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Apr-22-2010 21:04

"Cut!" The director screamed. He ran onto the movie set and stared at the lost man in a tacky detective costume. The director was a head shorter than most actors, but his stare was fierce. "I told you for God knows how many times, read your script as it is WRITTEN!"

"But real detectives don't say things like 'What were you doing at the time of the murder.' It's a straight give away to the suspect that a murder had taken place!" The poor man defended.

"God damn it, who cares what you say as long as it's a talkie film. A MOVIE!" The director slapped his script on the prop table. He turned to his crew, "Who hired this genius?"

The crew was stone silent. The cameramen wiped their bulky equipment fervently like their life depended on it. The lighting crew looked at their silver lamps as if they saw it for the first time. The soundman listened to his playback looking for noises that didn’t exist.

A young man in a plaid sweater put up his shaking hand, "but sir, you said you wanted an authentic guy to play the part, so I got you a real detective."

"I said I wanted an authentic LOOKING guy, Martin! Not the real deal. This is show biz, use your brain, if you're not SITTING on it!!" The stumpy director bellowed.

"But…"

A voice light as chimes cut through the quarrel. "Boys, if you don't mind, I'll just go powder my nose." The lead actress with white blonde hair and the figure of an hourglass floated back into her dressing room.

"Yes of course, certainly my darling." The director cooed. He then turned coldly to Martin and the detective. "We'll take a 15 minutes break for you two to sort this out."

"Break! 15 minutes!" Martin announced, he then turned apologetically to his friend, "I'm so sorry, detective Zeo. I know most of this doesn't make sense, but can you please stick to your lines?"

Joseph Zeo looked at his shiny detective costume and gave a weak smile, "I dig what you mean," he sighed, "and you know I wouldn't have taken the job if I wasn't low on dough.

Apr-28-2010 17:06

"We better go check them out, and besides, we need more information." Zeo said.

"So far we only have a brunette with brushy hair who may or maybe to linked to Johnny's death, and apparently the Genovese family, at least on Tony's side, does not have the photos." Riza summarized.

"I wonder who got the photos at Johnny's..." Zeo thought aloud, "Simone said that she had searched her brother's place already, so obviously this person, whoever he is, knew more than Johnny's sister." Zeo extinguished his cigarette and gave Riza a look, "I think we need to visit my old friend again, to find out more about Johnny and who he used to hang with."

Riza nodded. She got up as well and turned to her friend, "we'll have to leave Tony in your good hands for a while, Vulkie."

"Don't worry about him, I'll make sure he feel right at home." Vulkie winked.

Riza and Zeo left Molly's place in Zeo's Buick and headed off in the dark.

Apr-28-2010 18:30

Marc entered the house of David Rodgers; Simone's cousin. No one was home and Marc found his way to David's office. He had come alone. Leaving Simone at the safe house was the best thing for now. Who knew who was out to get her. Who ever had killed her brother, was now after her too. But the photograph had Marc wondering. He checked his pocket watch. It was very late by now. He reached over to the phone. Marc had heard from a source of his that Rodgers comes home usually about 1:15 a.m. from the night club that he owned.

It was 12:45 a.m. Marc picked up the phone and dialed the number to Joseph Zeo's office. The phone rang three times and someone answered. It was Zeo. "Zeo, here" he greeted.

"Zeo...I'm sorry." Marc said with a hesitation.

"Marc? Where the hell are you?!" Zeo screamed back.

"I ask that you can forgive me for what's going to happen. And maybe we can still stay friends."

"Marc, what ever the hell you are about to do, dont' do it!-"

"I'm sorry," Marc said. As he hung up the phone, he could hear Zeo scream, "MARC!"

Marc hung up the phone. Now there was just a few minutes left. Something creaked. A footstep in the house. Marc reached or his gun and screwed a silencer on it. He shot the light bulb. Of course he was sitting in the dark, but shooting the light bulb out meant that Rodger's wouldn't be able to see his face. Good. Damn good.

Marc waited for the door to open. A hand reached in to flick on the light followed by the silhouette of a human body dressed in a suit. The light didnt' come one.

"Damn, faulty wiring." The man said.

