Story Time...
This is the beginning of a short story I'm working on. It's a hard boiled detective story set in the 1930's. I hope you enjoy it.
Intro
The steel glinted coldly in the squalid glow of the street light. A shot rang out followed by a stifled groan. The smell of cordite wafted through the still night air. A dying man's last sight was a flash of ice blue eyes, and the last sound he hears was the rustling of papers being pulled from his brief case. A police siren wailed sadly as it grew closer. It’s just another night in Tulsa...
Pt. 1
The night was warm, as I sat in my office, staring out the window as the Atlas Life sign blinked on and off. The lurid light cast long shadows in my darkened office. I had my feet propped up on the window sill as I watched the night slip by. A wisp of smoke floated upwards silently as I took a drag on my cigarette.
My name is Robert King, Private Investigator. I work in this booming city of oil tycoons, broken farmers, and wanna-be cowboys. Few people have asked me, "Robbie... Why stay in this backwater city? The life in New York or Chicago is so much better. Better food, better work, and better dames! This place is a dead end for guys like you." I can only say to them that Chicago doesn't have the glimmer of hope that this city does, and New York is outgrowing itself much to fast.
My reverie was interrupted by a sharp knocking at the door. I glanced at the clock nearby; 8 pm, never a good sign. Not being the trusting type, I slid my Colt .45 out of its holster before I opened the door. I almost dropped the gun when I saw who was standing there. Her soft blue green eyes were partially hidden by locks of hair darker than dead man’s grave.
"I need help, and I was told that you are the best at what you do." she spoke softly, barely above a whisper as she sat in the chair across the desk.
"And just what do you think I can do for you? Miss?"
"Suderman; Rachel Suderman”
“Alright Miss Suderman, what is it that you think I can do for you?” I asked.
“I was told by a close friend that you were the best detective that money could by. And believe me, for the help I need, money will be of no object. I will pay all that you ask and more if necessary"
"Slow down lady." I said, worried about the frantic expression on her face. She seemed close to tears, and I began noticing the dark circles under her eyes, and the streaks in her make up that could only be caused by tears. "Just what kinda trouble are you in?"
I listened as she told me about her brother, a reporter for the Tulsa World, who had been murdered and robbed a few days before. His office had been ransacked and his files for his latest article were stolen. I asked her what the article was about, and all she could tell me was it involved Congressman Macone, and how he controlled much of the dealings in Tulsa.
“So let me get this straight, you want to hire me to find out who killed your brother? Why didn’t you go to the police?” I asked, curious to know why she wanted me so desperately.
“The police said it was nothing more than a simple robbery, and that they had more important concerns right now. They think my brother is just some crack pot reporter who got in over his head.” She answered slow and ragged. She could barely speak after that, hard sobs racking her small frame. I scratched my stubbled chin as I thought about her story. I knew this was bigger than anything I had ever worked, and I was positive that there was going to be plenty of trouble along the way.
“Alright ma’am, I’ll look into it. You’ve got me curious to see where this goes.” Right then and there, I remembered that ‘curiosity killed the cat.’ I swallowed my anxiety as we made arrangements to meet the next night at her brother’s apartment, and what all I would need her to do to help me with the case.
As I lead her to the door, she turned, and caught me in a gaze. Her blue green eyes were captivating, and I was stuck like a fly in amber. She mouthed the words ‘thank you’ as she slipped out the door and down the stairs. Lighting a cigarette, I fell back into my chair. I stared out the window as I contemplated the magnitude of this case.
“Damn.” I whispered to myself, “Just what the hell have I gotten myself into with this one?”
Intro
The steel glinted coldly in the squalid glow of the street light. A shot rang out followed by a stifled groan. The smell of cordite wafted through the still night air. A dying man's last sight was a flash of ice blue eyes, and the last sound he hears was the rustling of papers being pulled from his brief case. A police siren wailed sadly as it grew closer. It’s just another night in Tulsa...
Pt. 1
The night was warm, as I sat in my office, staring out the window as the Atlas Life sign blinked on and off. The lurid light cast long shadows in my darkened office. I had my feet propped up on the window sill as I watched the night slip by. A wisp of smoke floated upwards silently as I took a drag on my cigarette.
My name is Robert King, Private Investigator. I work in this booming city of oil tycoons, broken farmers, and wanna-be cowboys. Few people have asked me, "Robbie... Why stay in this backwater city? The life in New York or Chicago is so much better. Better food, better work, and better dames! This place is a dead end for guys like you." I can only say to them that Chicago doesn't have the glimmer of hope that this city does, and New York is outgrowing itself much to fast.
My reverie was interrupted by a sharp knocking at the door. I glanced at the clock nearby; 8 pm, never a good sign. Not being the trusting type, I slid my Colt .45 out of its holster before I opened the door. I almost dropped the gun when I saw who was standing there. Her soft blue green eyes were partially hidden by locks of hair darker than dead man’s grave.
"I need help, and I was told that you are the best at what you do." she spoke softly, barely above a whisper as she sat in the chair across the desk.
"And just what do you think I can do for you? Miss?"
"Suderman; Rachel Suderman”
“Alright Miss Suderman, what is it that you think I can do for you?” I asked.
“I was told by a close friend that you were the best detective that money could by. And believe me, for the help I need, money will be of no object. I will pay all that you ask and more if necessary"
"Slow down lady." I said, worried about the frantic expression on her face. She seemed close to tears, and I began noticing the dark circles under her eyes, and the streaks in her make up that could only be caused by tears. "Just what kinda trouble are you in?"
I listened as she told me about her brother, a reporter for the Tulsa World, who had been murdered and robbed a few days before. His office had been ransacked and his files for his latest article were stolen. I asked her what the article was about, and all she could tell me was it involved Congressman Macone, and how he controlled much of the dealings in Tulsa.
“So let me get this straight, you want to hire me to find out who killed your brother? Why didn’t you go to the police?” I asked, curious to know why she wanted me so desperately.
“The police said it was nothing more than a simple robbery, and that they had more important concerns right now. They think my brother is just some crack pot reporter who got in over his head.” She answered slow and ragged. She could barely speak after that, hard sobs racking her small frame. I scratched my stubbled chin as I thought about her story. I knew this was bigger than anything I had ever worked, and I was positive that there was going to be plenty of trouble along the way.
“Alright ma’am, I’ll look into it. You’ve got me curious to see where this goes.” Right then and there, I remembered that ‘curiosity killed the cat.’ I swallowed my anxiety as we made arrangements to meet the next night at her brother’s apartment, and what all I would need her to do to help me with the case.
As I lead her to the door, she turned, and caught me in a gaze. Her blue green eyes were captivating, and I was stuck like a fly in amber. She mouthed the words ‘thank you’ as she slipped out the door and down the stairs. Lighting a cigarette, I fell back into my chair. I stared out the window as I contemplated the magnitude of this case.
“Damn.” I whispered to myself, “Just what the hell have I gotten myself into with this one?”