True Detective Stories

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: katlaughing
Date: 23 Jun 99 - 12:15 AM

When I locked the door behind the snickering Lt, I turned around very slowly. I could feel the business end of a gat poking me in the back. It was the dame, holding a loaded .44. I looked in her eyes and saw the cold steel grey reflected in them. She wasn't taking no prisoners. "That's right", she said, "Jackie was my husband. But he was no good to me; he had a gun mall in every town! Everytime he went out to work for the big boss, he'd get a new one. He never wanted me! But", she sobbed, "I didn't kill him. I....I loved him too much, even if he was a cheat!" I made my move while she was crying, grabbing the gun from her hand, her ruby-red fingernails glistening in the flash of the neon sign. she stumbled against me, her nectarines pressing into my chest. I felt my heart starting to do extra skip, then snap back into a faster rhythm. She buried her face in my shoulder and proceeded to fall like Niagra. Without a handy hankie, I could see it was gonna be a long and wet night for my shoulder.

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 11:38 PM

Nesbitt stepped forward, jabbing me in the gut with a bony finger."What's that, Madison? What'd you say about bells?" I stepped back. "Nothing, Lieutenant. I just said 'Hell's Bells', you know. I kind of figured you'd forgot the 50 clams." I was stalling like a Corolla on a steep hill, but the dim lights in Nesbitt's eyes showed he was buying it. Then he stopped, sniffing at the air like a hounddog at a litter box." Hey, Madison. What's that cologne yer wearin? Smells like Pyramid Patchouli to me." I smiled."My natural aroma, flatfoot." He smiled, then walked to the door."You take care, Madison," he said as he opened the door,"I'm keepin my eye on you. We found a stiff in one of those penthouse apartments in the Hills today. Maybe you heard of the guy- Cosmo Gentry. He was a money launderer for the mob. They called him "Little Jackie Paper". We think his wife, Baby, is in on it. She took a powder after the hit, and we're combin the City for her right now." He grinned like a ghoul. " Gruesome scene- Gentry took an ice-pick in the ear." I flinched, reaching out for the eighth-inch of whiskey left in the cup. "You already told me more than I need to know, Nesbitt."He chuckled. "Maybe not, wiseguy. That cologne, that Pyramid Patchouli? The place reeked of it. Funny, huh?" He closed the door behind him.

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From:
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 11:07 PM

"I see that there is hoky going on around here.", slured Nesbitt.

He sniffes the air a bit. He detects the umistable oder of Hopies #9, and, something. The Lt. scrunches up his nose, sniffs. "What's going on here, Your up to something, nectarines, gun oil, leather, guitar grease, and some really bad booze. Comon' you can tell me."

I look at the very blunt Lt. Sweat drips down off of his nose. His greasy hands hang at his side. He looks up at me and says, "Where is my fifty skins? Your a week late. And where is your Hoky Poky liscense? They just passed a law. No more Hoky Poky without a liscense. Oky Doky? Or ya want to go to the poky? Hoky."

This long stream of undeniable logic brought my headache up like all four burners on a gas range. My ears beging to ring.

"Ah, bells", says Baby from under the desk.

DING DONG (ouch!)

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Dave Swan
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 08:47 PM

A moment to applaud "Bobo the juggler boy with her tingling nectarines". I stand in awe. D.

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 07:57 PM

?I had my hands tangled somewhere in her silk blouse, playing Bobo the juggler boy with her tingling nectarines, when we heard the door being pummeled by a blunt object. Baby scrambled under the desk, whispering "I'm not here!" I opened the door. The blunt object I had heard was Lt. Nesbitt. "Evening Lieutenant," I said, nonchalantly as a man can who is still pokey." What brings the pride of the LAPD snooping around my humble hacienda?"

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: gargoyle
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 07:42 PM

The Bar Keepers Guide

I was right, they hadn't been mixing that one since 1994. There was no doubt who had sent him. I parted the chintzy drapes, looked down the drizzley, dankalley and and saw the neon sign. "Joe's Bar"

The dirty rotten rat had...

