Still deafened by the shot, I looked around to find something that could be used as a weapon when a man wearing a mask broke through the door. He was holding the gun loosely so I took that as an opportunity to disarm him. He was being careless; it was obvious he assumed the first shot had been enough. My right fist connected with his jaw, while my left hand reached for the pistol. His loose grip easily broken, I grabbed the gun leveled it with his head and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Empty? What kind of hired gunman only has one bullet left in the clip? I tossed the gun aside, focusing all my attention to the gunman’s fist connecting with my nose. Stunned but not out of it yet, I reached for a lamp nearby, broke it on his head, and used the opportunity to grab my laptop and run out of my office. I noticed two well dressed men looking at me. They were out of their element in this office building, and too calm for the chaos that had just happened. The gunman wasn’t alone. I wasn’t about to stop on their account, maybe they had more than two bullets and without the cover of my door, I wasn’t too keen on my chances for survival. I ran through the corridor, turned a corner, and walked into an office. Everyone was panicking in there, and while they saw me, they did not slow me as I ran towards the back and the fire escape. I ended up in a back alley in time to see the goons step into their black sedan and drive off. I took a chance and rand towards the street to see their license plate. The car was a rental, but I still made a mental note of the license before running back in the alley. The street would obviously be watched so I should stick to places where another individual would stand out. Out of breath, I had reached a bike path. People looked at me funny, with my broken nose, the blood and sweat staining my shirt, and heavy respiration it made sense.
I followed the bike path for a while, and eventually docked in another back alley behind apartment buildings. I then sat down, and took the time to think. With Sarah dead and an attempt on my life, it was obvious Maddy’s “ex-husband” had a score to settle. I had no time to waste; I reached for my pocket to grab my cell phone. Empty. I would have to warn her in person. I took a deep breath, straightened my nose and then looked for something to cover up the blood soaked shirt. Thankfully, someone had left a load of laundry to dry outside, so I grabbed a t-shirt, cleaned my face and changed. I would deal with the cops once I had made sure Madeleine was safe. I walked towards our rendez-vous point.
Thirty minutes later, I was at the reception desk, sporting a black eye and bruising on my face. The employee was less than collaborative when I asked for Leslie Johnson, and called her to the reception rather than sending me up to her room. When she saw my face she was shocked, and brought me back to her room so that I could tend to my injuries. She turned on the TV as I was in the bathroom cleaning up. I walked out looking a little better, and explained to her what had happened. She broke down crying halfway through my story. I comforted her, she had had a much worse day than mine all things considered. She reached for the fridge, and got something to drink. I figured it would be time for me to call the police about the incident at my office, but halfway through dialing, something caught my attention on TV: footage of my escape through the office. I hung up the phone and paid attention to the announcer.
“We repeat, the suspect is considered armed and dangerous. Earlier today, the body of Sarah Blake was found earlier today at her apartment, shot by a gun that was found later in the day at the office of Philippe Stevens. Philippe, a private detective, is seen here fleeing his office where a shootout occurred earlier today. The weapon was found emptied, and there are signs of a struggle. Finger prints have confirmed that the weapon had been used by the detective and documents relevant to a lawsuit filed against him by Sarah Blake have been found at the scene of the crime...”
I was played like an amateur. Obviously the empty gun would be a trick; he held it so loosely to bait me in grabbing it. The false legal documents must have been part of the plan; they frame me as Sarah’s killer, and get the heat off of their backs. What kind of a hornet’s nest had I shaken up?
[Well, here is the latest segment. I feel that the last part may have pulled the trigger too soon but I couldn't quite keep padding the story, and obviously at this point the climax is approaching quickly. Then again, I may keep it up for a little while, if I get any ideas. ]
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A little update
I haven't forgotten this place, and I wanted to say that I will try to post the conclusion to the Trouble story before the month of July. At this point I think that story needs closure, and I am pretty much ready to fill in the blanks, I just need to sit down and write it.
The reason for this desire to be done with this story is two fold:
One, it's time you get to read the end, I've been hoarding it in my brain and that's just selfish.
Secondly, I have an idea for a new project, and I would like to be done with one before embarking on another main project.
Obviously, all of this is dependent to real life stuff that may make it easier or harder for me to do this, but that is how life goes really...
The reason for this desire to be done with this story is two fold:
One, it's time you get to read the end, I've been hoarding it in my brain and that's just selfish.
Secondly, I have an idea for a new project, and I would like to be done with one before embarking on another main project.
Obviously, all of this is dependent to real life stuff that may make it easier or harder for me to do this, but that is how life goes really...
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Repercussions (Trouble Part 9)
My phone rang, it was a name I hadn’t heard in quite some time, I answered happily, since Madeline had been one of my least boring customers: “Hey, Madeline, how’s it going? I didn’t...”
