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Reformed burglars never rest
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Elizabeth March
Elizabeth March
Sleuth About Town

Nov-7-2009 22:10

"Brr... I'm cold."

Those were the first words that came out of Elizabeth March's mouth as she entered the hall of the well located house in London. Luckily, the place was warm and cozy.

Empty, too. She wondered were all the servants were.

Well, they'd show up, eventually. She could bet they were in the kitchen, talking and playing cards. She didn't mind. They deserved their rest and some fun.

With that in mind, she moved to the living room, dragged a chair near the fireplace and sat there, just staring at the roaring fire.

Much was in her mind. Her past life as a burglar still haunted her. All the wrong things she had done still lived in her nightmares. The woman let out a tired sigh. All that was in the past now.

She had a new life. An agency. Friends. A new name.

Yes. A new life.

It could be a better one, if she didn't have to carefully hide her past from everyone. She had to mind every word that came out of her mind. Every letter she received. Every phone call...


Damn phone.

She sighed and got up, reluctantly.


"Miss Elizabeth March?"

"Yes. Who's there?"

"Just a friend who wants you to know that dreams may shatter like glass..."

"What, what do you..."

He had hung up, and so did she.

She was still standing by the phone, trembling, when she heard the footsteps. She didn't turn around. It was probably just one of the servants. Yes, it was Gerald, her butler.

He had asked something whose meaning she couldn't reach. Maybe how she was.

"Sorry, Gerald. I'm fine. I was talking on the phone, and felt slightly light-headed."

She forced a smile to the man. He smiled back.

"Maybe you should take a bath and rest, ma'am.", the man suggested, carefully.

"Not now. I've got a phone call to make. After that, I'll do what you say."

She watched as the man left the room and picked the phone back up. She dialed a number, hoping the person on the other side was home. (...)


Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

Nov-20-2009 15:15

With a deep sigh, Molly straightened up and patted Charlie on the shoulder.

"Is Annabelle still in that room?" she asked, and when Charlie nodded, she went to her suitcase and pulled out a small bottle of liquid. As she dampened a rag with it, a sickly sweet smell permeated the room. She crossed to the door and opened it, slinking stealthily into the room across the hall where Anna was sitting on the floor, her back to her. With startling ease, Molly slipped one hand over her eyes and the rag over her nose and mouth. Annabelle kicked once and twisted, and then fell limp.

Molly threw the rag into a nearby trashcan, and then hoisted the now unconscious Anna into her arms and sailed out of the room without saying a word, leaving everyone shocked speechless.

She cradled the child to her as she descended the steps and hailed a taxi, repeating the same journey she had taken mere hours before. It seemed surreal that Pierce could have been alive and well then. And she knew that his death was her fault, for her own lack of foresight those hours ago.

She exited the taxi and one of the younger nuns was already waiting out front, her face solemn. She told the driver to stay; he would be taking them to the docks in a moment. The Sister had packed suitcases at her feet, and Molly handed her a sizeable wad of money.

"Do you know your destination?" she inquired, and the woman nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Molly raised a hand.

"I don't want to know where you're headed. You will be in contact with the Mother Superior, I imagine. She will tell you when it is safe to return. I shall leave more money in her possession if you should need it. And thank you."

The suitcases were soon loaded into the taxi, as was the sleeping child. As the young Sister opened the door and slid inside, Molly sighed and handed her a small square.

"You may give that to her if she's ever curious." Molly, handing over the small self-portrait, and then they were gone.

Jack Billings
Jack Billings

Nov-20-2009 22:49

Jack looked in the mirror at his cheek. Amelia's unerring aim had left a swollen cut that smarted terribly. As he turned from the mirror, he wondered if she were dead.

He felt sort of odd at the thought. He had shot her in blind rage, rage he didn't even knew he possessed. But he had a child, and she had kept the secret from him. Of course, he had been trying to burn her alive in her apartment those years ago, but he had changed since then. A bit. Enough to feel something...something, when he had held his child. She had been unconscious, but she looked like she was sleeping. She was lovely, he thought as he took a seat at his desk and began writing a business letter. She looked like a tiny miniature of her mother, except she had his dark eyes.

