We felt that enough time has passed since our last Jack Midnight Chronicle so we’ve decide to put the gears back in motion and start a sequel. There is no exact time frame yet as to when we will start posting the new chronicle, but it should be pretty soon. Thank you all for reading. And to our subscribers, we appreciate you for motivating us to continue.
Until next time…
Charlotte handed me an envelope.
“We found this on the other assassin.” Charlotte said.
The envelope was unassuming, brown, and sealed.
I broke the seal and read the contents. It was an instruction sheet.
It was almost as good as a confession.
It had everything in there. Location, time, instructions on what not to do.
Exactly when to kill Veronica. It was safe to assume this goon decided not to read his instruction manual.
Stupid move, considering X was so thorough.
If he would have lived through this, he may not have made it much longer.
Except he didn’t live. I did. And I read the instruction sheet.
The plan shot into my head quickly.
Just like old times.
I brought Veronica and Charlotte closer to me, showed them the note.
Veronica gasped, Charlotte laughed.
“What’s so funny, honey?” I asked.
“Fucking amateurs.” Charlotte said.
I smiled back at her. I guess I found it a little funny as well.
Apparently this assassin was no rocket scientist.
Veronica’s dead body was to be dropped at a river, not far away from the Web. She was to be laid next to my lifeless body.
How poetic.
But what about Charlotte?
It didn’t make sense to me. Did X think that Charlotte would stand by and watch her sister die.
This cowboy was hoping for a Mexican standoff.
Which means there is someone else waiting outside to clean up.
Interesting.
That person was now walking down the back stairs that led to the Web’s basement.
The footsteps were quick at first, then slowed down as the person approached the back door.
“Come to mop up?” I said out loud to both Charlotte and Veronica.
I thought about putting up a charade. Let the person think that the show went on as planned. But I was not in the mood for games.
I waited by the door with my gun drawn. But it wasn’t me who pulled the trigger.
As soon as the door opened from the outside, Charlotte shot at the poor, unsuspecting chap and dug her knife deep into the gentleman’s throat. She grunted as she pulled the knife back out.
The man, dressed in black but covered now in red, dropped to his knees and gurgled what I hoped were his last prayers.
I knew what we had to do.
Charlotte sensed my intentions and grabbed car keys off of the cleaner.
“Time to get moving” Charlotte said.
I didn’t need another word to come out of her beautifully dangerous mouth.
I picked up one of the dead men, while Charlotte and Veronica dragged the other.
We walked out the back door of the Web and Charlotte locked the door behind us, dropping the dead assassin’s head on the concrete step to turn the lock.
I checked my watch. The dead bodies were expected in 15 minutes.
Mr. X would be there.
I threw the first body in the trunk and helped the girls with the other.
“I’ll drive.” I said, and took the keys from Charlotte without waiting for an answer.
Veronica jumped in next to me. Charlotte laid down in the back seat, removed her heels and rubbed her delicate feet.
“So, what’s the plan?” Charlotte said.
“Well, he’s expecting bodies.” I said. “And bodies we’ll give him.”
I turned the ignition. The engine roared to life. I drove off into the night, listening to the dead men thump in the trunk of the car.
We drove on the empty highway until we reached the spot designated in the letter. There was a dock and an empty boathouse. Flashes of the Peterson farm penetrate my thoughts.
I pulled out my Colt Python and check the chamber, six rounds and a healthy dose of Deja-vu.
Only this time the click of the chamber locking didn’t make me feel any safer. The area was dark, I didn’t see anyone in the area. Veronica had been playing possum in the front seat for the last few miles, we didn’t want to take any chances, there was no telling where X could be.
“You ready for this Darlin?”
She squeezed my hand to tell me that she was, but that a part of her was scared as well.
I cut the engine and walked to the other side of the car. I opened the door and took Veronica in my arms. I carried her to the boathouse and laid her on the wooden table in the room as per
X’s instructions.
It was dark, no streetlights and hardly any moonlight, pretty good cover, I appeared only as a silhouette.
I waited in the dark room, a room as dark as my thoughts and the building rage.
I thought I might be scared facing him again, I’m a little ashamed to say I’ve been scared a lot during the last ten years, I never showed it, but it was there, weakening me, enslaving me. That’s why I had hardly touched a case harder than infidelity all these years.
Standing in that dark boathouse, I didn’t feel scared, I felt justice. Justice for Emily, all of those families, and for myself.
My thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the boathouse door. X walked into the room, his attention immediately on the girl on the table.
“Good, you’ve brought the girl, and she doesn’t seem violated in any way. Your employers will reward you for this generously. What of the other girl?”
“She’s gonna be a little late. Been a long time Leon, how’s the hand?” I said as I lit up a cigarette.
X was caught by surprise. “Midnight!”
X reached for a gun in his belt. I fired one round and knocked it out of his hand.
“C’mon now Leon, is that any way to say hello to someone you haven’t seen in 10 years?”
”Your supposed to be dead, I guess you seduced that filthy cheap whore.”
“Believe me, Leon, she tried to kill me and would have succeeded, but your cheaper goon blew his load too early.”
“This interferes with my work Detective, I have an important mission to achieve.”
“So do I Leon, and last I checked, revenge was a much stronger mission. But your wrong about something Leon, I’m no longer a detective, thanks to you, this is personal.”
I flick my cigarette and took off my coat and hat and let them drop to the floor.
“See Leon, no badge.”
Leon rolled up the sleeves on finely pressed shirt.
“Let us dance.” He said.
Leon was not a gun-using man for the most part. He took joy and pride in his knife work. I did not expect him to pull a firearm in first place, but he did. I knew he was not going to try it again. He was sloppy with a gun. Clumsy. But with a knife, he was Da Vinci.
As I thought, each of Leon’s hands produced a very sharp blade from holsters at his hips.
Predictable.
But for some reason, I froze.
I was ready. Ready to take control again. Ready to take my vengeance. To smite down this evil man, with my own righteous hand.
But I froze.
Leon charged.
Fury took over, and any other thought escaped Leon’s head. He was going to finish this once and for all. And there I was waiting for him like a sitting duck. Soon to be a dead duck.
Then something happened.
Leon must have assumed Veronica dead.
But Veronica was not dead.
And in all of her liveliness, she jumped up, out of her possum position, and grabbed Leon by the throat from behind.
Leon, though physically stronger than Veronica, was taken by surprise.
This gave me enough time to act. To thaw out.
I couldn’t shoot Leon because Veronica was hanging off his back. I really didn’t want her dead along with him.
In his confusion, Leon thrust one of his knives at me, but missed.
