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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-13-2009 12:45

It took quite a bit to convince Scotty that the real killer was Valentino Yakamoto, one of Grace’s toy boy. I showed him the photos of the suspects to the theft of the Crown Jewel of Zimbeeta.

“The fact that they hide from the press the discovery of the Jewel on Grace’s finger, that in itself speaks volume.” I induced. “Call me paranoid, but I believe framing me for the murder was only the tip of the iceberg to a much bigger conspiracy. Why would the Easter Triad spent the effort to steal the jewel, only to return it to the police?”

“From what I ‘eard,” said Scotty, “The delegates from Zimbeeta are comin’ to Sleuthville to retrieve the Crown Jewel. I believe the crown Prince is takin’ the opportuniti to visit New York on this occasion as well.”

“What did you just say? The Crown Prince? All the way from Zimbeeta? Do you know how much his head is worth? At least 100 times more then that stupid rock itself!” I exclaimed. It was all coming clear to me; the phone call Val made in my flat, about the hitmans in place… The Triad intended to take out the Prince!!

“Scotty, can I trust you?” The kid nodded. “I need you to return to the police station to find out who was their inside link, who is helping the Eastern Triad. It’d be someone pretty high up, so you be careful! Lolita, can you go to the station with Scotty? You charm and experience with people would be of great help to the kid.” I assured Lolita that Scotty was trustworthy, now that he knew I wasn’t the killer.

To clear my name, I needed to find out everything. I decided to go to some of my Italian connections. They were the arch enemies of the Easter Triad, and may know a few things about this big plan of theirs. First, I needed a disguise. I looked around and saw the wig... oh no...

Mar-15-2009 14:23

I was smoking outside, leaning myself on the car, waiting for Paulie to come out. Peretti had sent word to us that we were needed for another job. The sun was already setting when we arrived to his parlor and considering the rush we were called in, I assumed it was something we needed to do that night.

I didn’t like last minute jobs and even less the kind that needed to be done under the cover of darkness, but I wasn’t going to be picky about it. After all, they paid good cash.

As usual, Paulie had gone inside to get the details. He had been in there for over half an hour now, so I was getting a bit nervous. He finally came out, smiling.

“Hey, Joey, we got ourselves a nice and easy one tonight!” He was rubbing his hands. “They even paid us half ahead.” He reached into his chest pocket and pulled out what seemed to be the corner of an envelope and then he pushed it back inside.

I didn’t really like the jobs that were half paid ahead. Sometimes that meant whatever we would have to do was dangerous enough not to survive it.

I threw away my cigarette and opened the car’s door.

“Move on the othe’ side, Joey. I’m driving.”

“You sure about this, Paulie? Last time you drove you almost crashed into a crowd!”

Indeed, Paulie was the worst car driver ever. I wasn’t just the fact that he had no speed limit and no reflexes, but also that the steering wheel was usually practically stuck onto his belly, which made it quite tricky for him to take a curve.

“I’m sure. Get in. I’ll tell ya’bout it on the way. We need to hurry.”

I nodded and then got into the passenger seat, making sure I had something to grab onto and we drove off.

Mar-15-2009 14:24

Just as we made our way out of the back yard of the parlor, Paulie noticed what seemed to look like a…strange woman, hanging around the front entrance.

“Now dat’s a yummy looking broad” he said and then pulled over near her. “Hey babe, how ‘bout you give good ol’ Paulie here a lap dance?”

I pulled his sleeve. “Yo, mate…what the hell are you doing? I thought we have a place we need to go right now?”

“No worry, Bane. Just let me work my charms a bit here.” He smiled. Now that was a truly disgusting smile.

He turned back his attention to the woman, who looked at him with a somehow puzzled expression, as if she didn’t know how to respond. He seemed though to have all the words he needed.

“Say, shuga’…Paulie’s a bit busy tonight. Now ya’ just go inside, but don’t fall in love with anyone tonight, ya’ hear? Paulie’s gonna be back and he’s gonna play all night with dat tight behind of yours…hehehe.”

He reached out the car window with his hand and swiftly pinched her on the butt. She jumped behind and it seemed to me she closed her fist to punch him, but then she stopped. That was a strange move for a woman, but hey…if I was in her place I probably would’ve had the same instinct.

“Charming…” I said as we drove off.

“Yum-myyy!” came Paulie’s answer, laughing hard.

...

Mar-15-2009 14:25

Upon managing to make his way up to a wide road, Paulie felt safe enough to concentrate on talking.

“Alright…” he started “…here’s the deal. We’re supposed to go to some storage house down in Woodridge and pick up a truck full of booze.”

He stopped here as we reached a large crossroad, two cars coming on each side in our direction. I had to stick one hand into the board panel and then grab on my seat with the other as Paulie took the…obvious decision for him: he drove off right between them, making the hit their brakes hard.

