Film Noir ...

[islander01]

I knew Hanns had to be involved somehow

 

[sueanninct]

Quake to the rescue!!!

 

[cookiejar]

I knew Hanns had to be involved somehow

LOL...

 

[jixerguy]

Here goes nothing

Rosy eyed the mark as soon as he came in. She jerked her head in his direction. My eyes locked in on him and set the scene. He stood out all right. This wasn’t his crowd even though he walked like he owned the joint. I jerked my tie and collar open, and stumbled forward, right into the mark.

I dropped my hooch all over the front of his jacket as I fell. Pushing forward with my weight into my right shoulder, knocking him back. My body went to jelly as he tried to push me off. But my hands were like glue, all over him. Dig? First thing I felt was the heat he was packing. The kind that drops a load of lead. Big, too big. Compensating? I wasn’t going to find out. That wasn’t the kind of info Rosy wanted. His wallet disappeared fast. According to Rosy, I have the best hands in Lit. She ain’t lying.

He was strong, but I stayed on him for almost 30 ticks, before he pushed me off. Since I didn’t know how much time was needed I kept up the gag.

‘Whadda ya doing spillin muh drink, ya goon?’ slurring my word like a boozed up Mick on St. Paddy’s Day. The goon pushed me back to my table, but I bounced back and fell into him. Grabbing him about the waist.

‘Thin ya can take me, big goooon,’ chewing the words as they came out, ‘Ya canna take me,’ Pulling myself up his body, jerking his pants down. His hands were on his trousers, trying to pull them up as I pulled down. His eyes kept looking to the back of the club, then down at me.

‘Goooon!’ I yelled. Other rummies started watching us. They saw a goon beating on a drunk. They didn’t like it. A few of them advanced toward us. The mark eyed them angrily. He pulled me up and threw me to the ground. A swift kick to the ribs kept me there. I rolled over and the mark took off.

Two minutes Rosy, I hope it was enough. As he disappeared I hopped of the ground, straightening my clothes. My left hand massaged the ribs as I walked out. I knew the kick was coming and I was ready, but the goon was strong. They’ll be sore in the AM. My right held his wallet. Looks like I hit pay dirt tonight. Opening his wallet: a flatfoot. I never would have guessed that one. As I entered the dark night I smiled. A badge will come in handy, yes it will. I’d love to see his face when he tells his Captain it’s gone.

As I walked I pushed up my shoulders and puffed out my chest. Pulling the fedora low over my eyes, I slowly became the copper. Detective Guy Jixer. I like that. Laughing. I think Rosy might like that later tonight too. Of course, I’ll need to pick up a pair of handcuffs.

 

[cookiejar]

Gosh, the talent on Lit never fails to amaze me...Michael, Sterling, Studley, Ram, Jix...wonderful!!

 

[CharlotteNCguy]

Gosh, the talent on Lit never fails to amaze me...Michael, Sterling, Studley, Ram, Jix...wonderful!!

I agree Cookie... Wonderful talent here at Lit...I am embarresed to be on that list though....I am sorry that I have not posted the continuation of Detective Mecklenburg....I think he has been nursing a hooch induced coma but very well may make a return after I get back into town this Sunday!

 

[MindFire]

i have to say amen to that NC
they are Brilliant.. just Brilliant..

 

[Ammo44]

i have to say amen to that NC
they are Brilliant.. just Brilliant..

The dames and the boyz.are aces.....*lights a Lucky Strike*

 

[Raindear816]

Masterly penetrating...if I had a thousand thumbs, they would all be UP. All the writers are beyond amazing here. (I am just catching up and I love all the twists and turns) BRAVO everyone!

 

[sueanninct]

Gosh, the talent on Lit never fails to amaze me...Michael, Sterling, Studley, Ram, Jix...wonderful!!

If only I could write.........

Maybe I'll try a short story tomorrow, try and get my character out of the gutter. It will give me something to do while it snows outside.

