KISS ME, YOU MAMALUKE
A Danny Marino Mystery — by E.J. Gold
Danny Marino had been in love twice in his life. Both times it had cost him money, and neither time had he gotten a receipt.
He was sitting in the back room of the Downtown Athletic & Bridge Club, watching Nicky Bellomo eat a corned beef sandwich, when Tony Spada looked up from his racing form.
“You got a wife?” Tony asked him.
“Not that I know of,” Danny replied.
“Too bad.” Tony picked up a pack of cards and began shuffling them.
“Why?” Demanded Danny.
“Because somebody’s been calling here, asking for her husband.”
“Who’s her husband?”
“Apparently you are.”
Danny considered this.
“What’s her name?” Danny queried.
“She said her name was Vivian,” Tony said.
“Never heard of her,” Danny muttered.
“That’s what I told her,” said Tony.
“And?” Danny asked.
“She said that’s what you’d say.”
Nicky stopped chewing. “You married, Danny?”
“No. Of course not.”
“You absolutely sure?”
“Yeah, I’m absolutely sure.”
“Sometimes strange things happen. You go to sleep single, and wake up married.”
“Not me.”
Nicky went back to his sandwich. Tony folded the racing form.
“She says she’s coming right over,” Tony said over his shoulder.
“When?”
The front door opened.
“I guess now,” Tony said.
A woman appeared silhouetted in the street door. She was thirty-something, dark hair, dark eyes, and the sort of face that made men forget what they were talking about. She wore a blue wool suit, sensible shoes, and carried a small black handbag.
She looked around the room. “Danny!” she shrieked, looking directly at him.
Before Danny could get to his feet, she crossed the room, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
It was not a casual kiss. Nicky dropped half his sandwich. When she finally stepped back, she was smiling.
“Darling, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she breathlessly intoned, Marilyn Monroe style.
She leaned closer so only he could hear: “Please play along. They’ll kill me if you don’t.”
Tony watched them with considerable interest. “So,” Tony said. “You suddenly remembered.”
Danny looked at the woman. “Of course I did,” he said nodding.
“Uh huh,” Tony said.
Nicky retrieved his sandwich.
Vivian laughed. “He’s always joking.”
“That’s Danny,” Tony said. “A regular comedian.”
Nobody laughed. Tony stood up.
“Why don’t you take your wife someplace nice?”
Danny looked at him. “Now?”
“Now would be good.”
Outside, Second Avenue was crowded with the usual assortment of delivery trucks, taxis, pedestrians, and people who seemed to have nowhere particular to go.
Danny walked half a block before speaking. “All right,” he demanded, “Who the hell are you?”
“Vivian. Vivian Moretti.”
“I got that part.”
“Your wife.”
“That’s the part I’m having trouble with.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“Not here.”
“Where?”
“Someplace public.”
“We’re on Second Avenue. It doesn’t get much more public.”
“Someplace where we can sit down.”
They found a small coffee shop with a narrow counter, six booths, and a waitress who looked as though she’d been disappointed by everyone she’d ever met.
They took the last booth, all the way in the back near the rest rooms and the telephone booth.
“Coffee?” the waitress asked.
“Two,” Danny said.
“Cream?”
“Sure.”
The waitress went away.
Vivian placed her handbag on the seat beside her.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not telling those men I was lying.”
For a minute there I thought I had a wife I’d forgotten about.”
She smiled. “You’re very calm about this.”
“I’m trying something new.”
The coffee arrived. Danny waited until the waitress had gone. “Who’s going to kill you?”
“Arthur Bellamy.”
“Who’s Arthur Bellamy?”
“My actual husband.”
Danny stirred his coffee.
“That’s a relief. For a minute I thought we were going to need a lawyer.”
“We may need one anyway.”
“Why does he want you dead?”
“Because he doesn’t want to be married to me anymore.”
“Most people get a divorce.”
“Arthur prefers more complicated arrangements.”
Danny nodded. He knew the type. “What does he do?”
“Investments. Real estate. Shipping. Some other things.”
“What other things?”
“The kind of things people don’t put on business cards.”
Danny took a sip of coffee.
“And you want me to do what?”
“Find him.”
“Where is he?”
“That’s the problem. He’s dead.”
Danny put down his cup.
“Lady, you’re making this very difficult.”
“He’s supposed to be dead. Three weeks ago. Heart attack. Funeral, obituary, the whole business.”
“But he’s alive?”
“I’ve seen him.”
“Where?”
“Driving his Cadillac on Park Avenue.”
“Maybe somebody bought the car. There are a lot of Cadillacs in this neighborhood.”
“He was driving a pink Cadillac, and don’t tell me there are dozens of those around here.”