"Hello, David," Marc said with a creepy tone in his voice. It was now time to make fear become a reality. Marc stood up and walked to Rodgers who replied with a stutter, "Wh-who are you?"

"Your worst night mare," Marc said. Marc pulled out his pistol and unscrewed the silencer. He knew Rodgers was unarmed. But Rodgers didn't know that this would be his last night alive.

Apr-28-2010 18:42

"You have something of mine." Marc said, "It's a bunch of photos that was given to you by your great cousin, Johnny."

"Johnny's dead, you bastard!"

"Yes, Dave, I'm well aware of that. Now give me the photos and I'll leave, peacefully."

"I have no photos. I have no clue what you're talking about!"

"Oh really? My friend here says otherwise-"

"What friend?"

"This friend." Marc raised his pistol and fired. The bullet zipped and shattered Dave's right femur.

"AAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!" Dave fell to the ground holding his leg.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Dave screamed. "You tried to kill me!"

"No, David, if I tried to kill you, your head will be all over that F**KING WALL!" Marc yelled back. "Now tell me, where are the photos?" Marc said.

"Go to hell, pig" David spat.

Marc raised his leg and brought it down on David's wound applying pressure very slowly. David screamed and tears poured from his eyes. Marc raised his leg off of David's wound.

"You g0ing to tell me?"

"NO!" David cried once more.

Marc shot David in the other leg and in the right shoulder. He reached down and shoved his thumb in David's femur wound, making him scream in agony. "Tell me where they are!"

"F**K you!"

That was it. Marc stood up and two more times in David's leg; the one that had the shattered bone. David screamed in agony. "Okay! I'll talk. Just don't kill me!"

"Where are they?"

In my attic. There's a box. Full of photos. I took some of them with Johnny. He gave me what he had and asked me to keep them. They've done nothing for me except give me nightmares. They're in a tin box." David said.

"See? That wasn't so hard now was it?" Marc asked slyly.

Marc stood up and raised his pistol to David's head.

"WAIT! NO-"

BANG! Marc fired one more shot right between David's eyes. Marc reached down and picked up the bullet shells. With out the shells, it would be impossible to trace a bullet to Marc's gun.

Apr-28-2010 18:45

Marc grabbed the box and opened it. On the top of the pile of photos he saw the one that he was looking for, but only to his horror.

--At the safe house: Location is deep in the heart of the city--

Marc slammed the door open. He shut it and locked it. Then he gabbed a chair and shoved it underneath the door knob, just in case anyone tried to come in.

He grabbed Simone and sat her down in the chair at his table and fixed the light onto the photograph.

Marc grabbed one of his pistols, and charged a round into the chamber. He pointed it at Simone.

"You had better start talking, OR SO HELP ME GOD, I WILL BLOW YOUR f**KING HEAD OFF RIGHT NOW!"

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Apr-30-2010 04:11

Late on a week day evening at Peter’s Pub, the after-work crowd has mostly gone home. Meaghan is deep in conversation with a regular near the front entrance. A young couple sits at one of the window tables opposite the bar. Two men are in the pool area, casually knocking the balls around as they discuss local news. And Peter O’Neil is washing glasses and cleaning behind the bar bantering with two of his older regulars about the sad future of the world given the state of its youth.
“They have no respect for their elders,” says one. “’Tis true enough,” says the other.
Peter adds, “Well they said the same about us, did they not?”
“Aye, they did.”
Peter’s eye is caught by the sight of a familiar Buick as it cruises slowly by.
****
Joseph and Riza peer into Peter’s Pub, a bright wall of light compared to the darkness outside.
“Looks clean to me,” says Riza.
“OK,” replies Zeo. “I’m gonna park in back in the alley. We’ll walk around from there. Remember, play it real smooth and cool ‘til we see how it goes.”
****
As they enter the front of his pub, Peter looks up briefly from his cleaning. Without looking up again he calls out to Meaghan. “See what they’ll be having, if you please.”
Joseph and Riza head to the same corner table they sat at the last time they were here. Joseph pulls out a chair for Riza and says, “Have a seat, my dear.” Riza is caught a bit unawares and hesitates. Zeo leans in and whispers, “Act a little flirty, but keep it low key.”
Quickly, she recovers and flashes him a big smile. “Why thank you.”
She is uncomfortable in this character. Long ago Riza had learned that a young woman’s gentleness and softness is too often taken as weakness by those who would impose their strength. It had cost her dearly. She responded by becoming hard and often ruthless, and that had served her well as a detective. But it had cost her, too. Any chance of knowing the joys only women can know were in jeopardy of forever slipping away.