 

[cookiejar]

Hello to all the "noirers"...I'm so happy you are enjoying the thread. Happy Friday from Cookie...

 

[EarthquakeMan]

http://www.terraeasfalto.com.br/penaestrada/paris/capitulo2/bogart.jpg


Of all the noir threads in all the websites in all the world, Elizabeth had to walk into mine.

I said to her, “This morning we said a great many things. You said I was to do the thinking for both of us. Well, I've done a lot of it since then, and it all adds up to one thing: you're going to the garden where you belong.”

Elizabeth said, “But, Quake, no, I... I...”

“Now, you've got to listen to me! You have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten, we'd both wind up on an orgy thread.”

“You're saying this only to make me go.”

“I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong in that garden. If this giant rubber ducky leaves the ground and you're not on it, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.”

“But what about us?” she asked.

“We'll always have the General Board. We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to the Playground. We got it back this morning.”

“When I said I would never leave you.”

“And you never will,” I said. “But I've got the Astroglide job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Elizabeth, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that. Now . . . Here's looking at you kid.”

 

[EarthquakeMan]

http://www-cdf.fnal.gov/upgrades/daq_trig/twg/bogart.jpg


I grew back the two toes I’d shot off and hoofed it back across the street to my flophouse. I’d seen Cookie check in there, tailed by a shadow, a typical Lit chump with one more wife, ten more years, and fifty more pounds than he owned up to.

I chicken-winged the desk clerk until he coughed up Cookie’s room number. As I got to her door I heard the scream. I kicked in the door. The lug had a stranglehold on the her. I pulled my rod out and threatened to call his boss and tell him how much of the workday the chump pissed away on Lit. He disappeared like a guy with testicular droop on webcam.

Cookie gasped for air, her mouth stuffed with underwear.

Edible underwear.

“Quake,” She said. And I recognized the muffled voice.

It was the voice of my mystery client.

Cookie had hired me to bag the Astroglide, knowing her cage would be the first I’d rattle.

The blonde was in over her head.

 

[rosylady]

http://www.xs4all.nl/~kiliaan/bogart/images/bogart_cover.jpg

I smoked half a pack of Luckys for breakfast as I stared out the grimy window of my flophouse at Blondie & Elizabeth’s pool. Elizabeth was there. What a dame. She lay naked by the pool, her skin glistening in the hot sun, her breasts full and shapely, her nipples taut . . .

. . . damn this was supposed to be a noir parody, not an erotic post. To focus my attention, I pulled out my heater and shot off the little toe on my left foot.

The phone jangled. I let it ring while I lit another smoke and bandaged my toe. When I answered, my client said, “I didn’t hire you to doll watch.”

“And I don’t work for mystery women. Either we meet or find yourself another gumshoe.”

“You’re getting good jack to find that Astroglide, big boy. Me, I stay in the shadows. That’s the deal.” I heard jalopies in the background. She’d dropped a dime in a booth. I could almost recognize her, but her voice was muffled, just like before, her receiver obviously wrapped in edible underwear. My only hope was that she would get hungry.

“Give me the skinny,” she said.

“I danced with Cookie,” I said. “She and my snitch, Barn, both tried to point me to Rosy’s Malt Shoppe. Rosy is wired on Jix Juice. Mecklenberg is a copper who stalks redheads. Sueanninct is a tweetybird who stalks coppers, Islander is a time traveller who found a Hooter’s in noir-land and stalks cookies, Rain is a blonde who stalks rams, and Ram is a flatfoot who knows how to spell ‘satyriasis’.”

“You doin’ soap opera or crime?”

“Is there a difference?”

“What about Soft Peter?” she said.

“Haven’t had that problem since that night on AIM with Hanns.”

We did some more jitterbug and I hung up. I’d find the damn Astroglide and collect my jack. But first I was going visit Elizabeth’s pool.

