Hart to Heart
Something’s Rotten in the State of Connecticut

Previously...
I already had it bad after twenty-three minutes of knowing Miss Gabriella Capaldi. I had already determined that I had to succeed. Because if I was actually lucky enough to find her sister Sally alive, it might mean a big payday and maybe even a trip to Copenhagen or Stockholm. But even more so, if I didn’t find Sally Capaldi, my chances with Gabriella? In New York City, even in this modern age of enlightenment, the 1950’s still aren’t too welcoming for two women, if you follow me. If Sally Capaldi was dead, then so were my chances with her big sister as well.

The office of Mickey Hart, Private Detective...two days later...

Sally Capaldi left nothing behind to help me figure out who jacked her! Poppa Capaldi either hadn’t gotten any ransom demands or he wasn’t letting on. Jackie Noonan down at the Bureau talked to me on the QT, seeing how I had bailed his ass out of more than one stupid jam after another when we were both beat cops out of the academy. Nothing to show that this kid had even existed, which wasn’t a surprise, since she wasn’t even Sally before last year.

“Any news?” Gladys waved at me as I walked in the door.

“No, and I’m wondering what the hell is going on. Poppa San hasn’t breathed a word to anybody but Gabriella and possibly every goon in the family on the east coast. If they try to handle this, it could all go south in a hurry.

“She’s in your office!” Gladys pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. I nodded and walked through my door, marveling how in six months we still hadn’t gotten the idiot who painted ‘privete’ on the glass to fix his mistake. I stepped inside and noticed she’d toned down her outfit. A very prim maroon suit with a cream colored blouse. Her heels had to be at least three inches, and her silk clad legs peeked out through a slit in her skirt.

“I see you’ve been busy,” she said as she crossed her legs, pointing to the pile of receipts on my desk.

“Yeah, it’s mounting up; pretty soon you’ll owe us both a steak dinner!” I joked.

“Listen, Miss Hart! I don’t swing that way. Boys only, and then only when they’re grown up and into their long pants!” She stubbed out her cigarette in the candy dish on the desk, nearly setting the Tootsie Roll wrapper on fire.

“Just a thought,” I said. How the hell did I let that slip out?

“Daddy is majorly upset with me,” she mewled as she leaned forward, begging a light on another smoke.

“You should really think about cutting back on these; they could end up killing you.”

“Well, that’s really none of your business, Miss Hart.” She exhaled a cloud and shook her head.

“Sally is nowhere to be found, and it may be getting to the point where some folks are gonna end up dead!”

“Tell him to at least lay off for a bit; he starts shooting and we may never find your baby sister.” She gasped at the word.

“You’re the only one to allow her that….she’s still Sonny Boy to Daddy Dearest….” Her voice trailed off as it turned from bitter and angry to hopeless.

“Like I told you….I read Scientific American….” I turned away, wondering if my face turned red.

“I’ve never really understood why she did it until Daddy turned her away. Maybe she looked like a dame, but I never thought of her that way until she cried her eyes out on my shoulder. It hurts to think that all those years of having to live up to what Daddy wanted…..and how he….” She turned away, and there was no mistaking the crimson crossing her face.

“He didn’t treat you well, did he?” I was shoving off into uncharted waters, but the stars above told me that she had a lot more to tell me about Daddy and Junior and Daddy's Little Girl.

“No….and that’s all I’m gonna say!” She snapped at me, but something in her face said she wanted me to sail on!

“He hurt you….and little….sister?”

“Stop! Stop it….shut up…for god’s sake shut up!”

“You and she….” I didn’t have to finish. Nobody would ever talk about stuff like this….everybody was aching to get out of the way of A-Bombs and men from other planets…and nobody knew what happened or cared to know what happened to little kids behind closed doors. I knew and she did…she did, indeed. I wanted to gather her in my big weak arms and hold her; a girl with a girl, but nobody did stuff like that either. She made that plain to me, alright.

“What we have to do is get to Sally before your Old Man; if she….”

“Don’t say, it…Please…Miss Hart….don’t say it.” The bravado had vanished, and she pled with me.

“I was going to say, if she surfaces, I have a feeling she’s going to be talking, and plenty. And someone isn’t gonna like that one bit.”

“You….you think she had it coming? You think she….?” Gabriella paused and looked down, almost as if she was inspecting herself.

“No….You….she didn’t have it coming at all.” I know; that’s what I was told. When I was seven and they caught me in my Ma’s closet. And that’s what the doctor said….that’s what they all said back then. It's all your fault! I bit my lip, tasting my Hazel Bishop Cherry Red mixed with a bit of blood.