I grabbed his wrist and broke it, bending it back well beyond the bending point.
The knife fell helplessly to the ground. So did Leon.
Veronica’s grip was so tight she was actually making Leon black out, choking him.
With a thud, Leon went down to his knees. Though this also sent Veronica tumbling to the ground.
Leon gasped, trying to catch his breath.
In one swoop, I dropped down and grabbed the knife and swung my arm in an arc, blade facing out.
I caught Leon in his favorite spot, the throat.
Leon looked across at me. We were face-to-face now.
In his anger, he reached out again. But it was in vain. I had the knife, not him. His other knife dropped as he was choking.
I stood up.
Leon crawled toward me, trying to speak. No words came out.
With Veronica free from his back, it was fire away.
I pulled my Colt Python and placed the barrel on his forehead.
Leon, accepting his fate, waited for me to pull the trigger.
I hesitated.
I don’t know why, but in this moment I thought about bringing him in.
Taking him to the authorities. Making him rot in jail.
Police Officer Jack Midnight would have brought him in. Jack Midnight with a badge.
I was just Jack Midnight with a gun.
I pulled the trigger.
Veronica screamed.
Charlotte rushed the boathouse.
Leon fell forward as his life spilled away on the floor.
I decided to walk out the door.
This would be the first time I am walked away from a case. But I just was not the same man I used to be.
As I went for the door, I heard Veronica call out to me.
“Jack!” She said, more as a statement than a question.
“Yea hon?” I said back, without turning around. Though I did stop and look down. I felt defeated.
I was alive but was it for the better?
“Jack, where are you going?” Veronica asked. “You can’t walk away from this now.”
“I thought you were downstairs helping your sister clean.” I replied coldly. My emotions were drained and I was in dire need of a
drink.
“I was.” Veronica said. “But I wanted to check up on you, see how you were holding up.”
“Well my clothes are still on and I’m not tied up, so I guess take that as you will.” I joked. This time I did turn around and smiled.
Veronica did not look amused. In fact, I thought I caught a hint of tears.
“But, but I thought you were going to help us now.” She said. “Charlotte kept you alive. She never leaves anyone alive. I thought maybe it was fate, you know? Like you were meant to help us.”
“It wasn’t fate darlin’. That man just shot his load a little too quickly. He came after you before the job was done. She was aving you, not keeping me alive.” I tried explaining the cold, hard facts to Veronica. It didn’t seem like it ws sinking in though.
Veronica walked toward me.
She grabbed my left shoulder with her left hand. I immediately felt calm but not relieved.
I knew a big decision was coming. It was a decision I was not really prepared to make.
Veronica did not speak but her eyes were doing all the talking and asking.
she wanted me to stay. Not just for the clean-up either. Veronica wanted me to see this through to whatever end.
Did I really want to see this through?
All I had to do was walk out that door, head down the street, and I was gone. There was nothing keeping me in this God forsaken town. Nothing to hold me.
Veronica was holding me though. Physically now…
She wrapped her arms around me and began to sob into my chest. But I guess she held me emotially as well. There was a draw to this girl.
Charlotte may have the Web, but it was Veronica who had me stuck.
I embraced Veronica as she pressed herself against my chest. More out of instinct than anything else. This was a girl who was looking for help. Would Jack Midnight be the one to turn her down?
Will I let my past failure keep me down? I missed Mr. X once, let him slip away.
I knew deep down in my heart this was my chance for redemption.
I pulled my head away but I did not let her go.
When she looked up at me I kissed her forehead.
“I guess I’m not going anywhere.” I said slowly, almost with a sigh. Through her sobs I caught a smile.
She might not have been the devil her sister was but she still knew how to work a man.
Women were going to be my downfall.
Veronica broke away. Her breathing returned back to normal; the tears were gone.
She led me back downstairs where her sister was finishing up cleaning her chamber of fun.
Charlotte exchanged the sexy teddy for sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Her hair was rolled up in a bun. And she still had on her heels.
Classy broad.
“So you’re back?” Charlotte said, without looking up.
“I came back for seconds.” I said.
Charlotte wasn’t amused.
She brought me into one of the working girl’s rooms and handed me my clothes in a pile. Can’t say I liked being exposed, both physically and otherwise.
Charlotte stood in front of me, the dangerous beauty still in lingerie. As I zipped up my pants she got closer to me, touched my arms and caressed my neck with her full, voluptuous lips.
“Sure you want to put those on so quickly baby.”
Can’t say that I wasn’t tempted by the prospect of experiencing the pleasure she could give me, but I knew better. This was her way of saying she was sorry for stripping me of my manhood. I pulled away.
“Sorry darlin’, last time I kissed you I wound up naked, tied to a chair, or don’t you remember?”
I could see the hurt in her face; she was not a woman who was used to rejection.
I put on my button down.
“At least let me help you with this.” She said.
I let her slowly button my shirt back up to the top, her fingers dancing from one button to the next.
She let me save face, seemed only right to return the favor. She gently tied my tie for me and kissed me on the lips. She waited a second before saying,
“See, nothing happened this time.”
I responded by lighting a cigarette.
“My trust could be earned a lot faster if you tell me what your role in all of this is and what I’ve got to do with everything.”
She borrowed my cigarette from me and took a drag.
“Like I said Jack, this was business, nothing personal. For me at least.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’ve made a dangerous enemy who wanted to see you suffer and die.”
I reclaimed my cigarette and took a contemplative drag. Charlotte continued.
“My sister and I ran away from home at thirteen. Our stepfather was an abusive asshole who beat us when he got drunk and touched us when he got horny. We left in the middle of the night; my sister and I, and the clothes on our backs. We hitched rides all the way to the city. That was about fifteen years ago.”
“Sad story,” I said, trying to use my best act of empathy. “What’s it got to do with me?”
“Rick at the Peach Grove took us in. He was nice to us, fed us, and gave us a place to stay. We worked odd jobs for him until we were 18 and that’s when I started to work as one of his girls. That line of work didn’t suit Veronica as well as it did me, she was always…sweeter.”
I listened to her story while fixing myself a scotch and water.
“I’ve known Rick a long time too darlin’,” I said, as I brought the glass of scotch to my nose before continuing.
“He deals in a lot of dirt, but an underworld hit is a long way from being on his resume. How does a Peach Grove hooker end up as a mob assassin?”
She went to the bar and fixed herself peppermint schnapps, strait up. I guess she likes it sweet and likes it hard.
Girl after my own heart.