I limped down the stairs, across the street and entered the pool grounds. I plucked a daisy, got up a head of steam, and ran to Elizabeth’s chaise, finishing with a flourish, a nice twenty-foot Gene Kelly knee slide. I tipped my fedora and handed Elizabeth the flower.

She took the flower, then looked at my bandaged toe.

“Like Jack Nicholson,” I said. “Chinatown. I’m a private dick on a big case.”

“His nose,” Elizabeth said.

“Who’s nose?”

“Jack Nicholson’s. It was his nose, not his toe that was bandaged.”

“Oh.”

I couldn’t help but let my gaze wander across her flat stomach, her shapely hips, her neatly trimmed . . .

. . . I pulled out my heater and shot off another toe.

Elizabeth said, “I guess you aren’t going to ask me to go dancing, huh?”

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s Lit Fiction, I can grow the toes back in one paragraph.”

I was about to unleash the Quake charm on her when I heard a cab screech to a halt in front of my flophouse across the street. I watched the blonde get out and enter the building. She looked like a woman on the lam.

It was Cookie.

Laughing hysterically.

 

[ram1_2]

Head hated funerals. A grave's cold and dank, and no place for 20 year old copper. The crowd had thinned some by now, with most of the sobbing hookers and plain, old-fashioned, gawkers going back about their business. The Commissioner had looked daggers at him over the head of the priest, but Head wasn't about to pick a fight today. It turned out the kid was an orphan, and since there was no-one else, the Lieutenant had thrown in the first handful of sodden earth onto the rain-soaked coffin. He felt eyes on him, and looked up to see a dark shadow, half-obscured by the shade of a red oak. I know you, he thought, and you and I are going to have words........

The rest of the day passed in a booze-induced haze. Head sat behind his battered, paper-strewn desk, drinking steadily. He was getting nowhere with this mess, he thought, half the General Board are involved, every floozie and hooker in Lit City wanted a piece of the action, and there were more loose Threads than a cut Argyll. Rosy and her pretty gams were in there up to her stocking tops and Cookie was nowhere to be found. Even the stunning Ash was missing. He shook the last drops of 'Jimmy Bearhugger's Best Scotch Whisky - Matured At Least 7 Minutes' out of the bottle, and pushed on the intercom. 'Hey! Sergeant! You got any of the fancy Scottish booze of yours left?' A short detective barrelled in from next door, carrying a bottle marked 'Laphroaig'. 'How many times have I told you not to wear that skirt to work? It'll get the department a bad name, and besides which, some of the girls are starting to complain, and the Mayor's eyeing you up.' The Vice Squad's Scottish exchange officer, Sgt. Macdonald, scowled at Head. 'It's nae a skirt, it's ma kilt!' The scowl grew deeper as he watched Head dump ice into half a tumbler full of the 'uisge beatha' then add a splash of soda. 'Hoots mon! That's 20 year single malt, ye ken......' Head turned to his strangely dressed companion, 'You'll soon be going back to Scotland Yard, won't you? Why don't you let me fix you up with a ride home? I know this guy in the Navy, he's on one of their new flat-tops just coming off it's shake-down cruise to Rio. Let me see if they're going anywhere near Britain; it's a great ship, Scottie, you'll like it. 'Aye? And whit's this ship ca'ed? said the Sgt quizzically. 'The Enterprise, Scottie, it's called the U.S.S. Enterprise.'

Just then the intercom buzzed. 'We've got your suspect, Lt.' Head cleared away the glass and bottle, and said, 'Bring him on in.' Head watched as the guy slid into the room like pro, quick scan around, marked where the exits where, then looked for the best place to stand. 'OK, Standish, you can get back to the desk. Mr. Quake and I go way back....all the way to the Argonne.' The years had not been good to Quake, his hair looked lank, the coat was dirty, but the eyes still drilled you like a cheap gunsel with a .45.

'OK, let's have it.......' Head said.

'What?' the raspy voice cut through the smoky air like a knife.

