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48 Hours of Peril
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M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Jan-9-2010 07:18

Having a family member is one of the worst feelings one could ever have. Marc never saw it coming.

Spring of 1939, Marc sat in his office with nothing to do. The depression was about over. People were getting jobs again, he was happy for that. But business for others, such as himself, was slow once again. It seemed that business would pick up for a couple weeks, and then for a month, it would slow down. One or two clients here and there, or sometimes, none for weeks. Getting money was hard enough in this type of business. So one would have to set money aside for rent, food, etc.

As Marc sat in his chair day dreaming of his youth as a soldier fighting in the War, he was awaken by his phone ringing.

"This is Marc," Marc said answering the phone.

"Marc, they've taken her," the voice said on the other line. It was my mother.

"Mom? Who did they take?! Who took her?!" Marc stammered.

"I don't know who it was but they got her! Your sister. She's gone. Someone broke in. They left a note, Marc."

His mother was stuttering through her words. "I'm on my way," Marc said. He grabbed his coat and his hat, and ran out the door.

Within minutes, he arrived at his childhood home. Marc burst through the door and his mother fell into his arms crying. His sister, Anna was gone. He ran upstairs into her bedroom, to find it had been destroyed. Anna had put up a fight.

On her bed, he found the note. It read:

"Hello Marc,
You and I both know each other and we are going to play a little game of cat and mouse. Do you like games Marc? Because I do. As you know, by now, I have Anna. And I must say, Marc, your sister is quite the piece of work. She gave one of my troopers, a broken nose, and three cracked ribs. Two hours after you read this note, you will be contacted and will be given one simple task. You refuse to do it, and your sister dies.

Tim O'Leary"


M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Jan-9-2010 07:28

Marc dropped the note and felt his eyes water. "Not Anna. God, please no. Not her." Marc said to himself, "She's only 19," Marc said.

Tim O'Leary. Marc knew him. O'Leary wanted to seek revenge against Marc after what Marc did to his legs. (See Reformed Burglars) Marc held the note.

"Mom have to go. I promise, I will find her, and I will bring her home. Alive." Marc said as he walked out the door.

He made to his office just in time for his phone to ring.

"What?" Marc answered.

"My, my. What a greeting, Marc," The voice said, "You should learn to control your anger. You have to find your sister, Marc. Remember? Oh, yes the task you are supposed to have. O'Leary wants you to find him. Killing him will get you no where. So it's best to let him live. O'Leary says to bring him fifteen thousand dollars if you want to see your sister ever again."

"Where is she, you son of a bitch?!" Marc screamed.

"Haha temper, temper. You have 48 hours." The voice said. The line went dead.

Marc hung up the phone and made a call to a friend. One he had worked well with before. He trusted this person; a lot.

"I need your help," Marc said. He told them what happened.

"I'll be right there," they said, and they hung up the phone.

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

Jan-9-2010 11:27

"Never a dull moment around here." Molly said decidedly as she hung up the phone and went to get her coat. She locked up and drove to Marc's, musing over the details as she went. As she walked in, untying the scarf from around her head, she encountered a very distraught-looking Marc.

"What's your plan of action?" she asked, businesslike. "And have you called anyone else?"

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Jan-11-2010 21:02

"My plan of action? My plan is to get her back alive." Marc said. "As for calling anyone else, no. I'd call Joseph but I don't want to get all the feds involved."

"He is your friend. He'd call you for help," Molly said. She didn't sound as though she was being pushy to call him, but more along of making it a suggestion. Joseph had a keen sense of tracking people down. Joseph had the eyes of a hawk when it came to finding small evidence pieces.

Of course, every detective had that sense to find evidence, but Zeo was unique when it came to that stuff. Every sleuth had a strong point. For Marc, it was making people talk. Zeo, it was finding things that others had over looked.

"Molly, we have less than 48 hours now to find her. Who else do you think I should call?"


Feb-25-2010 09:07

Dellilah sat up and stretched her arms, letting the blanket fall loose along her lithe form. Beside her, a young man groaned in his sleep. She slid out of bed, hastily wore her clothes, grabbed her belongings and tiptoed towards the door.

"Going so soon?" he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes and patted the side of the bed where she had been.