“Must have been about 8 years ago now, I was working at the Grove, one of the patrons was getting a little rough with me. Rick had the bouncer toss the guy. It’s not pretty, but it comes with the job. I didn’t think anything else of it when I left that night. But I guess that asshole did, cause he was waiting; pulled me into the alley, punched me in the face and told me he was going to rape me before he killed me. I thought I was going to die.”
Charlotte’s eyes looked as though they were going to well up.
She realized that I was watching and turned it off as quickly as it started.
I took another gulp of scotch; I offered her another drag of my cigarette, she took it and continued her tale.
“And then suddenly he was there, out of the shadows. He was fast. He used a blade, but I swear, to this day I didn’t see it, almost like he tore the jugular out of his throat and then he looked at me. There was something in his eyes that looked like pleasure, or bloodlust. He told me that it was my own fault that I was in that alley because of my depraved lifestyle. He said he would just as soon kill me, but he was going to give me a chance to live. He wanted me to continue in his work. Over the next few years he trained me in the art of killing, when and how to use blades, poison, explosives, guns, everything.”
Something about this girl’s story didn’t sit right
“What was in it for him?” I asked before coyly adding “Besides the obvious.”
She smirked at me and fired down a vodka shot, chased by a sip of her schnapps.
“I worked for Rick, so he saw it as his ticket into the city’s underworld. He has a sick notion of justice; problem is no one is worthy of living in his eyes. It was only a few months later that some of the lower level mob guys wound up dead, but not just whacked, savagely murdered, torn apart, always the jugular. But it didn’t end there; their families would turn up dead in the same manner. Some of them had no idea what their husbands were up to.”
“Ok, so he used you to infiltrate the city’s underbelly. Why teach you how to kill as well?” I still wasn’t getting the connection.
“Sometimes is was because he couldn’t get the target to fall for his traps, so what better than a…well… an easy hooker. It was a game, a fantasy. First the target meets Veronica at the Peach Grove. She’s sweet, innocent and vulnerable. Then she takes them to the Web, and we would secretly switch places. Most John’s think we’re the same person, they don’t look that closely to tell the difference. I’m a bit more…. adventurous…shall we say? I make their fantasies come true, and then, just when they’re most vulnerable, I strike.”
She was adventurous all right. I couldn’t help but stare at that gorgeous body. The fact that she was dangerous seemed to excite me more. Taking a drag from my cigarette, I put the pieces together.
“So, let me guess, after a few kills he goes to Rick, offers his services to the mob factions, has them set you up as the Madame of The Web and you act as the liaison between X and the mob, allowing him to remain a ghost.”
She smiles at me and runs her fingers down my neck and across my chest.
“Your good Midnight; as good as everyone says you are.”
“So X, he’s a silent partner here?”
“He lets me run my own place in exchange for services when necessary.”
“Such as killing me.”
She nodded; I thought I caught a twinkle in her eye and the beginning of a smile in the corner of her mouth.
“It was just a job Jack, I swear he didn’t tell me anything. You were just a name in a file.”
“So what was that with your sister back there?”
Her mood darkened like an oncoming storm.
“Like I said Jack, he’s got a fucked up sense of justice. He’s completely unpredictable. We were probably targets from the beginning for being whores.”
“So the moron he sent to watch, I guess verify my death to him, jumped the gun; goes for your sister, only your faster.”
There were a million brooding thoughts behind those beautiful eyes, but she hid it well; better than Veronica. I poured myself another scotch and took a gulp.
“Guess that leaves you in a world of hurt doesn’t it.”
“Yeah, X will come for us once his goon is overdue. We…we could really use your help Jack.”
She ran her hand down the front of my pants, brushing her lips against mine as she spoke. I responded with a laugh.
“You’ve got some pair lady. An hour ago you were all set to kill me without a second thought, now you expect my help?”
She was taken back.
“I let you live, you owe me.”
“I owe you nothing sweetheart, probably should have died a long time ago.”
She went to argue with me, but didn’t bother after she saw me fire down my scotch and immediately pour another. I went through half the bottle already and even I was beginning to feel it’s wonderful, blissful, numbing effects.
“Your right old man, I don’t need some pathetic drunk tripping over his own feet. I don’t get what my sister ever saw in you.”
There was tone of disgust in her voice.
I turned away from her and looked out the room’s large 2nd floor window to the bustling city below. I knew what I was, and maybe she wasn’t all that far off. Before she slammed the door on me and left me to my own dark thoughts, she said something.
“Oh, one more thing old man, X wanted me to tell you something before I killed you. He wanted me to say ‘If a man lives a pure life, nothing can destroy him.’”
I stopped in mid-sip. Before I had a chance to say anything she stormed out. I sat down on the bed and took down yet another scotch. My heartbeat quickened a pace and I felt the panic rise up in me like a tide.
Leon Xander.
He couldn’t be alive, not after all these years.
——————————————————————————————————————–
I lit up another cigarette and took a long drag. I held it in my lungs until it hurt.
The blissful lightheaded feeling I get on exhaling the toxic vapors ebbs the flood of memories that breaks through the barrier of my subconscious. The memory was so real that I’m no longer in the hooker’s suite on the second floor of the Web.
The farmhouse is on the edge of the city. It’s ten years ago and I’m just pulling up in the unmarked car in front of the Peterson farm. The rain is coming down in buckets and the windshield wiper is drowning in its desperate and futile attempt to clear my view. As I sit in the car, I check the chamber on my Colt Python.
Six rounds.
I flick my wrist and the chamber locks back in place, assuring me of my safety.
It had been a long time coming here. A long, bloody trail of murder, torture and madness had led me here, on this cold November night.
The psychopath I was looking for had already killed six families so far. Sick bastard watched as he made each family member take the life of another until only one remained. He then left his signature, a slit jugular on the last surviving member.
The case had taken a toll on me. I had become lost in my work, staying late, going over the evidence. My drinking had gotten worse. Genie was getting tired of my late night arrivals back home. I had reason to be on edge. The first detective who took on this case wound up on a morgue slab with an open throat.
That night had been Genie’s birthday. She had threatened to leave me if I followed the lead that I had just been called in by my captain.
I walked out the door, knowing she wouldn’t be there when I got back.
Things like family and career used to be important to me. That was close to a year ago at this point. I was a changed man. Now, sitting in my car, in front of that dark farmhouse of horror, my heart raced. A man passing by the farm about an hour earlier had seen a mysterious figure prowling around the property. The city had become gripped in fear in recent months in light of the appalling nature of the crimes.
I took the badge out of my pocket and looked at it, channeling all of the hard work and sacrifice that went into earning that piece of metal. I step out of the car and toss it into the woods. Running to the house with my colt drawn, I stay low, below the window. The front door had been picked. I kicked the door in and cleared the room. Nothing. The sound of glass shattering redirected my attention upstairs.