'Your piece. I know you're packin' heat' and Head held out his hand.

A solid lump of blue-black steel hit the desk. Head frowned and turned it over, 'Never seen one of these. What is it? Some kind of Colt?'

'Nah. It's a VS 38DD' the gumshoe croaked, 'And in case you're wonderin', the VS stands for Victoria's Secret. It packs a heck of a wallop'. He reached for the piece just as Head skidded it into an open desk drawer. 'Let's just say, I'm happier with you minus the gat.' Quake's voice hardened, 'You didn't say that back when I was blowing Heinies away, next to you at St Mihiel. What are you and your girlfriend here' - jerking a thumb at the bristling Sgt Macdonald - 'aiming to do about this missing 'slip?'

Head scowled; 'What's it to you, Quake?' The gumshoe lit another Lucky, and blew smoke in Head's face. 'Well, let's put it this way, Richard, both you and my client want the same thing, right? We all could do with less friction between parties, so why don't you just pony up with what you know, and I'll tell you if it slides into the Astroglide puzzle.'

Head was losing the argument; he never could win against his old comrade from the AEF, and Quake grinned back, knowing it too. 'That's police business, and you know it. The DA gets everything before you do!', the Lt sputtered. Quake adjusted his grimy fedora, pulled his coat around him and walked towards the door. 'Well, guess I'll tell my client that you' re withholding information about her property and we'll take from there. See ya, Dick', and the gumshoe slid out of the office.

Head grumbled under his breath, then turned to the open-mouthed Sgt. 'What are YOU staring at?' The Scotsman pointed to several framed citations above the Lieutenant's desk, all made out to "Lt. R. Head", 'I dinnae ken yer name wuz DICK!'

His boss's mood blackened still further, 'And you can forget you ever heard it, too'. Moodily, he began drinking again, wondering who else would crawl out of his past to complicate matters...................

 

[cookiejar]

http://www-cdf.fnal.gov/upgrades/daq_trig/twg/bogart.jpg


I grew back the two toes I’d shot off and hoofed it back across the street to my flophouse. I’d seen Cookie check in there, tailed by a shadow, a typical Lit chump with one more wife, ten more years, and fifty more pounds than he owned up to.

I chicken-winged the desk clerk until he coughed up Cookie’s room number. As I got to her door I heard the scream. I kicked in the door. The lug had a stranglehold on the her. I pulled my rod out and threatened to call his boss and tell him how much of the workday the chump pissed away on Lit. He disappeared like a guy with testicular droop on webcam.

Cookie gasped for air, her mouth stuffed with underwear.

Edible underwear.

“Quake,” She said. And I recognized the muffled voice.

It was the voice of my mystery client.

Cookie had hired me to bag the Astroglide, knowing her cage would be the first I’d rattle.

The blonde was in over her head.

 

[cookiejar]

Head hated funerals. A grave's cold and dank, and no place for 20 year old copper. The crowd had thinned some by now, with most of the sobbing hookers and plain, old-fashioned, gawkers going back about their business. The Commissioner had looked daggers at him over the head of the priest, but Head wasn't about to pick a fight today. It turned out the kid was an orphan, and since there was no-one else, the Lieutenant had thrown in the first handful of sodden earth onto the rain-soaked coffin. He felt eyes on him, and looked up to see a dark shadow, half-obscured by the shade of red oak. I know you, he thought, and you and I are going to have words........

