Crime Fiction Creative Writing - 1250 words
Feedback would be great.
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"Lot a people say this city looks like Hell," she said. She took a long drag from her cigarette. The glowing tip burned like a hole in the darkness.
"Most people never been to Hell," Jacob said.
She looked at him and he could hear the smile in her voice. "And I suppose you
have?"
Jacob said nothing, then stood and walked to the bed. Allie let out a small
noise and shrank back against the pillows as if she'd claw her way into them
if she could. He leaned down close to her ear.
"You like to play games," he whispered. "And that's fine. But you don't want
to be playing games with me, because I'm the one honest man in this city. You
should know that, since we were married".
* * *
"Gunshot wound. 9mm. Ballistics confirmed the gunman fired from...here".
The forensic analyst stopped by the door of the hotel room, gesturing to where the fatal shot was fired.
"Witnesses?", asked Jacob
"The whole floor heard the shot but no one saw the shooter", replied the analyst, a self-assured attractive brunette.
Jacob simply nodded.
"And the victim?"
"Dani Carter -5'2, blonde, attractive, 55kg, death came soon after entry wound. The bullet severed her Common Hepatic Artery and she bled to death in a couple of minutes", the analyst reported.
"Can I see the body?", asked Jacob
"You know I can't let you", she replied.
Jacob smiled. He'd done this charade before.
The analyst squirmed.
"Come on, Blaire", he urged.
"If I get caught, you're not the one that takes the heat".
"I've done that dance before, sweetheart".
"Yeah and you got fired from the FBI".
"Someone has to keep the pen pushers honest".
* * *
The analyst led Jacob through the sterile corridors of the morgue leaving Jacob to admire the people who work here. These people do not deal in money, motives or political interests, these men and women deal in cells and blood samples. They surround themselves, not with conniving advisors, but with microscopes and scalpels. The very place they work in is cold, sterile and lifeless. Incorruptible. Blaire opened a set of double doors and led Jacob into the lab.
"You've got 5 minutes".
He moved hesitantly over to the body, concealed by a large white medical blanket. He swallowed the lump in his throat, noticing Blaire seeing his odd behaviour and yanked the blanket from the body.
Jacob exhaled hard.
"This is not Dani Carter", he uttered breathlessly.
"What?"
"I have no idea who's body this is but this is NOT Dani Carter".
"Jacob are you OK? Did you know her?", asked Blaire quietly.
"Dammit Blaire I'm not imagining this. See for yourself", said Jacob as he gestured to the gun shot wound.
"A 9mm didn't make this injury"
"What are you talking about?"
"See the entry wound. Look at the skin surrounding it. It's pallid".
"That usually happens to the dead", smiled Blaire.
"The surrounding skin from a 9mm is black! A 9mm round doesn't have the power to penetrate very far into the body before breaking up. The skin around the wound turns black because the bullet parabolically breaks up near the entry wound, sending shrapnel to surround areas. This wound does not have any of that".
"Jacob while what you're saying may be right this has already been checked out by a whole team of investigators and been filed away", she replied.
Jacob leveled a firm stare at Blaire.
"Oh for God's sake Jacob the whole world isn't corrupt, you know", said Blaire frustratingly.
"Just because I'm paranoid, doesn't mean people aren't trying to stop me".
"And what are you going to do"?
"I only know one weapon capable to emulating a 9mm wound in this way. Government issued military arms".
"Oh God.."
"What are you going to do?", Blaire continued, realizing she couldn't hope to convince him otherwise.
"To see an old friend".
* * *
"Your move Jacob", Allie smiled.
Jacob looked up from the board to the beautiful woman sitting across from him.
"You're quite pleased with yourself, aren't you?", he asked, letting the slightest of smiles disturb the almost permanent scowl covering his face.
"You're pinned", she replied gleefully.
Jacob grimaced and downed some whiskey.
* * *
Samuel looked at him from across the table, but he might as well have been
peering at Jacob from the Devil's own palace in the deep blue sea.
After a moment Samuel rubbed his rheumy eyes. "You ever wonder about morals?" he said.
Jacob shook his head.
