I’ve been thinking of trying my hand at writing some noir fiction. I wrote the first chapter of a story a few weeks back, and decided to adapt it for this week’s Trifecta writing challenge. Hope you enjoy it!
It was a slow day at the office. Probably a good thing, since it was hot enough to fry eggs on my desk.
I’d been going through old cases to pass the time, and I got to thinking about Margaret. Her husband, Rodney, had been my client. He thought that she was two-timing him, but he needed proof. He showed me her picture, and I said, “she’s not two-timing you.” It was the attractive dames that hooked up with other guys. And Margaret? Some might say she was as ugly as a stick. Not me. I don’t insult sticks.
Turns out I was wrong. Apparently she’d been able to charm some bloke who had no taste. I’d provided Rodney with the proof he’d needed, and that was that. Or so I thought.
The bells that hang above my door like some gaudy out-of-season mistletoe clanged together, jarring me back to the present and alerting me that I had company. I looked up and was surprised to see the very dame I’d just been thinking of. She’d had some cosmetic surgery done, that much was obvious. She looked better in the way that a high speed crash would make a Pontiac Aztec look better.
She said, “Detective Blake, I need you help.” I figured she wanted me to go after her plastic surgeon.
“Call me Andrew,” I said. I was a P.I. I might do the same sort of work as a detective, but I hated being called one.
It wasn’t often that the ex-wife of an ex-client showed up, wanting to hire my services, but I’m not one to turn down cash, so I picked up some paper and a pen and said, “What’s your trouble?”
“It’s about Rodney.”
I don’t investigate clients, even former ones. It’s bad for business. I was about to say that, but before I had the chance, she said, “he’s missing.”
I got the feeling that the day had just gotten a lost less slow.
Submitted Apr.2, 2014 for Inspiration Monday (hope they don’t mind me submitting an old post!)