The rest of the day passed in a booze-induced haze. Head sat behind his battered, paper-strewn desk, drinking steadily. He was getting nowhere with this mess, he thought, half the General Board are involved, every floozie and hooker in Lit City wanted a piece of the action, and there were more loose Threads than a cut Argyll. Rosy and her pretty gams were in there up to her stocking tops and Cookie was nowhere to be found. Even the stunning Ash was missing. He shook the last drops of 'Jimmy Bearhugger's Best Scotch Whisky - Matured At Least 7 Minutes' out of the bottle, and pushed on the intercom. 'Hey! Sergeant! You got any of the fancy Scottish booze of yours left?' A short detective barrelled in from next door, carrying a bottle marked 'Laphroaig'. 'How many times have I told you not to wear that dress to work? It'll get the department a bad name, and besides which, some of the girls are starting to complain, and the Mayor's eyeing you up.' The Vice Squad's Scottish exchange officer, Sgt. Macdonald, scowled at Head. 'It's nae a dress, it's ma kilt!' The scowl grew deeper as he watched Head dump ice into half a tumbler full of the 'uisge beatha' then add a splash of soda. 'Hoots mon! That's 20 year single malt, ye ken......' Head turned to his strangely dressed companion, 'You'll soon be going back to Scotland Yard, won't you? Why don't you let me fix you up with a ride home? I know this guy in the Navy, he's on one of their new flat-tops just coming off it's shake-down cruise to Rio. Let me see if they're going anywhere near Britain; it's a great ship, Scottie, you'll like it. 'Aye? And whit's this ship ca'ed? said the Sgt quizzically. 'The Enterprise Scottie, it's the U.S.S. Enterprise.'

Just then the intercom buzzed. 'We've got your suspect, Lt.' Head cleared away the glass and bottle, and said, 'Bring him on in.' Head watched as the guy slid into the room like pro, quick scan around, marked where the exits where, then looked for the best place to stand. 'OK, Standish, you can get back to the desk. Mr. Quake and I go way back....all the way to the Argonne.' The years had not been good to Quake, his hair looked lank, the coat was dirty, but the eyes still drilled you like a cheap gunsel with a .45.

'OK, let's have it.......' I said

'What?' the raspy voice cut through the smoky air like a knife.

'Your piece. I know you're packin' heat' and Head held out his hand.

A solid lump of blue-black steel hit the desk. Head frowned and turned it over, 'Never seen one of these. What is it? Some kind of Colt?'

'Nah. It's a VS 38DD' the gumshoe croaked, 'And in case you're wonderin', the VS stands for Victoria's Secret. It packs a heck of a wallop'. He reached for the piece just as Head skidded it into an open desk drawer. 'Let's just say, I'm happier with you minus the gat.' Quakes voice hardened, 'You didn't say that back when I was blowing Heinies away, next to you at St Mihiel. What are you and your girlfriend here - jerking a thumb at the bristling Sgt Macdonald - aiming to do about this missing 'slip?'

Head scowled; 'What's it to you, Quake?' The gumshoe lit another Lucky, and blew smoke in Head's face. 'Well, let's put it this way, Richard, both you and my client want the same thing, right? We all could do with less friction between parties, so why don't you just pony up with what you know, and I'll tell you if it slides into the Astroglide puzzle.'

Head was losing the argument; he never could win against his old comrade from the AEF, and Quake grinned back, knowing it too. 'That's police business, and you know it. The DA gets everything before you do!', the Lt sputtered. Quake adjusted his grimy fedora, pulled his coat around him and walked towards the door. 'Well, guess I'll tell my client that you are withholding information about her property and we'll take from there. See ya, Dick', and the gumshoe slid out of the office.

Head grumbled under his breath, then turned to the open-mouthed Sgt. 'What are YOU staring at?' The Scotsman pointed to several framed citations above the Lieutenant's desk, all made out to "Lt. R. Head", 'I dinnae ken yer name wuz DICK!'

His boss's mood blackened still further, 'And you can forget you ever heard it, too'. Moodily, he began drinking again, wondering who else would crawl out of his past to complicate matters...................

ROFL....Dick Head...

 

[cookiejar]

http://www.makeupmania.com/images/subtle_sexy.jpg

 

[ram1_2]

ROFL....Dick Head...

Historical note: (for anyone keeping score, that is) After launching at Newport News in 1938, the first 'shake-down' voyage of the new carrier, U.S.S Enterprise WAS indeed to Rio. Sadly her 'working-up' cruise was in Caribbean waters, and not the Western Approaches.........ah, well !