“Sarah’s dead... they... someone... She’s dead...”
“Calm down, how did she... tell me what happened?”
“I was coming home after getting something at the grocery store, the cops say there was a break in, she was shot. I... since I left my husband, I didn’t know who to call... Your phone number was the only one I could think of.”
It had been about six months since that day. I’d found evidence that her husband wasn’t even a real person. He hadn’t gotten a name change like I’d first suspected, Albert R. Thompson was a fake identity, created entirely. I still remember her shock that day.
“What do you mean, you quit? What the hell am I paying you for?” she shouted.
“You paid me to figure out everything your husband owns, the problem is, the man you married is simply a piece of paper. Even his marriage to you is a fabrication, if I keep poking around I’ll have evidence that Albert doesn’t exist, and only Frank is real, and Frank has not been married to you.”
After more discussion, she finally understood that she’d been played for a long time. She was angry, but she was also cornered. We decided it would be wiser for her to simply pack up and leave, looking deeper into this would be like poking a bee’s nest. I would simply contact the cops with my info anonymously, if I could point them in the right direction, the guys in blue can be quite useful. I still remember Madeline’s last visit here, I decided to give her a break since she wasn’t getting anything out of the divorce, and well, I had been abusing the expense account.
“I’m settled in with Sarah, thank you for your help, here’s the check for your fees. Thank you for the price, I feel I should be paying you more.”
“Well, I figure I failed at m y job. I couldn’t find anything that you could get out of this separation. I didn’t expect this to end this way.”
“Me neither, but I guess if I can’t get anything out of the divorce, I can get a good story out of your case. Thank you for the copy of your case notes, I think the juicier parts may come in handy when I feel like writing another novel. Well then, I guess this is goodbye.”
“Yeah, it’s probably for the best. Good luck with everything Madeline.”
“Thank you, and goodbye Phil, maybe I’ll call you again when I need a reality check with next novel.”
I smiled as she walked out of my office. That was five months ago. The police had started poking where I’d pointed them, and somehow Albert R. Thompson stopped existing. Then the investigation stopped. It was suspicious, but then again when they say “stopped” in the news they might just mean that details are no longer being shared. Madeline’s voice brought me back to the present.
“What should I do, I can’t go back in, I have nowhere to go.”
“Well, as superficial as it’s going to sound, I’d say first you should try to replace whatever they stole that you need for a daily life. Buy some clothes, and go rent a hotel room for a few days. Your apartment will be inaccessible during the investigation, and who knows what they took in the home invasion.”
“They didn’t take anything, I just can’t go in because the body... oh my god, Sarah...” Madeline broke into tears at this point. On the other hand I got this nasty feeling in my gut, something didn’t add up. Someone knocked at the door.
“Look, Maddy, I have to go. Here what you are going to do, go and withdraw all the money you can from your bank account, and then stop using any of your accounts and credit cards. There’s someone at the door here, I have to go, just go get the money, then go to the hotel on the corner of fifth and Bank, register under the name Leslie Johnson, I’ll contact you there.”
The knock at the door got insistent. Funny, I was sure I had left the door unlocked. As I was walking towards the door, I realized what they may have been after in that robbery: my case notes. I was almost at the door when I saw that it wasn’t locked, I got that nasty feeling in my stomach and dove for cover less than a second before the sound of a gun being fired shook my office.
[So, here it is, the long awaited continuation of the "Trouble" story. I figured that since we'd all been away from the story for a while, it would be only fair to have Phil be away from the story as well. Also, yes, he has a name now. The unnamed protagonist was getting old. I can't promise I will be regular in updating, I wish I could be but inspiration has been hard to come by, I've had this direction for the story in mind since last June, but I couldn't get it to stick on paper. Oh well, hope you can all forgive me.]
“Sarah’s dead... they... someone... She’s dead...”
“Calm down, how did she... tell me what happened?”
“I was coming home after getting something at the grocery store, the cops say there was a break in, she was shot. I... since I left my husband, I didn’t know who to call... Your phone number was the only one I could think of.”
It had been about six months since that day. I’d found evidence that her husband wasn’t even a real person. He hadn’t gotten a name change like I’d first suspected, Albert R. Thompson was a fake identity, created entirely. I still remember her shock that day.
“What do you mean, you quit? What the hell am I paying you for?” she shouted.
“You paid me to figure out everything your husband owns, the problem is, the man you married is simply a piece of paper. Even his marriage to you is a fabrication, if I keep poking around I’ll have evidence that Albert doesn’t exist, and only Frank is real, and Frank has not been married to you.”
After more discussion, she finally understood that she’d been played for a long time. She was angry, but she was also cornered. We decided it would be wiser for her to simply pack up and leave, looking deeper into this would be like poking a bee’s nest. I would simply contact the cops with my info anonymously, if I could point them in the right direction, the guys in blue can be quite useful. I still remember Madeline’s last visit here, I decided to give her a break since she wasn’t getting anything out of the divorce, and well, I had been abusing the expense account.
