Carrie was a bit surprised that John still wasn't back in the morning, and once again picked up the phone asking for the operator. "Hello? I'd like to hire a private detective-"
The very nasal voice on the other end replied, "well then hire one!"
"No, I mean, could you direct me to one?" she clarified.
"Oh sure!" The phone's receiver opened like a door, and out popped an arm holding a wooden sign with a big red arrow pointing out the window and down the street.
"No... what I mean is, could you patch this call through to one for me."
"No detective has a phone Hon. When ya wanna hire one, ya put on a tight dress and walk into their office. Helps if yer a dame, or maybe a hot broad."
"... is there a difference?" Carrie asked.
"I guess a dame's colder and narrower. That be all hun?"
"... I suppose... thanks." Carrie hung up, resigned to play into the stereotypes. If she was going to do it right, she'd have to borrow one of her husband's dresses. Looking at it, it seemed too tight to even get an arm in, but stubbornly tugging at it, she somehow managed. Just like the green one, it gave her a lot more curves than should have been possible, but her normal human head and arms sticking out the top kinda broke the illusion. Cramming her feet into matching heels, she promptly fell over several times, but eventually managed to strut her way downtown, find a suitably dreary brick building, and sure enough, up on the third floor she found a door that just said PRIVATE DICK on frosted glass.
As soon as she opened it and stepped through, the whole world was in black and white, and an exaggerated caricature of Humphrey Bogart started narrating. "This dame walked into my office. You could tell she was lookin' for trouble, with a capital troub."
"Actually I'm looking for my husb-"
He raised a hand to cut her off. "I should have known better by now than to take the case, but if I had one weakness, it had just walked in wearing a tight dress with a nice set of gams."
Carrie waited until it seemed like he was finished. "As I was saying, I need your help finding my-"
"Yeah, I was helpless against a face like that, with the big eyes and the pouting lips. As helpless as this broad had to be to come to a two-bit washed up old gumshoe like me."
It took several more attempts before Carrie managed to describe what John looked like now, where he lived, and which way she'd seen her fly off. Even then, the detective didn't stop narrating. He just gestured for her to follow him to a cab and kept monologuing as they drove all over town. Paying off informants, chasing thugs down alleys and getting in fist fights. Barging in on poker games that turned into gunfights. Somehow Carrie ended up tied to a chair covered in dynamite in the middle of all this, and after some negotiation they "let her go" by tossing her out a window, but fortunately she landed on a trampoline and bounced through an open window back into the detective's office. Somehow he was already seated at his desk with a big manila folder.
"I knew I shouldn't have taken this case. Somehow you've gotten yourself tangled up with Red Hott. She's a real up and comer around this town. Have a look." He pulled a film reel out of the folder, loaded it into a projector he just happened to have on his desk, and cranked it up, displaying clips from several cartoons on the wall. That was definitely John... walking past toons as they melted into puddles and had their hearts jump out of their chests, making out with them... there was even a few clips of her antics from yesterday trying to catch her with those stupid traps.
The detective continued. "I don't know what sort of beef you have with her, but I'd just let it drop. That broad lives on the corner of trouble and danger. She's got her fingers wrapped around every man in this sorry town," he suddenly turns to the side and stage whispered to the fourth wall, "and I'm pretty sure they've all had their fingers wrapped around her! Yowza!" Turning back he added, "She's really makin' a name for herself too. Most broads like her'll turn a face or head or two and get lost in the shuffle, but she's already gettin' name dropped in the pictures. Why they're even dropping her name and taking her to exotic locales. Have a look at this one." He switched to another reel, opening with a title card- Red Hott Harem, with John in silk pants and veils making eyes at some pathetic looking duck in a turban. "You and I don't mean a hill of beans to a big name like that."
Thinking back, Carrie realized that bit in the middle was literal. That house really had been at the corner of Trouble Lane and Danger Avenue. Which also meant this detective had just dragged her all over town getting into dangerous situations only to present her with the information she kept trying to give him as a starting point!