“DAMN, Paulie! You could’ve killed us!” I shouted.

“Don’t worry, Joey…I know what I’m doing.”

I sighed defeated and then just relaxed. After all, I knew what to expect of him.

“So…” he continued “…we need to stop by Louie’s and pick up some Tommyes on the way.”

“Tommyes? Guns, Paulie? Now what the hell kind of job is this? I thought we were just transporting the stuff!”

“Well…seems these guys Peretti’s dealing with are new. They’re expanding their business out here, so we should be prepared for anything, ya’ know…”

“Why the hell aren’t ‘his’ goons doing this? What are we? Cannon meat?”

“Don’t sweat it, Joey. This might be the brake we’ve been waiting for. If we pull this out right we might just be accepted in.”

“In…’the family’ you mean? You stupid, or what? We’re just being sent there because they don’t wanna put their arses on the line, Paulie. And quit already with this ‘family’ idea. We’re just a couple of muscles and we’ll never be anything more than this, you hear?”

“I got my plans, Joey…I’m gonna be a ‘made man’. If you don’t want to, fine. But don’t ruin my chances here…”

I let it drop. No point in arguing about an idea that has been so long stuck into his head. I thought a little and started inquiring him.

Mar-15-2009 14:26

“Ok, so…what exactly do we know about these guys that we’re supposed to meet? Peretti gave you any information?”

“Nah…you know how these guys are: no names.”

“Great!” I replied. “We’re headed to what might be a Tommy guns showdown and we have no idea who we’re facing.”

“Oh well…” he smiled. “I had a small chat while I was in there with Boscorelli. He’s one of his goons and also he ows me a favor, so…”

“So spit it out, whatcha waiting for?”

“He said the booze comes from a guy down in the south. His name is ‘Crazy’ Frankie and apparently he’s got a couple of distilleries somewhere in Trenton. Rough guy, he said. Likes to do business his own way.”

“That doesn’t sound good, Paulie…”

“Well, anyway…it seems he’s not the head of this bootlegging operation. Someone’s behind him, some guy called…George Gatsby or something.”

“George Gatsby you say? Hmmm…the name sounds somehow familiar. Anything else?”

“That’s all he told lad, mate. I’m sorry.”

“Well…” I replied “…at least we know enough to watch our arses carefully tonight.”

After that we stopped speaking. I started trying to remember where I heard that name before, but unfortunately to no avail.

…

Mar-15-2009 14:26

We stopped by Louie’s and picked up the guns. I grabbed one, checked it out for bullets and placed it barrel down between my legs. Under the current situation I felt quite justified about acting extra careful.

Paulie got back behind the wheel and we drove off again.

“There’s somethin’ Louie told me...somethin’ strange…”

“I do hope you’re planning to share it with me tonight, Paulie.”

“He said to…watch out for the Triads.”

“What freaking Triads, Paulie? Are you nuts? We’re in New York. WE run things here.”

“Well…I don’t know. He said they started to come down in numbers. He don’t know if they’re here for a reason or just they wanna move on our territory. He just said to watch out.”

“Damn!”

I didn’t like this job before, but at this point I really started to hate it. Everything was telling me it wasn’t going to be an easy night.

…

Mar-15-2009 14:27

We reached the storage area in half an hour. The area seemed quiet. It was already close to midnight.

Just as we turned the corner on the street, we spotted two Japanese looking men talking somewhere in the shadows, about a hundred meters away from the gate.

“Hey, check that out, Paulie! Kill the lights!” I whispered.

Pauile turned the lights off and started to drive the car slowly. The two men appeared to be close to the end of their conversation, as one of them handed the other something that looked like some kind of a suitcase and then took off in a nearby car. The man who stayed behind started walking somehow towards the gate that we were aiming for.

“Dumb yellow bastards!” exclaimed Paulie. “They’re trying to step in on our business!”

With this he switched the lights back on a pushed the pedal.

“Wait! Paulie! What the hell you’re doing!?!”

My shouts were useless, as Paulie drove at high speed straight towards the man. He stopped and turned around to the engine’s sound and his last gesture was to cover his eyes as he was blinded by the car lights. A strong bump came. He hit the windshield cracking it and then he felt right in front of the car.

“Now that’ll teach him to mess in mob’s business” proclaimed Paulie with satisfaction.

“Damn, Paulie! What the hell is wrong with you? We don’t even know who he is. He might’ve been just a guy passing by!”

“He looks Triads to me...” He raised his shoulders.

Mar-15-2009 14:28

We both then got out of the car and went to check the body. He was dead. I picked up from his hand the suitcase and opened it up.

