

### Crime Fiction:  
Private Eye Thriller

### B.A. Savage

### ****

### PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Crime Fiction

B.A. Savage

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015B.A. Savage

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole, or in part, in any form, by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the author.

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One Lethal Kiss

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# Table of Contents

Private Eye Thriller

Shallow Grave

Wishful Thinking

Cold Fury

Die to Be Rich

I'm Going to Die

It's Called Murder

Sweet Letters of Death

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#  Private Eye Thriller

### B.A. Savage

## Chapter 1

It's a cold day in Central City and a slow day for business. I'm on the phone ordering a pizza when the door opens.

"Make it quick, huh, Stone?" he barked.

Jerry Foster is a low life. I didn't like him, and he didn't like me, and here he is standing inside my office. And I'm not in the mood for his crap.

"I want you out of my office, now, or I'll throw you out," I told him.

"You talk strong, Stone."

"When a punk like you comes to my office, I feel tough. Now get the hell out."

"I come to get you, Stone. Someone needs to see you badly."

"I know who you're working for. You tell your boss that I choose my clients."

"Get your coat, gumshoe. It's cold outside," he orders.

"I guess you're going to force me to go huh, Jerry?"

"That's right. My job is to come and get you."

"Why couldn't your boss come here? On the other hand, are the police looking for him?"

"Why ask me, Stone? You'll see soon enough. That's if you live that long."

## Chapter 2

I'm not afraid of Foster. He's a piece of shit and lowers than dirt. However, from the look in his eyes and since I was staring down the gun, I decide to take a little ride with him. Jerry Foster led me downstairs to his car, and then we drove to Sundance Court. He stops in front of an all but tumble-down apartment building; we went through the door and climb the rickety stairs.

"It's on the third floor, Stone," Jerry said.

"Tell me something, Jerry, why is Coleman in a rat trap like this? Last I heard he had a fancy place downtown."

"You just keep moving, Stone. It's the first room on the left over there."

"Do I knock or walk inside?"

"Open the door, Stone!"

"Is that you, Jerry?" A lovely, dark-hair, older woman asked.

"Yes. I got Stone."

"Good, shut the door, Jerry. I'm glad you're here, Mr. Stone. I'm Lee's mother."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Coleman. I thought he was bringing me to see your son," I told her.

"That's right. Lee wants to see you. Then I want to talk with you. Lee is in here. Follow me please," she said.

"There he is Mr. Stone. Now you have seen Lee," Jerry said.

I look at him and grab the wall to keep my balance. I'm staring at a dead man.

## Chapter 3

She's right. I'd see Lee or what's left of him. In one glance, I saw a blood-soak shirt clinging to a lifeless chest. He's stretched out on the bed; his hands folded over his chest. I look back at his mother, and she softly closed the door.

"Now will you talk to me, Mr. Stone? What man would have murder a mother's son?" she cried.

"Can you tell me how it happened, Mrs. Coleman?"

"Someone knocked on my door earlier. I open the door, and my son fell onto the floor. He asked for help and closed his eyes," she stopped and cried a moment.

"What else can you tell me, Mrs. Coleman?"

"He asked me to help him. He said he didn't want to die. He says he came to me for help and asked me not to let him die. I said he would live, and then he died."

"Did he tell you who did it, and why?"

"No, he didn't. He left here to go uptown to make money, he said. However, when he came back, he died in my arms," she told me.

"Mrs. Coleman called me about an hour ago," Jerry whispered.

"I called Jerry because he's Lee's friend. I knew he would tell me what to do. He said you could find the man who murdered my son."

"I see."

"Will you help us, Mr. Stone?" she cried.

"Well, Mrs. Coleman, have you called the police?"

"No. First tell me you will help find Lee's killer, and then I'll call the police."

"Mrs. Coleman you don't understand. It's the police's job to find out who killed your son. You don't need a private detective," I informed her.

"The police will not help me, Mr. Stone. My son was a thug; he has a record, and the police don't like him. They didn't like him, and he didn't like them," she tells me.

"I understand. However, they'll still look for his killer." I assured her.

"Perhaps, you are right. Nevertheless, I will hire you to find Lee's killer. The police may give up after a while, but I will pay you until you catch the killer."

"Don't argue with her, Stone. She's made up her mind," Jerry added.

"I will trust you, Mr. Stone. I will pay you for your service, and you will find my son's killer and see that he is punished," She demanded.

"Will you help her, Stone?" Jerry asked.

"I see you still have that gun in your hand, Jerry," I said.

"Yes."

"You won't need that gun. Mrs. Coleman, I'll do everything I can to help you."

## Chapter 4

Jerry put the gun in his pocket; Mrs. Coleman smiles, and I felt a lot better. Finding Lee Coleman's killer isn't going to be easy. Jerry agrees to take me back to my office, and we left Mrs. Coleman after she agreed to call the police immediately. In the car, Jerry is silent until I start talking.

"Jerry?"

"Huh?"

"What happened?"

"I don't know," He said.

"You worked for Lee. Who didn't like him?"

"I don't know."

"Stop bullshitting me."

"Look Stone, yes, I worked for him. He said I was his right-hand man. And he paid well to do anything he said. Even so, he never talked business with me," he explains.

"What gig were you two in?"

"What do you want to know, Stone? I'm not saying anything that'll get me arrested," He assured me.

"You want me to catch Lee's killer?"

"Sure!"

"Then you'll tell me everything. What the police can find against you is their business."

He looks at me and lowers his head and his voice. "We were in the protection business. We had two blocks on the north end tied up. The businesses paid out each week, and we saw to it their business stayed safe," he explained.

"And if they didn't pay out, you made sure their business suffered," I suggested.

"What do you expect, Stone? That's what we do."

"And that's what got Lee Coleman, killed. Somebody got tired of paying for extortion," I suggested.

"You shut up, Stone. Look I'm telling you this because it might help you catch Lee's killer."

"That's sweet of you. But, from what you're telling me it could be any one of the businesses you were robbing."

"I don't think so. They don't have enough guts."

"Why weren't you with Lee last night?"

"He said he had a date."

"You know her name?"

"Her name is Julia Church. They were pretty much in love."

"Do you think she shot him?"

"I can't see it. She was in love with Lee."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. Right after I found out about Lee, I called Julia at her apartment building. She was very upset. I said I was coming over to pick her up."

"And what happened, Jerry?"

"When I got there she was gone."

"Jerry, I hate to sound like a detective, but things like this will usually raise flags."

"That's not all, Stone. The landlord said she didn't take anything with her."

"She didn't take any clothes or personals?"

"She didn't even take a toothbrush."

"It sounds like she was in a hurry to get away, huh? Well, it looks like I got to find her."

"She was in love with Lee, Stone. I just can't see her killing him."

## Chapter 5

Jerry drops me off at my office, and before he drove away, he gave me the names of the businesses from which they had been taking money. Then in my office, I phone Lieutenant Morgan and told him what I knew.

"What's his girlfriend's name again, Randall?" He asked.

"Her name is Julia Church. She left this morning and didn't take any of her clothes," I told him.

"She didn't take her clothes, huh? Well, now, she shouldn't be too hard to spot," Vic laughed.

"Come on, Vic, I'm serious. You should put out an A.P.B., on her right away."

"I've got that. What are you going to do?"

"I'll check out the businesses Lee was extorting. See if any of them had the balls to kill him," I replied.

## Chapter 6

I spent the next three hours going in one business after the other on my list. The first store owner is reluctant to talk with me, but when I told him Lee Coleman was dead, he starts talking. He's a fat man. He's five foot seven, hair thin on top, named Robert Clayton and a dry cleaner.

"You said you decide to stop paying Lee, Mr. Clayton?" I asked.

"Yes! I got tired of paying money to this thug. So I decided to do something about it."

"And what's that, Mr. Clayton?"

"I told my wife about it."

"And what did she say?"

"She said, 'Robert, you're a fool. If you call the police, they'll hurt you.' So I paid them for a while. Then I decided to hire a detective. He will find out who this man is, and he will tell the police," He told me.

"So, you hired a detective, huh?"

"Yes. His office is right down the street. His name is John Porch."

## Chapter 7

I knew John Porch. Porch worked homicide when I was a rookie. He's a big fellow who liked pushing smaller people around. He was dismissed from the department five years ago for accepting a bribe. Robert Clayton gave me Porch's address, and as I walk across the street to his office, I wondered how he got his private eye license. Or perhaps he never did.

"Well, Randall Stone," he shouts as I walk through his door.

"Hello, Porch. I see you have gone into business," I said.

"That's what I'm trying to do. Do you have a few clients you could throw my way? I hear you're doing pretty well for yourself," he told me.

"Yes, I might have something for you. Guy named Lee Coleman. You know him?"

"Lee Coleman? No, he doesn't ring any bells. Do you think he's a good client?"

"He's dead."

"You're bullshitting, huh, Randall?"

"I'm afraid not. You know who Coleman is?"

"I told you I don't. Why are you asking me?"

"Because a dry cleaner named Robert Clayton hired you to run a check on him and report him," I informed him.

"So, Robert told you that, huh? Well, I guess I can talk. You know how it is when dealing with clients."

"You didn't seem surprised when I told you he was dead," I said.

"It hurts me a little. It means the case is closed, and I lost a client."

"Porch, what did you find regarding Coleman?"

"I didn't find out much. He had a partner named Jerry Foster, and a girlfriend named Julia Church. Jerry helped his strong arm businesses and collect protection money."

"If you knew that much, why didn't you turn it over to the police like Robert hired you to do?"

Randall, I was going to Friday. I get paid by the day. I figured three more days pay isn't going to hurt anyone."

"You're a disgrace to our profession, Porch. You need to find a different line of work."

"Are you leaving soon?"

"Yes! Something smells bad in here."

"Get the hell out!" he snaps.

I left without saying another word.

## Chapter 8

Private eyes like Porch made me mad, but there is his kind in every city. I pick up my car and drove back to my office. I check the answering service, fix a drink, slip it slowly and tried to think of an angle, another approach to investigate Lee Coleman's death. Where was he last night? Was he with Julia Church? And where was he shot? Suddenly the phone rang.

"Randall Stone."

"It's Vic, Randall."

"Yeah. I'm sitting here trying to piece this case together," I told Vic.

"Well, we found Coleman's girlfriend, Julia Church."

"That was fast. Where is she?"

"I'm calling from the Liquor Store at the corner of London and Broadway. I need you down here right away.

"Why?"

"Across the street is the Red Roof Hotel. Julia Church is standing on a ledge three floors up. Better get down here, pal, fast. I think she's going to jump."

## Chapter 9

By the time I reach the hotel, a crowd had gathered in the streets. I park near the corner, and as I walk towards the Red Roof Hotel I looked up and saw Julia Church out on the ledge crying. In the room close to her, an officer stood in the window urging her not to jump. And behind the officer I see Lieutenant Morgan. I told the detective at the door that Vic called me, and he let me inside.

"It must be scary out there now, why don't you come inside and we'll talk." the officer said.

"No, I don't want to talk," Julia cried.

"Julia is you sure we can't talk? You don't need to hurt yourself. Your life is a precious gift, ma'am. You shouldn't think so little of it. I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't want you to do this," this officer informed her.

"I said leave me alone, just leave me alone," she screamed.

"It's about time, Randall," Vic said.

"How long has she been out there?" I ask.

"Close to an hour. Sergeant Baylor has been talking to her constantly, but no luck so far," he told me.

"Why do you think she's out there, Vic?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe she killed Coleman, and now she wants to take her life unless we can stop her."

"Maybe I got a chance, Vic. If I took my time, didn't rush, but could get out on the ledge too, I might grab her," I explained.

"Yes, you'll grab her; she'll struggle, and both will go over," Vic replies.

"Not if I have a rope around my chest, and three officers are holding onto the other end," I suggested.

"Randall, if she saw you with a rope around your chest, she might jump right away."

"Yes, but she would have to see the rope. Look, Vic, tie it around my chest. Then I'll have my coat on. I will rip the back so the rope won't pull it up. From where she's standing she won't be able to see it."

"It might work. Do you think you can hang onto her? Once she fell, there'd be a terrible tug on that rope," he explain.

"If the officers keep the rope tight, and we fall in an arc. Then they can pull us up."

"The Fire departments having trouble getting a net set up on the floor below. Hold on a second, Randall, I'll get some men and a rope. If the Fire Department doesn't do something soon, we'll try your idea," he assured me.

Vic went downstairs, and Sergeant Baylor let me take over. I stick my head out the window and began talking to Julia, about everything... sports, the news, and fashion. I try to get her talking, but she remains still, crying on the ledge. Moments later, Vic came back. They were still having problems arranging the net, and they decide to try my idea. Vic tied the rope harness; I slipped into it, covering it with my coat. Then I climbed out on the ledge.

"Stay back mister," she warned.

"Okay, Julia. I'm getting out on this ledge, so we can talk better," I told her.

"I don't want to talk to you. You're just trying to drag me back inside. You stay away from me," she cried.

"Now, Julia, I won't grab you. If I do we'd both fall, isn't that correct? Sure I'm right. I'll just stand here so you won't be alone."

"Go back in mister, I'm telling you, I'll jump!" she warned.

"I do not want you to hurt yourself, Julia. Please don't jump."

"Get back mister!"

"Julia, I've told you why I can't grab you. Maybe you want to die, but not me. You know how much it costs to get buried these days? No, I'm a guy who wants to stay alive. Only I hate to think of a nice woman like you feeling terrible enough to try this. Whenever I feel awful, I talk to someone, to get my mind off it. Hey, it is cold tonight. I keep telling myself I'll move to Florida, but I never do. You ever been to Florida, Julia? Sure better than the winters in Central City."

As I talked, I move closer to her. Just close enough where I could reach out and grab her coat.

"I told you not to come any closer."

"I'm not that close, Julia. From here I'd have to lunge at you to grab you."

"I don't care; stay back!"

"Julia, please come inside."

She slid to the edge. I grab her and wrap my arms around her. She bit my arm, and we both went over the edge. Then we drop, and the sharp pain went through my chest as the rope tightens and snaps to a stop.

## Chapter 10

It seemed like hours passed, but only a few minutes until Lieutenant Morgan and his men had pulls us up and into the room. Julia's hysterical, and a doctor is called to examine her. Two hours later, she calms down enough for Vic and me to question her.

"Why were you out there, Julia?" Vic asked in a calm voice.

"You should have left me alone. I don't want to live."

"Why, Julia? Is it because of Lee Coleman?" I asked.

"Yes. He was my world. Now that he's gone, I don't want to live."

"Julia, last night you were with Lee. What happened to him?" I asked.

She shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. She said, "I don't know. I was with him until about ten. Then I went home. I don't know how he died. I'm sorry that's all I know."

"You know where he went when you left?" I asked.

"I don't know. He cooked us dinner in his apartment. It was ten o'clock when the phone rang. He talked for several moments then said he'd call the person back, and he asked for their phone number."

"And you did hear a name?" I asked.

"No. He told me someone wanted to talk with him. He had to leave."

"Has he done this before, Julia?" Vic asked.

"Lee was always like that with me. I don't care; business came first."

"What else can you tell us?" Vic asked.

"Not much. I told him I understood. He went back to the phone and called. He told the man; he meets him in thirty minutes. Then he left."

"You said the first time he talked to this man; he asked for his phone number. Did he write the number down?" I asked.

"Yes, I guess he did. However, I'm not for sure. All I know is when he left me. I never saw him again." She dropped her face into her hands, crying. The doctor walks closer as we left the room.

"What do you think, Randall?" Vic asked.

"I believe her, Lieutenant. She's too upset to make up a story."

"So, whoever called Coleman and arranged the meet had something to do with his murder."

"You're right, Vic. Let's go over and check out his apartment. If we're lucky, Lee had a poor memory and wrote that number down."

## Chapter 11

The smell of stir-fried vegetables hung heavy in the air as the landlord slid the master key into the lock. Lieutenant Morgan dismisses him as we search the room for clues.

"There's no telephone pad in this nightstand, Randall," Vic said from the bedroom.

"Well, I could be wrong. Wait a minute."

"What is it, Randall?"

"This envelope from the floor, there's writing on it."

"He must have scribbled the number on anything handy."

"You're right about that, Vic. However, I think I can make his writing out. Hand me the phone."

"Here you go."

"Thanks, Vic."

"Let's hope it isn't the place he ordered the Chinese dinner they ate last night."

"Hold on; it's ringing," I said.

"Hello?"

I put the phone down and smiled. "Let's go, Vic."

## Chapter 12

I told Lieutenant Morgan what I knew as we made our way across town to John Porch's office.

"What do you want, Randall?" Porch snapped.

"I brought a friend with me," I told him.

"Hello, Lieutenant Morgan. Excuse me. Hello, Vic. I guess I don't have to call you Lieutenant anymore," Porch said through a smile.

"Get up, Porch. We're taking you to headquarters," Vic informed him.

"What the hell are you talking about, Vic?"

"Detectives are processing a warrant right now for your gun and office. They'll have to check your gun against the bullet they took out of Lee Coleman's back," I informed him.

"What? Are you kidding me?" He laughed nervously.

"We'll talk about it downtown. Come on, Porch." Vic ordered.

"I tell you what; you are making a big mistake. Why should I kill Lee Coleman?"

"Because a small-time dry cleaner hired you to run a background check on Lee. You checked him out and discovered he was operating an extortion ring. Your job was to turn him in. Only you couldn't waste a good thing when you see a chance to make money," I told him.

"You don't know what're talking about, Stone," he laughed.

"You're right. But it makes sense. You called Lee and set up a meeting, but he didn't go along with your plan. There was a fight, you shot him, and he died."

"That's all bullshit. You're going to have a hard time proving it in court," he assured us.

"You're right, if ballistics can't prove you fired the shot. And I believe you did," I smiled."

"So, even if it did, I could prove a case of self-defense. I could prove he approached me, and I had to kill him."

"So, when you kill in self-defense, you don't cover it up. I remember you, Porch. When you were a cop, you had a short temper. That's when you pulled your gun," I told him.

"You're hanging a lot on that gun, Stone. We're here Lieutenant. I got nothing to hide."

In a flash, the cold metal of the gun is jammed into my chest. I glance into Porch's eyes and saw evil looking back, and I knew he isn't going without a fight.

"Look out, Randall!" Vic yelled.

I roll to the side as the gun bucks twice sending two slugs into the wall. I grab his wrist with my left hand, driving my elbow down into his forearm. He screams, dropping the gun and jerking back his arm. I drove my right elbow up and slam it into his chin. His eyes close, and he falls to the floor. Lieutenant Morgan moves in and slaps the handcuffs onto his wrist.

"You are all right, Randall?" He asked.

"I'm okay."

"That piece of shit. Just think he was once a cop," Vic said shaking his head.

"Yes. And Lucifer was once an angel."

## Chapter 13

Jennifer Long and I sat in the living room as I type the last line of my report to my client Mrs. Coleman.

"Randall?"

"Yes, Jennifer?"

"Julia must have been pretty."

"I'm sorry, who are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that redhead out on the ledge."

"And how did you know she's a red-head?"

"I know you. And you'll climb out on a ledge that high up for a red-head."

"Now, Jennifer, her being a red-head had nothing to do with it. I just happened to be a good guy."

"If she's a fat blonde, would you have done it?"

"No, she would be on her own," I smiled.

"Randall, that's awful."

"Jennifer if she was fat, I couldn't hold her."

"You're so, crazy." She laughed.

I sat down and wondered, what's next in my dangerous life as a Central City private eye.

#  Shallow Grave

### B.A. Savage

## Chapter 1

Being a private detective is like ordering stew in a Sixth Street restaurant. You never know what you're getting until it's too late. I was that way yesterday; I'm sitting in my office filling out a case report when she came in.

She's wearing a dress you see on a hooker Saturday night on Limestone Street. When she reaches my desk, she stopped, and her perfume kept moving. She probably noticed the look in my eyes because she said, "Does the perfume brother you, Mr. Stone."

"Not at all. I always smile like this."

"It carries a special money-back guarantee, you know."

"I won't ask for what. Won't you sit down, Miss...."

"Not Miss. Just Susan. It's not my real name, but I find it has a better effect on the trade."

"The trade, huh?"

"You know cosmetics. Facial creams, perfumes and mud packs. I manufacture them. Mostly for women, but I have a lot of male customers."

I smiled. "I'll bet you do. Unfortunately, I've just bought three bottles of aftershave."

"Don't be silly, Mr. Stone. I didn't come here to sell you anything. I'm sure you wouldn't have any need for my products.

"I'll save the debate for later."

"Okay, I'll be brief. I'm a person who likes to come to the point."

"I can see that."

"How would a one thousand dollar fee sound to you?"

"Can you see the smile on my face?"

"Here you are, Five hundred now. The rest when you finish the job."

"Far be it for me to hesitate over cash. But don't you think...."

"Of course. You want to know what you have to do, Mr. Stone."

"It would help."

"That's very simple. This afternoon the Isle de France dock in Ohio. On the boat will be a man named Carlos."

"He one of your customers? Or is this social?"

"Lorenzo Carlos has developed a wonderful new face cream. He's arranged for me to have the exclusive America rights."

"That's nice. Where do I come in?"