I ran up the stairs and drop to my knees upon reaching the master bedroom.
Parents, one boy and a girl are laying on the floor, bathed in their own blood, eyes wide with shock and terror. At that moment, something inside me hardened. A piece of my soul died. I would never be quite the same from that point on.
I charged the broken window and climbed down the outside of the house. I could see the silhouette of the escaping villain and his hostage crossing over into the tree line. I caught up with them on a small bridge in the middle of the woods, over a lake.
I pointed my Colt Python at the killer.
“Hold it right there, asshole!”
The killer responded by grabbing the girl tight, pressed the butcher knife against her throat. The girl was alive but dead on the inside, she didn’t respond in any way.
“So nice to finally meet you Detective Midnight.”
“Let her go so I don’t have to shoot you.” I lie to him.
“But Detective, this girl is a savage killer, she killed her entire family, she has to die.”
“Shut the fuck up you sick bastard!”
“Don’t you see detective, that family was guilty of crimes against morality.”
His voice was rising to a shriek.
“They died because they were not pure.”
“Shut the fuck up and drop it!”
His shriek reached an ear splitting crescendo.
“IF A MAN LIVES A PURE LIFE, NOTHING CAN DESTROY HIM!”
He sliced the girls throat and she dropped to the ground, as lifeless outside as she was on the inside. Her name was Emily, she was 9 years old. The sick bastard dropped the knife and raised his hands in surrender.
“Ok, Detective, I’m ready, take me in.”
I let out a savage growl as I raise my Colt and fire. The top of his right hand explodes, leaving his thumb and pinky. Leon let out an agonizing guttural scream as he fired a spring mounted blade from inside his left sleeve.
The blade hits me in the shoulder.
I fired two more rounds, hitting him twice in the chest. Leon fell backwards off of the bridge, into the water.
I pulled the blade from my shoulder and rush to the girl. It’s too late. My vision goes hazy as I loose consciousness and hit the wooden planks.
I woke up the next day at the hospital. The police never found Leon’s body. It was assumed he had been carried out into the larger currents. He never turned up.
The resulting investigation was harsh on me to put it easy. They needed a scapegoat, someone to blame for all of their inadequacies and grief. Looks like I fit the bill. The D.A. accused me of sloppy police work and excessive force. Genie didn’t say a word to me until she asked for a divorce. The PD would have pulled my badge, had I not already tossed it into the woods. They claimed I was a danger to society at large. All those years of loyalty and dedication gone. The load of crap they shoved down my throat digesting fully into a nauseous sense of reality. I guess I was lucky I didn’t end up in a cell of my own. I did, however, end up in a bottle. A cell of it’s own really. And I’ve been its prisoner for the past ten years.
My eyes snapped back into the posh decorations, the fuzzy pink drapes hiding the mirrored walls and ceiling from the outside world. 10 years ago Leon Xander ruined my life, now, he was reincarnated- in a sense- as Mr. X and he had come back to finish the job.
Could I honestly make a stand against this maniac?
No.
Nor did I plan to. Detective Midnight would have faced him on principal. I’m no longer him, reincarnated in my own way. I don’t have those same principals. I stood up, get my coat and head for the door.
Charlotte straddled me and i immediaty forgot why I was there in the first place.
She took my hands and gently placed them to her bare thighs.
My thoughts swam.
Still on my lap, she refilled my glass and brought the scotch to my lips.
She really knew how to treat a man.
With the sip of scotch still in my mouth, she kissed me deeply. Charlotte backed off slowly and I swallowed hard.
“So what was it you came to see me about Mr. Midnight?” She asked.
I tried to respond but my tongue was numb. Swollen.
She placed her hands on top of mine and slowly slid them up and down the smooth skin of her upper thigh.
“What’s the matter baby?” She asked. “Spider’s got your tongue?”
At that moment, among other things I was feeling, I felt my eyelids get heavy.
She slid back off me, letting my hands trickle off her thighs and fall to my sides.
I couldn’t lift my arms.
I was paralyzed.
As I blinked my eyes to fight the oncoming haze, I watched Charlotte, seemingly in slow motion, placing various items on top of a rolling cart. The only item I made out was a bundle of rope.
If she wanted to get rough, all she had to do was ask.
My eyes closed. And I became afraid of what they might see when they opened again… If they opened again.
They did open again.
And though I was bound and gagged, I was fully aware.
And I was also fully aware that I was tied to a wooden chair and I was sitting in my underwear.
I was alone in the room.
The lights were turned off, but my eyes adjusted quickly.
After a few minutes, I heard a door open behind me. With the tap, tap, tap, of high heels came the squeaking of rolling wheels.
That damn rolling cart.
It then dawned on me what that rope was for. I was wearing it.
Charlotte had on a lacey, red teddy and high, black leather boots that left the skin above the knee exposed. The heels of the boots were about 7 inches high.
Charlotte’s silky smooth thigh brushed my naked arm and the rolling cart stopped in front of me.
On the top of this car was a variety of blades. All of which Charlotte seemed very capable of handling.
And, as if reading my mind she winked at me and said, “I’m surgical.”
She began examining her blades, testing the razor edges against her delicate skin.
I felt the sweat drip down my face and the collected pools under my arms and in my crotch. I must have been a sight.
“You know why you’re here? Oh That’s right, you can’t speak, can you?” Charlotte said with a smirk.Though the viciousness and sadistic nature was gone from her eyes and she continued her one-sided conversation with me.
“Of course this is nothing personal. Any other day,” she stopped and giggled, “well you’d still probably be tied up, but it would be under more-well pleasurable circumstances.”
“Truth is, Jack, you’ve made enemies. Enemies with a lot of pull, unfortunately they want you dead.”
The thought of enemies made me wonder. I’ve been out of the legitimate cop scene for a long time now. About ten years or so. Hell, I’ve practically been working alongside the mob at some points. The same slimebags that I used to hunt down and put away now knew my phone number by heart. I’m not proud of it. Never said I was. But it made a living and paid for my vices. That was all I was looking for. Nothing more, nothing less. Who the hell could I have pissed off. Sure I had a couple of bad bets out there and I’ve thrown a punch or two in my share of bar fights over the years, but I couldn’t have pissed any off to the point of wanting me dead.
At least, that’s what I thought.
“See Jack, I’m not the only hired killer that your enemies know. I just happened to be the best at what I do.”
A brothel owner and a hired gun. An impressive resume.