"I do... all the damn time. I wonder what it means to be good - if there's some tally that says 'you only hurt ten people, so come on up, but eleven and you're going straight to hell. Then I think maybe it's a little voice that tells you, way back in your head. And then I wonder what happens when that voice goes away..."
Jacob reached under the table and put the little .22 pistol against one of
Samuel's kneecaps.
"I don't think you're going to like my answer to that. Where is she?"
* * *
Jacob stopped outside the house. It was a modest, single-story house, white pickets and a pool in the backyard. He turned off the ignition and checked his pistol. He didn't want to think about his client right now. She would have seen the news and he still hadn't talked to her. He pushed those thoughts to back of his head and focused on the task at hand.
* * *
"Allie?"
The women that had been his client for the past month stood frozen in the hallway her hand gripping a small pistol.
"Why", he simply asked.
"We needed you to leave the case alone".
"My sister was just a case?"
"You wouldn't forget about her. She left 6 years ago and you wouldn't leave it alone. ", she said with finality.
"You hired me to find out what happened to her"
"No. We hired you because we knew you'd find the body and we thought you'd leave it alone".
"Where is she?", Jacob murmured in a tone so cold his ex-wife shivered.
"She's dead Jacob, you know that. She was an idealist reporter who got too close and paid the price".
Jacob's knuckles whitened around the pistol he was carrying inside his jacket pocket.
"I'm sorry Jacob".
Jacob looked at her and watched all the regret drain from her eyes. She reached inside her jacket and tossed a small golden ring to the floor - the ring Jacob gave her as childrern -, the gun in her other hand never moving an inch from a point that Jacob guessed was just above the bridge of his nose.
"You don't have to do this. It doesn't have to be like this."
"Oh, yes... yes, I'm afraid that it does."
He slowly shook his head. The room's silence was suddenly broken by a piercing crack and for a moment it sounded as if a wasp had buzzed through the room - then a dull thud as her body dropped to the floor. Blood poured from the cavity that had been her skull, a wide black pool that spread like a shadow in the darkness.
Jacob slowly released his hold on the pistol on the inside of jacket pocket. With a mist coming over his eyes he walked over and picked up the small ring. He turned it over in his palm and eyed the engravings "D.C".
Feedback would be great.
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"Lot a people say this city looks like Hell," she said. She took a long drag from her cigarette. The glowing tip burned like a hole in the darkness.
"Most people never been to Hell," Jacob said.
She looked at him and he could hear the smile in her voice. "And I suppose you
have?"
Jacob said nothing, then stood and walked to the bed. Allie let out a small
noise and shrank back against the pillows as if she'd claw her way into them
if she could. He leaned down close to her ear.
"You like to play games," he whispered. "And that's fine. But you don't want
to be playing games with me, because I'm the one honest man in this city. You
should know that, since we were married".
* * *
"Gunshot wound. 9mm. Ballistics confirmed the gunman fired from...here".
The forensic analyst stopped by the door of the hotel room, gesturing to where the fatal shot was fired.
"Witnesses?", asked Jacob
"The whole floor heard the shot but no one saw the shooter", replied the analyst, a self-assured attractive brunette.
Jacob simply nodded.
"And the victim?"
"Dani Carter -5'2, blonde, attractive, 55kg, death came soon after entry wound. The bullet severed her Common Hepatic Artery and she bled to death in a couple of minutes", the analyst reported.
"Can I see the body?", asked Jacob
"You know I can't let you", she replied.
Jacob smiled. He'd done this charade before.
The analyst squirmed.
"Come on, Blaire", he urged.
"If I get caught, you're not the one that takes the heat".
"I've done that dance before, sweetheart".
"Yeah and you got fired from the FBI".
"Someone has to keep the pen pushers honest".
* * *
The analyst led Jacob through the sterile corridors of the morgue leaving Jacob to admire the people who work here. These people do not deal in money, motives or political interests, these men and women deal in cells and blood samples. They surround themselves, not with conniving advisors, but with microscopes and scalpels. The very place they work in is cold, sterile and lifeless. Incorruptible. Blaire opened a set of double doors and led Jacob into the lab.
"You've got 5 minutes".
He moved hesitantly over to the body, concealed by a large white medical blanket. He swallowed the lump in his throat, noticing Blaire seeing his odd behaviour and yanked the blanket from the body.