"Your job starts at seven tonight. All you do is pick up the sample from Carlos at his hotel and bring it to me."

"I see. Do you mind if I look at your legs?"

"No, but I thought we were talking business."

"We are, hmm. You have lovely legs, Susan."

She smiles, "They take me where I want to go."

"What keeps them from taking you to Carlos hotel?"

"You mean to pick up the sample myself. I was sure you'd ask that."

"Well, I did."

"You don't know the cosmetic industry, Mr. Stone. My rivals would do anything to get hold of that face cream."

"They know you expect, Carlos."

"Only one of them. A ruthless bastard..."

"Does he have a name or just a disposition?"

"Rick Campbell. He owns the Lovely Beauty Enterprises."

"And you think he might follow you. He might take the sample away before you can start to manufacture. So you're paying me one thousand dollars to protect it."

"Mr. Stone, I'm going to like you. You're so understanding."

"One thousand dollars make me that way."

"I'll expect you tonight around eight."

"My job over when I deliver the sample to you, huh?"

"Yes. But don't make any plan for the rest of the evening. There's a new perfume I want to try out," she smiled.

## Chapter 2

She gave me her address and the name of Carlos's hotel. Then she walks to the door with a motion that would turn a blind man's head. I sat there a while letting my head clear and heart stop pounding.

I had a bite of lunch and walk around most of the afternoon, doing things people do to kill time. It's about four when I climb the stairs and walk down the hall to my apartment. I stop, slid the key in the lock. As the door opens, my mouth drops, "What the hell is this."

"Hello, Stone," a man smiled.

"Didn't you knock? Or did you think this was a Bus station?"

"I knocked. Nobody answered. I came in."

"Now you can go out."

"How much did she pay you, Stone?"

"Who?"

"Susan. How much did she pay you to get that face cream?"

"So, you must be, Campbell?"

"Yes. Lovely Beauty Enterprise. I'll double what she paid you."

"You want that face cream pretty bad, huh?"

"Bring it to me. Huh, Stone."

"Are you interested in cosmetics?"

"You want to know the truth? I hate cosmetics."

"Come now, Mr. Campbell. Next you'll tell me you hate women."

"Okay, I hate women."

"Aren't you a bit out of place in your line of work."

"Do I get that sample, Stone?"

"No."

"Be nice, Stone. So I can be nice."

"It'll be a strain for both of us."

"Triple for me. I'll give you three times what she paid you."

"Uh-huh."

"And a bonus on the side," he smiled.

"Why don't you get it yourself?"

"You think I'd be here if I knew where Carlos was?"

"Take that door, Mr. Campbell. It leads to the hall. Use it."

"I asked you to be nice. Once. The second time I don't ask."

I grab him by the arms, "You heard me. Get the hell out."

"Take you dirty hands off me!" he yells.

"I'm just being nice," I smiled.

He's stumbling and falls, "Why you dirty..."

"Get up. And then get out."

"All right, Stone. I'm leaving."

"You take a hint nicely."

"I won't forget this."

"I wouldn't want you to."

"You just lost yourself a lot of cash, Stone."

"I'm not a very good businessman, you know."

"Too bad. It might have helped pay the bills."

"What bills?"

"The funeral. Undertakers run high these days."

## Chapter 3

He stomps to the front; his face twists in a frown and slams the door. I took a shower, shaved, dressed neatly and caught a taxi to visit Lorenzo Carlos. He's staying at a small hotel in the National Avenue area. I walk around the doorman and waded through soft plush carpet until I found Carlos's suite. I push the bell, and when the door opens, I'm standing in front of the biggest female this side of the Ohio River.

"You want something, sir?" she smiled.

"Lorenzo Carlos. Is he in?"

"Who are you, sir?"

"Randall Stone."

She looks at me and frowns, "Come in."

"What's the matter? Is my shirt on backward?" I asked.

"Please?"

"The way you're looking at me. Maybe I forgot to brush my teeth."

"Is better when you kind really Randall Stone. Because sir, if you're not kind, I break your bones. One bone by one bone. You see, Stone?"

"I'm afraid I do. But now if we just...."

She turns and walks towards the back. I follow her down a hallway. She stops opens a door to a room larger than my apartment.

"Ah, Mr. Stone," a short fat man said.

"Lorenzo Carlos.... I hope."

"Mr. Stone. You're exactly on time. I kiss you on the cheek."

"We can stop it right there," I said.

"Ah yes. It is as Susan say you will be. You Mr. Stone, so handsome, so tall and handsome."

"I feel like a midget next to your bodyguard here."

"Bodyguard. She is my masseuse. She makes sore muscles new."

"And break a bone on occasion, I suppose."

"Regard her, Mr. Stone. She's Swedish, is she amazing?"

"Yes, spellbinding. Now about that sample I'm supposed to pickup."

"But of course. Berta."

The tall lady sticks her head through the door, "Please?"

"In the other room, Berta. There is a jar on the nightstand. Bring it here."

"Yes, sir."

He smiles at me a moment giving an uncomfortable feeling. I'm glad to see the tall one walk back into the room.

"Here, Mr. Stone is the latest Carlos creation."

"That's all? Just this jar?"

"I have worked so hard on this sample. You will take good care of it, yes?"

"For one thousand bucks, I'd take it in bed and sing it to sleep," I smiled.

"Yes, but no. You must not do that. You must make haste and place this sample in the hands of the lovely, Susan."

"You got any message to go with it?"

"The product will be message enough."

"Okay, Mr. Carlos. I'll be seeing you."

"Oh a certainly you will, Mr. Stone."

## Chapter 4

I look back on my way out of the suite. Lorenzo Carlos had an atomizer in each hand, spraying the room. The expression on his face reminded me to change my aftershave. I strode my way down the street and start looking for a taxi. I did have to look far.

"Hey, pal," someone yelled.

"Huh?"

"Over here, mister. You are looking for a ride?"

"That's right."

"Hop in," he smiled.

I get inside and close the door."

"St. East," I said.

"Sure, pal."

He takes off like a crazy man throwing me across the seat as he moves in and out of traffic.

"Do you always drive this way?"

"What's a matter, pal? Oh, you mean fast? Ah, this any nothing. You got a bad heart I can slow down to sixty."

"That's all right. Ship it," I said pulling my seatbelt tighter.

"You know sir. There's something poetic about driving in the city. The smell of burning tires. The steam coming out of the sewers. It's poetic."

He jams on the brake almost throwing me over the seat.

"Hey, what's the idea?"

"Red light pals. You wouldn't want me to get in trouble with the cops, would you?" he smiled.

"No. I'll just pick up my stomach down the street. It got a little ahead of us."

"Sure, mister, sure."

"The light turns green," I said.

He looks over his shoulder and smiles. The door opens, and Campbell gets in.

"Hey drive...."

"Be nice, Stone," Campbell said.

"Campbell, what are you doing in this cab?" I asked.

"Courtesy of Billy up there. He waited for me."

"Why you."

Campbell sticks a gun in my ribs.

"Sit back and be nice, Mr. Stone or I'll blow your head off."

"You leave me no choice."

"That's better. Fine work, Billy."

"Yeah. Pretty neat, huh, Mr. Campbell?"

"I'll answer that, Billy. It was neat. Now I'd like to break your face."

"I thought you were going to be nice. I'll take your gun," Campbell said.

"You might give me a silver star for trying," I said.

"We're fixing you a silver star right now, Stone. My place Billy."

## Chapter 5

It didn't do any good to tell myself I should have known better. I'd been caught by a scam ten times older than I was. I took a quick look at Campbell's profile just to make sure it's still there. It is. I didn't have to look at his gun. It had found a home in my ribs. We finally stop in front of an apartment building just off Winchester Road. Campbell herds me across the heavy plush carpet and pushed me toward the elevator. The door opens, and he said, "All right, get in."

I stepped inside smiled and said, "Would you mind shifting that gun a bit? My ribs are killing me."

"Be nice Stone. It suits you better than being funny."

"I was just trying to be kind. But if you insist..."

"Don't talk so loud Stone. My neighbors are asleep."

The elevator stops and the door opens.

"All right. Get out, Stone," Campbell ordered.

"Aren't you making a big deal over nothing? After all, it's only a jar of face cream."

"You'd be surprised," Campbell smiled.

"No kidding. You can buy this crap at any drug store."

"Shut up, Stone," Campbell ordered.

We stop in front of a door. Campbell slid a key in the lock the door opens, and he shoves me into the room closing the door.

"Nice place," I smiled.

"It's a place. Give me the sample."

"Just for the record, suppose I say no,"

"You say no I'll shoot you where you stand. Give me the sample, Stone."

"Get it. It's inside my coat pocket."

He thrust his hand into my pocket, and I try to grab his wrist, but he's too fast.

Campbell frowned, "I thought you'd try that."

"Give me that gun, Campbell."

"Okay, right between your pretty blue eyes."

His gun caught me a glancing blow on the head, and I went down. I couldn't have been out for more than a few minutes, because when I open my eyes, Campbell still on the other side of the room. He's holding the jar in the palm of his hand, talking to himself. I try to get up, but my body wouldn't let me. At the moment what it wanted most is to rest comfortably on the carpet. Campbell didn't notice me. He's too busy trying to get the top off the jar. When he finally did open the jar, there's a terrific explosion. Campbell screams and everything goes black.

## Chapter 6

A loud voice drags me out of the blackness. "Dr. Roach report to x-ray. Dr. Roach report to x-ray."

"Randall."

I groan rubbing my head.

"Randall, come on, boy, wake up."

"Oh, did he say nice things about me, Vic?"

"Who?"

"The preacher. The one who preached my funeral service."

"This is a hospital, pal. You're not dead, yet."

"Oh! You're kidding me."

"Why you're not dead is something I don't understand. What happened?"

"You tell me, Vic."

"We got a call a couple of hours ago to come to an apartment of a man called, Campbell. There'd been an explosion. You were stretched out on what's left of the floor."

"Oh, that potent face cream."

"You said, face cream? You sure you're awake. Randall?"

"I'm awake. What about Campbell?"

"What's left of him the lab boys are scraping off the walls."

"So it was a trap?"

"Trap? What's this all about?"

"Vic, are those my pants on the chair?"

"What's left of them."

"Throw them over here, will you?"

"Now, wait a minute, Randall. Aren't you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Yes. A French guy named Carlos is trying to blow up a girl named Susan with a jar of face cream."

"You're kidding me, right? Maybe that explosion knocked at couple brain cells loose in your head."

"Look, Vic. Nothing makes sense yet."

"That's the first smart thing you've said since you woke up."

"Give me time to ask a few people some question, Vic."

"How would it be if I asked them?"

"You wouldn't get the same answers."

"All right, Randall. We'll give it a try."

"I'll call you as soon as I find out something."

"Don't wait too long, Randall. There's a murder rap hanging over your head."

## Chapter 7

I check out of the hospital and walk a few blocks to clear my head. I knew it wouldn't do any good, but I pull out my phone and call Lorenzo Carlos's hotel. And as I figured he'd pulled out a couple of hours before. The desk clerk had no idea where he'd gone. There's only one place left for me to go.

And it's a little after eleven when Susan opens her door for me. I could tell by the soft music in the room she didn't know what had happened. The way she greets me proves my deduction.

"Well, hello, do come in, Mr. Stone," she smiled.

I also smiled saying, "Thanks. Aren't you afraid of catching a cold in that?"

"You mean this negligee? I wore it especially for you. I've been waiting, Mr. Stone. A long time. Too long."

"I'm sorry. I was a little busy."

'That Lorenzo Carlos. So talkative."

"He has a few other qualities."

"Sit down. Here on the couch. Next to me."

"I hate to be a dick. But let's get the bad news over with first."

"Has something gone wrong?" she frowned.

"You almost got it. Nothing's gone right."

"I should have known. Look at your clothes."

"You ought to see what your face cream did to Rick Campbell's clothes."

"Campbell? Did he get the sample?"

"He had it for a few minutes if that's what you mean."

"Mr. Stone if I didn't like you, I'd be angry."

"You should be. When Campbell opened the sample, he got very dead. It was a bomb?"

She shakes her head, "I don't understand. The face cream Lorenzo Carlos gave you was a bomb?"

"No. not quite. The bomb Carlos made was a bomb."

"Just a minute, Mr. Stone. Let me turn off the radio," she glides across the room turns it off and turns around. "You don't know how this upsets me."

"I know. I was upset myself this evening. Violently, upset."

"You poor man," she said running her hand over my chest.

"That helps," I smiled.

"Hand me that purse, please. There. On the coffee table."

"If you want a handkerchief, Susan.."

"I have what I'm looking for. Here Mr. Stone. Five hundred dollars. The other half of your fee."

"Oh, does an explanation come with that?"

"I'm sure you'll excuse me. Until another time. Won't you."

"When you say it like that."

"I'm sorry. Goodnight, Mr. Stone."

## Chapter 8

There were a couple of reasons why I'd like to have hung around. But, I could tell this just wasn't the night time. So, I left Susan, calls Vic and told him a briefing on a story that was still as mixed up as a chicken in a fox hole. I finish off by telling him he could forward the bill for Campbell's murder to Lorenzo Carlos if he could find him. Then I crawl into a little bistro on 10th Street to relax and get something to eat. I'm on my second cup of coffee when it came to me. Like the name of an old friend. Carlos knew that I knew. If he'd been foolish enough to let me be a messenger for his booby trap, it's a cinch he wouldn't be foolish for very long. As long as I'm walking around in one piece, Carlos could never feel safe. I could have dodged him, maybe for a long time. But I decided it would be better to see him when he wanted to see me. I went home and made myself available. At twelve thirty-five the walls of my room starts to shudder when somebody pounds on the door. I open the door and forced a smile.

"Is only me, sir. Berta."

"I couldn't possibly have guessed."

"What?"

"Oh, never mind. What do you want?"

"Lorenzo Carlos. He sent me."

"It'll be a tight squeeze, but won't you come in?"

"No, you come out, sir."

"Okay. Just as soon as I get my coat."

"You don't need your coat, sir."

"It right over here."

"You come now, sir. She grabs my arm and almost pulls it off my shoulder.

"Ach!"

"What?"

"Nothing. I always thought that my arm bent the other way."

"It's better this way. It's healthy for bones. You come now, sir."

## Chapter 9

She put a little more pressure on my arm and dragged me down the stairs. She's so clumsy I could have taken her with a few punches. But Carlos had sent her, and I wanted to see Carlos. When we reach the street, she grabs my other arm. We made a quick entrance into a taxi, which took us to a shabby apartment building on Manchester Street. She adjusts her half-nelson, and we climb two flights of stairs. The end of our little pilgrimage is a pair of rat-ridden room which I would never have associated with the fastidious Carlos. He's not there, and Berta didn't seem to know what to do with me. Then her eyes lighted up. She drags me across the floor pulling open a door, look at me brightly and said, "It's the bathroom, sir."

"Thanks. I've brushed my teeth this evening,"

"Go in."

"Where's Carlos?"

"It's not good you ask questions. Go in."

"I'll wait out here," I smiled.

"It's more comfortable inside. If you don't go inside, I am glad to assist you."

## Chapter 10

I'm ready to argue the point when I look in the bathroom and saw a table full of bottle jars. So, I let her shove me inside and lock the door. I walk over to the table. Next to the bottle labeled Ocean Blue Cologne stood a jar exactly like the booby trap Carlos had given me earlier in the evening. I pick it up, decide that forever's a long time to live, and opens it. This time, it really faced cream. I poke my fingers around in the jar to see what made it so wonderful. When I pull them out, things suddenly became a lot cleaner. Just under the top layer of face cream buried the largest blue sapphire I had ever seen. I wash it off and slipped it into my pocket just about the time the door opens. It's Carlos, and he didn't waste time starting in on Berta.

"Berta, where is this, Stone? You have not brought him, yet?"

"Yes. He's here."

"But I don't see him. Berta, where is he?"

"I locked him in the bathroom. I get key."

I had to do something and do it fast. I look around. Then in the bathtub I saw what I wanted, one of those rubber hoses with the shower attachment that can be pointed in any direction. I turn on the hot water full blast and wait. The door unlocked and slowly opens.

"Stone?" Carlos called.

"Hello, Lorenzo Carols. I'm just cleaning up a bit."

"The water. Turn it off, now," he ordered.

"I didn't finish washing behind my ears," I smiled.

"I'm come in, Mr. Stone. And when I come in, I shoot," he rush into the room and said, "Berta the steam. I cannot see."

"Here I am," I said blasting the water in their faces.

Campbell screams, "I am scalded! You have burnt me!"

Berta drops to the floor holding her face and crying.

"Give me that gun," I said. "That's right. Now stand back. Alright, Berta. Turn off the water."

"I am scalded, Stone."

"You'll live, Carlos."

"The sapphire. Have you taken it?" Carlos asked.

"You won't need it. Carlos, they'd just take it away from you before they put you in the chair, "I said.

"Where I am going?" he asked.

"Death row, if you're lucky," I replied.

## Chapter 11

I persuade Carlos, with the help of his gun which I'm holding, to tie up Berta. Then I knotted some bright yellow French neckties around his hands and feet and surveyed the situation. There's no phone in the apartment, so I locked the two of them in the bathroom and raced down to a liquor store on the corner. I caught the manager just as he's closing and put in a call to Lieutenant Vic Morgan. Then I ran back to the apartment to keep Berta and Carlos company. I thought it's funny that the bathroom door's open when I had locked it so carefully. I stop thinking it's funny when I walk through the door straight into the sight of an automatic.

"Hello, Mr. Stone," she smiled.

"Well, Susan."

"You're just in time. We're going to start a treasure hunt."

"He has it, Susan," Carlos said.

"Lorenzo Carlos seems to think you picked up a sapphire by mistake, Mr. Stone. Probably in the excitement of the evening."

"It is true. All that I tell, it is true," Carlos added.

"You hear what Lorenzo Carlos says. But, he tried to kill me tonight. Maybe he also lies."

"No! He took it, Susan," Carlos said.

"Do be quiet, Carlos. You disturb us. Well, Mr. Stone?"

"Oh, come on, Susan. You're taking this thing much too seriously," I smiled.

"Mr. Stone. I've repeatedly said that I like you. However that won't stop me from shooting you if I have to."

"You are intense; aren't you?" I asked.

She shrugs. "I've risked a lot to get that stone. Let's not make it more difficult."

"You haven't asked Berta what she knows," I tell her.

"Berta?" Susan yelled.

"Sure go ahead, Susan. Ask her," I urged.

"All right. What do you know about the sapphire, Berta?"

"Excuse, me?"

"Mr. Stone, I believe you're pulling my leg."

"Oh please. I've got a good answer, but I'm afraid this isn't the time."

"Do you have the sapphire, Mr. Stone?"

"Yes."

"Give it to me, Mr. Stone," Susan said,

"Come on, Susan. Let's be friends."

"You're wasting time, Mr. Stone."

"Only in a manner of speaking."

"I'm asking you one more time. Give me....."

She interrupted by a door open and fast steps.

"All right. Hold it where you are."

Susan gasps.

"Drop the gun, Miss. Go ahead. Drop it," Vic ordered as the gun hit the floor.

"You certainly took your time, Lieutenant," I said.

"I got here as fast as I could, Randall."

"I was running out of words. Wasn't I Susan?"

"You know something, Mr. Stone?"

"Tell me, Susan."

"I'm sure; I'll hate myself in the morning. But it's funny. I still like you."

## Chapter 12

When we got down to it, the whole thing was really simple. Susan and Carlos were running a fancy smuggling racket under a cosmetics cover. Carlos wanted to make it a one-man operation. So he tried to dissolve the partnership the hard way, by killing Susan. It didn't work because Campbell found out about the sapphire got in the way and stopped the bomb intended for Susan. Lorenzo Carlos summed the whole thing up rather neatly on the way downtown. He said:

"I should have stayed in France."

#  Wishful Thinking

### B.A. Savage

## Chapter 1

In my line of work, nearly every case I get mixed up in has some kind of an interesting twist. If it isn't a husband who got lonely because he disposed of his wife with an ax, or some woman who's spotted a body floating in her bathtub, then it might be a case like this one I got mixed up in last week.

It starts with a knock and the door opens.

"Mr. Randall Stone?"

I agreed with him and watch him close the door and walk into my office. I looked close my eyes and look again. I made up my I'm not having a hallucination. He couldn't have weighed more than a hundred and twenty a kindly face that carried a sad sort of a smile. He's dressed well, and his actions seem completely normal, but there's that one thing that bother me. He's a good eight feet tall.

"You seem a little disturbed, Mr. Stone," he said.

"Oh, it's nothing, just a little dizzy looking up at your face."

"You notice something out of the ordinary, huh?"

"Oh, no, nothing likes that," I assured him.

"I work for the Carnival, Mr. Stone."

"Ah, you're kidding me?"

"My name's Rick Clayton. I'm billed as the thinnest man in the world."

"You're kidding me right?"

"Nor sir."

"How tall are you?"

"Seven foot eleven without shoes," he smiled.

"Well, I'm glad to know you, Mr. Clayton. Now, what can I do for you?"

"I wish to hire you."

"I charge four hundred a day and expenses."

He nods and said, "That's agreeable."

"That's four hundred in advance, Mr. Clayton."

"Here's four hundred."

