dsegelquist1@cox.net
Running out of time.
Guide Lines:
1. The time of this story is the late 1940’s, you are to write in the style of that time.
2. You are to start at the end of the last page.
3. Once a paragraph has been add, you must follow that line of thought.
Running Out Of Time.
I followed behind in the shadows of the trees that lined the sidewalk, I moved as fast as I could to keep the figure in sight, but not so fast that I might give myself away. The figure would stop now and then, as if to listen to the sounds around it, as it did I would slip into the shadows and wait for the figure to move on. The figure came to a corner and rounded it and was gone from sight, I moved faster so not to lose sight, but as I rounded the corner my prey was gone.
I stood swearing to myself for losing sight of my prey, I knew it couldn’t have gone far, then my eyes fell upon a high brick wall across the street. The wall ran almost the full length of the block, had it not been for a black hole in the wall. I cross the street and headed for the hole, I knew my prey had to be within the walls as there was no time to cover the length of the street before I rounded the corner. As I crossed the street and got closer I could see it was a archway and not a hole, as I stood there taking in the arch, I could see a plaque on the side of the wall which read “1888.“ The arch held a double sided gate, which one side hung slightly at an angle, a sign of old age, above the archway there were letters which read, “Rose Way Cemetery.” I glazed beyond the darkness of the arch and step forward and let the shadows surround me.
As I entered I found myself on a old walkway that lead me to an old fountain, here the walk took two different directs. I had to hurry and decide which path to take for fear that my prey would disappear for good. I looked about then my eyes fell upon two puddles, left by the rain not more then an hour ago. As I looked at them I could see one was clear as glass, the other was muddy, I decided on the path that was muddy, I walked as fast as I could and hoping the sound of my shoes on the old stones won’t give me away.
As I walked the stones took me in among old tome stones and statues. I could feel a cold chill on my skin, I hated places of death, I needed to leave this place. I kept on going along the walk, in short time it started to from a curve, I followed the curve at it rounded a clump of rose bushes, as I rounded the bushes I could see the walkway ended into a little round, and within it stood another old fountain. The fountain was surrounded by bench’s and old statues, one statue looked out of place, for this one was dressed in black lace. I started forward at a slow walk so as not to disturb the statue. As I moved I must have made a slight sound for the statue came to life, and as it turned I could it’s face.
Her face looked pale in the moon light and as the clouds coved the moon, her face became a mask of death. The eyes of her mask were hollow and the gun in her hand told of death. She stood there with no sign of life, as a statue wrapped in black lace. As the moon came out of hiding I could see tears coming from the hollows of her mask, I stood there looking upon the face of death knowing the beauty it once held.
I waited for her to speak but no sound came, just the sounds of the night. We stood there facing each other, there was no need for words, as the gun said it all. I waited for her to move but the only movement that came was from the trees as the wind passed through them. I looked into her face and wondered how it came to this?, as I moved closer the statue came to life, her arm raised higher, as I moved I saw the orange glow from hand, the sound of the reports were deafening, in the still of the night.
(1)
I stood there looking down on the lifeless from, as I bent down I pulled the veil from the mask of death and looked upon it knowing the beauty it once held. When I stood up something caught my eye, it was within the other head stones, I went to see as I need to turn away from the form before me. There in among the tome stones was a newly opened pit, and at the head of the pit was a stone which read, “Mary McClure born 1921, died 1946.” “Liked by many loved by none.” I just stood there looking, she had been right she had ran out of time, I turned back to the lifeless form, as I did My mind faded back to a few months ago.
I was sitting at my desk which was almost to large for the office, some would call my office a broom closet, and they could be right? My office was stuck in a corner almost lost among the larger offices of the floor , at lest my name was on this broom closet door it read, “Jack Davis Private Detective.” I look over my desktop, on one corner there stood a pile of cases yet to be filed, in another corner a stack of unpaid bills, that stood higher then my cases, and in the center of it all a glass of bourbon. I looked around my surroundings, there was little furniture, a file cabinet and a end table next to and old faded chair, a couple of lamps and a couch that showed the signs of to many sleepless nights. As I took a sip from the glass I heard the glass rattle at my office door, “Come In?”