Jacob exhaled hard.
"This is not Dani Carter", he uttered breathlessly.
"What?"
"I have no idea who's body this is but this is NOT Dani Carter".
"Jacob are you OK? Did you know her?", asked Blaire quietly.
"Dammit Blaire I'm not imagining this. See for yourself", said Jacob as he gestured to the gun shot wound.
"A 9mm didn't make this injury"
"What are you talking about?"
"See the entry wound. Look at the skin surrounding it. It's pallid".
"That usually happens to the dead", smiled Blaire.
"The surrounding skin from a 9mm is black! A 9mm round doesn't have the power to penetrate very far into the body before breaking up. The skin around the wound turns black because the bullet parabolically breaks up near the entry wound, sending shrapnel to surround areas. This wound does not have any of that".
"Jacob while what you're saying may be right this has already been checked out by a whole team of investigators and been filed away", she replied.
Jacob leveled a firm stare at Blaire.
"Oh for God's sake Jacob the whole world isn't corrupt, you know", said Blaire frustratingly.
"Just because I'm paranoid, doesn't mean people aren't trying to stop me".
"And what are you going to do"?
"I only know one weapon capable to emulating a 9mm wound in this way. Government issued military arms".
"Oh God.."
"What are you going to do?", Blaire continued, realizing she couldn't hope to convince him otherwise.
"To see an old friend".
* * *
"Your move Jacob", Allie smiled.
Jacob looked up from the board to the beautiful woman sitting across from him.
"You're quite pleased with yourself, aren't you?", he asked, letting the slightest of smiles disturb the almost permanent scowl covering his face.
"You're pinned", she replied gleefully.
Jacob grimaced and downed some whiskey.
* * *
Samuel looked at him from across the table, but he might as well have been
peering at Jacob from the Devil's own palace in the deep blue sea.
After a moment Samuel rubbed his rheumy eyes. "You ever wonder about morals?" he said.
Jacob shook his head.
"I do... all the damn time. I wonder what it means to be good - if there's some tally that says 'you only hurt ten people, so come on up, but eleven and you're going straight to hell. Then I think maybe it's a little voice that tells you, way back in your head. And then I wonder what happens when that voice goes away..."
Jacob reached under the table and put the little .22 pistol against one of
Samuel's kneecaps.
"I don't think you're going to like my answer to that. Where is she?"
* * *
Jacob stopped outside the house. It was a modest, single-story house, white pickets and a pool in the backyard. He turned off the ignition and checked his pistol. He didn't want to think about his client right now. She would have seen the news and he still hadn't talked to her. He pushed those thoughts to back of his head and focused on the task at hand.
* * *
"Allie?"
The women that had been his client for the past month stood frozen in the hallway her hand gripping a small pistol.
"Why", he simply asked.
"We needed you to leave the case alone".
"My sister was just a case?"
"You wouldn't forget about her. She left 6 years ago and you wouldn't leave it alone. ", she said with finality.
"You hired me to find out what happened to her"
"No. We hired you because we knew you'd find the body and we thought you'd leave it alone".
"Where is she?", Jacob murmured in a tone so cold his ex-wife shivered.
"She's dead Jacob, you know that. She was an idealist reporter who got too close and paid the price".
Jacob's knuckles whitened around the pistol he was carrying inside his jacket pocket.
"I'm sorry Jacob".
Jacob looked at her and watched all the regret drain from her eyes. She reached inside her jacket and tossed a small golden ring to the floor - the ring Jacob gave her as childrern -, the gun in her other hand never moving an inch from a point that Jacob guessed was just above the bridge of his nose.
"You don't have to do this. It doesn't have to be like this."
"Oh, yes... yes, I'm afraid that it does."
He slowly shook his head. The room's silence was suddenly broken by a piercing crack and for a moment it sounded as if a wasp had buzzed through the room - then a dull thud as her body dropped to the floor. Blood poured from the cavity that had been her skull, a wide black pool that spread like a shadow in the darkness.
Jacob slowly released his hold on the pistol on the inside of jacket pocket. With a mist coming over his eyes he walked over and picked up the small ring. He turned it over in his palm and eyed the engravings "D.C".