"Thank you, Mr. Clayton. You're now the proud owner of a pedigreed private detective," I smiled.

"I suppose you'd like to know about my problem."

"Sure, Mr. Clayton. Go ahead."

"There's a girl who works that the carnival. Her name is Ronda."

"Ronda?"

"Professional name. You've heard of her, Mr. Stone?"

"Oh, yeah. She's a dancer, huh?"

"That right. We've been in love for some time. She's a wonderful person, beautiful, all that any man would want."

## Chapter 2

I watch Clayton talk about her, and I swallow a big lump in my throat. He's almost eight feet a hundred twenty pounds were reminiscing about his love with all the sincerity of his heart.

"I'd seen Ronda, and I could certainly understand why the skinny guy had it bad. But being a pretty practical guy myself, Clayton didn't look like the type of guy a girl like Ronda would go for. But I always say - You just never know about some things.

"She's in trouble, Mr. Stone."

"What kind of trouble, Mr. Clayton?"

"That's why I can to you. I don't know, and she won't tell me. She won't let me help her. But it's obvious whatever trouble she's got is more than she can handle."

"So, you want me to find out what it is?"

"Yes."

"I'll do my best."

"Thank you. It's very important to me, Mr. Stone," he smiled.

## Chapter 3

He told me about the Carnival and where I could find, Ronda. He also warned me if Ronda knew she would be pissed. He thanks me again, shook my hand and went out of the office. I close up stop by Ali's Bar and sip on a couple of beers until six - then I headed for the Carnival. I purchased a ticket stepped through the gate, and I heard a voice yelling, "Hey, hey - step right up - on the inside it's the most astonishing spectacle ever to be witnessed in this country. Tarzan, the ape-boy, captured in the wilds of Africa."

I walk around the corner and hear, "It's the Mountain Climber, step right up ladies and gentlemen. It's fast, safe, and thrilling ride. Only two dollars, a quick, reliable and incredible ride."

I walk and look and a smile covers my face. The carnival colorful, gaudy, is fascination if you're six or sixty. You get initiated when you are a kid and forget it - the nostalgia of hot dogs or see somebody buying a stick full of cotton candy.

And then I look up and see Ronda dancing on the small stage in front of a tent. She's doing just enough of her bit to entice the male customers and not offend the women. I grab a ticket and went inside. The tent filled in a hurry; the lights went down and on came Ronda.

She did her dance the usual routine and got off stage as the cheers faded into the dark. I wait for the tent to empty then went back to look for the sexy dancer. There was another small tent in the rear of the large one, and as I approach, I could hear two ladies talking.

"Sure Ronda, sure, I'll keep it for you."

"Now look, Jackie, I don't want anybody to know about it. You hear me, not anybody?"

"He's giving you trouble, huh?"

"Yes, he's been...."

"What's the matter?"

I stick my head through the tent flap.

"Yes, who is it?"

"Ronda?"

"Yes. You want to see me?"

"Yes."

"I'll be going," Jackie said.

"Oh, don't let me bust up anything," I smiled.

Jackie place her hand on my arm, "That's okay. I got to be going anyway."

"This is Jackie Johnson. Mr...."

"Stone. How are you, Jackie."

"I'm bushed. Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Stone. Talk to you later, Ronda."

She walks out of the tent flap.

"Cute," I smiled.

"Uh-huh. Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Stone?"

"I just saw the show, and it was great!"

"Glad you liked it, that why you're here?"

"Thought I'd like to meet you."

"Mr. Stone, it's against the rules."

"Who's rules?"

"The guy who runs this place."

"So, it's not your rules?"

She shrugs. "Sometimes."

"Not this time," I smiled.

"I'll let you know as soon as I find out what's on your mind."

"That shouldn't be too hard. I'm the type who likes to break rules."

"What do you do, Mr. Stone?"

"I'll do almost anything to make a few bucks. I use the money to buy a beautiful girl a drink."

"Just one drink, Mr. Stone?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I find out what's on your mind, Ronda."

## Chapter 4

She excused herself and did a quick change behind a screen in the rear of the rent. She came out wearing jeans, and a tight, skin top that'll turn a blind man's head. She grabs a leather coat took my arm, and we walk to the nearest bar, in this case, the Real Deal, a cozy little Bistro that certainly seem a nice place to take a friend on her first date.

"It's a little crowded," Ronda said.

"Probably regular, on this side of town."

The bartender slid two beers across the table. Ronda pickup one look at me and said: "Here's to....to what Mr. Stone?"

"To calling me, Randall."

"I'll drink to that, Randall," she smiled.

"Aren't you a little warm, Ronda?"

"Uh huh."

"But you'll suffer a little and keep the coat on."

"Nice coat, isn't it?"

"Charming, you must do alright, the leather coat, the diamond bracelet."

"I could use another drink, Randall."

"Oh, sure."

"And a glass of whiskey neat."

## Chapter 5

We sat, and I watch her kill a couple of shots of whiskey and in between them she move closer and closer. She work hard, and I play along, it isn't difficult. Ronda's quite a girl, and as far back as I can remember, I've like ladies particularly the type you classify as "quite girls." About the time it's getting interesting, we are interrupted.

"Hey, there's, Ronda," a guy said.

"Yeah, swell," the girl with him replied.

"Friends of yours?" I asked, Ronda.

"David Collins and his wife, Cheryl. He owns the Carney."

"How are you, Ronda?" He asked.

"Find. Hello Cheryl," she smiled.

"Hello, Ronda."

"This is Mr. Stone - Mr. and Mrs. Collins."

We exchanged greetings.

"Can I buy you two a drink?" David asked.

"Well, that would --."

"No, thanks, David. We were just leaving. Come on, Randall," Ronda said.

"Nice meeting you," I said.

"Yeah sorry you got to be going," David said.

"Good night, David, Cheryl," Ronda said pulling me by the arm.

"Well, that answers that. You're not friends," I frown.

We walk down the sidewalk, and I noticed Ronda looking back over her shoulder.

"Just a casual observation," I said, adding, "I got an idea when your hair stood straight up."

"You better take me home, Randall."

## Chapter 6

I took her home. Ronda didn't have much to say on the way; she'd worried, and her hands are shaking. We got back to the Carnival about one A.M. and walk down toward her trailer. Up to that point, I had made up my mind about several things concerning the sexy Ronda. First, she didn't figure to be in love with Rick Clayton. Second, if she did have trouble, she had given any indication until David Collins and his wife had shown up at the Real Deal. At her trailer, she stops at the door and turns to face me. Oh, I could see it coming, the pitch is on again, but now she's caution too."

"Who are you, Randall?"

"Oh, I'm just a guy. I told you just a guy who wants to buy you a drink."

She frowns, "nothing else?"

"What else?"

"You just pop up. You're not the type to just hang around a Carney. I don't know anything about you."

"You worried?"

"A little. Why you pick me?"

"Well, honey, you go on the inside and take a look in the mirror. If you're a little objective about it, you'll get the idea."

"Randall."

"Yeah."

"Goodnight," she kisses me.

"Goodnight."

She opens the door, steps inside and turns around.

"Randall."

"Yeah."

"Will I see you again?"

"Yeah."

She smiles and closes the door.

## Chapter 7

As I walk away from the trailer, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and saw Rick Clayton, and he doesn't look happy.

"Why did you do it? Why did you do it?" he yelled, throwing a punch at my jaw.

I grab his arm and try to calm him down.

"Wait a minute Rick. Wait a minute!"

"Let me go!" he shouted.

"Now take it easy, kid. What's the matter with you? Why, do you want to slug me for?"

"Why did you kiss her Mr. Stone? I saw you. Why did you kiss her?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake!"

"I saw you. I saw you kiss, Ronda!"

"Well, you didn't see very well then. It was the other way around."

"I didn't hire you to take her out and make love to her, Mr. Stone."

"Oh, come on, get hold of yourself."

"What the hell!"

"What's the matter, Rick?"

"That tent it's on fire."

I turn and look the direction he's pointing. The small tent Ronda use for a dressing room is on fire.

"Fire - fire!"

Someone had already noticed it and by the time we got there, it's completely engulfed in the roaring flame.

Everyone in the group turn out in odd stages of undress and got a bucket line going, but the tent past saving. The fire department finally enters and put out the last of it and then a one of the group, plucking his way through the charred ruins made a grisly discovery.

"Hey, there's a body in here!" he yelled.

## Chapter 8

Two thirty in the morning standing in the middle of what's left of a gutted dressing tent standing with the members of the Collin's Carnival group, looking down at the burnt body of a woman. A case with a simple beginning and then a fire and a woman dying in the fire. The crowd spread out as the fire department move in to look for a cause and David Collin, the owner, identified the body.

"Jackie Johnson, she slept in the tent - poor little girl. Oh, hello, Mr. Stone."

"Hello, Mr. Collins."

"Terrible thing here, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Mr. Stone?"

"Beat it, Rick, I'll talk to you later. There's no sense in letting people know we're acquainted."

"Alright," he agreed.

"So all of a sudden I smelt smoke, I thought I was dreaming or something."

I turn to see her talking to the fire chief.

"Hello, Ronda," I smiled.

"Isn't it awful?" she said.

"Yeah, pretty bad," I said.

She shakes her head saying, "Poor Jackie. Randall.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know, Rick Clayton?"

"Who?"

"The tall skinny man standing over there."

"Oh, yeah. He just spoke to me. No, I don't know him. Why?"

"Nothing. Will you walk me back to my trailer?"

"Sure. You cold?"

"Yes."

"You act like you've got a chill. You better take my coat," I said.

"No, it's alright. I'll be alright."

"Well, goodnight, Ronda," I smiled.

"Randall?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't feel much like sleeping. Why don't you come in for a while?"

"What's the matter, Ronda?"

"Nothing, Why? What makes you think something's the matter?"

"You act as if you're scared."

"Of you, Randall?"

"I don't know what it is, but you're scared of it."

She frowns and opens the door saying, "That's ridiculous. Goodnight, Randall."

She slams the door.

"Pssssst! Mr. Stone."

"Huh?"

"Mr. Stone?"

"How don't start swinging again, Rick. I didn't even hold her hand."

"I just left the chief. The fire department found out it wasn't an accident."

"What?"

"I heard him say the fire was started deliberately. They called the police."

## Chapter 9

We drove down to the scene of the fire, and I stay in the car while Vic and Collin looked at the body of the dead girl and talked to the fire chief. A couple of times I spotted Rick standing off to one side watching, and if he noticed me in the car, he did a good job not showing it. Sometime later Vic came back, and we took a drive. I told Vic, everything up to date. How Rick hired me to find out what was troubling his girlfriend. How I'd gotten the big pitch from her, her obvious dislike for Collin and everything leading up to and after the fire.

"That's sure not much," he said.

"I know it, Vic. But one thing's sure, Ronda was scared stiff after the fire." I tell him.

"Sometimes fire does that."

"No, it was something more. Vic, this girl lives high, leather coat, jewelry that runs into a lot of karats and she has a real taste for anybody who smells like that green stuff. I flashed some money when I went in to see her show. She acted like a regular date when I went back to her dressing room. Ronda doesn't make enough money at this Carney to buy all those things, Vic."

"Well, I'm having the whole clan brought in for questioning, maybe we'll uncover something. This client of yours..."

"Rick Clayton."

"Yeah. What does he know, Randall?"

"Apparently not much. He so in love with that girl he can't see anything else."

"What does he do?"

"He's advertised as the skinniest man in the world. He's nearly over eight feet tall and weighs a good hundred and fifty. He thinks Ronda's in love with him."

"Are you kidding? Ronda? A girl like that."

"Yeah, poor guy."

## Chapter 10

Vic dropped me off at my apartment, and I got some sleep. The next morning I went down to the police department and listens through the viewing room as Vic interrogates the entire group of the Collin's Carnival. It took all morning and most of the afternoon. Ronda answers her share of questions and her voice's shaky and cautious. Rick answers his, admitting his associating with me, only after Vic informed him the fact was known. The last two questioned is David and Cheryl Collins.

"I have no idea why anybody would want to start a fire," David said.

"How about wanting to kill, Jackie Johnson?" Vic questioned.

He shakes his head saying, "I can't imagine."

"How about you, Mrs. Collin?" he asked.

"No. Jackie was just a nice girl. She slept in the tent. I don't know why anyone would want to hurt her."

"Mr. Collin, how long have you known Ronda?"

"Just since she been with the Carney, about six years, I guess."

## Chapter 11

The first hint of a cover up David Collin had said he'd only known Ronda since she'd been with the carnival. I left the department thinking about the time I'd spent with Ronda in the "Real Deal." She'd said she had known David for a long time before she joined the Carnival. I grab my jeep and went back to the Carnival grounds where I hung around until my client shows up. We found a quiet spot to talk.

"No, she's never said much about David or Cheryl," he said.

"How about the girl who was killed, Jackie?"

"They were friends; that's all. Why, have you found out something?"

"Now much money have you given her, Rick?"

"Now, wait a minute......"

"How much?"

He shrugs, "Not much."

"How much does she make?"

"About four hundred a week?"

"Then, who's buying those clothes?"

"She is, Mr. Stone."

"And the jewelry?"

He looks at me puzzled. "What do you mean? She told me she bought those things with money she'd saved."

"Out of four hundred dollars a week."

"That's what she said."

"Then why ask you for more?"

"Because she needed it, Mr. Stone. I didn't ask her why. She likes the nice things. We're in love. A man doesn't ask."

"Okay, Rick, okay."

## Chapter 12

I lost myself for the rest of the afternoon in the newspaper files looking up the history of David Collin, his wife, and Ronda. There was a story about David and Cheryl the day they got married and enough about Ronda to give me a fair background. Ronda had been in the show business for a long time, from parents in the business. She'd never done much until she joined the Carnival and then her fame had spread far and wide. There were some publicity pictures that certainly showed why she had become a headliner. She had been married once to a man named, White. He had disappeared ten years ago, a small-time agent, who had left she stranded in a hotel somewhere in Kentucky.

According to the article, he was wanted by the Lexington police for a forgery rap and had left her holding the cash. I looked some more but could find anything about a divorce or that White had ever been caught. At seven o'clock I let myself into Cheryl's trailer. I sat down and wait for her. Twenty minutes later she sat down, and we had a little talk.

"Why are you interested in my husband, Mr. Stone?" she asked.

"Let's say I'm interested in Ronda," I smiled.

"What's David got to do with, Ronda?" she asked.

"I don't know you have been married to him for about six years, haven't you?" I questioned.

She nods her head. "Yes, six years next month. How do you know that?"

"Well, your husband said he did know Ronda before that time?"

"Of course, he didn't know her. When he hired her was the first time they met."

"He made her a headliner right away, huh?"

"What are you getting at Mr. Stone?"

"He's got a big Carnival. He could have hired some top dancers for that spot. Why Ronda? She wasn't known."

"Mr. Stone, you have seen, Ronda, that should answer the question. David thought he could build her up. He was right."

"He knows good talent, huh?"

"He should; he used to be an agent."

"Well, thanks, Mrs. Collin."

"Wait a minute, just who are you?"

"You should have asked that when you had information to bargain with. Now that you told me what I want to know, you just have to guess," I smiled.

## Chapter 13

I'm on the way back to the car when I see Ronda approaching her trailer. I walk over and knock on the door.

"Hello." I smiled.

"Randall! I'm glad to see you," she said.

"I'm a private eye, Ronda. You still glad to see me?"

"You're a...."

"Private eye - yeah."

"I don't understand."

"I think I do. What ever happened to your husband, Ronda?"

"Randall."

"What ever happened to him? His name was White. He left you stranded in Kentucky with a forgery rap pinned on him. What happened to him?"

"Why, I don't know. He disappeared. I haven't seen him."

"How did you manage to buy the leather jacket and diamond bracelets?"

"What?"

"I noticed your clothes, quite a wardrobe. Did you manage all that on a four hundred dollar a week income?"

"Randall, what is this? Why are you..."

"How come Collin hired you and showed you right to the top when you didn't even have a reputation?"

"I don't like this, Randall."

"I don't like it, either. Tell me about, Jackie? Why was she killed?"

"I don't know. Randall, you don't think I had anything to do with it?"

"It's the one thing I've got to tie up. Whoever set fire to that tent; did they think it was you in there?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, see how ridiculous this sounds. David Collin is your missing husband," I said.

"No, he's not. No!"

"He's paying you to keep your mouth shut."

"Get out of here."

"You don't care who you pick on, Ronda. If you can't blackmail a guy you work him, like Rick Clayton. The poor guy thinks you love him."

"Get out! Get out, I say!"

"How much did you get, Ronda, a couple of lousy dollars? I guess you'll do anything for a buck, huh?"

"If you don't get out of here, I'll have you thrown out."

"I want to know why Jackie was killed, and you're going to tell me or the police."

"Randall, please."

"Now, now, it won't work, Ronda. What was the connection?"

She shakes her head, "Please, please."

"Ronda, if you know why she was killed that makes you an accessory before the fact. I'm not very happy about you, and I'd be more than willing to do my bit and see you get a few years."

"Randall..."

"That's the way it is, and those cops who talked to you all day are good friends."

She begins to cry.

"You better tell me about it. It'll be a lot easier."

"Alright, David Collin is my husband. His real name's David White. You're right, I'm blackmailing...."

Two shots explode, and I dive to the floor.

## Chapter 14

Somebody fires two shots through the open window and nails her twice. I caught her as she drops and lowers her to the floor. I kept my arms around her because she couldn't do much more than look up and smile.

"Thanks, for the lift, Randall."

"Shit, Ronda, he got you," I said.

"It's alright. Jackie was keeping the marriage license for me so that David wouldn't find it. I guess he did anyway, he must have killed her and set fire to the tent."

"Hold on, I'll get a doctor."

"I got to say something, Randall. No excuses, I took Rick. I took everybody, and I was going to take you. But something happened, I guess. Maybe I thought you might be the man on the white horse."

"Ronda, look....."

"I'm telling the truth, Randall. A lady wouldn't lie at a time like this," she squeezes my arms and closes her eyes.

She was right, at a time like this, I guess she wouldn't lie."

## Chapter 15

I put a pillow under her head and went out. The Carnival suddenly turns into a bad dream. Through all the noise and confusion, there's a killer loose, and I want to get him.

"Look out, Stone!"

It's Rick Clayton again. He's standing near the tent. David Collin had been waiting for me to come out. Collin jumps as Rick yells and turns his gun on Rick. The gun bucks twice spending deadly projectiles toward the thin man.

He caught Rick with the first one, and he toppled like a bowling pin. I got my gun out, but Collin disappears in the darkness.

"Get him, Mr. Stone. I'm alright," Rick yelled.

"I circle the tent and spotted Collin running up the main drag. He turns and tries a quick shot.

"People start running when they got the idea, and I kept low, trying to stay in the clear. The place empties fast, and Collin's caught on the empty walk. He turned for another shot, but I beat him to it. The fire flashed twice from my 9mm Beretta.

The slug knocks him off his feet, and he stagger into a building. I went inside after him. It turned into the weirdest chase I ever saw. I found myself looking at a dozen Randall Stones and an equal number of David Collins.

I'm faced with a room full of mirrors and to the top it off a recorded laugh's playing over and over, a gimmick to show customers how much fun they could have inside.

There's another shot and mirrors break.

The dozen Collins had all turns and taken a shot at the dozen Stones suddenly became one less. It's the process of elimination; sooner or later one of us would stop hitting mirrors and get the real thing. I pick one of the Collins, and we both went to work.

I pause a moment listening to where the shot came from drop to on knee and fire. There's a groan David takes two steps over the glass and stops. He laughs, and I'm in for 84 years of bad luck.

## Chapter 16

David Collin's shot, I pick up his gun, and I stumble my way to a phone and called Vic. Back in the tent, I found Rick sitting on the floor with Ronda in his lap. He's crying.

"She's dead, Mr. Stone."

"Yes, but before she died she said something about a man on a white horse."

"She did?"

"Yes, she said you were the man. I'll send you my bill in the morning. Mr. Clayton."

When I heard the patrol cars approaching, I walk back to the mirror room and Collin's still alive.

"Lousy mirror," he smiles looking up at me.

"Yeah, you shot every Stone, but the right one," I answered.

"Turn me over, Stone, will you? Get my back out of this stuff."

"Sure," I roll him over.

"I don't mind dying, but I hate to watch myself doing it," he laughs and died in my arms.

#  Cold Fury

### B.A. Savage

## Chapter 1

I'm in a good mood when the phone rang and decided to have a little fun with Jennifer.

"Stone Detective Agency. Satisfaction guaranteed, or your corpse back," I smiled.

"What?" she said.

"Oh, hello, honey. You see I have taken a mail order course in advertising. The first thing they teach us is to think up a good slogan for your business."

"With that slogan, you won't have any business."

"Wait a minute, this isn't, Jennifer," I said.

"No, it isn't. Tell me some more slogans."

"Alright. How about this one? Stone Detective Agency. When you have trouble, we're on the double. Who is this, anyway?"

"I don't want to be critical, Mr. Stone, but what you need is something a little more literary. How about me suggesting something?"

"Like?"

"How about this, "Open you face, and we'll take your case."

"That kind of got a swing to it. But I think I'll just stick to something simple. You know something like, "Help!"