I guess I gave Charlotte a questioning look after this comment because she answered.
“They want it done right and they want it done slow.”
Crazy bitch.
All throughout her speech, Charlotte continued to rub blades up and down my skin. A nick here, a cut there, a slice somewhere else. Enough to make me flinch but no where near serious damage.
She was playing with me. And man, did she look good doing it. I was also pretty sure she was getting off by this whole process.
Like I said, crazy bitch.
Charlotte circled my chair prison as she spoke. Once or twice she took a fist full of my hair and gave it a little pull. A few pinches and slaps. She was having a grand ol’ time. With each pass she made sure she rubbed a body part against my bare skin. She was trying to turn me on as well. It’s a good thing the thought of dying didn’t really do it for me.
She seemed to get frustrated. Maybe because she was not getting the reaction she expected from me, or maybe she was just running out of time.
Charlotte faced me again and came up real close.
She made like she was going to straddle me, though she never sat down.
I felt the trickles of blood mixed with sweat drip down my face and arms from where she cut me. Charlotte was close enough now that she smeared my blood all over the top of her teddy. It was like she was giving me my final show. One last chance for me to be turned on before she did me in or put me in enough pain where I wish I was dead.
Ironically enough, with all that was going on I tried to put my mind else where and what I came up with was how good she smelled.
I’m a sick bastard too I guess.
Then I heard the muffled scream that changed everything.
With that, Charlotte’s head jerked up and she looked passed me at whatever was going on behind me.
With quickness I’ve never seen, Charlotte stepped away from me, brought back the blade she was holding in her hand and thrusted her arm forward with such force that I felt air hit me.
The blade flew by my face and nicked my ear.
There was a crash of glass and then a second knife, seemingly appearing in and out of Charlotte’s hand, flew passed me a second time in the same direction.
I moved just enough to let the blade by. The blood dripped off my ear and mingled again with sweat.
It could have been a lot worse.
I heard a person gurgle, then hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Charlotte walked by me with purpose, a new blade in her hand.
I tried to turn my head to see the commotion but I was tied too damn tight.
I tried rocking the chair until I finally fell back, breaking the wooden chair.
Hands and feet still tied, I flopped over from my back to my belly in just enough time to watch Charlotte slice a large man’s throat from ear to ear.
Charlotte grit her teeth in savagery as she stood there, blood soaked and her muscles tense.
The knife dropped to the floor with a clink next to the man whose life was spilling away.
Charlotte kicked the man’s face in brutally with her high legged, high heeled boot until the face was unrecognizable.
She grunted with her final blow to what was left of the man’s face. And it became apparent that she definitely was no amature.
The girl shielding her eyes, sobbing next to Charlotte was Veronica.
I tried to speak, to call out to Veronica; but I forgot that I had been gagged by Charlotte.
Charlotte heard me squirming about. She picked up her knife from the floor and wakled over to me.
She stood over me and I felt foolish. I was going to die tied up to peices of chair, flopping around like a fish out of water.
I closed my eyes and waited for Charlotte’s sting.
Then my deadened arms hit the floor beside me. With whatever feeling I had in my arms, I turned myself around and positioned myself on my back.
So this was heaven or hell? I thought aas I laid on my back, feet still bound together, staring up into Charlotte’s teddy.
She looked down at me with her piercing eyesand gave me a sly smile out of the side of her mouth.
She bent over, bringing her hands toward my face.
I looked her right in the eyes as she ripped the tape from my lips and pulled whatever linen was in my mouth.
It was part of a matching set. A red lace g-string that probably went very nicely with a red teddy.
“If I was dead, that wouldn’t have hurt so much.” I said as I rubbed my cheeks where the tape was stuck.
She placed her index finger to my lips as if to tell me to hush and she brought her other hand across my face with fury. The slapping sound echoed in the room.
“For some strange reason, I feel as if I deserved that.” I said.
“That’s what you get for looking up a lady’s dress.”
I cocked my eyebrow at her. I guess I was just confused as to what she referred to being a lady or a dress because I couldn’t see either from my point of view.
Charlotte cut the binds at my feet and I sat up rubbing my wrists to get feeling back to my hands.
It occurred to me that I was still in my underwear. And I was sure as hell that my body was not as flattering as Charlotte’s.
The voice sounded gruff, as though years of depravity and pain had forged it into the engine of intimidation that I now heard on the other end of the phone. I didn’t recognize the voice, but my gut told me that it was not Mr. X, he sounded too professional. Mob? Possibly, what had I gotten myself into here?
“You are to proceed immediately to The Web on Pris Street.”
“You are to walk in and ask for Charlotte. Charlotte and no one else. Also, we have spotters watching you. They will follow you to The Web. You will not see them. Go anywhere except directly to The Web, or attempt to contact anyone and you will die.”
The line went down with the sound of a click. Ask for Charlotte at The Web. That was a cute touch. The literary reference was not lost on me. Neither was the imagery of a potential Black Widow. The Web was well known to me, as it was to most everyone involved in this town’s seedy underbelly. Any fantasy a man could want was for sale at The Web; domination, role-play, strangulation, you name it. Charlotte was the brothel’s Madame. Her connections with the mob ran deep. She was supposed to be as deadly as she was beautiful.
Talk about beauty and the beast, Charlotte was both.
I didn’t know if I was being followed, but I didn’t want to take any chances. It’s possible I could have escaped into the oncoming darkness. Find a place to hole up, or leave this god-forsaken town for good. But something about this case really put the hook in me.
What did the mob brothel have to do with my missing angel?
Who was the muscle on the phone? Was he the same brute that attacked me outside of the Peach Pit? Did he work for Mr. X? Was Mr. X even real?
These were the questions that plagued me as I made my way to The Web.
“Hey Mac, that’s gonna cost you $15.00.”
I snapped back into reality by the surly cab driver.
“Sure, here you go, thanks. Keep the change.” I said as I handed him the fare and stepped out of the cab into the chilly fall air. I pulled up my collar and took in The Web before I entered.
It was one of those parts of town that no one can ever seem to find. An old, almost antique part of the city. Old brownstones surrounded by skyscrapers and businesses. Made sense really. This was where all of those successful businessmen, those supposed “family men” went after work to escape from the reality of suburban life. The place where these powerful, wealthy men went to get away from the wife and kid that they subconsciously never wanted. The thought of such men sickened me. Not for chasing prostitutes, that would make me a hypocrite, but for fooling themselves into a nightmare they could not escape, and for being able to get what so many wanted, but could not themselves appreciate.