“I’m settled in with Sarah, thank you for your help, here’s the check for your fees. Thank you for the price, I feel I should be paying you more.”
“Well, I figure I failed at m y job. I couldn’t find anything that you could get out of this separation. I didn’t expect this to end this way.”
“Me neither, but I guess if I can’t get anything out of the divorce, I can get a good story out of your case. Thank you for the copy of your case notes, I think the juicier parts may come in handy when I feel like writing another novel. Well then, I guess this is goodbye.”
“Yeah, it’s probably for the best. Good luck with everything Madeline.”
“Thank you, and goodbye Phil, maybe I’ll call you again when I need a reality check with next novel.”
I smiled as she walked out of my office. That was five months ago. The police had started poking where I’d pointed them, and somehow Albert R. Thompson stopped existing. Then the investigation stopped. It was suspicious, but then again when they say “stopped” in the news they might just mean that details are no longer being shared. Madeline’s voice brought me back to the present.
“What should I do, I can’t go back in, I have nowhere to go.”
“Well, as superficial as it’s going to sound, I’d say first you should try to replace whatever they stole that you need for a daily life. Buy some clothes, and go rent a hotel room for a few days. Your apartment will be inaccessible during the investigation, and who knows what they took in the home invasion.”
“They didn’t take anything, I just can’t go in because the body... oh my god, Sarah...” Madeline broke into tears at this point. On the other hand I got this nasty feeling in my gut, something didn’t add up. Someone knocked at the door.
“Look, Maddy, I have to go. Here what you are going to do, go and withdraw all the money you can from your bank account, and then stop using any of your accounts and credit cards. There’s someone at the door here, I have to go, just go get the money, then go to the hotel on the corner of fifth and Bank, register under the name Leslie Johnson, I’ll contact you there.”
The knock at the door got insistent. Funny, I was sure I had left the door unlocked. As I was walking towards the door, I realized what they may have been after in that robbery: my case notes. I was almost at the door when I saw that it wasn’t locked, I got that nasty feeling in my stomach and dove for cover less than a second before the sound of a gun being fired shook my office.
[So, here it is, the long awaited continuation of the "Trouble" story. I figured that since we'd all been away from the story for a while, it would be only fair to have Phil be away from the story as well. Also, yes, he has a name now. The unnamed protagonist was getting old. I can't promise I will be regular in updating, I wish I could be but inspiration has been hard to come by, I've had this direction for the story in mind since last June, but I couldn't get it to stick on paper. Oh well, hope you can all forgive me.]
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Forgive me readers for I have sinned.
It has been way too long since I last wrote anything here. To be honest, it feels like something broke inside me back in May. I've been in a bit of a downward spiral ever since. I was sure I had hit rock bottom back in August, but nothing is working out for me lately. I have a hard time focusing on something for more than 5 minutes, unless I can shut my brain down. It feels like my whole brain is paralyzed by writer's block. In fact, not to sound too emo-ish, but I am at a point in my life where pretty much everything I try to do is stopped by white page anxiety. Even when I logged on today, after closing the page every morning in utter disgust at my inability to write for the past 6 months, I figured I'd try to throw out some writing. I'm sure some of you still want to see what happened to that detective guy. I hate that I have this character inside of me and I can't let him out. Rest assured, this blog is not forgotten, it's just impossible for me to create right now. I'll try however to get the juices flowing simply by writing out my anguish. Maybe I'll get better at it by trying, if not well, at least my 2 or 3 readers will know I'm still sorta trying.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
I’ve been thinking.
I’m pretty sure you would prefer that I had spent time writing, but this was not one of these weeks. Actually, I ran into a huge snag: I don’t feel like writing anymore. I don’t have inspiration, I don’t want to dig my brains for new plot points, all I want is turn my brain off and be a zombie for a couple of weeks.
I know why too: I can’t deal with jobs. I needed to work to pay bills, and as soon as I accepted the job, I lost my will to write, I hardly take any time to work on my school stuff, and I basically lost the drive I needed to finish what I started.
I hate feeling like this, but right now that’s where I am: I have a job I don’t want, and I no longer have the drive to do what I do want. I’m gonna have to inspect my feelings and figure a way out of this because right now it sucks.
I know why too: I can’t deal with jobs. I needed to work to pay bills, and as soon as I accepted the job, I lost my will to write, I hardly take any time to work on my school stuff, and I basically lost the drive I needed to finish what I started.
