Free The World House by Guy Adams

sandwich and fries and carried them over to the booth before leaving Tom to it with a half-smile.
      "Something to chill your teeth, my good lady." Tom placed the drink next to her plate and took a big sip from his own, just so it was easier to carry to his side of the table. She tried it and acknowledged her approval while gasping for air.
      "If that doesn't kick away the pole-riding blues then nothing will. Thanks, Tom."
      "No problem at all. So how were things this evening down at that most esteemed of all skin joints?"
      "I shook and rolled, while the pasty-faced and well-heeled steadfastly refused to notice anything above my nipples. Same old same old…"
      "The damn fools missed your eyes," slurred Tom, then immediately wished he hadn't. The problem with fancying a stripper was you felt a heel hitting on them. Just another purveyor of corny chat-up lines.
      Tom worried too much. Elise gave him a genuine smile. "You're a sweetheart, Tom," she said.
      "Hell, Elise, I don't know much but there's two things I can swear to: I know beautiful eyes when I see them, and I can mix a Martini." He took a big mouthful of his own, just to shut himself up.
      "I shouldn't complain," said Elise, tucking into her patty melt, "a few years of tips and I can pack it all in for a job that allows for more than glitter and tassles. Having said that…" She dug into her coat pocket. "What do you make of this?" She handed him a small wooden box.
      Tom lit a cigarette – as he was wont to do when thinking was required – and turned the box over in his hands. "Looks like the kind of thing you stash your dope in when you've got visitors."
    "Trust you. Try to open it."
      Tom did but, no matter how he ran his fingers over the box's edges, he couldn't find an opening. "Weird."
      "Damn right." She tugged at a stray strand of melted cheese that ran from the corner of her mouth like tacky spider's web. "Some guy gave it to me as I was leaving. 'A sign of my immense appreciation', he said."
      "Did you tell him you preferred foldable appreciation?"
      "I was just glad to get the hell out of there."
      "Was he Chinese?" Tom pointed at the writing on the box's surface.
      "Nah, some old white guy, not the sort of clientele we normally attract. He had his pants done up for one thing. Dressed like out of some old movie… hat and coat, you know, 'The Shadow knows…', that kind of thing."
      A bell of recognition rang in the back of Tom's head but Elise licked her lips and he lost his train of thought. "The Shadow knows…" he murmured, to stop anything more provocative spilling over his vermouth-soaked lips.
      He went back to looking at the box, sure he must be blushing. "So what you going to do with it?"
      "Damned if I know. Think it's worth anything?"
      "Oh yeah, a box that doesn't open… There'll be a line around the block for the chance to own it."
      "What I thought…"
      Tom looked out the window, hoping the sight of rain would wash his numb brain.
      "Marlowe's back," he mumbled, sucking down the final dregs of his Martini in case the answer to Elise's problem was hiding under the olive.
      "Huh?"
      "Nothing." Tom nodded towards the window. "Guy stood out in the rain, thinks he's a private detective or something."
      "That's him," Elise said. "That's the guy…"
      "He's coming over." Tom started to get to his feet. "Think he wants his box back?"
      The man reached into his raincoat as he strode towards them, and pulled out a large handgun. With no hesitation he opened fire and the large plate-glass window cracked like river-ice in spring.
      "Jesus!" Elise dropped to the bench. Tom, quicker than he would have ever given himself credit for, grabbed her arms and pulled her down to the floor next to him.
      "What the fuck ?" Terry shouted. He looked in a mood to argue until a second shot knocked the window through in a waterfall roar. That took all the fight out of him and he