The Web was actually a very unassuming brownstone surrounded by the city’s financial district. Some of these buildings dated back to the colonial period. You could easily walk past The Web and not even know it was there save for a small neon spider web above the doorway.
In this business, discretion is key.
I walked into the web.
The inside was not as discreet as it’s exterior. The place was dark and filled with smoke and black light.
I was stopped dead in my tracks at the top of the staircase by a line up of beautiful women in lingerie.
Easy Jack, take it easy. Charlotte, you have to ask for Charlotte.
I lit up a cigarette and whistled at the cosmic temptation in front of me.
“My mom was right all these years, there is a heaven.”
The girls giggled politely at me as a spicy Asian number stepped forward. She kept in good shape and her breasts poured out of her pink, lacy bra.
She took my cigarette and pulled a drag, slowly blowing the smoke back into my mouth as she kissed me.
“I’m Jade, you look like you’ve had a hard day.” She said. “Do you wanna relax with me, baby?”
“As tempting an offer that may be Jade, I’m here to see Charlotte”
Jade gave me a pout, which would have made weaker men crumble. Though, it vanished the moment she heard the voice behind her, at which she straitened up and fell back in line with the others.
“I’m Charlotte, Mr. Midnight, I’ve been expecting you.”
The cigarette almost dropped out of my mouth.
Standing in front of me was a tall, long legged beauty wearing a red see through teddy over red-laced underwear and stockings, connected to the panties with a strap.
As distracting as her body was, it was her face that put me in shock.
She looked exactly like Veronica.
“V…”
She put her finger on my lip, hushing me.
If Veronica was an angel, this was her devilish counterpart.
Her body and the look in her eyes screamed lust. There was something innocent about Veronica that did not exist here.
“Why don’t you go to my room, you’ll be more comfortable there,” She told me. “And it’s more…private.”
Before I had a chance to say anything, she kissed me.
I kiss back.
If she was truly a Black Widow, I was already caught in her trap.
“Go on, I’ll be right in, help yourself to the bar.”
Help myself I did.
Charlotte’s room was… elaborate to say the least.
There was plush carpeting that made me want to take my shoes off and walk around barefoot.
A king-size bed, of course.
Maroon and Ivory colored walls and drapes.
Colorful oil paintings in ornate frames of different varieties.
Medieval-type weapons anchored to the wall in majestic fashion.
This bedroom was much bigger than my entire office.
I headed over to the bar and fixed myself the usual. The bar was full, and would satisfy the pickiest of alcoholic.
I took my entire drink down in one shot and poured myself a second. I let this one simmer on the bar a bit while I lit a cigarette.
I inhaled deeply and held the smoke in my lungs. I closed my eyes trying to imagine what this was all about. Images of Veronica danced in my head. I considered her role in all of this and I was almost positive that Charlotte and Veronica were related.
They were siblings most likely. Hell, they could pass for twins.
Complete night and day though, Charlotte looked more the type that I’d hang around. Veronica looked to be my salvation.
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a door open and close.
I opened my eyes and finally let the smoke vacate my body.
Charlotte was standing in front of the door to her bedroom. One arm leaning up against the door’s molding, her body leaning in that direction. The curves to her body were in perfect form, her clothing of choice tactfully clinging in select parts.
She had my full attention. The ash on my cigarette continued to eat the tobacco and paper as I let it dangle from my fingertips on my right hand.
I grabbed my scotch with my left and took a big swig to compose myself. The drink burned more than it should have but I did not flinch. I put the remainder of my cigarette out in the ashtray on the bar and began to get up.
Charlotte was standing in front of me before I was able to leave the chair. She playfully pushed me on my shoulder. Though it had enough force to knock me back into full sitting position.
This dame knew what she was doing.
Charlotte stood there in front of me and manipulated a panel built into the bar.
This made the lights dim, though I was sure that any type of finger manipulation by Charlotte would cause things to work in her favor, whether from lights or a person.
I picked up the business card and examined it more closely.
Detective O’Malley’s information was written in black ink, the color ink that was in my pen. The other scribbling was written in some kind of red.
Was that lipstick?
The letters were thicker than if written with a regular pen. And the letters were slightly smeared by a finger it seems.
I looked at the payphone’s receiver, and there it was.
A red fingerprint smudged against the black of the phone.
I took a tissue out from the inside pocket of my jacket and firmly pressed it to the red smudge. I pulled the tissue off slowly, revealing an almost perfect, red fingerprint.
I carefully folded the tissue and placed it in my pants pocket. I picked up the card again and read it out loud.
“Charlotte.”
The name didn’t ring a bell.
The phone did ring though.
I picked up the receiver but did not say a word.
A voice came through from the other line. It was a man’s voice, deep and raspy, the voice of someone who had spent years of drinking and smoking and barking orders. There was a hint of an accent as well. I could not place it because it was faint, but it was present enough to let me know that this man was not from my city.
I kept silent while the man spoke. He was giving initial directions.
Were these meant for Veronica? For Charlotte?
“Don’t speak.” The man said. “When I have finished speaking, hang up the phone and walk away. Do not go back to The Peach Grove until these instructions have been carried out.”
When I came too, it was morning.
The sun invaded my closed eyes like some ancient barbarian horde, disturbing my blissful slumber. I slowly opened my eyes, and that’s when the throbbing and spinning began. I was outside somewhere.
When you love booze as much as I do, you tend to do this sort of thing.
The mind is a mysterious thing. Given enough alcohol, you can become a different person, do different things, talk to different people, even walk around and fall asleep where you want to.
Like I said, I had become accustomed to these patterns in recent years when the scotch took over. Fortunately, my scotch-influenced mind was pretty predictable.
Looking toward the treetops, I realized that this wasn’t one of my usual locations.
Where was I?
I went to sit up, but my headache and the spins advised against it. I closed my eyes again, let my mind relax, felt the sun on my face, listened to the sounds of the birds chirping above me, smell the….
What was that smell?
My eyes and head rebelled against the idea of getting up and looking around. “Sorry boys, I’m gonna call the shots on this one.” Reluctantly, they obeyed.
Looking around confirmed my suspicion. I was lying in the middle of the landfill on the outskirts of the city. In my former life, I had followed too many cases to their grisly end here.
I pushed my hands into the soft, semi-slimy earth and sat up.
Old Mrs. Chao at the dry cleaners was never going to forgive me for this one.
I needed a smoke. Wiping my filthy hands against my dirty coat, I fished around for my last cigarettes.
Damn it… Bent.
Matches were soaked.
Ripping the cigarette above the filter, I searched my pockets for the lighter. Someone up there must be looking over me, because it was there. Lighting up my final cigarette, I scratched my head and tried to figure out how I got here.