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: bseed(charleskratz)
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 07:34 PM

But I'd had a hard day and couldn't get it up. I felt like a fool, but she wasn't worried. "What you need," she whispered hotly in my ear (a bit of tongue in that whisper), is a little bit of the old Hokey Pokey, you know, 'You put your left foot in, you take your left foot out...,'" all in that tongue-untied whisper. There was a bit of slobber running down my neck, mixing with the sweat that had started accumulating at my temples about when she put her left foot in. Even though we'd just started the dance, I began getting all post-hokey phallusy. "I have ways of getting you to play, she whispered.

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Dave Swan
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 07:27 PM

We both drew at the same time. I saw the flash of his screaming 386 as the ones and zeros flew. You don't see zeros flying much any more. I checked to see if I was in the right book...

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Peter T.
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 07:07 PM

(there seems to be a rhythm of people submitting at about the same time! This is wreaking havoc with continuity....) Are we into parallel universes, hypertext, or those stupid choose between the alternatives for the next part of the movie events?
yours, Peter T.

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Dave Swan
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 06:45 PM

(LEJ, I owe you a beer, this is great fun)"Mr. Madison...May I call you Blake ?" she asked in a voice that had the soft overtone of a Bang and Olaufson stylus nesteled into the groove of a recording by Miss Peggy Lee. "Blake, I've lost somethig of great value to the world,and really dear to me."

I knew it wasn't her virtue.

"It's my bridge pin. No, not the Gibson, the one that holds in this tiny porceline tooth, the one I lost opening that bottle of Lone Star." She showed me the hole. Sometimes you can know too much about a client. I looked at her, wishing I was a kinky dentist and wondering what to do.

"See, when I had my bridge out, this cute little computer guy asked my if I'd let him hide something on the pin. He was really extroverted, he looked at MY shoes when he talked. Anyhow, I said 'Sure honey, put it anywhere you like'and now he's looking for the pin, and I've got a gig and I can't keep my bridge in, and oh Blake....." and she fell into my arms.

There was no longer a question of a retainer.

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Peter T.
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 06:36 PM

"Shamus, " she said, her voice cooing hard like a bird flying into a jet engine, "You look like you've been through a lot of cases already today. Was 'Nam that bad for you?"
I sat up straight. Where the hell had she got that from?
She smiled: "Only someone from 'Nam would have used duct tape to cover over Incoming on his mail tray".
There was more than violet behind those eyes.
"Look, dickie boy, you are a drunk and a sexist pig, but I need someone who wouldn't look out of place in the last trashcan on Crap Alley. Here's the deal."
She suddenly reached back into her guitar case. I reached for my .45 dulcimer. She beat me to it, and brought out a fistful of General Grant's.
"There's this money in it for you, and if you are good I might even let you talk dirty to me when all this is over. I want you to find somebody for me. Name's Paper. Little Jackie Paper."
"Boyfriend?"
"Could be. Could be alive, could be dead. Dragons live forever, not so little boys, if you get my drift."
It ws more like an undertow, and I was only just keeping my head above water.

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: katlaughing
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 04:48 PM

I drew a hand across my eyes, shaking my head to clear the image and still, Baby was standing there, only now she'd put that damn guitar down and was a lot closer, with her hand on my shoulder, her deep violet peepers gazing with concern into my tired, bloodshot eyes. I caught a very faint scent of her perfume, something that was subtle, but I just knew it was calculated to drive me and every other guy wild, if I lost control. Bunny and me had just busted up after a bunch a'years and I knew I didn't need that kinda trouble, again, and I didn't like the looks of that Martin, so I drew back and gruffly said, "What can I do for you? Make it quick, sister, I gotta lotta cases to work on today!"