Once more Jack's thoughts returned to Amelia. Her friends had called her Molly. Once the name Amelia had matched her icy hauteur perfectly, but Molly seemed to suit her perfectly. Even when in the tensest of situations, facing him, the good humor was in all the angles and curves of her face. She had always been lovely, he thought. She looked like a movie star, even tired, and with a long scar over one eye. He wondered how she got it.

"Have I killed her, then?" he asked the room, with something in his voice that was almost regret. He stared at the wall for a moment, thinking on this, and then shrugged.

"So be it." he said, and put on a record, whistling a little as he slid the letter into an envelope.

Joseph Zeo
Joseph Zeo
Tale Spinner

Nov-21-2009 04:30

The only illuminations in the windowless room was a dim ceiling lamp and a reading light on the conference table. Beside that, only two wooden armed chairs adorned the chamber. Nothing more. Zeo appreciated his friend Leopold Parr for knowing exactly what he needed. The two detective had arranged a suitcase with the 'equipment' to be used, and waited quietly in the room. Both were exhausted from the busy day they had.

The silence finally broke by two clear knocks on the door. An officer in his early thirties entered. He was clean shaven, stood straight and had piercing eyes. He looked nothing like what Zeo imagined.

"I was informed that you two are looking me?" The officer questioned.

"You must be officer Bill Duncan. Please have a seat." Zeo offered and quietly locked the door behind him. A slight frown passed between Duncan's brows but he hesitantly complied and sat down. Before he could finished asking what was going on, a handkerchief with chloroform was forced upon his face. The officer struggled hard but the chemical took effect quickly and he was soon smothered unconscious.

Duncan woke up disorientated. A naked light bulb was three inches from his eyes. The heat and the glare was excruciating. When he tried to shield his eyes from the bright light, only then did he realize all his limbs were bounded tightly to the wooden chair he was still sitting in. A phone book was placed on his chest. He tried to look around but the glare had blinded his eyesight to everything else.

"It's 2am in the morning, Duncan, so most officers have either gone home or are on duty out on the streets." The voice of the man who greet him stated, "The few who are here have been 'informed' about this, so scream and yell all you want, it will only make us happy."

"I'm a Scotland Yard officer. What do you think you are doing?" Duncan challenged; his lips were parched.

Joseph Zeo
Joseph Zeo
Tale Spinner

Nov-21-2009 08:10

Suddenly a hammer stuck the thick phonebook on his chest. He felt was if he was hit by a truck. Duncan grunted silently, not showing signs of how heavy the blow actually felt.

"This is just to remind you who's doing the questioning." The voice said, then a hand ripped a few dozen pages off the phonebook. "You are to answer the rest of the questions quickly and honestly, or the phone book will only get thinner, and by that, each blow we administer will be heavier than the previous one."

Duncan remained silent.

"Years ago, you made some arrests and one named Elizabeth March had been part of it. Is that correct?"

"What does that have to do with..." Another heavy blow in the chest. Duncan felt as if his internal organs were turning into liquid.

"Answer the question, is that correct?" More pages were ripped away from the phone book.

"Yes." Duncan coughed.

"But she got out due to the lack of evidence."

"It happened that way." Duncan replied quietly.

"So you made a threatening phone call to her, telling her that 'dreams may shatter like glass...' "

Duncan remained silent.

"Answer the question!" Another hand ripped half the phone book away. "The next blow will permanently damage your lungs but no one will ever find out what had happened. Did you make a threatening call to Elizabeth March?" The voice bellowed, but the Yard officer's mind had drifted to a time years in the past, when he first met the dame as he worked as an undercover agent fresh off the academy. His work made the arrest of the entire crime circle possible, but he let an important evidence slip which resulted in her release. He had been after her since then, tormented between justice and affection.