I’ve drank a lot in my time, and I’ve woken up in plenty of strange places, usually there’s a haze of people and half remembered conversations, the possibility of dream.
I didn’t have that.
The last thing I remembered was downing the scotch that rick had given me. I was well within my comfort zone at that point.
Something clicked.
Could Rick have drugged me and had me dumped me here at the city landfill?
Someone was trying to send me a message. “Don’t stick your nose where it don’t belong.”
Guess you don’t know me as well as you think Rick. I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t like being told what to do.
You’ve tipped your hand; now I know that something is up and I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.
I needed to get out of the sun.
I’m a creature of the night; the daylight sets me off balance. I needed to get back to my office; I needed a bed and a shower.
I needed to lick my wounds and figure out my next move.
Emerging clumsily from the brush by the side of the highway, I took a moment to get my bearings.
The city would be a good 15-20 mile walk from here.
I stuck out my thumb and prayed that there’s still some decency in the world.
The first ten cars or so sped by, not even paying attention to the hunched, dirt-filled specimen before them. It was around this time that my cigarette had gotten so low that my lips began to burn. It was going to be a long walk.
Suddenly, a blue pickup truck pulled up along side me, windows already rolled down.
“Looks like you’re a long way from home buddy.”
The driver looked like a simpleton from the outskirts of the city. Work clothes and greasy, balding head. Pudgy arms with a curly layer of hair. He might not have looked too bright, but he was right on the money.
“I’d appreciate a ride into the city if you’re going that way.”
He opened the passenger door and I stepped into the cab. I gave him a rather foolish smile as his face dropped once he took a good whiff of me.
The pickup sped into the city, hitting the curb in front of my building. The simpleton drove off in a haste, windows completely open, before I had a chance to thank him. What a world we live in.
I walked into my building and proceeded to my office, gathering more than a few stares and whispers at my smell and appearance.
Bunch of hypocrites, they’re just as dirty as I am, you just cant smell them.
I made it upstairs, entered my office and locked the door behind me. I quickly stripped off my coat and shirts and proceeded to my private bathroom. The lights flickered several times before deciding they wanted to stay on. The hum of the florescent light both annoys and sooths me at the same time. The face staring back from the mirror has seen better days. There’s dried blood in my hair from the previous nights encounter. I was covered with filth and dirt from the landfill.
Filling the sink with warm water, I pulled my revolver from its holster and place it on the top of the toilet. I dunked my head in the sink, the blood and dirt danced together in the water.
Using the mirror, I examined the swollen cut courtesy of the sidewalk. Doesn’t look like it will need stitches.
Drying my face in a towel, I returned to my office and opened the desk drawer, removing Mr. Daniels and a glass.
I poured a quarter glass and took a sip.
Relief.
I went for a cigarette but remembered I smoked the last one.
Defeated, I laid on the couch on the adjacent side of my office, balancing the whiskey glass on my chest. I relaxed my eyes.
Where was I going to look next?
I couldn’t go back to Rick’s; that would be an obvious mistake.
I needed to get rid of this damned headache.
Half asleep, the previous night played in my head; that angel faced girl, Mr. X, Rick, the stranger in the alley, Crystal.
It was like someone took a movie reel, cut it into a hundred pieces and pieced it together at random.
The abandoned farmhouse, cigarette in water, dead girls, blood on clothes, business card….
BUSINESS CARD!
I shot up from my half slumber, skillfully catching the scotch glass before it spilt on the rug. I pulled the phone off of my desk and dialed the 210 precinct. The desk sergeant picked up.
“210 Precinct, Sergeant Gaspar speaking, how can I help you?”
“Hi can I speak to Detective O’Malley?”
“Who’s calling?”
“Jack Midnight, I’m an old friend of Eddie’s.”
“Hold on a moment please.”
The phone line went quiet for a moment before Eddie picked up the line.
“Kinda early in the day for you isn’t it Jack?”
“Went to bed early last night Eddie.”
“What do you want, one of your junkie clients OD on you?”
I take a sip of whiskey. Everybody’s a comedian.
“Funny Eddie, I wanted to know if you got a call from a Veronica Cooper, I gave her your number last night.”
“Mighty nice of you Jack, but I’ve got plenty of women in my life. Let me see… Nope nothing from a Veronica Cooper. Wait, I did get a strange call around 3:30am. It was a girl, didn’t give her name, but the line went dead about a minute into the conversation. Called from a payphone on the corner of Deckard Street and Batty Avenue. Care to tell me what all of this is about Jack?”
“Maybe later, thanks for the help Eddie.”
I hung up the phone and finished the glass. Deckard and Batty was only a few blocks from The Peach Grove.
It wasn’t much, but it was the best lead I had.
Grabbing my gun and a fresh shirt and jacket, I headed back into the city.
The intersection was a rather dirty part of town filled with hookers and drug peddlers, all looking to make a profit off of your soul.
No one there had seen anything, and if they had, they weren’t going to tell me. I immediately felt a sense of danger and foreboding upon stepping out of the cab.
The payphone was on the corner in front of an abandoned storage building. From where I was standing, I could see the receiver was off the hook.
The city didn’t need to speak in order to tell me her story. Could this have been the spot where my angel faced beauty had met her end?
If I had only listened to her, would she still be missing?
A familiar name caught my eye from inside the payphone:
Jack Midnight
Private Investigator
The card I had given her.
I recognized it by the slight crease in the lower right hand corner.
Sure enough, Detective O’Malley’s number was written on the back in my own handwriting. Though, it was the second handwriting and the message that took me by surprise.
I felt the cold air hit me and I scrunched low in my jacket.
I began my walk back to the office. I was in no mood to wait for a cab.
I fiddled around in my jacket pocket for a loose cigarette. I was about halfway down the street when I stopped to light it.
Looking back, it probably wasn’t the best place to stop.
Too lazy to find my lighter, I grabbed a book of matches out of my jacket. They were from The Peach Grove. The picture of a lightly fuzzed peach graced the cover.
I pulled two matches from the book.
The cigarette hung limply in the corner of my mouth.
I placed both match heads to the back of the matchbook. The matches lit with a small spark and a haze of sulfur.
I looked up quickly, more out of instinct than anything else.
Because, in the faint orange glow of the match fire, I saw two eyes staring at me from the dark.
Then there was a tug at my jacket collar.
The last thing I remembered about that was my head hitting the floor.
————————————————————————————————-
I couldn’t have been out for long because it was still dark.
Not even a hint of dawn yet.