 

[Raindear816]

Historical note: (for anyone keeping score, that is) After launching at Newport News in 1938, the first 'shake-down' voyage of the new carrier, U.S.S Enterprise WAS indeed to Rio. Sadly her 'working-up' cruise was in Caribbean waters, and not the Western Approaches.........ah, well !

I am keeping score Ok so I am waiting on a cold Saturday to see just where this is goin' ladies and gents

 

[sueanninct]

OK, folks. I'm going to try my hand at writing. Please keep in mind that writing is not my forte, so this won't be the greatest addition to the thread. But Cookie has made this thread, and it is irresistable.

 

[sueanninct]

Bunkie sat alone in the diner. She had just finished her shift, and was enjoying the peace before the dinner crowd came in. Being a waitress wasn’t the most lucrative occupation, but it paid the bills. It also kept her legs in great shape. They were usually the first thing a man noticed on her, and almost always got her big tips from her customers. She stretched them out, contemplating her situation. As usual, she was in trouble. But this time it wasn’t her fault. When she found the piece of paper, she had been about to throw it away. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, so she read it…….and dived head first into one of the biggest mysteries to hit the city. She didn’t want to be involved, but as Bunkie read the words over and over, she knew she was in it up to her neck:

Astroglide
Pier 69
Midnight, New Year’s Eve

But what did the note mean? Was the thief shipping out the Astroglide, or was there more coming in? One of her customers knew about what was happening, may even be responsible for the theft. But who was it? She needed help, and she needed to get it quickly. But who to go to, that was the problem. There weren’t that many people she trusted. Cookie and Rosy were good friends, and had tried to steer her in the right direction more times than she could count. But Bunkie thought it best not to get them involved. She knew they had problems of their own, and she didn’t want to get them in trouble. What Bunkie needed was someone who could keep her out of trouble with this mess. What she needed was someone who would do the right thing, someone who could be trusted. What she needed was a cop.

There were only a few cops Bunkie trusted. She had been brought in for questioning a few times, but had managed to keep her nose clean and never get arrested. Most cops wouldn’t give her the time of day. After all, she was a bit of a floozy. But a few had been nice to her. She remembered one who had almost arrested her for prostitution. He was the first man she had met that wasn’t interested in her legs. He had a thing for forearms, especially ones with freckles. But he only had eyes for some basketball player named Diana. Another cop, a Lieutenant, had questioned her about a bank heist that she had witnessed. He was nice to her, and seemed honorable. She felt bad for him, though. Because of his name, he was the subject of a lot of jokes in the department.

She needed to get help. Time was running out. Bunkie slid out of the booth, and took her coat from the hook. She decided to go straight to the police station. She knew it was a risk. There had been rumors going around for months about cops on the take. What if one of them was involved in the heist? She knew she was putting her life into the hands of a cop. She could only hope she found the right one.

 

[cookiejar]

Bunkie sat alone in the diner. She had just finished her shift, and was enjoying the peace before the dinner crowd came in. Being a waitress wasn’t the most lucrative occupation, but it paid the bills. It also kept her legs in great shape. They were usually the first thing a man noticed on her, and almost always got her big tips from her customers. She stretched them out, contemplating her situation. As usual, she was in trouble. But this time it wasn’t her fault. When she found the piece of paper, she had been about to throw it away. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, so she read it…….and dived head first into one of the biggest mysteries to hit the city. She didn’t want to be involved, but as Bunkie read the words over and over, she knew she was in it up to her neck:

Astroglide
Pier 69
Midnight, New Year’s Eve

But what did the note mean? Was the thief shipping out the Astroglide, or was there more coming in? One of her customers knew about what was happening, may even be responsible for the theft. But who was it? She needed help, and she needed to get it quickly. But who to go to, that was the problem. There weren’t that many people she trusted. Cookie and Rosy were good friends, and had tried to steer her in the right direction more times than she could count. But Bunkie thought it best not to get them involved. She knew they had problems of their own, and she didn’t want to get them in trouble. What Bunkie needed was someone who could keep her out of trouble with this mess. What she needed was someone who would do the right thing, someone who could be trusted. What she needed was a cop.