"She's a burglar, not matter how she seem to have changed. Elizabeth will remain a criminal for life." Duncan declared, staring into the shadowy faces just beyond the reach of the lamp light."She deserves to be behind bar...and..." Duncan closed his eyes, "... and I cannot get her face off my mind."

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

Nov-21-2009 21:35

That done with, Molly gave a deep sigh and started down the street. The wound on her shoulder had torn open as she carried her daughter; suspicious warmth was starting to seep through the bandages. Sighing wearily, she hailed another cab and moved around to get into the back seat. As she did so, she looked up and saw a man climbing into the back seat of a dark car. It had no license plates. Curious, she leaned forward, just at the moment Jack Billings looked over and met her eyes, letter clutched in hand.

They stared at each other for a brief moment; both too surprised or weary to draw their weapons. But as he looked on with something like surprise and admiration, she narrowed her eyes and stared at him. Her look plainly promised that the next time they met, one of them would be dead beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Was it her imagination, or did he give a slight nod before slamming his car door? And what did it mean? Was it an acknowledgement that his formerly innocent wife had become a formidable match for him? Or something else?

Molly rode back to the hotel in silence. She climbed up the steps and disappeared into Pierce's and her room, where she bent down by his luggage and picked up a shirt he had worn just a day ago. She breathed in the musky scent on the white cotton, closing her eyes, and then she began to tear it into strips and fashioned a makeshift bandage for herself. It was imperative to her, for some reason, that the others not know just how badly hurt she was.

Joseph Zeo
Joseph Zeo
Tale Spinner

Nov-23-2009 11:37

Joseph Zeo did not expect to uncover a love story between a crooked cop and a reformed thief. No, first of all it was not a love story (more like the cop was stuck on the thief), and beside let slip of the evidence which resulted in Elizabeth's release years ago, Duncan did not seem crooked at all. What the hell was going on? The two detectives seemed to have been side tracked; someone was trying to point them in a suspicious yet wrong direction.


It was all adding up. Lacrimosa and Zeo were harassing the ex-mafia boss for a name, so the fat piece of scum gave them one, a name they'd need to spend hours on and would lead nowhere. Why would O'Leary do that? So that the two may perhaps get in trouble with the cops (good that Zeo had good relationship with the Yard), and be far away from Elizabeth?

"Sh*t!" Zeo cursed. He just realized the solid proof he needed to arrest Tim O'Leary, the reason why he was in England in the first place, had been right under his nose all along. Elizabeth March. She could be his key witness, she was the missing piece all along. Instead, he let the shrew ex-mofia boss led him in a wild goose chase while the crook gain time to do what he needed to do-- to snuff out the witness, just like what he did back in America. "How can I be so stupid! Marc, we need to return to the hotel, NOW!"

Marc gave Zeo questioning looks. "I'll explain along the way. Poor Duncan here had no fault but to have fallen for the wrong girl. We must get to the hotel before it's too late!"

By the time the two left the station, dawn was already drawing near. The night air was chilling to the bone, as it was always the coldest right before dawn. The two detectives ran in the direction of Elizabeth's hotel, icy sweat dripped down Zeo's back. He just hoped O'Leary haven't yet found the hideout, but with the bunch of them always going into that hotel, Zeo feared that their trail had long been exposed, and Elizabeth's life is in grave danger.

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

Nov-23-2009 12:01

Well, it couldnt be helped. Molly thought to herself, as she changed her blouse yet again. And blood was so hard to get out.

She opened her door and crossed the hall, tapping lightly on the door to Elizabeth's room. After a moment, Charlie peeked out and she motioned him into the hall.

"Elizabeth." she called, "We'll just be in my room for a moment, I need to tell Charlie the arrangements I had to make for Pierce, and his funeral. I'll leave the door open, shout if you need ANYTHING."

With that, Molly and Charlie moved into her room where they closed the door save for a hairline crack.