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: LEJ
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 03:59 PM

I put my hand over my face, feeling the beads of perspiration. I drank the bourbon in one dose, feeling the deep staisfying burn of it. The hallucinations had been coming thick and fast,legacy of my summer vacation in San Francisco in 1967, and I had to steady myself. I glanced up again. Mom's face faded. "Are you alright, Mr.Madison?" said Baby. Puzzling though was the fact that she was holding a Gibson guitar that was the twin to the one the Old Man had, right down to the Ernie Ball decal on the pick guard.

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Fadac
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 03:39 PM

Guess we crashed Allan. _fadac

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Peter T.
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 03:39 PM

Rats. And on a day of meetings!
Yours, Peter T.
She was all folksinger. She was built like one of those early Martins, curves in all the right places, but with strings attached. As she came in the room, the shag carpeting on the floor separated to let her pass through. She sat down on an extremely thankful armchair, and crossed her legs in the rewind version of Sharon Stone in "Basic Instinct".
"Are you Mudcat Investigations?" she breathed. Oh yeah, breathing. I tried it again myself, just to make sure I hadn't lost the knack.
"Mudcat Investigations, Blake Madison, that's the range of introductions on this side of the desk. You, sister?"
"Baby Gentry."

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Allan C.
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 03:38 PM

But silouettes can sometimes fool a person. I thought she was quite well endowed until she stepped further into the dim light of the room. Then I realized that what I was seeing were the two grenades she had hanging from a strap which hung over her shoulders..."They aren't real," she said softly. "I just wear them to see the reaction of people I meet."

Subject: RE: True Detective Stories
From: Fadac
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 03:33 PM

"Mom!", slipped from my lips. There she stood, dressed in leather from head to foot. Heavy boots are on her feet, little chains go around the bootops. Heavy leather pants, a little baggy in the knees and seat. Motorycle jacket, open at the top, zippers in the sleeves and sides. Chrome studs go up the arms. A leather hat on her head, the winged badge of Harly Davidson in front. Dark wrap around sunglasses hid her eyes. Her cheeks are sunburned, wrinkled and dusty, from hard riding.

"How have you been, come on in and sit down.", I asked my dear mother.

"I just came in from Winamucka. I need a place to crash for a few days.", explained my mother. "I could use some dough too, how about twenty skins?"

"Sorry Mom, I'm tapped. I haven't had a case for a month, I lost the room last week, I'm sleeping here in the damn car. I was just thinking about hocking something for grub money." I explained.

"You dumb shit! What did you do with the Gibson?", she inquired.

"I still have Dad's guitar, I'd never sell that.", I stammered, she looked mean.

"Well, get it. Were going down to Joe's. If you work it right, you can get some dough." Ordered dear mother.

I went to the little broom closet, and there in the back, was Dad's curse. I pulled it out, looked at Mom, and set it on the floor.

"I don't want to do this.", shook my voice.

"Let's go!", said mother, then picked up the guitar and grabbed me by the arm, we headed to the door, and Joe's.

Subject: True Detective Stories
From: LEJ
Date: 22 Jun 99 - 03:06 PM

Here's a challenge inspired, in part, by Dave's work on the "flea/orange/bicycle seat" thread. I will write the first paragraph of the story. Any future postings should continue the story in the same "True Detective Stories" vein, taking it in any direction you like.Here we go!

The Case of the Bashful Blonde

It was a slow Tuesday afternoon. I sent Mona home early because the phone hadn't rung all day- maybe the phone company had finally made good on their threats and shut me off. I'm Blake Madison, and I'm a private dick. It's a business that's like being married to a beautiful two-timing dame; one evening it's sweet wine and silk kisses, the next you're sleeping in the backseat of a Studebaker with the neighbors cat. Things had been skinny on the coin side since the Arbogast Caper, and I was thinking of hocking my Smith&Wesson to get enough cash for one more bottle of Four Roses. I pulled the pint bottle from my desk drawer and poured the dregs into my coffee cup, when the door swung open. There she was, standing in the doorway like a beacon of hope at the end of a long dark tunnel.