There were only a few cops Bunkie trusted. She had been brought in for questioning a few times, but had managed to keep her nose clean and never get arrested. Most cops wouldn’t give her the time of day. After all, she was a bit of a floozy. But a few had been nice to her. She remembered one who had almost arrested her for prostitution. He was the first man she had met that wasn’t interested in her legs. He had a thing for forearms, especially ones with freckles. But he only had eyes for some basketball player named Diana. Another cop, a Lieutenant, had questioned her about a bank heist that she had witnessed. He was nice to her, and seemed honorable. She felt bad for him, though. Because of his name, he was the subject of a lot of jokes in the department.

She needed to get help. Time was running out. Bunkie slid out of the booth, and took her coat from the hook. She decided to go straight to the police station. She knew it was a risk. There had been rumors going around for months about cops on the take. What if one of them was involved in the heist? She knew she was putting her life into the hands of a cop. She could only hope she found the right one.

ROFL..."Forearms" ...wonder who that could be??

It's wonderful Bunk...welcome...

 

[CharlotteNCguy]

Bunkie sat alone in the diner. She had just finished her shift, and was enjoying the peace before the dinner crowd came in. Being a waitress wasn’t the most lucrative occupation, but it paid the bills. It also kept her legs in great shape. They were usually the first thing a man noticed on her, and almost always got her big tips from her customers. She stretched them out, contemplating her situation. As usual, she was in trouble. But this time it wasn’t her fault. When she found the piece of paper, she had been about to throw it away. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, so she read it…….and dived head first into one of the biggest mysteries to hit the city. She didn’t want to be involved, but as Bunkie read the words over and over, she knew she was in it up to her neck:

Astroglide
Pier 69
Midnight, New Year’s Eve

But what did the note mean? Was the thief shipping out the Astroglide, or was there more coming in? One of her customers knew about what was happening, may even be responsible for the theft. But who was it? She needed help, and she needed to get it quickly. But who to go to, that was the problem. There weren’t that many people she trusted. Cookie and Rosy were good friends, and had tried to steer her in the right direction more times than she could count. But Bunkie thought it best not to get them involved. She knew they had problems of their own, and she didn’t want to get them in trouble. What Bunkie needed was someone who could keep her out of trouble with this mess. What she needed was someone who would do the right thing, someone who could be trusted. What she needed was a cop.

There were only a few cops Bunkie trusted. She had been brought in for questioning a few times, but had managed to keep her nose clean and never get arrested. Most cops wouldn’t give her the time of day. After all, she was a bit of a floozy. But a few had been nice to her. She remembered one who had almost arrested her for prostitution. He was the first man she had met that wasn’t interested in her legs. He had a thing for forearms, especially ones with freckles. But he only had eyes for some basketball player named Diana. Another cop, a Lieutenant, had questioned her about a bank heist that she had witnessed. He was nice to her, and seemed honorable. She felt bad for him, though. Because of his name, he was the subject of a lot of jokes in the department.

She needed to get help. Time was running out. Bunkie slid out of the booth, and took her coat from the hook. She decided to go straight to the police station. She knew it was a risk. There had been rumors going around for months about cops on the take. What if one of them was involved in the heist? She knew she was putting her life into the hands of a cop. She could only hope she found the right one.

Another case for Detective Mecklenburg?????



(thats great writing Bunkie)

 

[Raindear816]

Another case for Detective Mecklenburg?????



(thats great writing Bunkie)

very good writing indeed, chewing on my false nails right now...someone pop some pocorn quick or gimme something for my oral habit