"Pierce's funeral will be tomorrow," she said. "They could not reach his relatives so arrangements fell to me. I've purchased him a modest plot in a cemetery nearby. I wish I could do more, but I have no money to speak of..."

They spoke at length about the arrangements, their attention momentarily diverted from the woman across the hall...

Elizabeth March
Elizabeth March
Sleuth About Town

Nov-23-2009 19:51

Elizabeth was trying hard not to sleep as Molly tapped on her door. She looked at Charlie and nodded to the other woman, muttering an 'all right, I'll be fine' to her.

Little did she know that she'd be very far from fine in that thin slice of time in which she was alone.

She went into the small lavatory to wash her face, and heard footsteps.

"Oh, Charlie, you came back real..."

She froze in the middle of the sentence. It wasn't Charlie. She took a deep breath as she looked at O'Leary.

"So, it's you.", she whispered softly. The woman looked calm, which was pretty odd.

"This is how it ends, then", she murmured as O'Leary prepared to shoot her.

Her eyes closed. She didn't want to see the bullet that was about to end everything...

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Nov-23-2009 20:21

Marc and Joseph ran through the hotel and up the stairs. There was a commotion and a sound of someone gasping. It wasn't far. They reached the end of the hallway to find O'Leary holding Elizabeth at gun point ready to pull the trigger at any given second.

"Freeze! Hand's up O'Leary!" Marc shouted. O'Leary froze and turned around slowly with the gun in his hand. He smiled and said, "I wondered how long it would take you to realize it was me, detective Lacrimosa."

He held the gun and pointed it down range at Joseph and Marc. "Don' t you move!" Someone yelled. It was Charlie Cain. Molly was right behind him. She had a tear in her eye as she held her gun. Clift Garret came around the corner holding his gun as well but someone was gone. It was Pierce Evans Malone. Marc didnt' have time to wonder where he was but he could only assume the worst.

Tim O'Leary let out a laugh. "So, this is it? This is all the help you've got to arrest me? Oh come ON! Marc, if you needed this many people, there is seriously something-"

"Shut it, O'Leary" Joseph said cutting him off.

"To be honest with you," Marc said, "We met by chance. I've worked with them before and they're the finest detectives I've ever seen. But when we all come to find each other chasing a scum wad like you, there is something wrong with that. I think you've picked the wrong reformed burgaler to mess with."

The smile still hung on his face and he replied, "Haven't you learned Marc? Reformed burglars never rest." He slowly raised his gun to Elizabeth.

"Don't do it, O'Leary"

"Suffer," O'Leary said as he put his finger on the trigger. He began to squeez the trigger slowly.


A gun shot echoed throughout the hallway. Six detectives in the hall way. Five with their guns drawn and one held at gun point. Elizabeth wasn't shot. But it was O'Leary who had been shot. He grabbed his leg and let out a howel of pain as the bullet tore through the back of his knee. (Contin..)

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Nov-23-2009 20:30

O'Leary fell with in a heap. Everyone made their move. Except for Elizabeth who stood over him and watched him, bleeding helplessly. Marc could only imagine what she was thinking. But he didn't want to. Joseph grabbed O'Leary and handcuffed him, handing him over to Marc.

"When you're done with his trial here in London, We'd like to take him back to New York where he as warrants for his arrest out there. I'll stay here and make sure he get's back to the States okay," Joseph said.

"Sounds good to me. Will they let you stay that long?" Marc asked and Joseph nodded. O'Leary was hauled down to the jail house to await trial.

Marc returned to the hotel room to find everyone in Elizabeth's room. "Tim O'Leary is gone, Ms. March. No longer will you be black mailed or threatened." Marc explained. The look in her eyes went from stress to instant relief. It had taken him almost over a week to solve this case.

Elizabeth reached for some money. "Name your price," She said.

Marc smiled and removed his fedora. "How about we negotiate prices," he said as he sat down. The criminal was gone and Elizabeth was safe.

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