"Are things that bad?"

"Lady, the last time anybody offer me money was to get change for twenty bucks."

"I'll make you an offer, and you won't have to make change," she said.

"Well! Have you got a problem or are you just lonesome?"

"I've got a problem, Mr. Stone, my name's Mary Thomas."

"What can I do for you, Miss Thomas?"

"It is, Mrs. I'm at the place called The Lake View. You know where it is?"

"I've never heard of it."

"It's a cocktail lounge, with dancing down on the river."

"Oh, that place. I guess I might find it. What happen? The bartender photographed you with another man, and you want me to get the pictures back?"

"No. I have to meet you Mr. Stone."

"It's urgent, of course."

"Not particularly, but I have something here I think you'd like to see."

"Mrs. Thomas, I'll be down there before the ice melt in your drink."

"Wonderful, Mr. Stone," she smiled.

"Oh, by the way, how will I know who you are when I get there?"

"You won't have any trouble finding me. All the men will be looking at me,"

## Chapter 2

All the men will be looking at her? This I want to see. So, I hack my way through the traffic down to the river. The Lake View is a nice, intimate type bar. And I didn't have to ask who Mary Thomas is. There couldn't have been two of that kind of women anywhere walking the earth. Don't ask me what she wore, but her natural adornments included, among other things unwise to mention, a face as warm as a cradle song, and silken, taffy-colored hair that looked as if it's molded out of a late evening sunbeam. As I made my way to her table, it's obvious every woman there's her natural born enemy. And every husband present would kill himself instantly if the action would cause her to smile in his direction. And she's my date.

"Are you wondering what I'm doing here?" she asked as I say down.

"I am. And so, is every man at the bar. Every red blooded man, that's here," I said.

"You're sweet, Mr. Stone. May I make a toast?"

"Why, sure, Mrs. Thomas?"

"To our mutual success," she smiled.

"Okay, our mutual success."

The glasses clink, and we drink.

"Mr. Stone. I guess you want to know why I asked you to come here."

"Well, sooner or later, I figure, I'll have to know."

"You won't be angry, will you?"

"Angry, with you? Are you kidding me?"

"Take a look at this. It's a section I clipped out of the Personal columns of the newspaper. Every paper in the city carrying it."

I looked at the paper and read, "Anyone know the whereabouts of Mary Patton, wife of the late, Ben Patton, who died seven years ago in the Philippine Islands, please write or phone Matt Hanks at the Phoenix Hotel. Mr. Patton left a legacy of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for his wife, Mary." Well, that's a lot of money, Mrs. Thomas."

"A great deal."

"You were, of course, Mrs. Ben Patton?"

"Yes. Ben was killed in a car accident, serving in the military."

"They why don't you just see this Mr. Hanks yourself, and put in your claim?"

"Because, I've married again, and my husband Howard doesn't know I was married before. I was kind of a wild girl, and I don't think it would help any to tell him."

"I should think maybe one hundred and fifty thousand dollars would make him see your past years in a tame sort of light."

"The truth is, Mr. Stone, Howard and I aren't getting along very well. He's so difficult to live with. He's so possessive."

"In this case, I'd say the response was normal."

"He's so jealous and watches me all the time; that he doesn't work well, and we are in debts. If I could get this money, telling him that someone like a rich relative died, I'd pay off the debts and then we could have a trial separation until he came back to normal."

"Well, the story's, at least, is interesting. You want me to see this Hanks; I take it."

"Yes."

"How do I know you're really the former Mrs. Patton?"

"Here, Mr. Stone," she puts some paper down on the table.

"A sample of my handwriting, a set of fingerprints I had taken at the police station and certified. Here's my picture and my birth certificate."

"Well, the picture checks out. I suppose the attorney Mr. Hanks will know if the other things are authentic. Alright, I'll do it. Cost you four hundred dollars."

"It's a bargain. Here's a power of attorney I made out to you, Mr. Stone."

"You didn't give me your address, Mrs. Thomas."

"Let's say I don't have one. And don't try to find me. We lost our phone a year ago, just before we moved."

"That's cagey."

"My husband wouldn't like strange men coming in the house."

"Okay, Mrs. Thomas. I'm in the book. Call me when you get curious."

"Alright. Now that we have the business out of the way let's have a couple of drinks and some fun," she smiled.

## Chapter 3

We drank dance and I must say that Mary Thomas impresses me in a way that made me wish I was Mr. Thomas or even the late Mr. Patton. You can die happy, you know. All the troubles of the world fled my mind, and I'm concentrating on the subject at hand when as upset looking man bore down on us. A shadow blots out the sunshine of Mary's face, and the warmth drains from her so fast it raise goose bumps on my neck. Who else, but Mr. Thomas.

"I knew I'd find you doing something like this," he snapped.

"Howard, please. This is a friend of mine," she said.

"Oh, really?" he frowned.

"Yes. We used to be on the same bowling team," I smiled.

"Look, punk. I don't want to talk to you. Beat it," he ordered.

"Don't do it, Randall," she warned.

"The choice is a little awkward," I replied.

"You bet it is, Randall unless you want a bloody nose, scram," he tells me.

"It gets more awkward by the second, Mary," I said.

He grabs her arm, "Come on Mary, let's get out of here."

"Let go of my arm, Howard. Everybody's looking at me."

"Everybody's always looking at you. Are you going to come or am I going to drag your ass out of here," he tells her.

"Randall! Help me," she cries."

"You better go, Mary. He just might do it," I said.

## Chapter 4

Now that might seem unmanly, but I had saved myself for things more important. He didn't hurt her when he drags her out, but it's sort of a shame to see her beauty in jeopardy. To tell the truth, I don't believe a word, Mary Thomas had told me, but she said it so pleasantly I couldn't bring myself to turn it down. Then, of course, there was that five hundred dollar of which there is nothing finer. I found Matt Hanks in a suite at the Phoenix Hotel, with a host of women in the lobby, all claiming to be Mrs. Ben Patton. They were either all fakes or Mr. Patton was playing games with the bigamy laws. When I finally reached Mr. Hanks, I find him a fairly young man. After he examines the documents, he hands me a shock.

"There's no doubt of it. She's Mrs. Patton, alright," he smiled.

"You sure?" I asked.

"Well, the fingerprint, birth certificate, picture and handwriting all match with my records I got from the bank."

"Okay! When do we collect?"

"I'm curious, Mr. Stone, why didn't Mrs. Patton come herself? We've been searching all over the country for her."

"Well, she's laid up in the hospital. An accident," I lied.

"I see. Well tell me the hospital, and I'll go see her."

"She also gave me the power of attorney to pick up the paper."

"As you say, Mr. Stone. I don't much care, as long as I wind up the business with dispatch. You return in an hour. I'll have all the necessary papers made out, and you can take them to her for her signature."

## Chapter 5

Never has anyone offers one hundred and fifty thousand dollars to me so coolly. But I figure inheritance lawyers are used to handling big sums of money. It still seems like a dream when I get back in hours, and he hands me the papers, with a smile and a handshake he saying:

"Get them signed, Mr. Stone."

My next move is to go back to my office and wait for, Mrs. Thomas to call.

I had that feeling something wasn't right, so I decide to take a walk. After five or six blocks, I thought somebody's tailing me. I circle the block and found I'm right. He's a dirty looking guy, wearing white shoes. So I step into an alley and waited. He came charging right after me. I grab him slam him again the wall and trapping his arm behind his back.

"Let go of me!" he yelled.

"Alright, talk and talk fast," I ordered.

"I don't understand what you're excited about, but I don't like it."

He head butts me.

"Alright if you want to do it that way," I punch him twice in the stomach, and he falls to the ground.

"Alright, Erie, now get up and spill it. What's the tail job for?" I asked.

"You know me, huh?"

"Sure, I know you. You're the kind of man that gives the private detective gig a bad name. You were bounced off the force six years ago for extortion, and now you'd work for the devil if he had any cash."

"It's nothing to get uppity about. A lawyer named Matt Hanks asked me to follow you."

"Why?"

"How about a little money, pal?" he smiled.

"The only money you're going to get from me is three dollars for a bag of ice to stop the swelling in your face if you don't tell me the truth."

"He just said he figured you were up to something, and he couldn't figure out what it was."

"Now tell me the real reason," I said.

"So help me, Stone, that's it. He said you were acting kind of suspicious, and he wondered why."

"And you sure that's all?"

"I swear it, Stone."

"Mr. Hanks ought to be ashamed of himself me with my honest baby blue eyes."

"Oh, Stone."

"And let me give you a little advice Eric, the next time you tail somebody, don't wear white shoes."

## Chapter 6

I left Lowe in the alley and continued my way back to the car. I went back to the office and wait in more than mild anticipation for Mary Thomas's voice. It came through as sweet as ever.

"Everything go alright, Randall?" she asked.

"Just the way you said. In a matter of hours, you'll be one hundred and fifty thousand dollars richer."

"Well, I feel like a new woman."

"Why push your luck?"

"What do I have to do next?" she asked.

"Just sign some papers I have."

"Can you bring them out?"

"To your place?"

"Why not?"

"What about that ape you're married to? How does he feel about this sort of thing?"

"He's gone to work, Randall. He works nights."

"Okay. Where do you live?"

"I have a house at 3825 Oxford Circle."

"Put on the porch light. I'm on the way."

## Chapter 7

"Oh, she's cute. She did leave the front porch light on, but as I stepped through the front door, it went out. The room's dim lit, and by instinct, I felt for my gun. But she's reassuring.

"I hardly had time to change," she said.

"I really couldn't tell in this light," I smiled.

"I like dim rooms, Randall."

"Look, Mary, I'm kind of night blind, so why don't I just leave these papers for you to sign and then you can send them to me?"

"I thought maybe you want to stay a while, and talk over new times."

"Well, on my license it says I have to be home by eleven. And it's a long drive."

"Randall, I'm going to divorce, Howard."

"Oh. Why?"

"I'm afraid of him; he's getting too violent."

"Yeah, I know. Well, bye now," I said.

She grabs my arm, "Don't leave."

"I'm sorry. It's better this way."

"Alright. I'll send you the papers. And remember you know where you can find me."

## Chapter 8

I know, you think I'm crazy. But I do have some principles. It makes life a little less dangerous, but I can sleep nights. When I went out of the front door, Mary didn't put the porch light on again and when the door closed something hit me on the back of my head like a landslide.

I fell off the porch into the rose bed. There's a guy hovering over me. I felt his hand picking my pockets and my gun being pluck out of it's holster, but I got it right back in the head.

I'm ninety per out, but ten per cent of me notice a man rushing in the house. I heard Mary scream and three shots. Even as I tried to get to my feet, I knew it's too late. Somebody is getting killed, and it wasn't a damn thing I could do about it."

## Chapter 9

The neighbors complained of hearing gun fire. Otherwise, I might have taken root in that rose bed outside of Mary Thomas house. As it is, I'm given a strong whiff of gas, a weak finger of bourbon, and a lot of hostile looks by some very unfriendly policemen while the nurse bandaged me up. Eventually, Lieutenant Vic Morgan and his crew showed, and things got routine. The medical examiner pronounced Mary death as: "Instantaneous. Gunshot wounds. Inflicted by a person or persons unknown." A 9mm slug from my gun had penetrated Mary Thomas chest, close range. The hours of questioning in the neighborhood turned up one witness who remembers Howard Thomas driving his car in the area about the time of the shooting. That fact coupled with the information concerning my dead client's stormy affairs gave Morgan all he needed to send out a general pick-up on Howard Thomas. I agreed with Vic most of the way. But I had one question to ask.

"What about this gun we found in her hand, Vic?"

"What that, Randall?"

"The gun in her hand."

"That little twenty-two? What about it?"

"It's fired three times. Even a twenty-two automatic can kill people."

"So she shot back at who shot at her. We'll find the slugs around. In the walls or somewhere."

"Maybe. And then again they might show up in somebody's hide."

"Yes, if they were at close range. It might save the state some money," Vic smiled.

"Vic, how often does a woman carry a gun and use it?"

"Every time she has a jealous husband like this Howard guy," he answered.

"Howard Thomas's the jealous-type alright. But, frankly, Vic, he didn't strike me as the kind she'd be really scared of enough to carry a gun unless it's the other way around."

He frowns, "What do you mean the other way around?"

"Howard had every reason to be scared of her. If Mary had told him to jump off the Ohio Bridge, I think he'd done it from what I saw."

"All the more reason for him to knock her off if she was that type of a woman."

"When she hired me to claim the inheritance for her she could have been afraid, not of her husband, the way she said, but someone else."

"Well, figure it out any way you want to Randall. I'm going to get Howard Thomas and book him for murder."

"Alright, Vic."

"I'll have your car towed to your place and have one of the boys' drives you home. You look awful, Randall."

## Chapter 10

I felt awful, too. And by the time I got to my place, I had a headache all over again. My phone call to Matt Hanks at the Phoenix Hotel didn't help it any.

"Yes, Mr. Stone, I just heard about Mrs. Thomas's death on the radio. Most shocking news."

"Yes, Mr. Hanks, I wonder if you could answer a couple of question for me."

"I'll try, Mr. Stone. I'm getting kind of sick in this climate sorry."

"Mary Patton didn't sign the papers claiming the inheritance."

"Oh, that's too bad."

"What happens to the money now?"

"Well, I don't know. She was the legal heiress. That much was definitely established; I don't suppose those who handle her estate would have much difficulty obtaining the money she had coming."

"But you aren't sure, huh?"

"No, I'm not, Mr. Stone."

"In the event her estate didn't obtain it, where would it go then?"

"According to the terms of Mr. Patton's will, it would be turned over to charity, I think."

"You aren't sure of that either?"

"Again I must answer "no." My job was merely to locate Miss Patton and dispose of the inheritance."

"You forgot to mention that Erie Lowe tailed me when I left your place."

"I must be careful, Mr. Stone. I hope there was no offense involved. I hope you understand my position?"

"I'm not sure that I do, Mr. Hanks."

"Be that as it may, anything else Mr. Stone."

"Don't call me. I'll call you."

## Chapter 11

That uncertain information is supposed to clear up the corny old possibility that an unknown heir might have conceivably knocked off Mary Thomas to get their unknown on the Patton inheritance. It seemed too obvious, so I decide to look into it a little closer. I sent a text to a friend of mine in the detective business in Lexington. While I'm waiting for an answer, I turn on the radio and tried the shower. I'm singing along with the music when a cool breeze runs down my back and the squeaky sound of the bathroom door opening.

"Knock it off, Stone," a male voice said.

I shut off the water and open the shower door.

"What the matter don't you appreciate fine music."

"Shut up or I'll blow your head off!"

## Chapter 12

Howard Thomas meant it! And he had a gun in his hand to back it up! I decide to try to talk him out of it, so I drop my hands to my side and stood there trembling in front of him. His clothes are ripped in several places, the knuckles on one hand's torn and raw. But they are tight, on the other hand, the one that held the gun.

"Every cop in town's looking for me, Stone. But no cop's going to pick me up until I got something to say to them!"

"This towel isn't bullet-proof," I said.

"Shut up! I'm here to find out what I'm going to tell them. Understand, Stone?"

"I'm trying, Howard."

"They want me for killing, Mary. I'm going to give them you."

"Now wise up, Howard, I'd drive to headquarter right now if I knew anything."

"You worked for, Mary. I found that much out from Eric Lowe. He called and told me."

"Well, Lowe always did talk to the wrong people," I smiled.

"I know Mary. I know how she could be with a man; she hired you to figure out a way to get rid of me. But somehow thing backfired, and she got it instead of me!"

"You're crazy, Howard!"

"That's what happened, Stone! And you're going to tell it all to me and write it down and sign it if I have to beat it out of you with this gun!"

When he shifts the gun from one hand to the other to hit me, that's all I needed. I drop my towel, jump him and spun him around slamming him into the wall. He's fast and big, but there wasn't a lot of fight there. He hit the wall with enough force causing him to drop the gun, and he fell to the floor.

"Well, we got that matter settled. Come on, get up Howard. I may be on your side," I smiled.

"What kind of trick is this, Stone?"

"Oh, shut up. Now look, I'm going to stand here and put my clothes on. The gun's right in front of me. I want all of it, Howard. Don't leave anything out."

"I haven't got anything to tell you," he said.

"Mary was killed at your house around eight o'clock tonight. A witness saw you in the area driving around, right?"

"Yes, I was in the neighborhood. But I didn't go home."

"What did you do?"

"I went to the movies."

"Which one?"

"Regal Cinemas."

"What did you see?"

"I don't know. I did stay long."

"Why?"

"Because I was worried about, Mary so I went out to a bar."

"Which one?"

"One in the neighborhood, I don't know. When I came out, she'd....she'd been killed," he cried softly a moment.

"What then?" I asked.

"There was a prowl car looking for me in five minutes. I got away and stopped at a pawn shop and bought this gun and came here. I thought you had something to do with it, being a private detective and all. I thought she hired you to figure out a way to kill me."

"That's a nice thought. Look she had another husband once, a guy named Ben Patton."

"I guessed that much. I'm not the only guy she knew."

"He was from Lexington. He killed in the Philippines car accident. He left her some money. She hired me to claim it for her. Did you know that?"

"I don't know anything about anything!"

"You said you talked to Eric Lowe! He worked for the lawyer."

"Lowe just called me up and told me she was with you. I paid him fifty for it."

"Good old Lowe."

"Stone I didn't kill her! I didn't kill my wife!" He shakes his head and cries again. "That sounds funny doesn't it? Well, I loved her, Stone, the way you only love somebody once in life, and I would have given her my life!"

## Chapter 13

I believe him. I think. Anyhow, there isn't any fight left in him. So, I gave him a shot of Canadian whisky and let him sleep on the sofa. I pick up the phone to call Vic and tell him I had his boy when my friend from Lexington answered my text.

Message as follows. "Randall, there is no attorney named Matt Hanks, in Lexington, or member of Kentucky Bar."

I didn't waste any time getting over to Phoenix Hotel to have a heart-to-heart with the phony lawyer, with a fake name, who passed out fake inheritances.

I burst open the door. He isn't in his room, but a friend of his is.

"Stone, help me, help me," he groans.

It's Eric Lowe. And he's wearing a long slash down the front of his dirty brown jacket. There's some blood on his white shoes. A letter opener's lying on the floor.

"Get me a doctor, Randall."

"No doctor, Lowe, until you tell it all."

"Randall!"

"Talk, Lowe."

"He phoned me about nine. He said to come over here with some bandages and things. I did."

"He'd been shot with a twenty-two?"

"Yes, little bitty slugs. I dug them out of myself. Then he passed out."

"Go on," I ordered.

"He woke up and sort of went crazy. He got up with a letter opener....I....Randall....the doctor!"

"What else? What did you do while he was out?"

He groans and closes his eyes.

## Chapter 14

He faint, and I roll him over and went through his pockets, and that's where I found the reason why Eric Lowe had been slashed open. It's a picture he obviously stolen from Hanks. It's a snapshot of a woman and a man standing under a palm tree. I phone 911 and then began looking around. There're some small drops of blood inside the room, but noon of them led out into the hall. But there is a dark red spot in the window sill, leading out to the fire escape. I took Eric Lowe gun and step out there.

I decide if I'm wounded it would be easier to try the three flights up to the roof then the ten down to the alley. I'm right!

He's handing over the top ledge of the building firing down at me. I duck into the window frame, one flight down from him.

"You're going to get it, Stone!" he yelled.

"I've seen your work. It's only good at close range when you using my gun."

"Think so, huh?" he fires a shot that ricochets off the building.

"Missed by a mile. You better come down and get a transfusion."

"Yeah!" He caps off three more shots missing me.

"I'm coming up."

"Come on. I'll be waiting for you, Stone."

I step on the iron rungs, steady my aim for five seconds. Then a single shot from Hanks. I answer sending three shots and Lowe screams.

"Good shot, Stone!"

"I owed you a little nick. Can you walk?" I asked.

"No!"

"Want to talk?"

"No!"

"Well, I do."

"Go ahead, Stone."

"You used the gig with the will to smoke her out. You know you couldn't hope to find her any other way, except by holding out money as bait."

"You're telling it."

"When I showed up representing her, you had me followed so you could line her up and kill her. When Lowe failed, you did your own thing - and tailed me to her place. You've wanted to kill her real bad, for a long time, haven't you?"

"You know my name?"

"From the picture of you and her standing under the palm tree, I'd say you are Ben Patton. You were dead once."

"Yeah once. I woke up in the hospital a year later and she was gone. She just walked away."

"There's something missing. Why?"

"It wasn't a car accident, Stone. She shot me."

"I see. For money?"

"No."

"Another guy?"

"Yes. But I got her good didn't I, Stone?"

"Yeah, Patton, you got her real good."

#  Die to Be Rich

### B.A. Savage

## Chapter 1

It's raining in Central City, by three in the afternoon I figured it had been coming down steadily for about thirty hours. It's Friday, but it could have been Monday or Wednesday or any other day in the week because they'd all been the same. In my gig, all the days are pretty much the same if there is no business and the past seven days has been particularly void of potential clients. By three o'clock, I uncross my legs, drop them off the desk and swung around in my chair to look out my second-floor window at the other side of Vine Street. I heard the door open at my back and swung around. She's standing there; her head cover with a bright water soaked scarf. Her raincoat collar turned up around her neck, and as she untied the scarf, she smiled a quick smile.