Oh... I was so close. What a bother... "I'm a married woman," she said. "I have to go home."

The man scooted, stood up and embraced her. "Please stay. My dear Theresa--"

She sensed his hunger for her presence. The passion in his voice as he called her by a name born of her deception. She struggled for a semblance of empathy from within her, but found nothing. Carefully, she shook him off, then casually smoothed her clothes.

"Can I visit you?" he asked.

"Please, don't." She turned and looked at him with the saddest eyes that she could muster. "My husband... he might hurt you. He's a sailor. He's very strong, even for you. Oh, don't take this as a rejection-- I just don't want any harm to come upon you! Let's just see each other this way--"

He took her hands in his. "I would fight your husband, if you just let me--"

"No! I won't ever see you again if you do that!"

He was silent, obviously taken aback by her interjection. "Then I won't," he finally said. "But assure me that we will still see each other, Theresa?"

"Yes. Please, let me leave now."

"I love you--"

She winced. She walked on, out the door, and never looked back. How she wished she hadn't heard him say that he loved her. Now she would have to go somewhere else, to escape that fearful thing that they call love.

But, first, she had matters to take care of. On her way to her erstwhile lover's house, she had heard loud crashes and yells coming from a nearby residence. At that time, she hadn't bothered to check; she had been too preoccupied with her personal wants.

Now, seeking thrill and adventure, she decided that she would snoop around.

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Feb-25-2010 19:58

Whether or not Molly would come with Marc to help in the search, would be entirely up to her. She was busy, and Marc completely understood, so he wasn't going to beg for her help. He wouldn't hate her if she said she couldn't help. He wouldn't even dislike her. Molly was too kind for him to hate. Which is why Marc stormed out of his office. Now he had 47 hours left to find his sister. That bastard Tim O'Leary was going to go down once and for all. But fifteen thousand dollars? Where was Marc going to get that kind of money? And why did O'Leary need that kind of money?

The answer; he didn't need that money. Marc knew that O'Leary would kill him, take the money, then kill his sister as for revenge for what Marc did to his legs by dropping him off those stairs. (See Reformed Burglars never rest).

Marc left Molly in his office to go back to the crime scene, with now 46 hours left. Time was being wasted and there was nothing except a phone call. As Marc pulled up into the driveway of his mother's house he noticed a woman walking around.

"Excuse me, miss, but this here is a crime scene." Marc said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. The last thing he wanted was someone who could be a reporter snooping around him.

"Is it, now?" She said with sly grin.

"Yes," Marc said.

She looked at him and she could see the stress in his eyes.

"What happened if you dont' mind me asking?"

"My sister was taken by an Irish mobster. And if you're a reporter dont' you DARE think about-"

"Relax," she said walking in a circle around Marc, "I'm not a reporter. I'm sleuth, just like you."

"Indeed.." Marc said. "Look," he continued, "I'd love to stand around and chat with you, but I've got about 45 hours now to find her before she is killed...if you'll excuse me," Marc said walking past her. He went into his sister's room too look around, but he could find nothing.


M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Feb-25-2010 20:00

He left the house and he could still see that woman, who ever she was, snooping around. He wanted to say something to her, but he didn't have the time. Marc left to go into the bigger part of the city to where the Irish mob worked. He knew someone who would talk. Every city had the "local fixer" who hung out in the bar. He owed Marc a favor or two for some work Marc helped him with.


Mar-1-2010 07:56

Why is that hothead in such a hurry? Dellilah wondered, as she watched the stranger walk away. I told him that I am a sleuth. I wonder if he believed me... She looked down at her attire to see if something was amiss. Brown leather coat and boots. Smart and respectable. In a small cotton bag, she had folded her faded peasant dress very tightly. No one around here knew that she doubled as a poor sailor's wife. That identity was lost for the meantime.

Before he arrived, she had had her attention on the “crime scene”. It was a beautiful house, clean and warmly decorated. An occupant with a kind, feminine touch, she had thought to herself. Peering through the window, Dellilah had observed an old dignified-looking woman, probably in her sixties or early seventies, pacing the living room floor back and forth while rubbing her hands together. Anxiety, prayer. Was there a murder? Not likely; she would have been resigned if it were a murder. No. She was obviously waiting for something, or someone, pointing to either a robbery or an abduction, more likely the latter.

