. Here; you might find this useful.

(pause, sound as if of rifling through a box)

Bopko: Well, son of a bitch! Thanks friend. To who do I owe the pleasure?

Voice: Just think of it as a gift from the Committee to Re-elect Mayor Glass.

Narrator: Will Tasha and Mayor Glass be able to bridge the gap between them? What answers has Stella divined from the mess of clues and misdirection? How will Bopko try to take his revenge? Answers and more questions await in the next episode of Decker & Hayes: "What a Piece of Work."