“Okay. Maybe you saw somebody who looked like him, and the Cadillac was beige.”
“I’ve been married to the man for six years. I know what he looks like,” and that’s my Cadillac he’s driving.
“That’s helpful.”
She looked at him for a moment.
“Marino,” she said. “That’s Italian, isn’t it?”
“Sicilian.”
“What’s the difference?”
“About three thousand years of history and a considerable number of arguments, plus it’s the basic qualification for becoming a made man.”
“Made man?”
“Never mind.” he said quickly.
“You were born in Sicily?”
“No. I was born in French Hospital in the Bronx, I’m a native New Yorker. Seventh-generation Sicilian.”
“Seven generations?”
“We’re a stubborn family. Nobody ever figured out how to leave Sicily until my grandfather hopped on a boat and came to the States.”
“My parents were sort of Italian,” Vivian said.
“Were sort of???”
“They became fully integrated Americans.”
“That’s a neat trick.”
“They stopped speaking Italian at home. My mother learned to cook pot roast and hamburgers. My father was happy with a Chevrolet sedan.”
“What happened to the pasta, the pizza, the abbondanza?”
“We had spaghetti and meatballs on Thursdays.”
“Thursdays?”
“My mother thought it was more American to have an eating schedule. Dinner was six o’clock. Breakfast at seven, lunch at noon.”
Danny considered this.
“You Catholic?” he asked.
“Sort of. Well, technically, I guess so.” she admitted.
“Me too.” he looked at her a little more closely now.
“You go to church?” he asked.
“Weddings and funerals. Mostly funerals lately,” she said.
“Do you believe in God?” he asked.
“Never met him.” she said.
“That’s not an answer.” he responded.
“It’s the only one I’ve got.” she nodded and smiled.
For the first time since she’d appeared claiming to be his wife, Danny found himself wondering what she was like when she wasn’t frightened.
She took a sip of coffee. “My parents wanted me to marry a doctor.”
“Did you?” he prompted.
“No.” she said.
“Lawyer?” he asked.
“No.”
“Accountant?” he pressed.
“Why an accountant?” she asked.
“I’m working my way down,” he explained.
She laughed. It was a pleasant laugh, entirely different from the one she’d used at the club. “What do you do, Danny?”
“Private investigations.”
“Are you any good?” she asked him.
“I haven’t been arrested yet.”
“That’s reassuring.” she said.
“Depends who you ask,” he said.
She looked toward the front window. A man in a gray overcoat had stopped outside. He appeared to be examining a display of cigarettes in the window of the tobacco shop next door. Vivian stopped smiling.
Danny noticed.
“Friend of yours?” he inquired in a tight tone.
“No.” she was clearly upset.
“Relative?” he asked.
“No.”
“Doctor?” he wondered aloud.
“Danny.” she interrupted.
“Accountant?” he continued.
“Please.” she said.
The man moved on. They both watched until he disappeared. Then she opened her handbag and took out a photograph. It showed a middle-aged man standing beside a black Cadillac. He wore an expensive suit and had the confident expression of somebody who had never been told he couldn’t afford something.
“Arthur,” she said.
Danny studied the picture. “Nice car.”
“He loved that car more than he loved me.”
“That’s a common problem with Cadillacs,” Danny quipped.
“He owned three of them,” she said. “The fourth one, the pink one, was mine, until it vanished right after he supposedly died.”
“Against a brace of Cadillacs, you never had a chance.”
Vivian laughed through the fear. Danny turned the photograph over. On the back was a date, written in blue ink, and the name of a photographer on Madison Avenue.
“Suppose I find him,” Danny said. “Then what?”
“I want you to identify him.”
“For who?”
“My lawyer.”
“Why doesn’t your lawyer hire a detective?”
“He did. The detective couldn’t find Arthur.”
“And you think I can?”
“I think you already have.”
Danny looked up. Vivian was watching the front window. The man in the gray overcoat had returned. This time he came into the coffee shop.
He sat at the counter and ordered coffee. Danny watched him in the mirror behind the cash register.
“Don’t turn around,” he told Vivian.
“I know,” she whispered.
The man at the counter looked at his watch. Then he paid for his coffee without drinking it and went outside. A pink Cadillac pulled up. It was definitely not beige. It was pink.
The man got in.
Danny caught a glimpse of the driver. No doubt about it. It was Arthur Bellamy, or his identical twin.
Danny stood up.
“Stay here.”
He went outside, hailed a taxi, and followed the Cadillac uptown.
It stopped in front of an expensive apartment building on East Seventy-fourth Street. Bellamy got out, spoke briefly to the doorman, and disappeared inside.
Danny paid the cabdriver and crossed the street. The doorman was a dignified fellow in a dark uniform.