When the door open a figure stood in the door way, I couldn’t tell much as the hall lights block my view, I said. “Come In.” The shadow ask. “Mr. Davis?” I replied. “Yes what can I do for you?” As the shadow step forward I took in the view. I would say she stood five eight, a hundred and twenty pounds and she looked about twenty-five. When she came closer I took in her face, her hair was of gold and ran to her shoulders then turn upwards. She had green eyes and a full mouth. I offered her a chair, as she sat down it was as if there was a heavy burden on her shoulders. I asked. “Now how can I help you?, Miss?” She replied. “Mrs. McClure, Mrs. Mary McClure.” Her eyes darted about the room then came back to me as she said. “I need help in finding my husbands killer.” I gave the answer a moment of thought, then ask. “Murdered?” She said. “Yes two months ago.” I took another moment then ask. “Police have any leads?” Her eyes fell on the glass on my desk as she answered. “None.“ I offered her a drink, and she took it. “Please.” I got up and went to the window ledge and hunted among the cups and glass and found one that would pass as clean. I said. “Sorry all I have is bourbon?” She replied. “That’s fine.” I pulled open a side drawer of my desk and pulled out a bottle and poured her a drink. I waited while she took a dip of her drink then said. “Mrs. McClure I can’t help you, I don’t work open cases, the police don’t take too kindly to private dicks massing around in open cases.” She almost jumped out of her chair while answering. “But you must help me!, I can pay your fee, and I’m running out of time.” I took in that answer then asked. “Your running out of time?, can you explain?” She answered back. “I can’t explain now only that I need your help.”
(2)
There was something about her I didn’t what, just a feeling. I came back to the moment and said. “Before I can think about help you, I need a little more information.” She pulled herself upright in the chair and said. “Well Robert that’s my husbands name he works for the Rudy & Company, it’s a diamond exchange, their office are down town.” There was silence , I looked up from my notes, and said. “Yes go on.” She continue, “He was a carrier, he left for work on Friday and that’s the last time I saw him alive.” I stopped writing and ask. “How old was he?” She said. “30.” I asked. “How did you find out that your husband was dead?” She looked a little uncomfortable but went on. “The police called and ask if I could come the morgue.”
I stop and looked up and asked. “Were you able to give them any information?” She took a little time before answering, then said. “None, like I said to the police I have no idea who would want to hurt my husband.” After she finished, I looked her over again, there was something about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it will come to me. I asked. “Will you excuse me a moment?, I have to make a phone call.” She looked down on the phone on my desk. I answered her look. “Private.” I asked her to give me a moment, out in the hall I cursed myself for not paying my last phone bill,
I dropped a few dimes in the phone and waited for a response. “Police Department number please?” I answered. “Lieutenant Paul Anderson.” I waited. “Lieutenant Anderson here?” I responded. “Paul?, this is Jack, Jack Davis.” I heard a crumble on the other end. “Yea, what do you want?” I asked. “What you got on the McClure, murder.” He asked. “Why you working it?” I answered. “No just asking.” Paul came back with, “Not much he was found on Hamton Avenue, found in his car slumped over the steering wheel, with one in the back of the head.” I asked. “Mob hit?” He said. “Could be?” I thought a few moments then asked. “Any leads or witness’s?” Paul answered back. “None.” I said. “Will I was just asking.” He asked. “You going to work it?” I said. “Could be I don’t know at the moment.” Paul crumbled. “You know how the guy’s down here feel about you working one of their open cases, the body count start adding up.” I smiled to my self and said. “I’ll keep the count down.” A laugh then a click as the phone went dead.
I stood there a moment then headed for my office. “Well Mrs. McClure?” I said as I entered and took my chair, “I called a friend in the police department, he tell me there are no leads or witness’s, their at a dead end.” She just sat there not saying a thing, so I went on. “So you see I have no where to start.” Then she surprise me by saying. “You could start on Hamton.” I asked why. :Robert went there at lest twice a week, and before you ask I have no idea why?” My curiosity showed. “You know about Hamton?” I smiled and said. “Yea, it’s where all the gin mills are.” I thought to myself now what’s a uptown gut like him doing on gin row/” Now my curiosity was really taking hold. She asked. “So you’ll take the case?” I should have said no, but I looked at all the unpaid bills on my desk, then went on to say, I would take the case. I said. “I get fifty dollars a day plus expenses.” She reached into her hand bag, and handed over one hundred dollars. She asked. “You will let me know if you find anything?” I said. “As soon as I know something I’ll let you know.” She got up and went to the door, as she did I had a good view, I put on a little smile.
After she had gone I got up and put on my should holster with a 38., out in the hall I had a thought it was always this way. I know that someone was going to die and I hope it wasn’t going to be me. It seems that someone always die’s when I’m on the hunt.
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