Tag: noir (Page 2 of 2)

If you haven’t read part 1 yet,

Or even Part 2,

Or even Part 3,

Let alone Part 4,  the following will make next to no sense.  Now that you are caught up, On with the Show!

When we left our Story last time:

Nelson Moran was still dead.

The next day came too quickly.  I was back in my office when I called one of my old friends in the police department.  It seemed that the insurance people had finished with that they needed and the crime scene cleaners were there now.  The police presence was finished.  The house was back on the market.   The competition should be underway tonight.  I was going down there to find out the truth.  Or die trying.

And now for today’s installment of “Jackson Malone”

I arrived at the warehouse on 1^st and 32^nd just after dark, dressed as a homeless person.  There were several homeless people sitting around smoking, some drinking, and some just talking with one another.  Many were talking about their spaces in the warehouse and Jimmy, the guy that was shot there the day before.

“He deserved it, you ask me.” One man said.  “He always flashin’ his gun around.  Somebody finally give him a taste of his own medicine.  Vance is pissed though.  I’d hate to be the guy what killed Jimmy.  You don’t kill one of Vance’s guys and not pay.”

Vance.  I had heard that name back when I was on the force.  He was a gang leader and apparently his gang included homeless people too.  This Jimmy that I killed must have been important, or Vance wouldn’t have cared less.

I hadn’t heard anything about that shooting yet.  The cops must have known. They were on their way when I ducked into Vic’s.  Oh well.  No longer my problem.  I had another case to solve.  This one has money involved.

I wandered some more and overheard much the same type of conversation.  Then I stumbled along a conversation about the rumble tonight.  “Contest” is what they were calling it but it was more a gladiatorial exhibition.

The men would fight until submission or knockout.  The winner gets the house for the night, a woman, and the opportunity to fight for a spot in Vance’s little army.  That could be quite profitable.  These men who had nearly nothing would welcome this opportunity to make it big.  No wonder this “contest” was so popular.

An hour or two later Vance and his lackeys showed up.  It seemed that he ran the “contest”.   A circle formed in the front yard of the house.  Far from the hundreds that the cop had told me about last night, but there were near 80 as I could guess.  Vance began to speak and tell these men of the glory that could be theirs if they win in the ring.  He was very persuasive.

Two men entered the ring and began to fight.   Soon one went down and the fight was over.  Cheers for the violence, cheers for the competitors, it was a wonder the cops hadn’t been called for the noise.  Challenger after challenger came and went until one was left standing.  Vance congratulated him led him towards the house for his prize.

As they passed a man next to me said, “I hope they don’t do him like they did that other guy the other day.”  “What happened to him?” I asked.  “Got his brains beat out by Vance’s goons ‘cause he burned down Vance’s drug warehouse.  We could sleep there and make drugs so we had a good place to stay and a bit of money.

Then that dude goes and burns it down.  Damn shame.  I hate sleepin’ on the streets.”  I couldn’t believe my luck.  I had just found out the key to Nelson Moran’s murder and the arson of the police warehouse.  What better place to run a drug lab than a police warehouse.  Last place the cops would look.

Unless there were cops in on it.  There almost had to be.  But that was for Internal Affairs.  I had to get to a phone before Vance and his goons left.

I saw a pay phone down the block and across the street from where I was.  I thought it was far enough away to not be seen calling from it.  I worked my way through the crowd and down the street to the phone.  I sat down heavily on the ground and acted drunk as I watched to see if anyone was watching me.

I could see none of the windows in the house meaning they couldn’t see me either.  No one was paying any attention to me.  I stood and dropped change into the phone.

“Sergeant Stebbins.” A tired voice answered when the line connected.  “What can I do for you?”  “Hi Art.  It’s Jack.  How are you?” I replied, relieved that a friend had answered.  “Hey Jack.” He replied.  “Everybody is looking for you.  They heard you were out by that warehouse where that guy got shot yesterday.  That have something to do with you?”  “Sort of.” I said.

“I am down here now though.  I know who burned down your warehouse and who killed Nelson Moran across the street.”  “What?!?” came the incredulous reply. “You know who did that?  Who?”  “Gangs and drugs Art.  Gangs and drugs.  Vance’s Gang.  Send some cars.  No sirens, these guys will run.  There are a few of them and a whole potload of homeless guys hanging around.  I am at the booth down the street.”  He tried to reply but I hung up the call and rejoined the group milling around the warehouse.

Join us next week for the finale, Part 6 of Jackson Malone!

And if you liked this story you may enjoy Death With A Vengeance, my previous Fiction Saturday story, available here as an e-book!Thanks for reading, see you next week

Justin

If you haven’t read part 1 yet,

Or even Part 2,

Or even Part 3,  this will make next to no sense.