“Mr. Bellamy?” Danny asked.
“Which one?”
Danny hesitated.
“How many you got?”
“Two.”
“Arthur Bellamy.”
“Mr. Bellamy’s brother?”
Danny considered this.
“That’s the one.”
“Fifth floor. Apartment C.”
Danny thanked him and went upstairs.
The man who answered the door looked exactly like Arthur Bellamy in the photograph.
“Mr. Bellamy?”
“Yes?”
“Danny Marino. Private investigator.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for Arthur Bellamy.”
The man sighed.
“My brother is dead.”
“So I hear.”
“Then why are you looking for him?”
“Professional curiosity.”
The man looked at him.
“You’re not the first detective who’s come here.”
“I’m beginning to get that impression.”
“My name is Edward Bellamy. Arthur was my twin brother.”
Danny nodded slowly.
That explained the Cadillac.
It explained the face.
It explained why Vivian had seen her dead husband driving down Park Avenue.
It did not explain why she had hired him.
“Mr. Bellamy,” Danny said, “did your brother leave a widow?”
“Yes.”
“Vivian?”
“No. Margaret.”
Danny looked at him.
“Margaret?”
“Margaret Bellamy. They’ve been married for twenty years.”
Danny thought about Vivian, the blue wool suit, the black handbag, and the kiss.
“Did your brother ever know a woman named Vivian Moretti?”
Edward Bellamy looked suddenly uncomfortable.
“I’m afraid he did.”
“How well?”
“Very well.”
“How well is very well?”
“She was his secretary.”
Danny waited.
Edward sighed.
“And his mistress.”
“Ah.”
“She was a very determined young woman.”
“I’m beginning to notice.”
“She wanted Arthur to leave his wife. He refused. Then he died.”
“And now?”
“Now she’s been trying to prove he’s alive. She thinks he faked his death to get away from her.”
Danny considered this.
“Did he?”
“No. I attended the funeral myself.”
“Then why is she bothering you?”
“Because she believes I’m Arthur.”
“Understandable.”
“She’s been following me for two weeks.”
Danny nodded.
“Did you know she was going to hire a detective?”
Edward Bellamy looked at him strangely.
“Hire?”
Danny felt a small disturbance somewhere behind his ribs.
“She didn’t hire you?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
Danny thought about the kiss.
He thought about the way Vivian had touched his hand.
He thought about her telling him she needed somebody she could trust.
And he thought about the fact that she had never once offered to pay him.
“I’m beginning to wonder,” he said.
He returned to the coffee shop.
Vivian was still sitting in the booth.
She looked up when he came in.
“Well?”
“Found him.”
“Arthur?”
“Edward.”
She said nothing.
“Arthur’s twin brother.”
Vivian looked down at her coffee.
“I know.”
Danny sat down.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you send me after him?”
“I needed somebody to see him.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody believes me anymore.”
“About what?”
“That Arthur is alive.”
“Vivian, Arthur is dead.”
“I know what the newspapers say.”
“His brother says he attended the funeral.”
“His brother would say that.”
Danny looked at her.
“You knew about the twin all along.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew Arthur was married to Margaret.”
“Yes.”
“And you were his secretary.”
“Yes.”
“And his mistress.”
Vivian looked out the window.
“Yes.”
Danny sat back.
“You left out quite a bit.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t help me.”
“You were right.”
She looked at him.
“Would you have helped me if I’d told you the truth?”
Danny thought about it.
“Probably not.”
“Then I was right too.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
She opened her handbag and took out a small envelope.
Inside were two tickets.
“What’s this?”
“Tickets to a show. Saturday night. Broadway.”
Danny looked at them.
“What’s the occasion?”
“I thought you might like to take me.”
“After all this?”
“Yes.”
“Lady, you lied to me, kissed me in front of three wiseguys, made me chase a dead man around Manhattan, and got me involved in a family argument that probably started before I was born.”
“I know.”
“And now you want me to take you to a show?”
“Yes.”
Danny looked at the tickets.
They were good seats.
Very good seats.
“Who’s paying?”
“I am.”
He considered this.
“Dinner too?”
“Dinner too.”
“Where?”
“You pick.”
Danny looked at her for a long moment.
Then he put the tickets in his pocket.
“All right.”
Vivian smiled.
“There’s one more thing.”
Danny closed his eyes.
“What?”
“You’ll have to pretend to be my husband.”
“Again?”
“Just for the evening.”
“Why?”
“Because my parents are coming.”
Danny stared at her.
“Your parents?”
“They’ve been asking when they’re going to meet you.”
“Vivian, your parents don’t know me.”
“They know all about you.”
“Such as?”
