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The Murder of the Boxer
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Jan-20-2009 12:15

((In case you missed the other threads, check out: The USS Sleuthetania, the any location place ;), and The Expecting Miss Violet Parr.))

Ah, France. Not just France, but Paris, France.

Scarlett, Clift, Ace, and Vivienne decided to cut their wonderful trip to New York short. They had lost Violet, but they were to meet her when they got into Paris.

Clift picked up a newspaper. "MURDER IN THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT!" was emblazoned across the top of the page. Clift red it for a few moments as Ace chattered with Scarlett and Vivienne. They waited for Violet outside of a little cafe, knowing they'd be waiting for a while.

"Wow!" Clift interrupted his friends, "Guess who's dead?"
"Who?" Scarlett jumped.
"Joey Bane."
"Bane is dead?" Ace inquired.
"Apparently he murdered a man and was shot down by police."
"Who was the man?" Vivvy asked.
"I don't know. It doesn't go into it."
"What happened?" Scarlett asked.
"Foot pursuit on the docks. They shot him and he went over the rail into the ocean. They didn't find the body for several hours."

Just then, Violet's cab pulled up. The group hadn't yet reserved a table, so they grabbed one now.

"Remember, Ace." Scarlett asked, "No ketchup!"
"Ha ha ha." Ace mocked, "And no soda! Especially not in Italy."
"We are in France, not the boot of Europe." Violet spoke up from behind.
"Hey, Violetta!" Ace teased.
"Hey, Tonail." Everyone laughed at the comeback.


Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Feb-1-2009 12:38

Bane pushed him back down in his seat as his grip started to fade out. “Mate, stay with me here. INFORMATION! Where do you keep it hidden? I need it. Where is it?”

“YOU’LL NEVER HAVE IT!” yelled Yoyo trying to jump up, but then he fell back in his seat exhausted. He smiled. “I keep the key…close…to my heart. And now mister…whatever your name was…I have to…go…to…” That was it. His head had fallen on the table in a deep sleep.

Bane was annoyed with all this situation. “Damn” he grumbled “and this guy is supposed to be one successful detective. I wonder how an unsuccessful one ends up. I also wonder how come the police was not able to find him. He’s just a drunk. Or…maybe…the French were not looking FOR him, but AFTER him?...Hmmm…Strange indeed. Unfortunately I’m still in the dark here.” He stood up getting ready to leave, but suddenly had an idea. “Now hold on” mumbled him again “this cannot be so easy!” He grabbed Yoyo, straightened him up and looked around his neck. On a thin chain there was a key. Looking at it Bane realized it could fit a deposit box. From the Chinese writing on it he deducted that it was maybe from Shanghai, where Yoyo used to have his agency headquarters. He further searched the man’s coat, until he stumble upon a door key and an address. “This must be his current location. I’d better go and check it out. I don’t think he’ll be home too soon.” Bane smiled while placing Yoyo’s hat in place, dragging it down over his eyes. “Mate, you might have just provided me the way out of my problems.”

Joey took out a paper and a pencil and wrote a small note on the table, then placed it into Yoyo’s hand: “Leave Paris as soon as you can.” He took off then trying to mingle in the crowd, hoping no one had seen him searching Yoyo’s pockets.

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Feb-1-2009 15:52

[Quotes taken from Joey “Bulldog” Bane’s journal - Edited and published by The New York Times - 1947]

September 03, 1934 - New York - Tombstone Enterprises headquarters

Entry 1 - 10:25am

Three weeks have passed since I have not made any notes inside this journal. The late events have been a little too precipitated and have not given me a chance to actually sit down and enjoy such relaxing moments. But now I am back in New York and everything is quiet, so I’ve decided also to fill in another page with things that I have fortunately left behind.

Following up from the moment of my encounter with Mr. Yoyo…

Upon retrieving his door key and address, I have proceeded to Yoyo’s apartment. The search of it proved to be useless, with the exception of a bunch of letters, which I’ve decided to take with me for further study. By reading them at a later time I have learned they were old correspondence. They didn’t contain any clue in regard of the information I was looking for, but one page drew my attention. It seemed to contain slight marks, as if someone had written pressing hard on a paper above the one I had in my hand. Using a trick I had learned as a child, I have managed to decipher part of what was written. The message contained was coming from Mr. Yoyo, saying he moved the parcel, but he still carries the key, as a decoy in case anything happens. This led me to believe that the key I had retrieved from Yoyo’s neck was absolutely useless.

Joey "Bulldog" Bane
Washed Up Punter

Feb-1-2009 15:53

I was thus stuck, as all my efforts to retrieve that information failed and Yoyo was already out of France. My only option seemed to be the stranger I recently had the pleasure of meeting: Abdur Rahman Ahmad. Even though he did seem trustworthy, considering the “luck” that I had in the past months, I have decided to handle things alone and try a bluff.

I figured if the French would’ve wanted something from me or Yoyo, they wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of staging me false charges. Having me in prison would’ve served them for nothing, unless they were actually trying to keep me away from something or someone. I had thus decided to inform the English inspector that I have managed to trace down some information he would be interested in from Yoyo and I would be willing to pass it to him in exchange for my freedom. Luckily he believed me and again, luckily he also did have enough power of influence to take the blue suits off my tail and bury my file. After two weeks I’ve spent in hiding, I was finally free. I met him on the ship to New York and handed him Yoyo’s key. He did not disclose to me any more details regarding the case and…actually…I didn’t even wanted to know more.

Now I’m all clear and back home. Since this last trip was so “full of events”, I have decided it’s going to be some time before I’ll step out of New York again. It’s safer for me here.

[End of quote]

Old Shoe

Feb-2-2009 07:26

Yoyo waked up in the early hours of the morning the party still in full force. He found the crumpled note in his hand. His sweaty hand had smudged the ink to the point where the letters were unreadable. 'Morocco' he thought 'The Orient, the harems the desert, solitude...Morocco'.
Yoyo made his way to his attic apartment, opened up his bag and threw all his possessions inside, including wads of cash. Credit never solved a problem like cash did. With absolutely no recollection of what had happened the night before he shrugged off the events of the night to the usual. He made his way to the train station to get a train to the South of Spain from there he would take a boat crossing the Straits of Gibraltar to Morrocco and from there he had no idea. But like usual he would fall on his feet.

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