When we left our Story last time:

I turned left and entered a small living room that was dominated by a huge bay window.  This window took up most of the north wall.  I walked over to the window and looked out.  This was a perfect view of the warehouse across the street.  An arsonist may have liked this view as his handiwork burned.  But I was not on that case.  This room had been lived in, the carpet worn thin in several spots, but it was relatively clean.  Not exactly brimming over with clues.

And now for Part 4:

I walked towards a doorway in the east wall to find a small kitchen that smelled of rancid bacon.  This room had a small table with 2 chairs and the portable TV that the officer had been watching.  This room had also been cleaned up to sell the house.

The only signs of life were the sandwich wrappers and the TV that obviously belonged to the cop.  There was one window in the kitchen that had been broken out and repaired with cardboard and duct tape.  The linoleum was the same worn color of orange that lined the hall.  Still, it had been swept.  I shook my head because I still had no clues as I went back out the door to the kitchen and to a door on the south wall of the living room.

“This is the murder scene.” The cop murmured.  I didn’t reply.  The small window in this room was covered with a dirty green velvet curtain only allowing a trickle of light through.  I flipped the switch on the wall and was not prepared for the sight that assailed me.

This was the bedroom, complete with a sagging twin bed that looked as if it had been dyed a dark brown.  There were splatters on the wall, the ceiling, the floor and all of the furnishings in the room.  The acrid metallic smell of blood permeated everything.  “Damn.” I said looking at the carnage.  “None of this was in the newspapers.”

“No.” the cop replied.  “We have kept a lid on it.  No one would want to buy this place otherwise.  What it looks like is one homeless guy kills another over a place to sleep.  We do suspect that the arsonist from the warehouse across the street is either involved or is Moran himself.”  I placed my hands in the pockets of my trenchcoat and squatted near the ground.

“Did you find a weapon?” I asked.  “Yea.  There was a piece of pipe in the backyard with blood all over it.  No fingerprints though.  That is what broke that window in the kitchen.  The guy who did this would have been covered in blood too, but with homeless guys who ever pays attention to what they are wearing.”  “Hmmm…” I mumbled as I entered the room.

I could tell that the cops had done a good job going over this bloodbath and didn’t disturb the blood soaked contents of the room.  I didn’t see anything offhand that they may have missed.  I stood, turned and left the room.

“You guys got anything else in this case?” I asked as I was going towards the front door.  “Just the dead guy, this house and that pipe.  Seems pretty open and shut.  Homeless guy kills other homeless guy over the big prize and a bed to sleep in.”  The cop replied.  “What big prize?”  I asked.  “Oh yea this may help.  This house is the prize.  Every night hundreds of those homeless guys fight for the right to sleep here.  I’m not sure how they do it but it seems your boy Moran was king of the hill that night and someone didn’t like it.”

We reached the doorway and I opened the door while taking all of this in.  “That’s the way we are taking it.  This case will be in the unsolved pile and I will be gone as soon as the insurance guys finish their investigation.  No one will give a crap in a week.”  He was probably right but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply.  I stuffed my hands back into my coat pockets and walked out the door.

I spent the next day in my office trying to figure out a motive or angle.  Something the cop at the house said to me kept sticking.  The fact that the homeless in the area compete for the right to sleep in that house was strange.  Why not several of them in the house at once?  There were several rooms that could hold several people.  They could compete over one room but the whole house?  Maybe that was their way of just having some privacy, and some unwritten street code kept everyone honest about it.  Well almost honest anyway.  Nelson Moran was still dead.

The next day came too quickly.  I was back in my office when I called one of my old friends in the police department.  It seemed that the insurance people had finished with that they needed and the crime scene cleaners were there now.  The police presence was finished.  The house was back on the market.   The competition should be underway tonight.  I was going down there to find out the truth.  Or die trying.

Join us again next week for Part 5 of Jackson Malone!

And if you liked this story you may enjoy Death With A Vengeance, my previous Fiction Saturday story, available here as an e-book!Thanks for reading, see you next week

-Justin

Well folks it is here, fiction Saturday and actually the Finale of Jackson Malone.  I just didn’t want to fill it with a bunch of useless fluff to go another week.  There is more news at the bottom of the post.  Have a good read.

If you haven’t read part 1 yet,

Or even Part 2,

Or even Part 3,

Let alone Part 4,

Or even Part 5,  the following will make next to no sense.  Now that you are caught up, On with the Show!

When We Left Our Story Last Time:

“Sergeant Stebbins.” A tired voice answered when the line connected.  “What can I do for you?”  “Hi Art.  It’s Jack.  How are you?” I replied, relieved that a friend had answered.  “Hey Jack.” He replied.  “Everybody is looking for you.  They heard you were out by that warehouse where that guy got shot yesterday.  That have something to do with you?”  “Sort of.” I said.