"Mr. Stone?"

"Yes, close the door, come in," I smiled.

"Thank You. It doesn't look like it will ever stop," she said.

"I bet the farmers will like it."

"May I sit down, Mr. Stone?"

"Oh, yes!" I stood up and pull back the chair for her.

"How much do you charge?"

"It depends on how much you want done."

"I want you to pick an envelope up for me tonight."

"Just an envelope?"

"Yes! I want you to pick it up and I'll call for it tomorrow."

"Why can't you pick it up?" I asked.

"Why I can't, is personal. Why I want you to pick it up, is business. How much will you charge me to pick up the envelope, Mr. Stone?"

"Aren't you getting a little cold in that wet coat?"

"Yeah, a little. If you're going to take a while making up your mind, I'll take it off."

"I'd like to know a few things."

"Then I'll take it off," she takes off her coat, and I hang it on a hanger. "What would you like to know, Mr. Stone?"

"We could start with who you are?"

"Melissa Carr."

"Hum?"

"Something wrong, Mr. Stone?"

"No, ma'am. You got on a pretty, short dress."

"Thank you," she smiled.

"Well, I charge four hundred a day and expenses. I'll be glad to pick up the envelope, and after you dry off a bit; I'd be more than happy to buy you a drink."

## Chapter 2

With the scarf and the raincoat off she closed a fast deal. She had red hair that's a little wet from the water that soaked through the scarf. She's about five four with blue eyes and a mouth with full lips that made me thinks of a bowl of ripe fruit. The rest of her well, I would have walk through fire if I knew she was going to be waiting for me. She dried off, and we went to a little bar called The Blue Dove.

"So, you want me to pick up an envelope, right, Miss Carr?"

"Yes, Mr. Stone. Tonight. You keep it for me, and I'll pick it up at your office tomorrow."

"Where do I pick it up?"

"At the Leestown Road Exit of Masterson Station Park, right after the main gate. A man will give it to you."

"How will he know me?"

"He'll know you. He may give you the envelope while you're watching the race."

"Alright, Miss Carr. I haven't seen a good race in a long time."

"Here's a ticket, Mr. Stone."

"Thank you."

"Here comes the waitress. What shall I have, Mr. Stone?"

"Wine if you like, Miss Carr."

"I'd love it, Mr. Stone."

## Chapter 3

We send that next couple hours talking and getting to know each other.

"Randall."

"Yes."

"It's nearly eight," she smiled.

"Uh huh."

"If you're going to see the fight, you'd better be leaving."

"It's so nice and comfortable in here. I'll just meet the guy at ten thirty."

"No, I have to be going, Randall."

"Awwww, you do?"

"But. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh, you got to go, huh?"

"Yes, Randall," she smiled.

"Right now?"

She giggles, "Yes, Randall."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, Randall."

"Goodnight, Melissa."

"Goodnight, Randall."

## Chapter 4

There's nothing like a race when you're thinking about five feet four of beautiful red hair. I got to the park about the middle of the first face, went through the hot dogs, popcorn, roasted peanuts and several warm beers. All the while I'm trying to concentrate on a hotly contested race between three of the top horses in the country. The whole thing's terrible and completely nerve-wracking. It just wasn't my night."

"Hey, did you see that, huh?" A man asked me sitting down.

"Oh, lovely."

"That's Black Lighting, running like that."

"She's beautiful," I said.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

"Something wrong with you, pal?" he asked.

"Three hot dogs, popcorn, a couple of beers, and a red head."

"What red-head? You're nuts?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention the hot, roasted peanuts."

"You got a bad reaction, huh?"

"Yeah, I've got something like that."

## Chapter 5

And that's the way it went, a three hundred and fifty-pound man digging his elbows into my ribs every time riders cross the finish line. Every time he did my indigestion got worse. Then there is the time when I drifted back to the bar. I could hear the music from the Juke Box and see the little redhead smiling at me over a chilled bottle of red wine.

"Hey, look at that Little Boy Blue. That's my boy, huh?" the guy next to me said.

"Uh, huh."

"Something wrong, pal?"

"Your elbows, sir. It keeps finding my ribs,"

"Oh, sorry pal. You don't feel well, huh?" he smiled.

"Oh, I feel great, pal."

"Well, that's good. Hey! There he goes, he going to out run them all."

"I hope he doesn't run this way," I frowned.

## Chapter 6

And on and on it went. The red head, the watered down beer coming back to haunt me and my fat friend with the sharp elbow and me. Then something else between the third and fourth race, that little voice I keep locked away in the back of my head that tries its best to remind me of things he thinks I might overlook.

"Randall."

"Ah, go away," I said to myself.

"You say something, pal?" the guy next to me asked.

"No. Look, there goes your boy," I pointed.

"Yeah, he's going to win this one. Look at him go!"

"Randall," the voice said again.

"What do you want?"

"That envelope you're going to pick up."

"Well, what about it?"

"What's in the envelope, Randall?"

"Who cares?" I whisper to myself.

"It might be trouble."

"Oh, go away."

"You talking to me, pal?" the guy next to me asked.

"It might be big trouble, Randall," the voice said.

"I asked you a question, pal," the guy next to me said.

"Oh, shut up," I answered.

"Oh, is that right," he said.

"No, sir, not you."

He stands up, "You told me to shut up, pal."

"Look, sir. I'm having a little trouble tonight. I just don't feel too well," I tell him.

"That doesn't give you any right to say shut up."

"Alright, I'm going. I should have a long time ago," I tell him.

## Chapter 7

The whole thing had gotten out of hand. A chain reaction was starting with the red head in my office and exploding in the middle of Master Station Park. I stagger out into the night air and sat in the rain for a while until I lost the fever. By eleven, I had definitely sworn off warm, watered down beer and roasted nuts and tried my best to think of the little redhead only as a paying client. The race finally ends and the crowd pours out on the wet pavement. I waited in the rain for the man with the envelope.

"Hello, pal," the guy who sat near me said.

"Oh, no," I said.

"We won, pal. He ran past them all."

"Swell."

"Hey, you shouldn't be standing out in the rain. You might catch your death," he smiled.

"Well, I've got to meet someone."

"I know you weren't feeling too well inside."

"I still don't feel well," I said.

"You better go on home, pal."

"Look, buddy, I've got to meet somebody."

"You've met him," he smiled.'

"Huh?"

"Here's the envelope."

"What?"

"Now go on home, pal, before you really get sick."

## Chapter 8

I did as he said, straight to my apartment; a hot tub and a fifth of whiskey were all poor confused private eyes go when nothing else works. I headed down Limestone with the envelope in my pocket trying desperately to convince myself liquor was not the answer. I turn down Third Street, walked a half a block and stops. I had to stop, there were two big men standing in front of me, and they had two big guns.

"Get in the alley, friend," the bigger guy said.

"Not tonight, I've been sick, guys," I said.

"Give me the envelope," he said.

"But wait a minute."

"Shut up," he said, Taking the envelope and opening it.

"Is it all there?" the smaller one asked.

"Yeah."

"Holly, shit!" I said.

"You didn't know you were carrying all that cash?" he asked.

"I sure didn't."

"You surprised, huh?"

I shrug, "A little."

"You won't tell anybody about it, will you?" he smiled.

"Well....a...."

"Will you tell anybody about us?" the little guy asked.'

"But how could I ever forget you - such handsome boys," I smiled.

"We'll help you, pal," the big one said.

"Sure!" the little one adds.

Show him how to forget, huh, Eddie?" the big one orders.

"Oh, now wait a minute....:

The first smack caught me on the left cheek knocking me to one leg. I tried to run out of the alley.

"Grab him." the big one said.

"There you are," Eddie's breath smells of cigarettes and cheap whiskey.

"Hold him up," the big guy told him.

"After the third smack, the darkness starts to take over, and the pain floats away.

Eddie stops a moment breathing hard.

"Winded?" the big one asked.

"Yes, I guess I'll have to start playing handball or something to get in shape."

"Want me to take over, Eddie?"

"Naw, he's out. Just drop him."

He drops me and said, "You think he'll forget?"

"No, but he sure won't go running his mouth," the big guy laughs.

"What's so, funny?"

"Just thinking about the cold he's going to catch in this wet alley."

## Chapter 9

The two big thugs had worked me over good. They'd stayed away from my face and concentrated on the general areas my stomach, ribs, and the lower back. When I start coming around, I decide immediately that I'm the sickest man in the whole state. I stay on my face, lying on the cold, wet road of the alley while cold rain pounds down. The water cascading from a nearby storm drain ran out and made a pond around my head then curled around my face. I roll over on my back. I look up between the tall buildings that fronted the narrow alley, their roofs lost in the dark grey night above.

A girl laughs somewhere around me and I tried to raise myself up on my elbows. The rain is coming down harder now as I pull my legs under me and made it to my knees. Then I reach out and felt a wall next to me.

The girl laughs again and I pull myself up the wall. I lean against the wall until I felt like I could walk and started for the street. She laughs again, and suddenly it sounded personal like she could see me. The whole bit is like she's laughing at the whole horrible evening.

"Aw, shut up!!!" I yelled.

## Chapter 10

The last three blocks to my apartment are pretty painful but by the time I got there, I'm feeling a lot better. I could get that hot bath, about eight hours of sleep and deal with things in the morning. I walked up and open my door and there stood the one thing that's sure to make the rest of the evening look like a Roller Derby.

"Hello, Randall what happened?"

"How'd you get in here, Melissa?" I asked.

"I got in. You look terrible," she said.

"Oh, I feel great. It's about the envelope."

"What happened, Randall?"

"Two men with two guys shoved me in an alley. They worked me over and took the envelope. Now you don't mind if I pour myself something strong enough to take the pain away, do you?"

"They got the envelope, Randall?"

"Every bit of it. Incidentally, I thought you were going to meet me in my office?"

"The man who gave you the envelope called me. He said you were acting strangely."

"Oh, who was the big guy?"

"A friend. What did the two men look like that beat you up?"

"I was too busy watching their guns to notice."

"You don't look bruised."

"Oh, I don't, huh? They worked on my stomach stick around while I get out of this wet coat and shirt and I'll give you a close up."

"I paid you to get that envelope, Randall."

"Okay, but somebody wanted it more than you did. I don't blame them, Melissa."

"What do you mean?"

"There was quite a lot of loose cash in that envelope. It looks like all hundreds, enough to make a stick-up worthwhile anyway."

"You opened it?"

"No, Melissa, they opened it for me. What's the twenty questions, lady? You got your money's worth out of me. I took a pretty fair beating."

"You didn't do what I paid you for, Randall."

"Okay, here is your money back, just leave me enough for some pain pills."

"There was twenty-five thousand dollars in that envelope."

"Look, what do you want from me? I'm sorry it's just one of those things. I'm sorry I ever got mixed up with the thing in the first place."

She looked at me and frowns asking; "Are you sure you got held up, Randall?"

"Oh, now wait a minute."

"I wouldn't like it if you crossed me, Randall."

"The name's Mr. Stone and what's with you. You came into my office looking like a poor little girl, bat your big blue eyes, and then send me off to the slaughter house."

"You lost me twenty-five thousand dollars, Randall."

"Excuse me, Miss Carr. I've got to change my clothes now."

I walk toward the bathroom. I heard a loud smash, and a body hits the floor.

## Chapter 11

"Well, did I get a big surprise. Melissa Carr, the sweet little blue eyed redhead steps aside to let me pass, then let me have it with the purse. I could stand, but she must have had a brick in it because I went down and out faster than a skid row wino. When I came to, I found myself looking up into a large object that looks like a vest button over a shirt. The shirt stretches over a fat stomach that belonged to the one and only Lieutenant Vic Morgan.

"How do you feel, Randall?" he asked.

"Would you really like to know, Vic?"

"Why, sure if you make it interesting."

"I think I may kill somebody."

"Huh."

"No, as a matter of fact, I may kill two or three people."

"It's getting interesting, pal," Vic smiled.

"I may start with you, just for the fun of it, Vic."

"You better try and stand up."

"Oh, what's the use? People just knock me down again and again all night long, people been knocking me down."

"Here, Randall, I'll give you a hand."

"That's all I've been getting all evening, hands right in the face and fists with pocket books."

"I saw you at the track."

"Well, goody for you."

"We had your seat staked out, pal."

"You what?"

"We wanted to see who passed you the envelope."

"You know about the envelope?"

"We knew it was going to be passed tonight. We knew it was supposed to be passed to whoever took that seat."

"Do you know what was in the envelope?"

"Sure, money."

"Yeah, twenty-five thousand dollars. What's this all about, Vic?"

"It's a fixed main event. We had a tip. You can imagine how I felt when I saw you climb into that seat tonight. You see we're tipped Black Lighting the front runner would lose again, can't understand why he didn't. Who were you picking up the envelope for, Randall?"

"A girl named, Melissa Carr."

"You know where we can find her?"

"No, but I'm going to find out. Come on, while I get into some warm clothes."

"Sure."

"How come you didn't tell me, Vic?"

"We did. I had a man on you, but he lost you on Second Street."

"I was in an alley being robbed."

"You were what?"

"Two guys worked me over and took the envelope."

"Shit!"

"What about that fat guy at the race? The one who passed me the envelope."

"We started to pick him up, but guess he didn't like the idea of being arrested. He had a gun, and when he used it, we had to kill him."

## Chapter 12

Well, finally I knew what I'd stepped into, and it smelled pretty bad. A pretty redhead named Melissa Carr, who's mixed up in it and a fat man who had gotten mixed up in it and died for his trouble. It sounds like a big time gambling gig, so I left the apartment and head for The Blue Pigeon. It's owned by one of the biggest gamblers in Central City.

"Well, it's good to see you, Randall," John Taylor said.

"Want to do me a favor, John?"

"It depends, pal."

"Know a girl named, Melissa Carr?"

"Melissa Carr?"

"She's a redhead, about five feet four, a real head turner."

"I don't know her, Randall. You want me to see what I can find out?"

"Yeah! What do you know about the race fix, John?"

"I don't know anything."

"Oh, come on, John, this is big time."

"I can help you, Randall. The girl mixed up in it?"

"Yeah! There was a twenty-five thousand dollar payoff that was supposed to go to her tonight. I picked it up like a big idiot and got smacked around for my trouble. I'm a little unhappy."

"I can't help you with the fix. You know how it is. But the girl, I'll see what I can find out."

"Thanks, John. Oh, by the way...."

"Yeah?"

"You know two big guys, one of them is named, Eddie?"

"Eddie? No, can't help you there either."

## Chapter 13

I sat in the car a moment thinking what to do on next pulled out my phone and put in a call downtown.

"Homicide, Lieutenant Morgan."

"Randall, Vic."

"You find out anything?"

"No. Do me a favor and see what you can dig up on those guys who worked me over. They are big guys, over six feet, one named Eddie."

"Well, that's a lot to go on."

"They're local boys, Vic. Must work for a gambling syndicate or somebody connected with gambling, experts in strong-arm stuff."

"I'll see what I can find out. What about the girl?"

"Nothing yet."

"Where can I reach you?"

"Home, I'm sleeping all night. My phone will be off. I'm getting up around ten and going over to see a guy named Martin Grace."

## Chapter 14

I could hear somebody hitting the bag and the sound of punches thrown as I climb the steps.

"Okay, Martin works on the heavy bag for a while and hits the shower."

"Right, Joe."

"Hello, Martin."

"Huh, Oh, Hello, Randall. You know Joe White?"

"Yeah. Hello, Joe."

"Hey there Randall."

"Got a minute, Martin?"

"What's up?"

"I want a favor."

"Sure, Randall."

"Could we talk in your office, Martin?"

"I don't see why not," he smiled.

I follow him across the floor to a small room marked manager, and he shut the door.

"What's the deal, Randall?"

"Who fixed the race last night?"

"What?"

"I talked to Lieutenant Morgan. Black Lighting was supposed to be fixed last night."

"Oh, now come on. He won didn't he?"

"Yeah and he caused a lot of trouble by winning. People got beat up and killed."

"You got to be kidding, Randall."

"Alright. You know a girl name, Melissa Carr?"

"No. I've never heard of her."

"John Taylor, got a girl, huh?"

"Yeah, but her name ain't Melissa Carr," he said.

My cell phone rings.

"Hello."

"Randall?"

"What is it, Vic?"

"Are you still looking for, Melissa Carr?"

"Yeah."

"Well, meet me at the morgue. I think we found her or what's left of her."

## Chapter 15

We take the elevator down to the basement and walk the long highly polish floor to the door at the end of the hall marked morgue. We enter the swinging door, and a guy in a white lab coat pulls out a slab.

"Well?" Vic asked.

"Yeah, that's Melissa Carr," I nod.

"Okay, roll it back, Sam," Vic said to the lab coat.

"What happened, Vic?" I ask.

"We fished her out of the river. She's shot six times."

"That's terrible. Tell me did you find out anything about the two guys who held me up?"

"Not yet, but we did find out about the fat guy we shot."

"What?"

"Name's Albert Davis. He has a long record, small-time bookmaker. He's been operating for the last two years."

"That's not much, Vic."

"Guess who put him in business, your friend, John Taylor."

## Chapter 16

Well, it didn't mean much. John Taylor had set a lot of guys up in the bookmaking business and just because the fat guy who passed me the envelope is one of them; there still wasn't a connection between him; Taylor and the racing gig. I left Vic and start walking. It had stop raining and the sun's trying to push its way through the clouds.

"I gave myself eight to five it wouldn't make it and turned down Upper Street. That's when I spot him. I'd noticed him when I walked out of the police department, and he stayed with me all the way to Fifth. I turn off, and he did too. I had a tail. I pick a small bar and went in, about a minute later he pushed his way through the door, spot me and heads for my booth. I put my hand inside my coat and wait.

"I'm Allen Wilson," he said.

"Good for you," I replied. "You're the trainer of Black Light, huh?"

"Yeah. You know, Melissa Carr?"

"How well do you know her?"

"Her real name's Ann Carpenter. I'm in love with her. You know where she is?"

"Why should I know?" I asked squeezing the grip of the 9mm Beretta.

"She disappeared, and I'm worried stiff. I know she came to see you because she told me she was going to. I heard Martin call you Randall, and I asked him who you were. He told me, and I followed you. You know where I can find her, Mr. Stone?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, where - where?"

"You been throwing, races, haven't you?"

"Are you crazy?"

"Melissa flashed those big blue eyes, and you threw the race."

"Now wait a minute mister."

"Sit down!" I ordered. "She took you for a big ride, huh?"

"Look, Mr. Stone, I don't care if you got a gun or not..."

"You know why she hired me, kid?"

"Yeah."

"To pick up a twenty-five thousand dollar payoff."

"Yeah. Okay, so I threw the race. We wanted to get married."

"Who was she working with, John Taylor?"

"Okay, Mr. Stone, I'm in trouble. Now tell me where I can find Melissa."

"I'll take you to her in a minute."

"Is she alright? Is she in trouble?"

"Well, you might say that, hey wait a minute."

"What's the matter?"

"Those two guys that just came in coming this way."

"What about them, Mr. Stone?"

"The guy on the left is Eddie. He took the money."

"Hello, pal," Eddie smiled.

"Allen, your girl's dead!" I yelled.

"What?" he snapped.

"Come on, pal. Get out of the booth. We want to talk to the both of you," Eddie ordered.

"You're lying to me, Mr. Stone," Allen said.

"No, Allen, she's in the morgue and these two guys put her there," I tell him.

"She's in.....Why, you dirty..."

Allen leaped to his feet turning the table over.

"Look out, Eddie!" the smaller guy yelled.

## Chapter 17

Allen went after the two killers, and I went after my gun. A gunshot explodes follow by a loud scream.

Eddie never got his gun free because I shot him right through the neck. He gasps for air and drops to the floor, and the smaller guy leaned beside him.

"Gets an ambulance, pal, Eddie's bleeding," he yelled.

"You were kidding about, Melissa, weren't you Mr. Stone?" Allen asked.

"No, kid."

"Ohhhh," Allen cried.

"An ambulance, please, Eddie needs an ambulance," the small guy pleaded.

"Tell me who sent you? Then Eddie gets an ambulance," I tell him.

"John Taylor. We work for Mr. Taylor, pal."

## Chapter 18

Well, there it is, and it's all tied up. Melissa Carr worked for John Taylor got a nice young man to throw a few horse races. Then she figured she could make a killing of her own and crossed her boss. I got hold of Vic, and we went down and pick up John Taylor. We broke him down after an hour of questioning.

"Alright, Randall! Yeah, I sent the boys to kill her," Taylor said.

"How'd you know Melissa crossed you?" Vic asked.

"Oh, that simple, Vic. Melissa placed her bet with the wrong bookmaker," I smiled.

"Yeah, that's right. I put Albert Davis in business. He came right to me. I had Eddie Payne, and Jim Hutton stashed out to get the money, and the only reason they didn't kill you, Stone, is because you were a friend."

"Do me a favor, will you, Taylor?" I asked.

"Sure, what?" he asked.

"Don't ever call me a friend again."