“Damn…what the hell is this? A bow? I thought these guys were Japanese, not Indians! What the hell is this fellow doing with a bow?”

I leaned down over him and ripped his shirt.

“Check out the tattoos, Paulie. For once it seems that you were right. This guy is definitely triads.”

“What did I tell you, lad! I smell these guys from miles away.”

“You only smell food from that distance, Paulie. Ok…now let’s see what he’s got inside his pockets.”

After a thorough search all I came up with was a picture: a guy dressed in some kind of a golden skirt with a small nightcap on his head. The man seemed to be African or something.

“Hey, Paulie, check this out” I said and handed him the picture. “Do you have any idea who this might be?”

“Damn!” said him looking at the picture. “Now that’s one ugly fellow in a woman’s dress. What da’ hell do I know? Maybe…his girlfriend?” He laughed hard.

“Keep your voice down and let’s be careful. Let’s go.”

We grabbed the Tommy guns and decided to approach the warehouse silently. I felt somehow bugged by the idea that nobody seemed to notice the crash. The forging engine and the bump weren’t exactly quiet...

Mar-16-2009 12:17

The cigarette smoke in the betting parlor was so thick, Zeo supposed his disguise turned out to be unnecessary, and regretted putting himself through all the nuisance. A horse race was broadcasting in the radio, and everyone listened attentively.

Peretti was most likely in his office. How he was to enter in his current state was beyond him. He then noticed a skinny man toying with a slot machine in the corner, whom Zeo believed worked for Peretti. The guy noticed Zeo staring at him, and he got up, pulling his pants.

“Ey, nice missy! You looking for some fun?” The man said, approaching Zeo. Zeo couldn’t believe he was being hit on the second time in one night.

“Peretti. I’m looking for Signore Peretti.” Zeo coughed in a squeaky voice.

“What da you want? If it’s money you wanna borrow,” the skinny man grinned, “I can arrange something, interest free.” His hands floated towards Zeo’s chest. Zeo grabbed both his hands and squeezed. Hard.

The man grunted audibly, but didn’t dare to yell to avoid embarrassing himself. Zeo said in a high-pitched tone, “Just tell him Josephine Zeoine send regards to his boots. He’ll understand.”

Upon release, with numbing fingers, the man scurried inside the office. Thirty seconds later, the door popped open. Zeo entered.

The slightly chubby, balding man sitting in front of the desk looked at Zeo, eyes widened. “Boscorelli, you may go now.” The skinny man looked at his boss, dumb and frozen. “Scram!” The boss yelled. Boscorelli quickly dashed out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“You dare to show your face in this part of town!” Peretti exclaimed.

“Well, this isn’t exactly ‘my face’, Peter.” Zeo said in his normal voice. “Anyway, there’s no reward on my head, yet. So the losers out there wouldn’t care less.” Zeo peeked through the blinds on the window overlooking into the betting parlor, checking, nonetheless.

Mar-16-2009 12:19

“Eh, those losers are my clients!”

Zeo turned his attention back to Peretti, smiling, anticipating.

“Eight years ago, without you, those crocs would’ve eaten my boots, along with what’s inside them.” Peretti said, looking at his own feet. “Peter Peretti never forgets. Tell me, fratello, what can I do for you.”

“I know what you can and cannot offer.” Zeo said. “I just needed information. The Eastern Triads, are they into assassination nowadays?”

“Those bastards are into anything profitable!” Peretti scoffed, “Those sly snakes would sell their mothers if it rakes in the cash!”

“Would that include killing their lover?”

“If she knew too much, yes.”

“Valentino Yakamoto?” Zeo asked.

Peretti paused. “So, it was true. He was in love with Grace Gatsby.”

“But it didn’t stop him from stabbing her.”

“From what I know, the Triad stole a sacred jewel from Africa, to lure their heir to America.” Peretti said, “It’s very possible they kept it at Yakamoto’s, given he had a decent flat and would be the least suspicious, but you know women and jewelries, you can never hide any from them…”

“So he had to silence her, and find someone to blame.” Zeo understood bitterly.

Peretti sighed. “I know they work closely with a high ranking officer, and got away with quite a bit of things, but sorry, I don’t have any name there for you.”

“What about Yakamoto’s boss?”

“Ah, that I know. The mastermind behind their operations here, a middle aged Japanese men with a toothbrush moustache.” Peretti recalled, Zeo nodded intently. “The name is Edgar Haneke, a literature graduate from Harvard, from what I heard!”

A Harvard graduate, a poet, and a mob boss?

Zeo was intrigued. Peretti told Zeo everything he knew about Haneke. Zeo listened carefully. He knew that to clear his name, he must find out who’s the insider cop, stop the assassination, and arrest both Yakamoto and Haneke - A Herculean task.