Detective noir story (poems 9,10 and 11)

I found my landlord on the building stoop
 Couldn't tell if he was packed, but eyes blasting
 I gave him a yard, I thought he might whoop
 He was happy, knew it wouldn't be lasting

 He said “if I don't see more in five weeks
 I am painting it and raising your rent”
I got my key and recalled how he reeks
 I shaved my beard or at least made a dent

 Took a long hot shower and embraced sleep
 I had dreamed a doll brushed hair from my eyes
 Then the Ameche rang, woke with a leap
“This is Liela” spoke dove's voice full of sighs

“Hi Leila! Where's John?” I said like a sap
 She breathed “In hour four of an eight hour nap”

“You are the fifth dirty P.I. I called”
Her voice like honey, “what John said you were”
 “Don't folks mind being called at three” I drawled
“A bit” She purred, “They ask me by”, “even her?”

I asked “especially the hers” said mild
“Private Detectives had five Smiths listed
 I dialed until I reached you” said the child
“I like it at John's place, it's forested

 When John sleeps I enjoy the shining lake
 His help scrams until eight when I am here
 They're so sweet to me, everything's Jake
 Walking the middle for this gives me fear”

I caught her drift. She wanted her own poke
 She bade me dreams. “Don't get bit” was her joke

 I can guess her angle, ducking bullets
 And rice may or may not be worth the risk
 John's in a business where they slit gullets
 If her groom died she'd get out of their brisk

 Don't deal with shysters, have built up rhino
 Have a packed keister, empty out the box
 And drift through the shadows like a wino
 Could use one who knows John's beans like a fox

 A shamus like me. Sheba she may be
 I'll get my piece of the pie and run out
 She won't have to rub me out to be free
 Can live on a keister of kale no doubt

 I dreamed of walking on the beach with her
 I wouldn't jog, she did 'til she was a blur