When Stone's hired to pick up an envelope for Mellissa, it's supposed to be a simple case, but nothing is as it seems when you're a private eye. On the way back from the pickup, Stone is covered by two thugs that use him as a punching bag. Now Stone carries out his own brand of justice on the streets of Central City.

#  I'm Going to Die

### B.A. Savage

## Chapter 1

I got out of bed early; I had a bath, shave, dress in a clean new brown suit and walk down to Family Diner. I order eggs, four slices of Turkey bacon and coffee. After shooting the shit with Ali, the owner, I walk across the street to a building, took the elevator to the second floor and walked down the hall to my office. I hear the phone ring when I step through the door.

"Stone Detective Agency," I answer.

"Hi."

"Hi, Jennifer."

"I just called to tell you. I made a reservation at Logan's."

"Logan's?"

"Yes, our dinner date tonight. Don't tell me you forgot about it?"

"Jennifer, the shape my pocket's in I couldn't even pay Logan's tip."

"Oh, Randall, you're not broke again."

"That's the third time I've heard that question today. Ali said the same thing when he asked me to tip the waiter."

"Oh? Who else is interested in your finances?"

"The furniture repo people. They're sending a man around to take my desk and chair."

"Oh, Randall."

"It's not so bad. I'll sit on the floor and tell clients I'm Japanese."

"About tonight. Why don't you come to my place for dinner?"

The door opens and closed.

"Wait a minute," I said.

"What's the matter?"

"It's the furniture repo company. They work fast."

I hear the door lock.

"The man's come to take your stuff away?"

"Yeah. But he must want more than the furniture. He just locked the door. Jennifer, I'll call you back."

"Bye, Randall."

"Bye, Jennifer," I put the receiver on the cradle. "Oh, are you from the furniture repo company?"

In steps a Puerto Rican guy. "I lock the door," he said.

"So I see. What happens next?" I asked.

He closes and locks the windows.

"I lock the windows," he smiled.

"Aren't you going to pull the shades?" I asked.

"Yes. How I pull the shades."

"I have to admit it. This is a new twist on repossessing furniture."

"If you don't mind Mr. Stone, I sit down."

"Sure. You can do what you like,"

"It is only, that I am afraid. It makes a weakness of the knees," he said.

"You're not from the furniture company, huh?"

"I don't know what of is this talk of furniture companies. My name's Lorenzo. I am going to die."

## Chapter 2

After hearing what Lorenzo said, I sat back in the chair trying not to laugh in his face.

"You've got the wrong place, pal. There's an undertaker around the corner of Third Street," I smiled.

"Please, sir, don't joke. I am going to be killed. I do not want to be killed."

"That's understandable."

"I want you to protect me. I am prepared to pay well, Mr. Stone. My life is valuable."

"Is it worth four hundred a day and expenses?"

"It is worth more than that. Here. Eight hundred dollars for protecting me. And another four hundred to deliver this letter to Tony."

"Tony?"

"Tony Ramirez. The man who's going to kill me."

"You want me to take a letter to the man who's going to kill you?"

"Yes, sir. It is of the utmost, Mr. Stone. The door," he points.

"What's the matter with it?"

"Someone's outside."

I shrug, "I don't hear anything. But if you insist, I'll..."

He grabs my arm. "No. Don't do it. I must have been mistaken."

"You probably heard the rats. They walk heavy around here," I smiled.

"Mr. Stone, there is little time. I will explain the matter to you."

"It might be helpful."

"Tony was released from prison this morning. He is after me. This letter will change his mind."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Hide me in a safe place. Then take the letter to Tony, quickly."

"You've bought yourself a protector. Where do I find Tony?"

"Someplace in Northpark. The Puerto Rican section of the city."

"Northpark's a big area, Lorenzo."

Tony's mother. She runs a Deli on Ciego Street. Her name's Ami Ramirez. Maybe she will tell you where to find him."

"Come on. I'll drop you at my apartment. You'll be all right there."

"Mr. Stone."

"Yes?"

"Please, Mr. Stone, don't let me die."

## Chapter 3

I could tell by the look on Lorenzo's face he wasn't fooling. By the time I lock him in my apartment, he's terrified. I tucked his letter in my pocket and taxied to the Northpark. It's no problem finding Ami's Deli. The jukebox is playing loud enough to shake the filling out of a dentist's teeth. But the girl who walked towards me from the bar was no dentist. The way she looked at me proved it.

"You like it, baby," she said rolling her hips with the music.

"Yeah. All of it," I smiled.

"Just call me Brookie. You look lost, honey. Dance with me,"

"Another time. I'm trying to find somebody," I said.

"You'll find what you want with me. Come on dance, handsome."

"Later, Brookie. Your type of dancing takes time."

"Oh. This somebody you're trying to find, who is it?"

"Ami Ramirez."

"She not your type, handsome," she smiled.

"How do I know till I see her? Anyhow, I'm really looking for her son."

"Oh, Tony."

"You say it so tenderly. You must know him," I said.

"I ought to. I'm his girl."

"Okay. Then he should be here."

"He was. But he went out."

"And left you all alone, huh? Oh, that's foolish. You know where he went?"

"Uh-huh. But I'd get in trouble if I tell you."

"What if I buy you a drink? Will you tell me then?"

She smiles.

"Make it two drinks. And one fast rumba," I smiled.

She laughs. "You're sweet, handsome. What's your name?"

"Well, my clients call me Randall Stone."

"Your name is sweet, too. You make me want to do something for you."

I smiled. "Like telling me where Tony is? What stops you?"

"Tony's mama. Ami. She told me not to tell anybody where he is."

"When is Tony coming back?"

"You're a little impatient, handsome."

"It keeps me on my toes."

"Why do you want Tony?"

"I've got a letter for him."

"Is it an important letter?"

"It could keep Tony from getting in trouble."

"Well, why don't you give it to me? I'll see that he gets it."

"You'd make a sexy letter carrier. But I'm afraid I'll have to deliver this myself."

"Suit yourself, handsome. You'll find Ami upstairs. She's at the end of the hall on the third floor. Maybe she'll tell you where Tony is."

"Thanks. I'll try my luck."

"Come back sometime and dance with me. Be good, Mr. Stone."

"I'll try, Brookie."

## Chapter 4

She gave me a smile that'll curl a prisoner's toes. Then she turns back to the bar. Around the corner from the Deli is a doorway that led to the upper part of the building. I start up the stairs. In the back of the building, somebody's playing drums. He had a long way to go. I passed a woman and a man arguing. When I reach the third floor, a woman is leaning over the banister. I guessed she's Ami Ramirez. But I wasn't sure, so I asked. She looks me over for a moment before she answers.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Randall Stone. I'm looking for Tony," I smiled.

"Come in."

I follow her into a room.

"Tony never spoke of Randall Stone," she said.

"That's easy. He doesn't know me."

"What do you want, amigo?"

"Tony. I've got to see him."

"We drink a little first. There is whiskey and gin. You are a drinker of whiskey, huh?"

"I guess you'd be disappointed if I said no."

"In the Northpark, it is an insult to refuse to drink, Mr. Stone. You drink whiskey, yes?"

She picks up a glass wipes it out with a rag and fills it with cheap Canadian whiskey.

"Drink, amigo, please," she smiled.

"Here's to your health," I said.

She downs it in one gulp and said, "What do you want with my son, Tony?"

"You might say I'm a high paid delivery man."

"You talking in circles, amigo. Tony has spent five years in jail. He's tired. I tell nobody where he is."

"Would it help if I said I came from, Lorenzo?"

"Lorenzo? Go back downtown, amigo. We have enough trouble in the Northpark."

"How would you like to see Tony go back to jail?"

"I told you to leave the Northpark," she ordered.

"If he goes back, this time, it will be for murder."

"What do you mean, Murder?"

"Unless I give Tony this letter."

"The letter. It will keep Tony from killing?"

"That depends on how he likes what's in it."

"All right, Mr. Stone. You go to Tony here. I will write the address."

## Chapter 5

She hands me a slip of paper with the address and told me to hurry. Then she ran to the telephone on the wall. I looked back on my way out and saw her whispering urgently into the phone. I could tell she's talking about me. But I didn't stop to find out what she's saying. My chief worry is getting to Tony in time to stop him from carving up my client. The address Tony's mother had given me is near the central market. I cut across the marketplace, passed the veggie stalls and in the middle of the meat stands I felt an enormous sweaty hand on my shoulder. I look around to see if it had a body attach to it. It did: a large clammy man.

"He's stuffing tamale in his mouth with his free hand. When he talks, his voice match everything else about him.

"Please, Mr. Stone. You walk too fast. I get tired easily."

"You know my name. So maybe you'd better keep talking," I said.

"Would you like to share some of this tamale?"

"No thanks, and stop spattering the juice on my coat."

"I won't detain you long. But you have something I want."

"You're just flattering me, huh?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't like some of this tamale?" he said.

"What's on your mind, sir?"

"Mr. Lorenzo gave you a letter. I want it, please."

"Why? Are you a stamp collector?"

"Please, Mr. Stone. I told you I get tired easily. Perhaps I neglected to say. I also get angry easily."

"I'm glad you told me."

"You know I try to remain calm. But you are being difficult."

"Look, pal. You're scaring the customers away from the meat stands. Now get out of my way," I tell him.

"Certainly. As soon as you give me the letter."

"It's not going to happen, pal."

"You will persist in being an asshole, Mr. Stone. Give me that letter," he said grabbing my arm with his hand. As he clamps down it felt like a vice grip.

"Okay, here," I said hitting him in the stomach.

"I'll fix you," he said swinging a left punch toward my head. I duck delivering another in his gut. He's breathing hard, and he throws a right to my jaw, I duck under hurling two uppercut cut to his gut.

He falls back into the meat stand, breaking down the table and crushing the ground beef.

The vendor looks at me and said, "Mister. You have upset my meat stand."

"I'm sorry. Here. I'll help you pick up the items."

"That's okay. The items will be cleaned up. But who will help you up later?"

"What?"

"My heart is large for you, mister. The man you have knocked into the food section. He's Tom Cain."

"It's a little late for introductions."

"Senor Cain, he's a big man in the Northpark area. And an evil man," he said.

"I'll take your word for it."

"Now he lies so still on the ground. But watch out mister. Because he will not be long quiet."

## Chapter 6

I thanked the meat vendor for his warning and gave him fifty dollars to cover the damage I did. Then I took a final look at Cain. He's still resting comfortably, his head surrounded by a halo of chicken blood. I wanted to put an apple in his open mouth, but time is getting short, and I had a job to do. The letter I'm carrying is obviously too important to nestle in my pocket much longer. I thread my way through a couple of alleys, dodge some rats big enough to kick a cat's ass and in a few minutes knock on what I hope Tony's door.

The door open and a man ask, "Your name's Stone."

"I certainly have a following in the Northpark area," I smiled.

"Yeah. Come in."

"I didn't have a chance to ask my last admirer. But tell me. How did you know my name?"

"Never mind. Just give me the letter."

"You certainly learn fast. Lorenzo didn't say you'd know about it."

"Look, Stone. I've just spent five years in jail. I got a lot of things to take care of. Give me the letter."

"I might as well. It's addressed to you."

He rips open the letter, pause a moment and said, "That no good."

"Hey, that's not the way you're supposed to react."

"All right, Stone. You've done your job. Now leave."

"I'd like to make Senor Lorenzo feel happy. Some kind words from you would help," I smiled.

"I said you could leave."

"You mean there's no answer?"

"Answer? Yeah, come to think of it, there is. This..." he backhands me hard across the chin, and I hit the floor.

## Chapter 7

It happened so quickly I didn't know what he used to slug me. But he had hit me, and I went out colder than an Eskimo's dinner. I must have covered the floor for about an hour. When I woke up, Tony's gone. I figured it was time to check on the health of my client. It took me another twenty minutes to get to my apartment. When I open the door, I'm relieved to see Lorenzo sitting at the table, a pleased expression on his face. I cross the room, touched him on the shoulder and his body fell forward onto the floor. Suddenly I understood why he's pleased. Senor Lorenzo could stop being afraid of dying. He's dead. I stretched his body, out on the floor. Then I saw a note pinned to his shirt. It said: "Stone in the Northpark it is healthier to mind your own business."

## Chapter 8

I put in a call to homicide, and thirty minutes later three detectives, the crime scene unit, and Lieutenant Vic Morgan walks through the door.

"Hello, Randall."

"Well, it's nice of you to show up, Lieutenant. I only called thirty minutes ago."

"Yeah, I know you said it's important. Holly shit where'd you get him?"

"I didn't get him. I inherited him."

"It's a neat job, Randall. He's Stabbed. Who did it?"

"Somebody with a knife, I guess."

"Very funny."

"Aren't you going to ask who he is?"

"I don't have to. His name's Lorenzo. When did you start playing the lottery?"

"The lottery?"

"The old Northpark racket. Everybody up there plays it. It's strictly under cover, of course."

"What's Lorenzo got to do with it?"

"He was in it up to his ears. He used to be Tony Ramirez right-hand man."

"Was Tony mixed up in the lottery?"

Vic laughs saying, "Are you kidding me? He ran the whole damn thing. That's why we took him out of circulation for five years. Funny thing about Tony, funny thing."

"Don't keep me waiting, Vic. I'm dying for a laugh."

"You got a beer?"

"Sure look in the cooler. What about Tony?"

"The way we picked him up. We caught him red-handed. He was printing lottery tickets when we walked in."

"How convenient. I'll bet your informant told you just when he'd be publishing them."

"Almost. We were tipped off by a phone call."

"Who called you, Vic?"

"We never did know. And neither did Tony. He got violent at his trial. He kept screaming he'd get the guy who squealed on him. Hey, I've got to call the office."

"Sure, thing Vic. Make yourself at home. Slam the door when you leave."

Vic walks back to the bedroom, "Come back here, Randall. I want to ask you a question."

I put my jacket on and walks towards the door.

"I'll see you later, Vic. When I got some answers."

## Chapter 9

I walked out of the place and heads towards the Northpark. From almost any angle Tony Ramirez looked good for Lorenzo's murder. But there were a few things that didn't quite fit. I hadn't earned my fee yet, It's eight o'clock in the evening when I reach Ami's Deli. I poke my head in the door and stopped. All the lights were on. There were half-finished drinks on the tables. But the place is empty. I had taken a few more steps inside before I heard it. I could feel the goosebumps growing on the back of my arms: big as hailstones and twice as cold. It's a woman's voice. She's chanting. It's filled with grief and fear. I pause for a minute and then walk toward the sound of the voice. When I reached the rear room, off the bar, I saw something I'll never forget. In the middle of the floor sat, Ami Ramirez. Her face twist into a terrifying look: lips a thin hard line; eyes glaze that barely move as she chanted. And stretch out full length on the floor, his head resting in Ami's lap is Tony Ramirez. There's a big splotch of blood on his white shirt.

"He is dead. My son Tony is dead," she cried.

"I'm sorry, Ami," I said.

"This morning he came home. I was happy. Now my life is over."

"Do you know who did it?"

"Tony was strong. A good son."

"Ami who killed Tony?"

"I do not know. He came to see me. He could not talk. Then he died."

"This afternoon I gave Tony a letter."

"Letter?"

"I'd like to know what's in it. Maybe he still has it on him."

I move towards him, and she stops me saying, "Don't touch him!"

"Ami, I want to know who killed your son, don't you?"

"You want something; Tony has. Take it."

"Maybe it's in this pocket. Yeah. Here's what I want. Oh, great. It would be in Spanish. Ami..."

She lowers her head. "Five years I waited. Now he's dead."

"Ami, tell me what's in this letter. It's important."

"Give it to me. I will read."

After a long pause, I asked, "What does it say?"

"I was wrong. Tony was also wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"Lorenzo. We thought he told the police Tony was head of the lottery."

"Well, didn't he?"

"The rat in the Northpark. We trust him."

I grab her arm. "Who was it? Tell me, Ami?"

"Tom Cain. He told the police about my son. Tony, Tony!" she sobs.

## Chapter 10

She took Tony's head in her hands. Whisper and croon to him the way she must have done when he was one-year-old. I turn and tiptoed from the room. It wouldn't have done any good to ask her more questions. Besides, the jig-saw puzzle that started when a frightened little man walked into my office was beginning to shape into a picture. It wasn't a pretty one. I still wondered about a couple of things, but I needn't have. As soon as I walk out of the house and past an alley, the answer came. It assumed the interesting form of a woman and a gun. The woman took my arm. The gun found my ribs and stays there."

"Hello, handsome," Brooke said.

"Hello, must you use that gun?"

"Little Brooke wants you to stay close to her. We're going to take a taxi ride."

"Wait a minute. I've got something to tell you."

"Tell me in the taxi. It's more romantic," she smiled.

"Tony is dead."

"Yes. I know."

"You don't seem to be upset."

"I stopped grieving for Tony a long time ago."

"You know. I have an idea about you."

"Lots of men do, handsome."

"This idea is different. It says you traded in Tony five years ago for a chunk of fat named Tom Cain."

"You're making me mad, handsome. Come on. We have a visit to make."

## Chapter 11

I had intended to try to take Cain while he's standing on the edge of the water. But somebody beat me to it. The two shots must have caught him in his broad midsection. He fell off the dock into the River before I could grab him. The faint light from the Ohio shore found a circle of ripples where Cain had hit the water. Then the ripples were gone, and there's nothing. I walk back along the dock. Then suddenly I realize who had shot Cain. I'm wasting time. It's about seven blocks back to the lottery headquarters. I made it in a little less than eight minutes. But when I race up the stairs, I heard the shots. I sling open the door. Then I slowed down. There's no reason to hurry now. Brooke lay on the floor, dead. And standing over her still holding the gun, is the person who had killed Brooke and Cain.

"The other one...he is dead too?" she asked.

"Yes, Ami. Cain's dead," I assured her.

"We trust them, Tony and me. We believed them."

"You shouldn't have killed them."

"They killed Tony. My son."

"The law would have punished them."

"I know only the law of the Northpark. Those who betray are to be killed.

"I'll have to call the police."

"Yes. Here's the gun, amigo. I have no more need of it."

"Ami, I wish it was another way."

"I can see it in your eyes. You understand. Do you not, amigo?"

I nod my head and forced a smile, saying, "Yes. I understand."

## Chapter 12

Four hours later I sit in the living room of Jennifer Long's home sipping a glass of whiskey. She walks through the door and pours herself a drink.

"Come to bed, Randall."

"I'm not sleepy."

"You're still feeling blue aren't you?"

"Yes, Jennifer."

"About Ami Ramirez?"

"Yeah. I must be getting soft, but I can't forget her face. The look in her eyes when she was talking about Tony."

"Oh, come here, Randall," she kisses me on the lips. "There does that help?"

"I knew I could count on you, honey," I smiled.

"I like being counted on."

"Jennifer."

"Uh huh?"

"I've got an idea. Let's go out some place we can dance. I'd like to listen to music. Very loud."

"Well, I could still get that table at Logan's.

"Do you mind?"

"Of course not. You know, Randall, there's something about this case you just finished. I can't figure out."

"What's that?"

"This girl, Brooke, she was a very fancy female, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, very elegant."

"What made her give up a good looking boy like Tony for that awful Mr. Cain?"

"Jennifer, this proves something I've always thought about you."

"What?"

I smiled. "You just don't understand women."

When a Puerto Rican man walks into Stone's office and tells him; he's going to die Stone's asked to deliver a letter to the man who's trying to kill the Puerto Rican. A guy just released from prison named Tony Ramirez. And when two men are murdered, Stone tries to find the link between the dead men and lottery racket in the Northpark area.

#  It's Called Murder

### B.A. Savage

## Chapter 1

It's a bright day full of promise, as they say in the novel. The eggs were just right at the Family Diner, and the waitress gave me an extra helping of strawberry jelly, instead of her lip. On the bus, going down to the office, a young man relinquish his seat to me, without a scene. And I entered my office at nine on the dot. True, the maid who'd never seen me there at that hour thought I was a burglar. When I identified myself, she apologizes. I oil the hinges on the door, dust the place. Then I sat at the desk, sharpened up a pencil and made ready to take down the tragic story of my first client for the day. Do you know it worked? Five minutes later the door opens.

"You are, Mr. Stone?"

"I am. Won't you take a seat?" I smiled.

"Thank You. I am Scott Braga."

"Again, please?"

"Scott Braga. It is from São Paulo, Brazil."

"Oh yes, of course. Sorry, I'm a little behind in my São Paulo these days."

"I have a problem for you to help me. But I say to myself, why would you?"

"Well, suppose we talk about the problem and see why I should."

"I have a son. I would like to see him."

"Any particular reason why you can't, Mr. Braga?"

"He doesn't come home.

"How much time?"

"Oh-eight months, maybe nine."

"Sounds like he doesn't want to come home."

"Oh, no, Mr. Stone. It's only that he's so busy. He is making his way in life."

"You have an idea where he might be?"

"Oh sure right here in Central City."

"And he doesn't come home to see you?"

"Oh, he comes once in a while, since he left two years ago. But for almost a year no."

"I hate to say this Mr. Braga, but maybe he's in trouble somewhere."

"Oh, not Donald! He could have hung around the neighborhood where we live if he wanted to get into trouble. There are gangs with knives, poolroom, and saloons. No, he doesn't do this. He goes out to make himself a real life to be proud of, Mr. Stone."

