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Feb-15-2009 03:31

New York - 1931

I was framed. I did not kill her, but who would've believed me?

Life was getting grimmer as citizens felt the real pinch from the great stock market crash two years ago. My private investigation business was losing a load of clients. Most of them had gone bankrupt, or worse, jumped off the Chrysler Building. Mrs. Gatsby was a loyal client. My only mistake was becoming too intimate with her.

That day, I received a note from her, asking me to meet her in the VIP room of the Astor Theatre. The room was dark when I got there; I thought she was playing naughty. Before I knew it, I was hit from the back, and woke up to find blood all over me with a knife in my hand. Mrs. Gatsby was laying two feet from me, stabbed to death.

I heard the police whistle nearby, and I instinctively ran. Two officers saw me and chased me down three blocks before I loose them. I quickly returned to my office, washed off the blood and changed. I took what was necessary, including my revolver, and composed perhaps my last letter on my prized Remington typewriter. I made some carbon copies, and send the letters to my detective friends before I went into hiding.

They were my final hope.

((Note: I posted this beginning at Shades of Mystery, but I thought it'd be nice to see where it leads in Noir. Hope you'll enjoy it. Feel free to improvise! ))

Mar-10-2009 12:12

> There were the mistresses kissing a very ugly George Gatsby, nothing new there...
> Old lady Betha dead in the North Christie, blunt trauma, shoe print, the usual...
> The Crown Jewel of Zimbeeta just before it went missing, it's beautiful... The suspect photos of the gangs from Eastern Triad. One of them was looking into my camera...

Something looked familiar.

"Aha."

"What is it, Zeo?" Lolita asked.

"I think I need to visit dear Valentino."

*continuing, please wait*

Mar-10-2009 12:53

The flat was simple but elegantly decorated. The wooden floor was scrubbed to a shine, a silver chime donned the window, and the wind was making it sing. On a low table by the wall laid an exquisite samurai sword. I don’t think Valentino knew how to use it. At least, I hope he didn’t.

From the hesitate footstep and the soft gasp, I knew Valentino finally noticed my presence in his flat. Still admiring his decorative sword, without bothering to turn around, I said “Hello Valentino Yakamoto san.”

“Josaph Zao.” The Japanese man stated.

I turned around. Val’s face was paper white. He smelled of fear, not anger. With his passionate love for Grace Gatsby, the man should have been furious seeing her murdered face to face. The only reason that he wasn’t, was that he knew I didn’t kill her. His silence was proof enough.

I threw the photo of the Crown Jewel of Zimbeeta on his coffee table. He glanced at it once, and stared right back at me.

“I’ve seen it.” I said. “Grace had a ring, with that ruby right there, on the day I found her dead body.” I pointed at a strange tear-shaped ruby on the side of the crown. “I had never seen her with that ring before. Did you give it to her before or after you stabbed her?”

Val widen his eyes. He was silent for a long pause. He decided to drop all pretenses. “Where is the fotos?”

“You mean the ones with your happy friends in it? Those who stole that Crown Jewel? Of course I don’t have them here, but if anything should happen to me, the photos go to the police.” The fact was, I gave it to Lolita for safekeeping, and she’s hiding downstairs out of sight at the moment.

I guess they didn’t understand what it meant by “if anything should happen to me”, because someone just slid behind me in ninja silence and knocked me unconscious.

Mar-11-2009 03:50

I was waiting down in the street. Dressed like a hobo with a brown paper bag in my hand, I didn't think anyone would ever recognize me. Joseph and I had agreed that if he wasn't out in 30 minutes I should take the photo's he gave me and go to the police.

We had the evidence we needed..........Valentino was in love with Mrs Gatsby, they had been having an affair for ages. Valentino was also involved in the theft of the Crown Jewel of Zimbeeta, and Mrs Gatsby had been wearing that very jewel the day she died. Zeo had seen it on her dead body.......... Wait a minute! If Valentino had stolen the Zimbeeta Jewel wouldn't he want to take it back after he murdered her? Why would he leave it on her dead body? That just didn't make sense to me. There had to be some other explanation.

I spent the next 20 minutes pondering and waiting for Joseph. Suddenly instead of Zeo appearing there were 2 men carrying a rolled up rug. "Ah Dang" I sighed. A rolled rug only meant one thing in our line of work. Giving up the cover of the shadowy doorway I was leaning in I raced for the car as the 2 goons were loading their "rug" into the trunk of a large black sedan.

I followed behind, careful not to let them see me and they led me back to Zeo's apartment. "??? What could be going on here" I wondered. The two men took their rolled "rug" and carried straight up to Zeo's place. I climbed the fire escape and peered in. They unrolled Zeo and threw cold water on his face. He slowly came around and they tied him to a chair.

"Right! Now where are the negatives?" I heard one of the goons say!

Mar-11-2009 20:29

"I told you, I don't have them! Everything is going to the police." I said, my head still in terrible pain. One of the men slapped me in the face. I could tell that they had searched my body and my place. They found nothing.