“That you’re Sicilian. Seventh generation. Private investigator. Very respectable.”
“Respectable?”
“I may have exaggerated.”
Danny looked at her.
Then he started to laugh.
It surprised him.
He hadn’t laughed like that in quite a while.
Vivian reached across the table and took his hand.
“Danny?”
“What?”
“Kiss me, you mamaluke.”
He did.
And for the third time in his life, Danny Marino fell in love.
This time, at least, somebody else was paying for dinner.
===========================================================================
STORY BREAKDOWN
KISS ME, YOU MAMALUKE
A Danny Marino Mystery — by E.J. Gold
1. THE HOOK
Danny Marino discovers that a woman he’s never met has been calling the Downtown Athletic & Bridge Club claiming to be his wife.
She arrives, kisses him passionately in front of Tony Spada and Nicky Bellomo, and whispers that someone will kill her unless he plays along.
Danny has acquired a wife without the inconvenience of getting married.
2. THE PREMISE
Vivian Moretti claims that her husband, Arthur Bellamy, died three weeks earlier, but she has seen him alive, driving his Cadillac around Manhattan.
She needs Danny to find him and establish that he’s alive.
Danny accepts the situation reluctantly, partly out of curiosity and partly because Vivian is attractive, amusing, and apparently in danger.
3. CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT
Danny reveals that he’s a seventh-generation Sicilian, born in New York, with a strong sense of family history.
Vivian is Italian-American, but her parents abandoned most of their Italian customs in favor of becoming thoroughly American.
Their conversation about Thursday spaghetti, Catholicism, and family expectations establishes an immediate personal connection.
Both are nonpracticing Catholics, neither particularly interested in religious observance.
The attraction develops through humor, shared background, and their ability to amuse each other.
4. THE INVESTIGATION
Vivian produces a photograph of Arthur Bellamy standing beside his Cadillac.
A mysterious man in a gray overcoat appears outside the coffee shop.
Shortly afterward, Danny sees a man resembling Arthur driving the Cadillac.
He follows the car to an expensive apartment building on East Seventy-fourth Street.
There he discovers that Arthur had an identical twin brother, Edward Bellamy.
5. THE REVELATION
Edward explains that Arthur really is dead.
Arthur’s widow is Margaret Bellamy, not Vivian.
Vivian was Arthur’s secretary and mistress, and has been trying to prove that Arthur faked his death to escape their relationship.
Danny realizes that Vivian has deliberately withheld important information.
The apparent mystery of the dead man driving his Cadillac has a perfectly ordinary explanation.
6. THE REVERSAL
When Danny confronts Vivian, she admits that she knew about Edward, Margaret, and Arthur’s marriage.
She needed somebody to investigate, but feared Danny wouldn’t help if she told him the truth.
Danny has solved the mystery, but discovers that he was never really in control of the investigation.
Vivian has been directing events from the beginning.
7. THE ROMANTIC DEVELOPMENT
Vivian produces two excellent Broadway tickets and invites Danny to accompany her.
Despite having been deceived, Danny accepts.
Their attraction has become more important than the investigation.
Vivian then reveals that Danny must continue pretending to be her husband because her parents are coming to meet him.
8. THE PUNCHLINE
Danny discovers that Vivian has already told her parents about him, including his Sicilian ancestry and supposedly respectable profession.
Instead of walking away, he laughs.
Vivian tells him:
“Kiss me, you mamaluke.”
Danny obliges.
The story closes by returning to its opening observation about Danny’s previous romantic misfortunes:
And for the third time in his life, Danny Marino fell in love.
This time, at least, somebody else was paying for dinner.
9. THE POINT OF THE STORY
The detective solves the mystery but fails to recognize the more important development taking place right in front of him.
Vivian’s apparent helplessness conceals a woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it.
Danny believes he’s investigating a dead husband. In reality, he’s being drawn into a new relationship.
The mystery is solved. The detective is caught.
10. STORYTELLING TECHNIQUE
The story uses the traditional short-mystery structure associated with The Strand Magazine:
- An immediate, unusual situation.
- A mysterious woman with a questionable story.
- A seemingly impossible event.
- A rational explanation involving mistaken identity.
- A reversal that changes the meaning of the investigation.
- A final comic surprise that completes the story.
The dialogue carries much of the characterization, while the 1958 New York setting provides atmosphere.
The central technique is misdirection: the reader concentrates on the apparently dead husband while the actual story concerns Danny’s unexpected emotional involvement.
The final joke is also the resolution. Danny has found something he wasn’t looking for, and for once, he doesn’t mind.
===========================================================================
Hey, lookit, here’s the Bardo bus — Guillermo is driving!
===========================================================================
See You At The Top!!!
gorby