"You think a lot of him, don't you?"

"He is no Martin Luther King, but when you think how little I have given him in life to start out with, he is alright. Yes, Mr. Stone, he's alright."

"Are you sure he's actually in Central City?"

"I am sure. He sent me a postcard once or twice. I know he is just too busy to come."

"Uh huh."

"Please find him, Mr. Stone. I want to see him right away. It is important."

"I see. Something going wrong at your home?"

"I am going to leave the city. I have an excellent job offered to me in a city called New York."

"When are you leaving?"

"I have to leave tonight."

"Tonight? That's a pretty short order in such a big city, Mr. Braga."

"I have read in the paper. They say how clever you are."

"Well, they say anything to sell copies."

"Please find Donald and tell him his old man would like to see his face once more."

"How old is he? What does he look like?"

"I have his picture. Here. He looks like me when I was a boy. Twenty years old. Find him, Mr. Stone. I want to see him once more before I go."

## Chapter 2

He tried to press five crumpled hundred dollar bills into my hand, but I couldn't take his money. It didn't seem like much of a job, but he had a look on his face that could only have been put there by many years of suffering, and I felt I could, at least, suffer one day on his behalf.

When he left, he gave me an address on Fifth Street, a neighborhood that most anybody wants to stay away from. Maybe that's why I dropped in at Homicide to see if Donald Braga has a record. He did. It's quite long. I find out where Donald has been some of that time his father didn't see him. He is at the moment, technically, on probation. Captain Carter, of Robbery Detail, gave me the line on where Donald usually hung out. It seems it's going to be the easiest job of my career. But nothing is easy for a private eye working the street of Central City.

## Chapter 3

I follow the trial of Donald Braga in and out of West Fifth, and gathering places for small-time hard men.

"Finally, a little footsore and thirsty, I slid onto a stool at a small bar, invitingly call Dirty Bull. The bartender's playing the lead,

"What'd you want, pal?"

"Donald Braga, and beer."

"What?"

"Seen, Donald around?"

"What's a matter, pal, you blind?"

"No, but..."

"You don't even know Donald Braga, do you?" he asked.

"I never claim I did. I just want to know if he is here."

"You a cop, huh?"

"No, a friend."

"He's back near the corner next to the bathroom. Reading the newspaper."

"Thanks, pal."

I stepped across the floor and saw a small fellow with long stringy hair, "Donald Braga?" I say.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry. The Wildcats beat Duke, 73 to 65."

"So, I read the sports. Who are you?"

"Randall Stone."

"Now isn't that sweet, now get lost."

"Oh, you're tough. How'd you learn that in the sports section?"

He grabs me by the throat and said, "Listen you...!"

I deliver a palm blow to his nose and his body drops back against the seat.

"You might have broken my nose," he said.

"I'll bust up your whole face if you grab me again."

"I got friends here," he warns me.

I looked around. "I don't see them rushing over to help you."

"Okay, spill it. What do you want?"

"I had a talk with your father this morning."

"The old man? Something happened to him?"

"Yeah. He got a job in New York City. He's leaving town."

"Good. He never liked it here, anyway."

"He'd like to see you before he leaves."

"Okay, you have delivered your message. Get lost."

"You are going to see him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because the best thing I ever did for my old man is forget he's alive. I never caused him anything but trouble all my life. From the time I was born. From the time my mother didn't want me, and hate me because I was born. She reminded me of it, twice a day every day I saw her."

"But that was your mother. I'm talking about your father."

"But, she took it out on him too. You saw my old man. Look at him. Looks eighty. You know how old he is?"

"No."

"He's fifty years old. As a man, he's worth nothing. And so am I, Mr. Stone. Hanging around a dump like this reading a damn newspaper for entertainment."

"Why don't you do something about it, Donald?

"You know, Fifth Street. They have a school inside an abandoned government building, and they educate you for a great life as a dishwasher or a custodian. You're swearing at five, stealing at six, fighting at seven and drinking at eight. I did them all at the same time."

"You must have been the star pupil on Fifth Street."

"I got "A's" in every class but one," he said.

"Well, if you keep hanging around here, you know where you're liable to in up, don't you?"

"I had all that explain to me down at the police department. In case you don't know it, I got several arrests and three convictions. Seven days, thirty days, and eight months,"

"Your time never gets short you know. Always longer," I warn him.

"Go down to the Salvation Army, Mr. Stone and give your sermon. They might listen."

"Your father asked you to call him. He thinks you have something good inside you."

"Well, I don't, I'm telling you. I'm as rotten and dirty as they come. And I'm not going to see him. Get it!"

"I finally understand Donald. I'll tell the poor guy."

"Wait a minute, Mr. Stone. When God passed out the brains maybe he overlooked me. Here. I've got seven hundred bucks. You see that he gets it."

I hear steps and turn to see a big man approaching the table.

"Hey, Donald. We have got to go. Bill's getting antsy. Everybody's waiting for you," he said.

"Keep your mouth shut," Donald said.

"But Bill says if we get there at the wrong time it's our ass."

Donald backhands him across the face. "Didn't I tell you to shut up? How do you know who this guy is?"

"Oh. But you didn't have to throw a blow. That hurt me," the man said.

"I'm sorry."

"Okay, Donald. But Bill won't like it."

"Tell Bill he waits for me. I don't wait for him. Okay, Mr. Stone, give the old man the money. Now get out of here," Donald tells me.

"I'm tired of arguing. But tell me what the one class was on Fifth you didn't get "A" in?"

"It's called murder."

## Chapter 4

I went outside, walk down to the corner and stood in a doorway. It wasn't long before, Donald Braga and two other punks hurried out and jump in a car. Even at that distance, I could tell the lumps under their coats were guns! I caught a tailing taxi. They went all the way across town; until they came to Cooper Drive. They pull up around the corner from a butcher shop and market. Donald and one of his cohorts went in. I did too. A woman standing at the meat counter is reading the ads.

"Under five dollars for one pound hamburger? Are you out of your mind? Can you throw in a few bones for my dog?"

"It's what the wholesaler charges me, lady. I ain't making anything," the Butcher said.

"What shelf's the ketchup on?" she asked.

"Check aisle five, lady."

Being Friday the shopping is heavy, and the crowd thick. I hurriedly searched up and down the aisles for them and got nothing. Then suddenly I saw him, backing out of the doorway marked "Manager." He carried a gun and a bag, heavy with what was obviously money.

They start to run, and that's their mistake. A uniform cop showed up at the front door. He never even gets his gun out, when Donald's bullets cut him down. There are too many people in the way for me to get a shot. I didn't reach the door when I heard their car take off.

"Officer Sandler! They killed officer Sandler," a woman screams.

"Move, please. Let me in there." I tell her.

"They shot him like an animal," she said.

## Chapter 5

Office Steven Sandler is dead before he hits the floor. Donald Braga had gotten his bigger "A" on Fifth Street and if I had anything to do with it, his last.

I put in a call to Lieutenant Vic Morgan and minutes later the street is covered with over sixty cops.

"We'll start tracing the car license, Randall."

"Don't brother, Vic. Ten to one it's stolen."

"Stolen or not, don't worry, we'll get Donald. Every man in the department will be after him if it takes the rest of our lives. Steven Sandler had six months to go for retirement."

"I know you'll get him, Vic, and this is going to sound strange, but do me a favor, will you?"

"If I can, Randall."

"Stay away from his father for a while. I'd like to talk to him first."

## Chapter 6

Mr. Braga's apartment is on the second floor, over a tailor shop, on Ohio, just off Georgetown Street. As I walk up the stairs, I wonder how I'm going to give Donald seven hundred dollars and tell him at the same time his son was a murderer.

I walk up the stairs, stop and the door opens quickly.

"Don't move, Stone, or I'll cut you in half."

"You'd probably try, Donald," I said.

"Stay away from me."

"So you finally had to run to your daddy!"

"I had to go someplace. Now stand still."

"Donald you're as good as dead now. You know that don't you?"

"Shut up, Stone!"

"You killed an officer for a few hundred bucks!"

"I know it. It's done."

"That officer was worth a household of Donald Braga's," I said slowly moving towards him.

"Get back. Go on get back!"

"Doesn't it bother you that you killed an innocent man, in the performance of his duty?"

"So help me, I'll shoot!"

"And a punk like you plays God with a gun."

"Just one more steps, Stone."

"Give yourself up, Donald."

"They'd cut me like hamburger. I'm waiting for dark. I'm getting out of this town."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," I tell him.

"You think I'm afraid to kill you too?"

"Go ahead, Do it here. Your old man will enjoy finding a body in his living room, as a going away gift."

"Turn around, Stone and put your hands behind your head!" he orders.

## Chapter 7

It felt like my head explode and the lights go out. The next thing I remember is running cold water on my head, and then crawling back to the couch to collapse again. Then I felt a wet cloth across my forehead."

"How you end up like this, Mr. Stone in my apartment? Your head!"

"I want to see you. I came in Mr. Braga, slipped on the rug, and hit my head on the coffee table," I lied.

"Oh, that's a shame. Shall I call the doctor?"

"No, sir, the towel is just fine. I guess you're wondering why I'm here."

"I hope it's because you found my son, Donald!

"Yes! I did see him for a minute."

"You saw him? You saw Donald? How is he? Tell me!"

"Well, he was a little busy at the time."

"How did he look? Was he happy?"

"I'm not sure."

"Oh, never mind. Just tell me when is he coming to see me?"

"I don't want you to be disappointed Mr. Braga, but his kind of work keeps him sort of tied up."

"What type of work is it, Mr. Stone?"

"You might say it's general business. You know, handling deals."

He smiles saying, "My son. I knew he had what it takes to get ahead."

"He said he might not be able to see you at the train station."

"He won't!"

"But he told me to give you this."

"Seven hundred dollars! For me, his father. But, I can't take it, Mr. Stone."

"I think he'd like you to."

"No, he needs it to make a bigger success. My heart's fills with thanks to you. Today would be the joyful day of my life if an old friend weren't killed."

"Who was that?"

"A great man, on the street here, Officer Steven Sandler. A robber killed him."

"Yeah! I heard."

"Whoever did that should be burned alive!"

The phone rings.

"Excuse me, Mr. Stone."

"Oh, I'll get it, Mr. Braga," I told him picking up the phone. "Randall speaking."

## Chapter 8

"It's Vic, Randall. Donald Braga was seen on Garden Ridge Drive. We threw a cordon around the area. Every officer who can get in there. So, you want to get your licks in?"

"Thanks, Vic, but no."

"The boys just caught James Campbell, Donald's pal. He tried shooting it out. He's three pounds heavier now, but the extra slugs we pumped into him never bothered a dead man. Donald the same type. He'll never give up alive."

"I'll read all about it in the papers, Vic."

"Something wrong, Randall? You don't sound like you."

"I'm not. So long, Lieutenant." I put the phone down and said, "I told him to call me here. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Braga?"

"Not at all. He's a police Lieutenant?"

"Yes, an old military buddy."

"I wish a man like you were an old friend of Donald. Then he be alright for sure. Maybe he'll be alright anyway if he marries his girl."

"Who's that?"

"Her name is Jessica. Jessica Colin. She's a dancer in a show."

"Which one?"

"I think it on Winchester Road. By the corner of Loudon Avenue."

"Well, thanks, Mr. Braga."

"Thank you. Mr. Stone, maybe this foolish old man talk, but I think my son Donald has a big future someday. Big future. You think so?"

"Yes, Mr. Braga, a big future. It might not be long."

## Chapter 9

It's nine o'clock when I get back to the office. I just sat there in the dark looking out the window, wondering about the little immigrant from Fifth Street. That's about all the service I could give him unless he caught his train out of town before the story of Scott Braga, prodigal son, hit the papers. I thought I'm out of the whole thing, but that's just one more wrong idea I've had in my lifetime.

Suddenly the door opens.

"Always lock your door."

"That wouldn't stop people like you from coming in, Walker. You'd crawl under the entrance."

He slaps me across the face. I go down and see a smile cover Richard Walker and Bob Stanford's mugs.

"Bob, get that shade," Walker told him.

"Right."

"Now we can have a little light. Stone, we're friends of Donald Braga," Walker said.

"Well, you look it. Now, take your ugly friend and get out of here!"

"Walker told you to shut your mouth!"

Bob hit me hard, and I go down again.

"Now listen carefully. They haven't got Donald yet. He's still blocked off somewhere inside that police dragnet," Walker said.

"That's where he belongs. Why don't you swing by and say hello? Maybe Lieutenant Morgan and his boys can get you too," I said.

"I think I'll go to work on this gumshoe, Bob, he's asking for it."

Bob grabs me off the floor, and Walker starts beating me like a speed bag until my legs give out.

"That's enough, Bob; we isn't got any time to kill him right now. Stone, you're going to get Donald out of that dragnet."

"Sure, my helicopter's all gassed up and ready to go. Help yourself."

"You're going to talk to Lieutenant Morgan. You're going to tell him you're over on West Fifth Street. You'll say Donald's hiding out in the old Gold Furniture Warehouse."

"You think Vic'll listen to that?"

"If you say it. You're going to tell him, Stone. He'll believe you."

"He never has before."

"This time he better. I'll bet your life on it. Bob, get Lieutenant Morgan on the phone."

"We came to you, Stone because we didn't want to look up his old man and make him do it," Bob tells me.

"After you talk to Morgan, Stone, he'll take all those cops over to the furniture warehouse and Donald has a chance to get out."

Bob picks up the phone and dials.

"Hello" Lieutenant Morgan, Randall Stone wants to talk to him. He's on the line, Walker," Bob said handing him the phone.

"I've been out of touch, I guess. The punks are getting heroic these days," I said.

"Shut up!" Walker whispered. "No tricks, Stone, or I'll break you in two."

"Hello, Vic."

"What's up Randall?"

"Vic, I'm over on West Fifth Street. I just saw Donald Braga go into the old Gold Furniture Warehouse."

"Are you sure, Randall?"

"He must've slipped you, Vic."

"Thanks. I'll pull the boys off this place and take them right over there."

I put the phone down.

"Real good, Stone. I like to see a smart guy do the right thing," Walker smiled.

## Chapter 10

They held me captive at gunpoint for an hour until they were sure Donald had gotten away. Then they left. I call Vic Morgan to explain and he didn't have much to say. But he meant what he said.

"You're a dumbass, Randall,"

"That's the most accurate thing you've ever said, Vic."

"We had that dirty little punk trapped and now, because of you, he's running around free again!"

"What would you have done, Vic?"

"I'd remembered he's already killed one man today, and he's liable to kill a dozen more before we get our hands on him!"

He said slamming the phone down.

## Chapter 11

I couldn't blame Vic for blowing his top. I hung up quietly, and I began to think about the dozen people Donald might kill before the police picked him up. Then I surprised myself with an idea. I drive down to the backstage at a Winchester Road Theatre.

"Hold on, mister, this isn't out front. That's where you buy a ticket if you want to see the show."

"I'm not here to see the show," I said.

"Shuffle off, wise guy!"

Sir, I'm here to talk to a girl named Jessica Colin. I heard she worked in this show."

"But you didn't hear me; this ain't out-front now go buy a seat."

"Will you listen to me, old man?"

"Anymore trouble out of you, son, and so help me I'll beat the living dog shit out of you! I'm not as old as I look! It looks like somebody already used you as a punching bag."

"Yes, sir. But would you answer me. But does Jessica Colin work here?"

A woman walks into the room.

"Stop yelling, Mister. He's only doing his job. You looking for me?" she asked.

"If your name's Jessica Colin I am."

"That's me. What do you want?"

"You're Donald Braga's girlfriend. Seen him tonight?"

"I ain't seen him for a month and just for the record, I was his girlfriend. You a cop?"

"No. My name's Stone. I'm a friend of Donald's father."

"Oh, well, poor old guy. No, Donald and I isn't anything these days. What's the matter, he in trouble again?"

"Hey get out of there, Jessica. They are getting ready for the finals!" the old man said.

"Okay, Pop. Sorry, Mr. Stone, I got to work on my career."

She turns and hurries away.

"You didn't get much information did you fellow?"

"No, I didn't. Come on outside, Pop. I want to talk to you," I said.

"Okay."

I open the heavy stage door, and he follows me out into the alley.

"Private cop aren't you. I can tell by the shoulder holster. It sticks out a foot unless you got a couple of broken ribs."

"You'll make a great detective, Pop. I bet nothing gets passed you here?" I said.

"Give me twenty and I'll give you some information."

"What kind?"

"That Donald kid was here tonight looking for Jessica. He showed up backstage about an hour ago."

I pull out the five and another ten,

"When'd he leave?"

"I don't know. I was watching the show."

## Chapter 12

I decide to wait for Jessica, to finish the show. There were some questions I want to ask her that might give me a lead on where Donald might be hiding out.

But when the show ends things got pretty confuse. It seemed they were packing up and heading for Louisville. I made my way through the props, wardrobe truck, and chorus girls until I found her dressing room. When I walk into the room, she threw a coat into a trunk, and then sat on it.

"You still here?" she snapped.

"Yeah."

"I've got to get finish packing and down to the railroad station in half an hour. What do you want?"

"Donald Braga."

"What does that mean?"

"Pop tells me Donald was here tonight, about an hour ago."

"If he was, I didn't see him."

"I thought he might have dropped by to tell you where he was heading."

"Mister, look. I met that punk a year ago. I went out with him a couple of times and gave him money a few times. Also, he slapped me around a little. Finally, I got fed up and quit. Now pardon me while I go into the other room and dress."

"Oh, sure," I said watching her hips, and everything else moves as she walks away. "Why'd Donald slap you around?"

"I don't know. I guess he thought it was a good idea at the time."

"Why didn't you report it to the police?"

"I was a sap."

"It sounds like to me; you were in love with him."

"Oh, that's what it was. Thanks for telling me. Where can I read your article? You must write one."

"How old are you, Jessica?"

"I'm twenty-five. What're you so anxious to find Donald for?"

"He killed a man today."

"What?"

"That's right. A police officer with a wife and three young kids. Now do you know where he's headed?"

"Donald's crazy. I'm glad I don't have anything to do with him."

The door open, and Pop sticks his head in.

"Hey, Jessica, your truck all packed, the express guys are ready to roll!"

## Chapter 13

We didn't talk anymore after that. She yells at the stage men while they load her trunk on a dolly and wheeled it outside onto a van. She grabs a tiny overnight bag and hurried out. I was left standing in her room, and then it struck me. It wasn't empty. There were some clothes still hanging in the closet.

I put in a call to Lieutenant Morgan.

"Homicide Morgan."

"Vic, listen to me, and this is straight. We can pick up, Donald at the railroad station."

"Railroad Station now, huh? Well, you pick him up, Randall. I've got men post there, and they haven't seen him."

"They aren't going to see him. Vic. But he'll be on the midnight train."

"Okay, Randall. I'll try this again. I'll see you there. If I can't find him, you're going to jail. I'm charging somebody with murder tonight. Why not you?"

## Chapter 14

I got down to the station at eleven-thirty. Vic and three plain cloth officers met me at the gate. I took them over to where the bags were loaded. Jessica Colin just happened to be supervising the loading of her wardrobe trunk.

I walked up and grab her arm.

"Say, what is this, what's going on?" she asked.

"You're awfully young, Jessica, and you're not too smart. Better tag her, Vic," I said.

"For what?" she asked.

"You'll see," I assured her.

"You stay away from that trunk! You have no right, Mr. Stone," she said.

"You forget to pack some of your clothes, my dear?" I smiled.

"Let go of me! Let go!" she yelled.

"Look, Vic, there's some holes drilled here," I point at the trunk.

Vic pulls his gun. "Yeah, stand back everyone."

"You're wrong, Mister. He isn't in there," she said.

"All right, Donald, the latch is open. Come out!" I tell him.

"I'm telling you he isn't in there, Mr. Stone," she said again.

"Come on out with your hands up," I say.

"Randall, maybe he isn't there," Vic said.

There's a shot and Jessica screams, "No, Donald, no!"

## Chapter 15

Donald Braga was coming out with a blazing gun, but he didn't get far away. The officers with Vic began pouring bullets into the trunk. It only last a few seconds, and then everything is still. The lid to the chest opens slowly, and Donald made an appearance he's like a-rag-doll.

Jessica screams, "Donald!"

His body falls into the trench.

There are a lot of people, but I didn't see any of them. I push my way out and walked back through the station, trying to forget something I'd never forget. Suddenly I felt someone tugging at my sleeve."

"Mr. Stone?"

"Huh! Oh, Mr. Braga."

"Yes. It surprised me you are here. You are leaving?"

"No...I...was just seeing a friend off."

"Oh, that's nice. I thought my son might possibly come to say goodbye, but then he is busy, you know."

"Yeah. Look, Mr. Braga, I'll see you off."

"My train leaves in a little bit. I have a sandwich to eat on the way. Trains are nice. Those are policeman over there?"

"Oh, yes. Let me walk you to the gate."

"My, so many police officers and they are carrying somebody."

"Well, a man fainted in the bathroom. It was nothing serious," I said.

"I'm glad no one is hurt badly. I don't like bloodshed."

"Here let me carry your valise, Mr. Braga."

"No. I am strong. Mr. Stone, about my son. I'm sorry he didn't come to see me off, but to me, you have been most kind. I wish to thank you."