My head stung something fierce. I sat up and felt dizzy as the blood rushed from my head to the rest of my body. There was a lump growing on the back of my skull. I didn’t even need to feel for it.
I knew instantly those goons weren’t out to just rob me. My wallet and gun were still on me. In fact, nothing was missing at all. Maybe a few brain cells, but I was used to those leaving me and I wasn’t too concerned about that.
Someone was trying to send me a message.
I only made it about 20 feet from the bar before I was attacked. I still heard the hum of the florescent lights.
My unlit cigarette was on the floor next to me, floating in a puddle.
What a waste of tobacco.
Still sitting on the ground, I grabbed another cigarette and lit it up. I took a long, slow pull and held the smoke in my lungs for a long time. The smoke came out with a sigh, in a large cloud.
I stood up and straightened my hat.
Dusted myself off.
I headed back to The Peach Grove for a drink.
When I got back to the bar, Crystal rushed over to greet me.
“Back so soon?” She asked. “Missed me already?”
That was cute.
“Feel like I never left hon.”
“Drink?”
“Rick.”
She gave me a confused look.
My eyes went over her shoulder to the main bar area. No Veronica and Rick was tending bar.
“Excuse me doll.” I walked around Crystal, keeping my gaze at the bar.
Rick caught my stare and gave me a warm smile.
“Looks like you had a long night Jack.” That same dumb grin.
“Define long Rick. I prefer hard and stiff, straight up.”
Rick understood the reference and poured me my scotch.
“So Rick,” I said, taking my first gulp, “got some new tail working here I see?”
“Girls come and go, with a heavy preference on coming. You know the business Jack.”
“I know it all too well Rick.” I answered back quickly. “But I haven’t been around in some time. Looks like you got a couple of rookies on your hands. Some real innocent types.”
I thought I caught a hint of tension surface on Rick’s face.
Just for a second though.
“Hell,” I continued, “I had a sweet little number call me over just this evening. Did you know I was here earlier Rick?”
Rick just stared.
“No, I had no idea buddy. I would have come down to greet you personally.”
Rick shot a nervous look down at my empty glass.
“Here, why don’t you have another drink? On the house, of course.”
I couldn’t turn that down.
She leaned forward and touched my arm. Her hands were soft, a gentle caress that made me remember happier days.
“I need you.” She said to me.
There was something in her face that seemed so young, so innocent; she didn’t belong in a joint like this. Whatever it was, it drew me in and I was hooked.
“I need you,” she continued, “To pretend your interested in me, there are eyes everywhere.”
“Now why would a guy like me need to do a thing like that, Ms.?” I take her hand in mine, reminding her of her role in our little play. It works, her eyes focus on mine, those brown eyes that look like they’ve seen far more than her young body should have.
“Cooper, Veronica Cooper, thank you, I’m sorry Mr. Midnight, I just didn’t know who else to turn to.”
“What seems to be the problem Ms. Cooper?”
“I’m afraid Mr. Midnight, there are strange things going on in this night club and I’m afraid I wont last here much longer.”
“Well, Father Doyle doesn’t exactly say mass here every morning.”
“It’s not that, some of the girls…” Just as she was about to tell me what was eating at her soul, I feel two hands on my shoulder and Crystal is behind me, her perfume dancing through the air, intoxicating me in more ways than scotch ever could.
“Refill your drink sugar?”
“Scotch and water darlin’”
“You got it cutie, how ‘bout you V?” Veronica shakes her head and gives her an uncertain smile. She awkwardly remembers to caress my arm. Girl was still new at this.
“And sweetheart,” I said, grabbing Crystal’s wrist, “Scotch and water, not water and scotch.”
“Sure thing.” And she hopped off to the bar.
I return my full attention to the nervous girl in front of me.
“You were saying?” She took another long drag from her cigarette and continued her tale. It was no secret that the girls here were expected to supply special services to patrons with money, drugs were another given, what was it that had her so spooked?
“Some of the girls have gone missing lately. First Roxanne, then Dixie and Dorothy just last week. I think something’s happened to them. They come to work and then they’re just gone. They’ve all had ‘dates’ with a man known to us only as Mr. X. The john’s a creep, there’s something evil and wrong in his eyes. Please, Mr. Midnight, I need you to help me, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
She had the face of an angel and she had me hooked.
But a man has to remember his past. That old farmhouse by the creek, those dead pixies, that damned cackling madman…
I snapped out of my own personal hell and took a gulp of the scotch that Crystal had just brought me. It was strong this time, maybe too strong, but it was what I needed.
“Look lady, I’ve got two jobs and two jobs only. The first involves me creeping around in the middle of the night, taking pictures of cheating wives to show to their semi-suicidal husbands. The second consists of me crawling out of a bottle so I can do it all over again.
“I know who you are Detective Midnight.”
“You don’t angel, not if you’re calling me that. If you have a serious problem, I suggest you talk to someone who can help. Normally I charge for my time, but this one’s on me.”
“I know about your past, what happened wasn’t your fault.” She pressed.
Her words cut me like razor wire. I pull out one of my business cards and a pen and scribble on the back.
“Here’s the number of Detective O’Malley at the 210 precinct, he’s a good man and can help you. I’m not the man you want.” I can see the hope drain from her eyes like the scotch I’ve just drained from my glass.
“But you’re a good cop, you’ve helped a lot of people…”
I wasn’t the man she thought I was, far from it, just some washed out old drunk who took dirty pictures for a living. My life was about as noble as the queen of an anthill. There was nothing I could do to help her.
“Listen, Ms. Cooper, you seem like a nice enough girl.” I said, exhaling a long drag of smoke. “Lets go talk to Rick, I’m sure he’s not gonna let some of his girls just disappear.”
“No!” she yelled above the beating music. I could see the suggestion scared the hell out of her. “That’s just it Mr. Midnight, I think Rick is involved somehow. I can’t prove it and I can’t explain it, but I know in my heart that it’s true.”
The accusation hit me like an uppercut to the chin. I’d known Rick Tighe for years. He was no saint, but then again, who in this town was?
He’d been good to me over the years, even offered me a place to hole up after Genie left me. This screwy kid was mixed up bad. I fired down the remainder of my scotch and got up from the table, putting on my coat.
“Rick Tighe is a lot of things sweetheart, but a murderer aint one of them.” I turned and left for the door, giving Crystal a slap on the behind and a tip.
Before I walked out, I turned and looked one last time at my melancholy angel to see tears welling up in her eyes.
Maybe if this was a different time or if I was a different man, things could have worked out differently. I’m a shell of who I was.
Sorry Angel, maybe in the next life. I put on my hat and stepped into the cold, dark city.