“But that’s what she thinks…I’d bet the farm on that. So she’s laying low because…” And this is where it got dicey. Too much damn guilt!

“She doesn’t want you to get any more in Dutch with Poppa Capaldi than you already are.”

“Are you saying…..Oh god…fuck!” The word came out of her mouth too easily and just as quickly brought her to tears.

“I’m….I’m sorry….I don’t….” She put her head down.

“Listen, Miss Capaldi. If anyone has reason to say that, it’s you, and I bet you heard it more than anything else from your Old Man growing up. It’s not your fault that Sally is missing. I think she’s laying low while she tries to figure out what to do. If your father knew where she was, he’d have done something and kept quiet. Since he’s turning over every rock in Gotham, I bet he’s just as lost as everyone else. The trick is to find her before he does, or we’ve got a problem.”

“We?” She looked up at me, and her hard edge was gone completely. I wouldn’t say she had puppy-dog eyes, but she looked as sad.

“I’m in this for the long haul, capiche?”

“I….can’t….”

“I know….you can’t pay me. Let’s just get your sister home….let’s get your sister back safe and sound, and we’ll worry about the dough later, okay? I figure your Old Man has to be good for my fee before he figures it all out, and by then we should have this wrapped up.

“You’re telling me you can find Sally?” She batted her eyelashes and my heart skipped a beat. What I wouldn’t give for lashes like that…. And maybe waking up to that face every morning. I nodded.

“I don’t get it…how do you suppose you’re going to find her?”

“Listen, sister, I’m not promising anything….”

“But?”

“But, Miss Capaldi, I think I already know where your sister is!” She relaxed only a bit.

“You have a favorite place where you and she used to hang out?”

“I…we used to play house at my grandma’s in Norwalk….my Mom’s mom…she knew about Sally.”

“I bet that that Poppa never paid attention when you were off visiting, huh?” The look and the shake of her head gave me a lot of reasons to be relieved.

“We’ve got to get up there; he may not have paid attention before, but I’d be willing to bet that he’s sitting up and taking notice right now.” I walked over and opened the door.

“Hey, hon? You got your Nash today?” Gladys nodded and stood up, grabbing her purse.

“No, sweets, I need you to wait an hour and a half after we’re gone and call the precinct.” I turned back and Gabriella had stood up. She read my mind, and handed Gladys a piece of paper with an address written on it.

“The precinct? I don’t understand, Mick….why not call Norwalk?” Gladys put her purse down and walked over to the safe.

“If what I think is going on is going on, calling the precinct will set things up just right.” Gladys opened the safe and reached in, pulling out some insurance….my 45 from when Jeannie came marching home in ’46.

“So the precinct in ninety and the Norwalk cops when?” She smiled and walked over to the closet, opening the door.

“Fifteen after you talk to the precinct.” I stepped out of my heels as Gladys handed me a pair of flats.

“Just in case you have to run, okay, honey?” My sister was always thinking, and it served me well in the past. Hopefully we’d all think on our feet and this would work out just like I planned it. If it didn’t, the whole mess would go to hell in a handcart really fast. Little sister Sally would end up dead, and if Daddy didn’t kill me, nothing would matter anyway, ‘cause Gabriella would blame me and I might as well be dead.

“You, too, Miss Capaldi,” I said, handing her a pair of flats. Lucky for her…or maybe me, I had the smallest feet in my family, my mother included.

“We can’t take any chances, okay. You being a Capaldi, I don’t suppose you don’t know how to use one of these, do you?” I handed her the Colt and she pulled back the action and aimed at the door.

“Daddy always taught me never to aim a gun at anyone unless you intend to use it.” She said sarcastically. Gladys nodded and reached into the safe, pulling out a snub-nose 38.

“Here,” she said, handing the revolver to me. You need a ‘girl’s’ gun, sister!” She laughed and I put the gun in my purse. She handed me the keys to the Nash and pointed out the window.

“Around the corner, hon. Easy does it…the clutch is going!”

“Hopefully we’ll all be back here safe and sound in a few hours.” I grabbed Gabriella’s arm to escort her out, and she flinched once.

“I told you…I don’t swing that way.”

“Yeah…no harm in trying.” I frowned as we stepped into the hallway, but she smiled.

“No, I guess there’s no harm in trying.”

Next: A Good Old Fashioned Family Reunion

Daddy's Little Girl
words and music by
Boby Burke and Horace Gerlach
as performed by
the Incomparable
Miss Connie Francis