"I did what I thought was best."

"I know. You are the one I will remember and pray for once I'm gone from here; I will never hear from my son again."

"I promise you; your son will never be in any kind of trouble again."

"It is too great a hope. But somehow you say it, and I feel it."

"Well, here's your gate."

"Goodbye, Mr. Stone, I hope God in his kindness, will bless you all days."

I turn so the old man wouldn't see the tears running down my cheeks, "Goodbye, Mr. Braga. Goodbye, old man."

Scott Braga has one wish, to talk to his son before he leaves Central City and has 12 hours before he goes. He hires Randall Stone to find his son on Fifth Street one of the most dangerous areas in town.

When a murder happens, Stone tries to identify the real culprit.

#  Sweet Letters of Death

### B.A. Savage

## Chapter 1

It's 9 o'clock Monday morning when I walk into Family Diner. I order a tuna sandwich, four eggs over easy, and coffee and run across Vine Street to my office, to get ready for a busy week. The beginning of the month is always good for me. It was warm last weekend, the streets of Central City were busy, with unfaithful husbands and a few wives out there doing the nasty or staying out to later pissing their mates off. Well, if you'll pay my fee I'll find out all the dirty details. But in the private eye gig, we take whatever comes our way.

I had just polish off my breakfast when the phone rings, it's a man. He tells me he's on his way. Another twenty minutes he walks through the door.

"Mr. Stone?"

"Come in, come in by all means!"

"Thank you," the little man said.

"Well, have a chair, Mr.......ah?"

"Thank you. My name is Sam Hart."

"Mr. Hart?"

"Call me Sam."

"You were pretty excited when you talked to me on the phone earlier."

"Well, it's just that I hate to be taken for a ride, and brother, have I been taken!"

"You said you came from Nicholasville, that right?"

Yes, the west side. Everybody fishes, including me. But I make a few extra bucks running a shrimp pound."

"What in the world is that?"

"It's sort of a sea pen when you keep shrimp alive until the market price is right."

"You said something about a girl, earlier."

"It was her letters; they were so amazing, well, I couldn't believe I was being rip off until it smack me right in the face."

"I think I better take notes. Why don't we start from the beginning?"

"Well, in West Nicholasville, a good looking girl is as hard to find as an orange on a fir tree."

"Huh."

"As soon as they realize they got something, they leave town. Well, I was so busy fishing to pay for my first boat, I missed all my chances."

"Hmm. I see."

"Well, I had two chances I wouldn't take if their families threw in five miles of shoreline."

"Okay."

"So, I ran across a paper that had some ads inside. It said there were a lot of people in the world lonely, beautiful young girls, and handsome young men with money."

"So, you bit, hook, line, and shrimp trap, shall I say."

"What would you have done, Mr. Stone? I sent them forty bucks and got back a list of names. I wrote to all of them and one of them answered, from Central City and sent her picture. Look at it, here."

I took the photograph and said, "She's pretty."

"That's what I thought. She wrote the sweetest letters anybody ever sent to anybody. I couldn't sleep at night thinking about her."

"Well, Sam I hate to shatter your dreams, but this picture happens to be a movie star. Drew Barrymore. It's a shame she didn't write the letters."

"How do you know?"

"I know her husband, and he censors her mail."

"Well, what if the girl who wrote me isn't a movie star from her letters she had the heart of a Madonna. That was good enough for me."

"It wouldn't be bad for me either, Sam," I smiled.

"Well, I asked her to marry me, she said yes."

"And she asked you to send her some money, huh?"

"She wanted three thousand dollars, for clothes and transportation. You know how long it takes to earn three thousand bucks fishing in Nicholasville, Mr. Stone?"

"Weeks I guess."

"You're a couple of months short. Anyway, when she didn't show up I wrote. No answer. So I came. No girl, at no address like that. I took the hook, Mr. Stone, and they reeled me in."

"Why do you want to find her? To marry her or get your money back?"

"If I can get the money back, I'll take it."

"Less my fee."

"Oh, yeah. I understand. Anyway, I just couldn't live with myself thinking of how they did me. I need the satisfaction of getting even. You find her, and throw her in jail if you have to."

"What was her name?"

"Ellen Moore."

"What was the name of the agency that sent you the list?"

"The International Romance Agency. Here's the clipping. How long do you believe it will take you, Mr. Stone?"

"With any luck, a year. But I'll try to hurry things up for you."

## Chapter 2

I knew I'd had to start with the agency, but I realize I would have to approach them obliquely. I drop by a Western outfit store and purchase a ten-gallon hat, tight jeans, a flannel shirt, and high-heel boots.

I fell two times in the first block trying them out and switch to crepe-soled sneakers. I found the International Romance Bureau on the third floor of the Webb Brother's Building. It was a small but impressive place, with a receptionist who was impressive in all the right areas. I step to the desk; she looks at me and smiles as she talks on the phone.

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir. We'll send you our list Friday morning. We hope you'll be very pleased," she hung up the phone looks at me and smiles again. "May I help you with something, sir?"

"I don't trust myself to answer that, ma'am," I smiled.

"You're blushing, sir."

"I guess I am. It's because you're the prettiest thing I've seen since entering the city."

"Where're you from? And what's your name?"

"Tom Lamur's my handle. Howdy. I'm from Oklahoma."

"The show, or the state," she smiled.

"Oh the original company, out west, I'll have you know, ma'am."

"Do they still talk like that out there?"

I drop the accent. "No, I just talk like that because people expect me too. These clothes, terrible, at home I wear Brooks Brothers. Even my horse had a fancy saddle."

"Well, sir, what can I do for you?"

"Well, the truth is ma'am; I heard this is a place for lonely hearts. I'm lonely, and I thought maybe I could meet somebody here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, but this is strictly an agency company that works through the mail. That's all we're licensed to do."

"Oh, that's a shame. I've got a lot of money that's just burning a hole in my suitcase."

"You mean your pocket, Mr. Lamur?"

"No, ma'am. I could only get a few thousand it in my pocket."

"Really?"

"Yeah and it's a shame. I sure would like to spend it on some girl. Thank you for the friendliness."

"Just a minute, Mr. Lamur. Maybe I can fix things up for you with Mr. Moore. He's the boss of the Bureau."

## Chapter 3

While she disappears into the office, I took a roll of stage money, out of my pocket and began thumbing through it. Seconds later I'm ushered into Mr. Moore's office. He is small and wiry but greets me with a firm handshake.

"You came all the way from Oklahoma, Mr. Lamur?" he asked.

"That's right, sir. I've got my horse tied up around back."

"You're quite a jokester, Mr. Lamur. I can see that right away. Want a drink?"

"No, thanks."

"What business are you in?"

"I'm an oil man."

"Are you talking about quarts or gallons?"

"I'm talking about barrels, sir."

"You don't say. Let's sit down and talk over your little problem. I understand you are lonely and in search of companionship."

"You can see right through me, Mr. Moore."

"Yes, it's the scourge of our society. There're thousands of people passing each other on the streets, and never speaking. Keeping their miserable feelings all tied up within themselves. It's a tragedy we attempt to relieve in our little way."

"Can you relieve mine?"

"I'm required to ask you this, but just what are your intentions, Mr. Lamur?"

"I assure you, strictly honorable, Mr. Moore. I'm looking for a soulmate. Marriage is my intention that's all."

"That's the answer I want. Now let's get down to business."

## Chapter 4

We got to work. I fork over forty dollars, and then we settled down to look at some images. He finally came up with one Molly Freeman. She's something right off the cover of Playboy, in six colors, and five dimensions. He put in a phone call to her and set up a reservation at Columbia Steak House.

"It's wonderful of you to go to all this trouble taking me out to dinner," she smiled.

"If this is trouble, I should have start a long time ago," I replied.

"The big city can be lonely at times."

"Yes, like five in the morning, or when you have smallpox."

"You don't seem to believe me, Tom."

"Molly, I bet they could fill a bus with the men who beat their way to your door every week."

"It's not so many as you think. The men who do come are opportunists."

I look her over and smile.

"Can you blame them?"

"Beauty can have its drawbacks too, Tom. Men are afraid of you. Sometimes I wish I'd been born ugly."

"Molly, honey, beauty is about the one thing left they don't fax. Don't knock it."

"Tell me something, Tom."

"Sure, before you even ask. I have more money in the bank than you could count."

"That isn't what I was going to ask. I'd like you if you were penniless."

"Oh, the curse of money."

"Are you interested in finding a girl to marry?"

"That's the whole aim in life, isn't it? I just want somebody who's willing to come back to Oklahoma with me. You know, sit on the porch, and look beautiful."

"After we finish dinner, would you like to go to my apartment for a drink?"

I smile, "That would be a wonderful way to end the evening, Molly."

## Chapter 5

Moments later I found myself outside the restaurant with the lovely Molly under my arm. I found a reckless taxi driver who crossed the city so fast; my head is spinning. She lived in the Country Arms, and when I say lived, I mean in all its definitions. The decor of the apartment is out of next month's issue Town and Country. The shelves lined with legal books, and there's a couple of college diplomas on the wall.

"You can have anything in the place," she smiled.

"Oh, thanks, but I'd trade everything for a warm look from you."

"Why's that?"

"Molly, have you looked in the mirror lately?"

She giggles, "You're great. Know what I think?"

"I couldn't guess."

"There's something about you I really like, and I'm sorry I had to meet you this way."

"What's wrong with this?"

"I wish it could be some bar, at a late summer night, and you are walking me from a dance.... and ....oh, why go on."

"That was kind of good copy, Molly."

"It's my favorite. You mind if I play some music?"

"Go right ahead, Molly."

She pops in a CD while I fixed the drinks. I walk to the couch, and she came over and slid next to me.

"I wish I knew the words," she said.

"I do," I said singing softly in her ears.

"Oh. Tom,"

"Come here, Molly." We kiss long and deep. "The song kind of got to you, huh?"

She suddenly starts to cry. "Oh, what an awful, awful business to be in."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"Excuse me, please," she said leaving the room.

## Chapter 6

Her tears look pretty real to me. I figured either she didn't know what she was doing, or she was full of shit. But while she's out of the room I gave her apartment a fast once-over. My mission's complete when I find stacks of letters to and from lonely heart men, on her desk. I pocket as many as possible. Then I settle back with my drink, just before she returned. She cried a little more but did no talking. I finally left, drop by my office, put the letters in the safe, and spent an hour on the phone with Jennifer explaining why I missed our dinner date.

"I don't believe one word of it, Randall," she said slamming down the phone.

So, I drove home and went to bed. The next morning I'm coming down the corridor to my office and met Alice, the cleaning lady.'

"Hey, Randall, don't slip on the water."

"Good morning, Alice. You're looking as sexy as ever."

She smiles. "There's nothing wrong with my looks a good operation wouldn't fix. But unfortunately, I cannot afford it."

"Ah, go on, if you weren't married, you'd be the girl for me."

"Want me to scare you, and tell you I'll get a divorce?"

"Your husband Peter would shot me before we walked down the aisle."

"You could always fight for me, Randall."

"I don't fight for love my dear."

"Well, just for that I have a mind not to tell you about the two men who went into your office."

"When, Alice?"

"Ten minutes ago. And they're the meanest looking thugs I've ever seen."

"Thanks, Alice," I said kissing her on the cheek.

"If you need any help just call me. I'll bring my vacuum," she smiled.

## Chapter 7

I open the door and turn on the lights.

"Good morning, Stone, the little guy said.

"Who are you and what are you doing in here?"

"Bruce's my name. Then call my pal there Jumbo. He doesn't talk much, except with his hands."

"I'm I supposed to be scared, or something?"

"I hear you're a great actor. You make a specialty of Western roles. An oil man and such."

"Sorry, you'll have to talk to my agent."

I don't think the big guy liked what I said.

"Now you notice Jumbo's moving around behind you."

"Why?"

"So, we take you from the front."

"Say what you have to say and get it over with."

"Robert Moore doesn't like you having his letters stolen off his girls."

"I don't know what you're talking about, pal."

"Show him, Jumbo."

The ape came at me fast and hit hard. When the punches stop, I hear his heavy breathing.

"Now Stone, I guess we open your safe and get the letters, huh." the little guy said.

## Chapter 8

I'm not much of a morning fighter. Besides, I'm overmatched. Anybody would have on Jumbo. That's all the excuses I'm going to offer. I gave them the letters. I'd already read them anyway.

They tore up my office a little just for the fun, and then left me sitting there with a bloody nose.

The phone rings,

"Hello."

"This is Molly, Mr. Stone."

"Sweet of you to call."

"I can't waste time. Listen somebody recognized you last night. And they're going after you. They want the letters back."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I really like you stupid."

"I'm sorry, Molly."

"Well, burn those letters and get out of your office. And if you want to give me some help, I could sure use it."

"What kind of help?"

"I want to get out of town. Help me get out of here, and I'll do anything to repay you."

"I'll be right over."

"Mr. Stone, get rid of those letters first," she gasps and yells, "Get away from me!"

I hear a scream and a gunshot.

"Molly! Molly!"

## Chapter 9

I got over to her place as fast as I could. Her apartment door is locked, so I sprung it. There wasn't anybody in the place anywhere or any signs of a struggle! I got out of there and rushed over to International Romance Bureau! The name is scraped off the door and the offices empty.

## Chapter 10

A half an hour later I'm telling the whole story to Lieutenant Vic Morgan and half an hour after that we were all gather in Molly Freeman's apartment. Vic had been quizzing the manager, Don Guy, and a girl named, Susan Campbell, who said she lived in the apartment, and she'd never heard of Molly Freeman. I'm confused. But why should I be the only one?"

"What do you mean telling the police about a murder in my place? Are you crazy or something Mr. Stone?"

"I'm not crazy, Miss Campbell. I was here last night with a girl named, Molly Freeman. In this same apartment. She called me from here today, and somebody shot her."

"Listen, Mr. Stone. I don't know what your angle is, but this happens to be my place, and you were definitely not in it last night. If you had been, my boyfriend would have kicked your skinny ass. Because he was here too."

"How long have you lived here young lady?" Vic asked.

"Almost two years. You heard what the manager said!"

"You got a roommate?" Vic asked.

"No. sir."

"Oh, don't worry, Vic. They got it rigged against us," I said.

"Why don't you shut him up, Detective? Look I got records to prove it. And I tell you again, I never heard of any Molly whatever her name was!" She said.

"Randall there isn't much we can do here. We need more than your word,"

"Okay, Vic. Homicide is your gig, not mine."

"Who said there was a homicide? All you said was a shot and a scream and over the phone at that."

"What do you want, Vic? A sign flashing "The Murder was here." You have to do some work you know."

"All I want is some tangible clues. Are you sure you did see it in a dream or something?"

"Alright, if you want to be a dickhead."

"Nobody's beginning a dickhead! I'm talking about facts! You give me something, and I'll use it, Randall!"

## Chapter 11

The team's organized like an army, and I realized I would need careful tactics to get anywhere. The reason is they had a lucrative mail order business going; they wouldn't drop it cold. So, I paid a visit to the Post Office on National Avenue.

"Yeah, here's the card. They gave a change of address. The International Romance Bureau now receives its mail at Post Office Box 3478," the clerk said.

"You said, 3478."

"Yeah, that's right. Say, you must be real hard up for romance, pal," the clerk laughed.

"You're as funny as you look, and thank you."

## Chapter 12

I spent the whole day near the post office box. It's late in the afternoon when an old pal of mine slid up to the box and opens it with a key. His name's Jumbo Morton. Jumbo was a friend, and it's all I could do to keep from punching him. But there is too much at stake to afford the luxury of a broken hand. Instead, I follow him. It's a long drive south out of town toward Winchester. My quarry finally pulls up at a brown-shingled house on Higgins Street and went in. I took a place at the end of the block, but when nothing further happen, I went back to town to do some work from the office.

The phone's ringing when I walk through the door.

"Hello?"

"This is Sam Hart, Mr. Stone. Did you find out anything yet?"

"Well, I haven't got your money back, as yet. But I know a lot more than I did yesterday."

"For example?"

"Well, I don't think the girl you sent your money and your love to was a girl."

"Excuse me?"

"I think your letter came from a guy named Moore, or one of his secretaries."

"Is that right. Well, Mr. Stone, just tell me where he is. I'll handle it from here."

"I think it's going to take both of us. Why don't you come down to my office? Right now I have to check on an address and a license number."

"I'll be right there."

## Chapter 13

The phone company told me the phone at Higgins Street is under the name of Robert Moore. Vic informed me the license number I'd copied down off the car I'd follow, is under the same address. Sam Hart, my client, arrives, and the two of us drove out there. I told him to station himself at the back door while I went in the front. I walk through the yard and knock. The door opens to a beautiful young girl.

"Yes?"

"Uh, just a minute madam, until I check the number again." I looked at the address and the number on the paper, 408 Higgin Street, Winchester. "Yup, this is the place."

"What is it you want, Mister?"

"Robert Moore, is he in?"

"Robert what?"

"Moore!"

"That's with an "M"?

"With an "M"!

"Never heard of him."

"Now don't give me that, shit. He lives here," I frowned.

"Since when, Mister?"

"How should I know?"

"I've been here since they built the place. I never saw any Robert Moore. Had a Frank Miller, once, rooming."

"I'm looking for a place. May I come in and look around?"

"You may not. This is my home, my private home. I don't like the look in your eyes. You look sneaky."

"Are you Moore's wife?"

"I'll have you know I was never married. My name's Melissa Gilbert. Miss!"

"Well, Melissa, I hate myself for doing this but excuse me."

I slightly push her aside and walked through the door.

"You can't come in here. I'll call the cops!" she yelled.

"I just did, and I dare you too. I want to look around," I replied.

"Alright! You force me to defend my honor and my home."

## Chapter 14

She'd reach into the closet and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun. The sound of the blast from the gun sent me diving behind a sofa, and the stuffing caught the full blast from the rock salt it's loaded with. Before she could reload, I'm on top of her, I removed the weapon from her arms, and then I tied her up. I looked through the house, and a cold chill started passing over me apparently she is right. There's no sign of anybody Robert Moore or his friends. I was just about to turn myself into Lieutenant Vic Morgan for forcing entry, and assault when I notice the garage outside. It's a double, with rooms over it and all the shades drawn. I had to talk with my teammate, Sam Hart.

"You think they're in there, huh?" he asked.

"Where else. Now look, I'm going to the garage, and if I find the same car I follow yesterday, I'll go upstairs."

"Then I'm going with you, Mr. Stone."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

## Chapter 15

It's the same car alright, and we start tiptoeing up a long flight of stairs inside the garage to a doorway at the top. When we were one step away from it, I kick it open and dived through.

As the door flaps loosely on the hinges, I see nothing. No Robert Moore or friends.

But in the next room, trussed up, gagged and tied to a chair, a scared and hysterical Molly Freeman stared at me with big blue eyes. I took the gag out of her mouth.

"Randall, oh, Randall," she sobs.

"Easy, honey, you're alright now. I thought you'd been killed," I said.

"I almost was but....look."

"Wh...........oh," I turn to see Robert Moore lying on the bed, and he isn't breathing.

"Who's this guy, Mr. Stone?" Sam asked.

"A letter-writing expert name of Robert Moore. How'd it happen, Molly?" I asked.

"I was talking to you on the phone when Robert walks in. He's mad because I was going to tell you about the whole operation. Robert had a gun and threatens me. I threw a wine bottle at him; it struck him on the head, and he fell. Jumbo and the other man brought me here."

"Where are Jumbo and his friend now?" I asked.

"Out getting a doctor."

"It's too late for the doctor for this man, Mr. Stone. He's dead."

"I knew he was going to die. I knew it."

"Let it all out, Molly, we'll have some cops here to meet them when they come back," I told her.

"And me too?"

"We knew your part in it. It'll be manslaughter and suspended," I said.

Molly cries.

"You know what you need, Molly, is a good husband and a lovely home," I said.

"Where would I find that, Mr. Stone? Nobody would have me. Nobody!" she continued crying.

"Come here. I have a surprise for you. A guy named Sam Hart. Oh, by the way, do you like shrimp?"

"What a silly question, Mr. Stone. It's my favorite food."

I put in a call to Vic Morgan, and he contact Sergeant Clancy with the Winchester Police Department. Jumbo and Steven Collins are arrested outside the home and taken to jail.

## Chapter 16

Later that evening my girl Jennifer and I are sitting at a private table at Logan's Restaurant eating dinner.

"Another drink, Randall?" she asked.

"No, honey, one's enough. Your beauty is intoxication itself."

"You're full of it Randall. I bet I didn't look anything like her," Jennifer replied.

"Well, she was different, but you both are amazing."

"But you kissed her."

"All in the line of duty, my dear."

"What's going to happen to her?"

"Well, before the week is out, I guess she'll become Mrs. Sam Hart."

"What a lucky girl. I wish someone would ask me."

"Alright, I will."

"Randall. Really?"

"Sure. We'll talk about it later."

"Don't try to double-cross me. I'll hold you to it."

"I'm sure you will, Jennifer. I'm sure you will."

P.S. Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this mystery I'd be very grateful if you'd post a review on Amazon. Your support really does make a difference and I read all reviews personally. Thanks again!

B.A. Savage

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