Who got kidnapped then? If it had happened in her house, as it did, bared by the noises that came from here hours ago, then it was likely to be a family member. Could be her husband, though given the amount of anxiety she showed, it was more likely one of her children. Nothing would make a mother more anxious than knowing her child is missing, and possibly in danger.

Dellilah smiled. Very, very exciting indeed. When this stranger came and affirmed her suspicions " a sister taken by a mobster, he had said " she told herself that she would be involved. She walked to the door and knocked.


Mar-1-2010 07:59

Suddenly, she heard a crash, of breaking glass. She ran towards the sound. The window had been broken; something like a stone was thrown through it. Dellilah caught a glimpse of a shrouded figure running away from the scene. She tried to chase it, but it was so fast that she almost immediately lost sight of it. Giving up chase, she returned to the house and found the woman at the front door, crying out “Marc, Marc!” It probably was the name of the hotheaded stranger that she had met minutes ago.

And this woman must be his mother.

“Who are you?” the woman demanded. “Did you do this? Are you one of them? Where is my daughter? Answer me!”

“Madame, calm down,” Dellilah said in the gentlest voice that she can make. “I am a friend... of Marc. Detective Judith Cook.” She flashed an identification card. “I'm here to help.”

“Oh... oh, thank heavens, a detective!” The woman broke down and cried. “Please... help us. I want my daughter back home...”

Dellilah, now Judith Cook, private investigator, held the woman gently. “Do not worry. We will have your daughter back, safe and sound. I promise.” Yeah, right. She didn't even know where to start. Although breaking a promise, and leaving a mother to a sorrowful life, were of no consequence to her, her pride was. She saw this situation as a puzzle that she just had to solve, by all means.

“Now,” she continued, “calm down, and tell me: why were you calling Marc a while back? What happened? Does it have something to do with that broken window?”

The mother wiped her tears. “Yes. This came through the window.” It was a dense wooden box with a flip-top lid. “Give it to Marc. He'll know what to do with it.”

Dellilah felt tempted to open the box; yet reminded of the story of the Dying Detective, she decided not to. If there was anything dangerous about this box, let that Marc man have it instead!

She headed the direction where he had ran off to. The big city. With all the buildings around, he could be anywhere.

Luckily, she spotted Marc before he disap


Mar-1-2010 08:03

Luckily, she spotted Marc before he disappeared into the local bar. She followed him immediately.

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa

Mar-2-2010 19:20

Marc walked in to the dimly lit bar. It was dark as was any other bar in town. And just like in every city, there sat the town's local fixer. Shady, as Marc called him. Marc sat across from him and Shady looked up. With a thick Irish accent he asked, "Now what would a dick like you want with a guy like me?" His breath reeked of Russian Vodka and gin. "I want information Shady, on a Tim O'Leary.

"O'Leary? Wasn't he that slime ball you dropped off them stairs back in London?"

"Yes" Marc snapped, "I need that information and I need it fast!"

"Haha! Now come on, dick, you know I can't just give you that information. You gots to give something to me in return."

Marc reached up and took Shady's Vodka bottle and threw it behind him. The bottle shattered. "What the hell?!" he heard someone scream.

Marc reached into his pocket and pulled out his revolver and pulled the hammer back. Marc put his hand on the table holding the gun level to Shady's chest. "Now I'm wouldn't hesitate one second to blow your brains out all over the wall behind you. I've already killed his brother! And you owe me this favor buddy so don't act like you don't know who I am. Because now you look like a damned fool." Marc said.

Shady leaned forward. "Fine, but this is the last time you get somethin' from me. O'Leary hangs out here often. He mentioned something about kidnappin some lass. I don't know the whole story, but I know now that lass is your sister. O'Leary skips town a lot too. He can be found in places like Chicago, New York City, and even Boston. That's all I know." Shady said.

Marc swore out loud. Three different cities! Three different cities to search in less than 2 days! Marc holstered his gun and stormed out the door lighting up his pipe on his way out. As he was coming out, he nearly knocked someone.

It was the same lady he saw snooping around at his mother's house. "What the hell-" Marc said and stopped as he regained his footing. "What the hell are you doing here, lady?"

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