Apr-30-2010 04:14

None of that is in her mind now. She knows they are in danger and her senses are tuned keenly into her surroundings. Effortlessly, she and Zeo blend into the room and, over the next 45 minutes, none of the patrons gives them a second look as they leave in ones and twos. When the last one leaves, Peter pauses a moment and speaks quietly to Meaghan, then comes and sits at the table.

“Well Joseph, you’ve gotten yourself into a fine pickle this time. I don’t mind tellin’ ya so.”

Zeo nods and smiles wryly in agreement.

“You’ve got the whole city stirred up and lookin’ fer ya. And seems each has a different tale. I dunno if you’re a crazed actor in league with vicious banshees, if you’re in cahoots with the Mob, or if yer friends are draggin’ ya inta Hell!”

Riza bristled a little at the last suggestion, but she knew now was not the time to take exception. Plenty of time for that later, if they ever got clear of this mess in one piece.

“OK now,” Peter said, “I see ya got yer own car. I suggest you lose it first chance ya get. I’m willing to bet the boys I been seein’ in that fancy Packard pass by every hour were alookin fer it. They’re parked just down the block a bit now. Pulled up as traffic died off just after you came in. Lucky timing fer me else I’d be figuring how to buy my new windows. And ya gotta know the coppers are lookin’, as well.”

Zeo agreed. “Riza, will help me with that.”

“But we have to get away from here first,” Riza added.

Apr-30-2010 04:19

“Right ya are, miss.” Then Peter laid out the plan.

Every week night at 10pm sharp, he and Meaghan let down the blinds and he watched from the door as she walked to the corner before making the stairs to the subway to catch the last ride of the day. Tonight they would make a little chatter noise and she would stop to check her shoes, bending in such a way as to focus the attention of the two men in cheap suits in the fancy Packard car. At that moment, Zeo was to cross the street behind them via the alley. On that side it ran the block and he and Riza would be in the clear. It had to be done at precisely the right moment, at an idle, and without lights.

Riza said, “I’ll stand at the alley entrance in the shadows. When I see Meaghan come out, I’ll get in the car and count to thirty.”

“Aye,” said Peter. “I’ll give her the signal when to give her show.”

Then Zeo asked, “So did you hear anything you think might help us?”

“Aye,” said Peter. “We only got a few minutes left, so here it is, hard and fast. All the commotion got people talkin’ ‘bout craziness and actors and the Mob and such. A couple of names of interest came up when talk came ‘round to Johnny Cross. For starters, there’s a guy name of Sleven Sloan. Word is he and Johnny were best pals. Anything you want to know ‘bout Johnny you can learn from him. Don’t know if they worked together, but they was real tight.”

“Haven’t heard that name yet, have you Riza?”

“Nope, Zeo. Means nothing to me.”

“OK. Now here’s the juicy one in my mind. Seems Johnny was hustling his women to the Mob as well as the studios.”

“Yea,” said Zeo, a touch of disappointment in his voice. “We already heard that one. In fact, we heard there are some photos showing important people in not very important looking situations, and Johnny was trying to squeeze some Cosa Nostra people with them.”

Apr-30-2010 04:21

“Aye,” said Peter. “But did ya hear he wasn’t alone? Did ya hear there was someone else who was the brains?”

“No,” Riza said. “That is interesting.”

“Oh lassie, it gets better. Seems the mastermind was his sister, … and she went by the name of Samantha Simons. Now I don’t know ‘bout you, but this Irishman thinks either Johnny had more sisters than anyone ever knew, or he had one sister who had a lot o’ names.”

Whow! Joseph’s and Riza’s jaws both dropped.

“No time to bat that one about now. We gotta get you outta here.”

Peter led them back past the pool tables, through the storage room behind the bar, and into the alley.

“Five us about five minutes, then look for Meaghan’s leavin’,” said Peter.