The door to my flat slowly opened. Valentino Yakomoto came in with a solemn looking middle aged Japanese men with a toothbrush moustache ((like the one Hitler had)). Val was talking to him in Japanese and often pointed in my direction, speaking in rapid fire sentences. I had no idea what they were talking about.

I interrupted them by yelling, "Don't you understand? You keep me here, the photos go to the police!".

The two men stop and smiled. The older man said in perfect English, "Excellent. Please do, Mr. Zeo. You'll be delivering them right to my doorsteps, just like where the Jewel ended up. We'll keep you here until we have the photographs."

The men barked an order in Japanese and the two goons started hitting me. I recognized them as some of the suspects I had taken photos of.

The older man instructed Val in Japanese. Val bowed curtly and made a call on my telephone on the desk. I could barely make sense of the phone conversation since I was being beaten senseless, but it involved people arriving from Zimbeeta and hitmans in place.

After Val hung up, he made a short bow to the man with the moustache again and they began another conversation in Japanese. All I could make out was the word "police station" in English, and then the two left my flat. I continued to receive 'royal treatment' from the two goons who were enjoying every bit of ripping me apart.

Mar-12-2009 13:08

“Alright, I think that’s the address, Joey. Pull over behind that truck.”

“You think, or you’re sure, Paulie?

“What da’ hell you mean…‘am I sure’? Were ‘you’ in there with Peretti when he gave us the job? NO, you were NOT! Was I? YES, ‘I’…was with him and ‘you’…were ‘outside’! He said ‘tall brick apartment building across from the bakery’. Well…this’s a tall brick apartment building across from the bakery! So yeah, I ‘think’ this is the place!”

“Last time you ‘thought’ we were in the right place we ended up putting a sorry arse in hospital for three damn weeks and we were two blocks away! That guy never did anything to anybody. So ya, I am asking you if you’re sure this is the right address. Why the hell didn’t you write it down, anyway?”

“I’m telling you it’s here! Pull over the damn car!” He took out a red handkerchief and wiped his forehead. The midday heat was making him sweat like a pig. “And what da’ hell you mean by ‘write it down’?” he continued. “What you think…I work for the yellow pages or somethin’? No mate, ‘Paulie’ keeps everything up here…” he tapped his temple “…Paulie always remembers!”

I doubted he could even remember everything he had for breakfast, considering the size of his belly.

Paulie was the usual low rank mob goon: big…fat in his case and not too bright. We went back a long time…practically grew up together. None of us got anywhere in life up to that point, so we were taking every opportunity we would stumble upon in order to gain some extra dough. Since we were both quite capable of throwing and, more important, also cashing a punch, we became muscles for the local betting parlors.

Mar-12-2009 13:09

I wasn’t too much into this ‘family’ thing, but Paulie was actually dreaming of becoming a ‘made man’ someday…if the cholesterol won’t kill him first, that is. He had an edge, he thought, by being 100% Italian. I kind of…had my doubts about that, considering his mother’s ’occupation’ during the time of his birth. But anyway, they were indeed throwing him a bone from time to time, a way to make a bit of cash and he was willing to share it with me. That was more than enough as far as I was concerned.

We were there that day on regular ‘collecting’ type of job. The guy we were looking for had felt a bit too lucky at the race track a couple of weeks before and had borrowed quite a large amount of greens from our ‘employers’. It appears that lately he had some troubles finding his way back to the parlor to return his loan, so we were sent there to…’refresh his memory’ a bit. It seems the guy was actually quite in the habit of ‘feeling his luck’, as his name around the streets was Toby ‘Two Fingers’. Apparently his ‘inspiration’ had also let him down before and that time it also took a few of his fingers with it.

I parked the car and we both went inside the building. At the front door we stumbled upon two Chinese guys…or maybe Japanese…I don’t know. In his usual ‘polite’ manner, Paulie’s choice of path was crossing right between them, this resulting in pushing them both aside. One of them, one with a toothbrush mustache and a cane, lifted his hand trying to protest, but Paulie’s ugly look sustained by a deep growl had made the other one drag him back and out the door in a rush.

We went up the stairs searching for apartment 39. Three floors seemed to have been too much for Paulie, who was breathing so hard and noisy that I got actually afraid he was gonna have a heart attack. We stopped in front of the door for him to rest a bit and thus our attention was attracted by some strange noises inside. It seemed like punches or something...

Mar-12-2009 13:10

I looked at Paulie and we understood each other without any word being necessary. I pulled out a small blackjack and stepped aside, as Paulie took two steps behind and then forced himself right through the door, slamming it to the wall as it burst open. We had the strangest surprise upon looking inside: two goons were ‘apparently’ softening some guy’s bones. He was tied up to a chair and his face…well…he didn’t quite have a face any more. The goons looked Chinese…or Japanese…again, I don’t know.

We just stood there looking at them in surprise, as they…basically did the same thing. I guess none of us expected this. The man in the chair was looking at all four of us. I guess he wasn’t expecting guests either.

