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The Pearl Handled Pistol
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Cyril Banks
Cyril Banks

Apr-15-2011 01:35

I gathered my things together that I always took when I went out on a case. I had an old wallet, my watch that kept pretty good time and a few other choice items. I was working on a case that was a real irritating mess. A former professor named Dalton Brown had been fired from the university he taught at for engaging in lascivious acts with one of his students. Needless to say this did no favors for his professional credibility and he couldn't find any more work. He tried his hand at a couple of things but nothing panned out and he was eyeballs deep in debt and facing foreclosure on his home. He decided to take a life insurance policy on his wife and kill her under the guise of a local cult ritualistically abducting and slaughtering her. It was a nasty scene for certain. The police knew who the culprit was, as smart as the professor was, he had no mind for crime. The issue lay in jurisdiction. The police couldn't legally chase him from state to state. I could travel as i saw fit and apprehend him legally as a sort of bounty hunter.

I packed all my things to be ready for a short trip to the office then the long trip to the next state over. The professor was supposed to be holed up at a little motel. His ability to run was limited considering he never did get to collect on that policy. He was an indigent, fugitive who didn't have a friend on earth. This would be easy. With a few more slight preparations, I was ready to go.

I elected to walk to the office since I had to wake up early and had neglected todays run. I always kept up on my roadwork one way or the other. In an alley on the way a man stepped out and beckoned me to him. "Hey fella, I got some real fine watches that a guy like you would look sharp with. I got great stuff you're gonna love, come take a look."

I looked him up and down. I considered that he was selling stolen goods. I even considered that he could try to rob and kill me in this alley. I didn't think so either. I follo

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Cyril Banks
Cyril Banks

Apr-15-2011 02:05

"I said its not for you! I got a dozen other guns, why you need that one?" He was clearly flustered. For some strange reason he didn't want to sell the little revolver.

"I asked how much?" I just pressed on hoping he might crack and tell me his concerns with gun.

"A million dollars you bum! Its not for sale! I don't need to get hassled by a bum like you!" He grabbed his trinkets and trotted off to another location for another mark to look at his goods. It left me thinking though. He would sell me anything hot but he wouldn't sell that pistol. It puzzled me but I let it go.

I visited the office briefly and collected my gear to set off with. Then I got in my car and started the drive to meet up with the professor.

It took 3 and a half hours to find the motel he was shacked up in but I got there and asked the desk clerk if a man by the name of Dalton Brown was staying there. He told me they like cash, not names. I asked if a man fitting the professors description was staying anywhere in the motel. He just yawned. I told him I would pull his fingers off and feed them to him. He said a guy looking like my description was in room 3R.

I took the short walk to the room. I knocked lightly on the door, no answer. "I'm here to change the sheets and take you to jail." Big surprise, no one answered. I kicked the door right near the handle. The cheap wood splintered and the door flew open hard enough to bury the other sides handle in the wall.

The room was very neat. The beds were made, all the towels were folded and everything looked like it should. The only thing out of place was the dead guy in the center of the room with an entrance wound and an exit wound in his head.

He laid there in the middle of the room, the obvious conclusion I was to draw was that he killed himself. With only a couple seconds investigation, I stopped thinking that.


Cyril Banks
Cyril Banks

Apr-15-2011 02:10

The professor had the gun in his hand. This was unusual considering he just fired a round into his brain. The gun usually ends up anywhere but the hand when this is the case. Also, He seemed to have some defensive wounds under his shirt sleeves. Unless he was picking a fight with the cheap furniture, someone was laying a beating on the professor before they clipped him. I looked around and found a number of other indicators that this was a murder. The last and most profound detail was the weapon.

I hadn't taken a terribly close look earlier but when I pried the professors hand open, I got a good look. It was a .32 rimfire revolver with gold plating and a pearl handle. It even had a little naked lady painted on the handle.

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