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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! ))

Apr-17-2009 23:52

"Confess Zeo, there's nowhere else to go!" Whack! The chubby cop smacked my face again with his other hand, as his right hand was growing weary from all the interrogation. I could see blood streaming down my shirt with the single lightbulb in the windowless room, a copper guarding a locked door wore a smirk on his face.

I coughed out some blood and slowly replied, "I need to talk to the Commissioner." I must warn the commissioner about the Prince being in danger. He would also understand about McGinty... only if I have that confession letter from Valentino...

The chubby cop laughed heartily. "This is Serg McGinty's turf, boy." He poked the sausage of a finger hard at my temple, "You must have your mind screwed, the Commissioner!!" The cop punched me in the stomach. A coded knock was heard by the door. The fat cop pulled a jacket over my head and I heard the door creaked open and closed.

"His mouth is tight as a vault." The voice of the chubby officer said quietly.

"That's fine." It was the voice of McGinty himself. I heard noises of plastic bags opening.

"But sir... you're not trying to..." Hesitation flooded the voice of the fat cop.

"Just remember how much greens you've received in the past years, and all the 'privileges' along the way. Both of you." McGinty stated.

What the heck was the dirty Sergeant trying to pull this time? With my last ounce of energy I shook the jacket off my head. I was too late. Just then the fat cop held onto my wrists that were cuffed behind my back, and McGinty put the knife into my hand, pressing my fingers together to make sure my prints would register clearly onto the murder weapon.

I cursed and struggled, only to received another blow to my head. "One down, one to go. Now this is the one that was found on Grace Gatsby." I heard McGinty said in my semi-consciousness, and planted another knife in my hand. Everything went back afterwards.

Apr-17-2009 23:52

"Confess Zeo, there's nowhere else to go!" Whack! The chubby cop smacked my face again with his other hand, as his right hand was growing weary from all the interrogation. I could see blood streaming down my shirt with the single lightbulb in the windowless room, a copper guarding a locked door wore a smirk on his face.

I coughed out some blood and slowly replied, "I need to talk to the Commissioner." I must warn the commissioner about the Prince being in danger. He would also understand about McGinty... only if I have that confession letter from Valentino...

The chubby cop laughed heartily. "This is Serg McGinty's turf, boy." He poked the sausage of a finger hard at my temple, "You must have your mind screwed, the Commissioner!!" The cop punched me in the stomach. A coded knock was heard by the door. The fat cop pulled a jacket over my head and I heard the door creaked open and closed.

"His mouth is tight as a vault." The voice of the chubby officer said quietly.

"That's fine." It was the voice of McGinty himself. I heard noises of plastic bags opening.

"But sir... you're not trying to..." Hesitation flooded the voice of the fat cop.

"Just remember how much greens you've received in the past years, and all the 'privileges' along the way. Both of you." McGinty stated.

What the heck was the dirty Sergeant trying to pull this time? With my last ounce of energy I shook the jacket off my head. I was too late. Just then the fat cop held onto my wrists that were cuffed behind my back, and McGinty put the knife into my hand, pressing my fingers together to make sure my prints would register clearly onto the murder weapon.

I cursed and struggled, only to received another blow to my head. "One down, one to go. Now this is the one that was found on Grace Gatsby." I heard McGinty said in my semi-consciousness, and planted another knife in my hand. Everything went back afterwards.