Upon about half a minute of studying each other, the two goons finally woke up from their astonishment and decided to take action. The jumped on us screaming as if something was on fire. Well…not exactly on ‘us’, as I was still outside and Paulie’s size was fully filling the door’s opening.

They both started hitting my ‘partner’ at the same time. I raised my blackjack, but then I realized there was no point to get myself into that fight, as practically the two Chinese men…or Japanese, I don’t know…appeared to be just a couple of mosquitoes compared to Paulie. Their punches and kicks didn’t seem to have any effect on him.

Mar-12-2009 13:11

For a while, Paulie handled them as a grown man would handle children playing an attack simulation. He just put his large hands on their heads, keeping them at a distance. At some point I guess he got bored, as he suddenly grabbed one of them by his collar and smashed his face onto the door frame. He just dropped on the floor unconscious. Paulie then grabbed the other one straight by his nuts, put one hand into his neck, lifted him up in the air and threw him right into a wall. Upon hitting the bricks, the goon fell on a nearby couch. Paulie grabbed a phone dropped somewhere on the floor, pulled hard on it to brake its cable, then humped over the goon’s chest and started hitting him with it in hard the face. The poor guy had passed out long before Paulie decided it was time to stop.

Our eyes then turned towards the tied up fellow, who was still looking curious at us.

“Alright…” said Paulie, rolling up his sleeves and taking position in front of him…” let’s see if we can talk same sense into this guy’s head.”

“You really think he needs more…’persuasion’?” I asked looking at his already blood soaking face.

“Well…” replied Paulie without turning his head…”that was ‘their’ point of view.” He pointed towards the goons. “I need to impose my own now, no?” He had his back turned to me, but I could feel his smile. He fixed his feet onto the floor and started practicing the direction of his punch onto the man’s face by miming a hook several times.

I remained in the door frame to watch the hallway. We wouldn’t want to get interrupted by the eventual ‘friends’ of the goons we had found inside. Throwing a look around, something strange draw my attention regarding the metal numbers on the apartment’s door. I touched them slowly and I noticed one of them was loose. It then came to me: it was a 6, not a 9!!!

Mar-12-2009 13:11

“Damn!...” I mumbled. “We’re in the wrong place…again!” I quickly turned my eyes towards Paulie…”HOLD!”

Too late. He already applied a punch to the man, knocking him down along with the chair he was tied up to.

“WHAT!” barked Paulie turning towards me.

“We’re in the wrong apartment! This is 36, not 39. The number on the door is loose.”

“You for real, Bane?” He looked really disappointed.

“I think so…Check his fingers. How many he’s got?”

Paulie looked down at him and started counting.

“Well, Paulie?...How many?...Paulie…Paulie….PAULIE!”

“TEN! You’re stressing me, Bane!”

“Took you 2 minutes to see he’s got all fingers on both hands? Hell, Paulie…what have you been drinking lately?”

“Cut it off, Joey! Let’s go…This lad’s already done. Need a fresh one.”

Paulie rolled down his sleeves and exited the door, heading for the real apartment 39.

“Yo, Paulie…shouldn’t we untie this guy?” I asked looking at the man on the floor. He was still awake…tough guy. I never seen anyone able to receive Paulie’s right hook and not pass out.

“Nah…leave him there…” came Paulie’s voice from the hallway. “He’s somebody else’s business…”

I slowly closed the door behind me, grumbling only for myself…”I hope we’re at least in the right building…”

Mar-12-2009 13:19

Sneaking back down the fire escape, I went around to the front door. Pulling out my gun I knocked loudly and then stepped to the side of the doorway. One of the goons opened the door and when he couldn't see anyone he stuck his head out. A quick hit with the butt of my pistol and he went down with a thud. Jumping over his unconscious body I raced in to the apartment and pointing the gun at the other goon I told him to step back. Keeping him in my sights I got a knife from the kitchen and freed Zeo.

Thanking me gratefully, Zeo took the pistol off me and walked towards the remaining goon. If I didn't know better I might have thought Zeo was going to shoot him. Suddenly Zeo's hand shot out and he punched the goon right in the nose. Blood streaming from his nose the goon went down to his knees. Joseph punched him in the side of the head saying "How do you like it?" then turned on his heel and stepping over the prone body in the doorway, we left.

Driving around the city I told Zeo about my deductions. "I think Scotty is in this up to his neck. Scotty ratted you out and now Val and his crony say that they can get the evidence from the police. I think we need to check Scotty out."

Zeo agreed so we headed over to stake out Scotty's place. We watched Scotty's place for quite a while before anything happened. Then finally a woman arrived. She didn't even knock. Just walked straight in as if she knew Scotty well.

Zeo's jaw dropped. "Give me the photo's back Lolita" he said. Pulling one out he handed it to me and said "Recognize her?"

He was holding out the photo of a woman kissing ugly George! Looking closer I turned to Zeo and said "Doesn't she look like Scotty? A sister maybe?"