“I am down here now though.  I know who burned down your warehouse and who killed Nelson Moran across the street.”  “What?!?” came the incredulous reply. “You know who did that?  Who?”  “Gangs and drugs Art.  Gangs and drugs.  Vance’s Gang.  Send some cars.  No sirens, these guys will run.  There are a few of them and a whole potload of homeless guys hanging around.  I am at the booth down the street.”  He tried to reply but I hung up the call and rejoined the group milling around the warehouse.

And now we join the rest of the story already in progress:

I headed west through the crowd knowing most of the police would arrive from that direction.  I had to meet them before everybody important left, namely Vance.  It was only a few minutes later when the first car arrived.

I stopped the officer by standing in front of his car.  He was not amused as he got out and drew his pistol.  He was not one of the cops that I knew.  I displayed my detective’s license and gave my name and that of Art Stebbins.  He relaxed a bit but still nearly arrested me, until I told him what was going on.

“In that house is the drug runner and gang leader known as Vance.  Vice, Narcotics and Homicide have been trying to bust him for years.  You can do that now.  You can be the big hero today.”  He looked at me wryly.  “Why are you even here?” he asked.  “A case.” I said.  “The brother of Nelson Moran hired me to find out something about his murder.  I did.”

I continued, “Vance was running a drug ring out of your records warehouse over there and using homeless guys to process and distribute the stuff.  One of them got pissed off and burned it down.  Vance was not amused.  Every night he hosts these rumbles where the winner gets a night in that house over there with chicks of his choice.  That night, Nelson Moran won the rumble and was in the house.  Vance found out that he had burned down his drug operation and instead of a night of fun, Vance’s goons beat the hell out of Moran with a pipe and left him dead in the bedroom.  They are all in there right now with the latest winner.”

“You sure?” he asked.  “Look,” I said, “Don’t be a retard.  Would I be telling you this if it weren’t true?  What would I have to gain besides a night in jail?  Nothing that’s what.  Now get your ass in gear and arrest some people.  You are solving 2 crimes and taking a major drug dealer off of the streets.  Narc and vice will be fighting over who gets you first.  Go.”  He didn’t say another word.  By now some of his brothers had shown up and he quickly explained the situation to them.  This is one of the things I missed the most.  The camaraderie.  This bust was great.  Oh well. I at least know I broke it all open.

I sat back against the cruiser and dreamed of being with them as they crashed the door and entered the house.  I dreamed I was reading rights and snapping handcuffs when I felt a hand clamp itself on my shoulder and spin me around.  I went defensive and reached for my .38, as a deep voice said, “No need for that Jackson Malone I won’t kill you…yet.”  I looked up into the face of the man I had been afraid of the previous day.  Chief Burton.

We had been friends once before I was kicked off of the force.  Now he was not happy with me at all.  “Good work Malone.  This is a big bust.  Maybe you can get back on the force one day.  Did you kill Jimmy Wolfe??”  “Who is Jimmy Wolfe?” I asked.

“Thug in the warehouse.  Killed yesterday.  3 .38 slugs to the chest.  You do him?”  “Ummmm  yea.  He was shooting at me and I shot back.  What are you going to do about it.”  “Nothing.  He was a pain in the ass.  He deserved it.  We have been trying to get him and his boss Vance for a long time.  Good work.  You closed a lot of cases today.  Now, get out of here Malone.  Call me on Monday. We’ll talk”

I walked away from the now flashing police lights and men bustling about with their arrested charges.  I walked towards home, thinking of being a cop again.

Thinking of telling Rob Moran who killed his brother.  Thinking of the nice fat fee he would bring with him.  Thinking about a shower.  Playing a homeless guy stinks.

Well folks that is it for this chapter of Jackson Malone!  There are more adventures starring him though.  I like the guy.

Unlike Death With a Vengeance, the ebook of this story will not be available today.  Through some sort of cheap guilt ridden tricks, I am being forced to flesh out the story more.  The ebook will be available on May 15th, expanded and improved.  These stories on here will be but he cliff notes versions.  Watch for it, you will like it.

Next week I am going to begin a story of murder and strange intrigue.  Along the way there will be choices for you, my fine readers, to make.  You will determine the direction of the story at key points.  I am going to write the other side as well and release both as an ebook when that story plays out.  This one is going to go for a while.

The results of my poll the other day indicated that you would keep reading as long as there was story to tell.  That is where we are going now, and you will help guide our hero.

Until next week and the release of a fabulous Jackson Malone ebook on May 15th, I bid you good day!

-Justin