I hate feeling like this, but right now that’s where I am: I have a job I don’t want, and I no longer have the drive to do what I do want. I’m gonna have to inspect my feelings and figure a way out of this because right now it sucks.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Delay in stories
Sorry, real life is getting in the way again. Next week I will get back to my regular posting schedule. A friend of mine is getting married and I'm not gonna have enough time to devote to writing. Don't worry, I got ideas, I just cant sit down and write them right now.
Friday, May 8, 2009
A Trail part 2 (Trouble Part 8)
Technology’s good in a way. However, it can easily be avoided if the person knows what they are doing. In this case the red light was on, the recorder had run out of space, and I would not have to worry about the cameras. I studied the setup carefully, noticed that it did not go to a phone line, and counted my blessings. I went back upstairs, ready to get to work. Opening the door to the office was easy, Madeline had the key. I took out my digital camera and started taking pictures, every angle, everything that was in there. I wanted to make sure I would put everything back in its proper location once I was done snooping around. Madeline smiled and pointed out that this was a smart trick, but that she could not use it in her stories, because of their setting. I smiled and politely answered that my father used to have an old Polaroid just for that.
The office was clean. Everything had a spot and everything was quite practical and logical, nothing like mine. It did make my job a lot easier. I took out my laptop and started scanning every document; it would be easier for me to look them over once I was back in my office. I also took pictures of everything I could find, date books, address books, even receipts from different companies. I also looked over the newspapers in the trash bin. There was an important clue in the business section: many stocks were highlighted. Always the same. I quickly went over the list and noticed that all the companies I had traced back to him were there, in addition to a few others that I had not looked at. This would prove useful when trying to establish everything he owned, as he may have shares in companies I did not know about. I foolishly dismissed the pack of cigarettes until Madeline pointed out that Albert did not smoke. I opened the pack. In it, there were small pieces of papers and a bunch of keys. They keys were numbered, like the papers. There were 14 keys, and 14 pieces of paper, each indicating what the key was for. They were for safety boxes in banks, lockers, mailboxes, and even rented storage. More importantly, the names under which these boxes had been rented were listed. Thompson had used 3 different names. Thompson was for the banks, Arthur Clarke for the mailboxes and Frank Bennett for everything else.
The two new names were not familiar in any way. He had been good at covering his tracks, too good. At this point, Madeline told me she wasn’t sure about what I had said earlier, but now she could not deny it, her husband was involved into something bigger than cheating. Looking over the cabinets one last time before putting everything back into place, I found a double bottom. From it I pulled out a small locked box. I grabbed my tools and opened it. Inside, there were some legal papers that were probably important, but what drew my attention were the pictures: wedding photos of Albert getting married to his mistress when they were both pretty young. There was also a wedding ring with the pictures. I carefully unfolded the legal papers, there was a wedding certificate, issued over 20 years ago, for Frank Bennett’s marriage to Samantha Mitchell.
[Yeah, it's kinda short, but at that point in the story, I felt that adding on would simply ruin the tension of that moment. The story is getting somewhere, I promise.]
The office was clean. Everything had a spot and everything was quite practical and logical, nothing like mine. It did make my job a lot easier. I took out my laptop and started scanning every document; it would be easier for me to look them over once I was back in my office. I also took pictures of everything I could find, date books, address books, even receipts from different companies. I also looked over the newspapers in the trash bin. There was an important clue in the business section: many stocks were highlighted. Always the same. I quickly went over the list and noticed that all the companies I had traced back to him were there, in addition to a few others that I had not looked at. This would prove useful when trying to establish everything he owned, as he may have shares in companies I did not know about. I foolishly dismissed the pack of cigarettes until Madeline pointed out that Albert did not smoke. I opened the pack. In it, there were small pieces of papers and a bunch of keys. They keys were numbered, like the papers. There were 14 keys, and 14 pieces of paper, each indicating what the key was for. They were for safety boxes in banks, lockers, mailboxes, and even rented storage. More importantly, the names under which these boxes had been rented were listed. Thompson had used 3 different names. Thompson was for the banks, Arthur Clarke for the mailboxes and Frank Bennett for everything else.
The two new names were not familiar in any way. He had been good at covering his tracks, too good. At this point, Madeline told me she wasn’t sure about what I had said earlier, but now she could not deny it, her husband was involved into something bigger than cheating. Looking over the cabinets one last time before putting everything back into place, I found a double bottom. From it I pulled out a small locked box. I grabbed my tools and opened it. Inside, there were some legal papers that were probably important, but what drew my attention were the pictures: wedding photos of Albert getting married to his mistress when they were both pretty young. There was also a wedding ring with the pictures. I carefully unfolded the legal papers, there was a wedding certificate, issued over 20 years ago, for Frank Bennett’s marriage to Samantha Mitchell.
[Yeah, it's kinda short, but at that point in the story, I felt that adding on would simply ruin the tension of that moment. The story is getting somewhere, I promise.]
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