PRIVATE EYE (MoD)

PRIVATE EYE

Story submission for the Machine of Death volume 2. Sadly rejected, but saved for your entertainment.

Soundtrack

PRIVATE EYE (MoD)

Written by Edward Shaddow

Her soft black hair brushed against my face as she bound my hands behind my back. The sweet sent of violet and aniseed filtered through my senses; I breathed deep and let the perfume take me back to when we first met, a time when it was just her smile binding me to a chair. I was just like every other two bit detective, unfaithful deadbeats, missing kids looking for a shot at the big time, the usual. When the landlord wasn’t on my back about this month’s rent, what little money I made went into the local publican’s coffer. That morning as I walked in out of the dull winter rain, I saw the workers installing the machine, apparently the landlord had decided to capitalise on the morbid curiosity of the locals. Of course I put my hand in, I wouldn’t be much of an PI if I didn’t, the crisp white paper slid out and I was assigned LIVER FAILURE. No surprise there. I screwed up the paper death sentence and threw it away, no sense hanging on to the inevitable. Out of habit I jammed a business card behind the metal frame of the coin return slot. Grey and creased, the card jutted out proclaiming ‘James Carol - Investigation’. I had them pinned around town in vending machines, phone booths, jukeboxes where ever I could wedge them. I could have been a little more discerning with my willingness to promote myself, but then again, all hindsight is twenty-twenty.

It had been a slow couple of months so when she buzzed through I decided to be in. She walked through my door like a flower blooming in the cold morning air. Slowly and surely, she emerged from the darkened doorway, water puddling around her feet from the bright red coat draped around her delicate shoulders. Clutched at her breast was a crisp white card. I sat silently behind my desk, letting her do all the talking. She gave me some old lines I'd heard before, strangers following her, shadowy figures, cars parked in front of her home. The twist came at me from the bleachers. ‘I'm sorry,’ I said, sitting up, ‘I didn't catch that last part.’ She showed me the card. ‘The machine, all the machines said the same thing.’

I turned it over in my hand. Two words marred the otherwise crisp white paper, its thick black capitals spelling out PRIVATE EYE. The rest of the card was blank but there was no mistaking it, it was a machine prediction.

I looked up into her baby doll face. Those ruby red lips said more to me than she ever would. I passed the card back dismissively, ‘what do you want me to do about it, kitten? I sure as Hel ain’t going to kill you. I’ve got my own problems and I don’t need a murder charge on top of it.’

‘I saw your card on the machine downstairs, I’ve been trying every one I could find, hoping for something else, a clue to help figure this out.’ The water works began to fall. This one was pulling out all the stops. I offered up my handkerchief and she took it, dabbing at the ruined mascara as it ran down her cheek. ‘Look kid,’ I started, ‘its not that I don’t want to help; Hel I could use the expense account, but you’re probably just paranoid, seeing things when there’s nothing there to see. I got nothing to go on, chasing shadows, watching for people who aren't there...’ I trailed off, hoping she’d take the hint.

‘I have money.’ She produced a wad of bills thick enough to make a Rockafeller drool. ‘As I was saying, I could use the expense account.’

Money is always going to be my undoing, but for now it’s a living. I sat parked across the street from her apartment; for someone who had that amount of walking around money she certainly lived rough. The neighbourhood didn’t suit a nice girl like her, she was better off up town in one of those new apartment blocks, full of mobsters and rich playboys. On second thoughts maybe she was better off down here in the sticks. I had been following her all day and so far, nothing. Nada. Zip. It was like I figured, the doll was paranoid, and who wouldn’t be with a prediction like that; she should have got something nice like SUICIDE or OLD AGE. It was beginning to look like the easiest three grand I’ll ever make.

It was around midnight that things started to get interesting. I was half asleep when I spotted the dame leaving her apartment, rather odd behaviour for a girl paranoid about being murdered. She hopped into a cab and headed off into the city, I started the Buick and followed at a leisurely distance; of course she knew I was tailing her, but I didn’t want anyone following her to know that. The cab made a bee-line for the nearest Aphrodidic temple, a nice Roman column place they put up a few years back, if you’re into that sort of thing. She ascended the marble steps after letting the cabby go. I watched closely as a single robed figure stepped out between the grand columns, the violet sash draped around her shoulders showed she was one of the high priestesses. The two women embraced and entered the sacred place together. Damn, why she’d have to be a temple girl? I’d had a run in with some of the temple’s more fanatical branch a while back, needless to say I’m not a fan of temple girls, even when they are sporting legs up to Olympus.

It wasn’t long before she emerged from the shrine. She ran deftly down the steep steps and waved me over from the sidewalk. I sighed to myself, so much for my discreet cover. The car hummed to life as I nudged it gently over to where she was waiting.

‘Hi!’ She said, rather cheerfully for after midnight, probably high from some offering to the goddess. ‘I need you to take me somewhere.’

‘What’s wrong with a cab?’ I grunted, reluctantly opening the door for her.

‘This is a safe place, no one will follow us, trust me.’ Her sheer black dress hugged her body in all the right places, and flowed on in the form of black stockings. I dragged my heavy eyes from her chest and forced myself to look at her face. Hel, I’m going to suffer for this one. I shook my head and put the car into gear, ‘where too kid?’ I said in my best cabby voice. She smiled at me through those ruby lips, ‘keep driving, I’ll show you where to go.’ Yep, definitely going to suffer.

She took me on a private tour of the sleeping city, winding round darkened roads, doubling back on ourselves, the whole nine yards. Eventually she saw fit to say stop and I found myself outside some long abandoned warehouse just outside of town. ‘This is where you want to go?’ I said, opening her door, ‘wouldn’t you rather me take you to some nice Italian joint in the city? I know a guy who owes me.’ She didn’t stop to listen, walking towards the large metal door rusting quietly on the side of the building. She called me over with a wave and I followed, trusting idiot that I am. ‘I’ll go first, check out the place,’ I said crossing over the threshold. There was a quiet laugh and then blackness. I came round a short time later partially bound to a chair, my head throbbing with warm, sticky blood running down the side of my face. By the gods, I hate temple girls.

She finished tying my hands with a solid tug, burning the rope into my cold skin. ‘Sure that’s tight enough, kitten?’ I said, giving the knot a test flex, pain was my only response. The only sound she made was the crisp echo of heels clicking against the dusty concrete floor of the warehouse as she walked towards the metal surgical trolley; she had an impressive collection of instruments, knives, and potions laid out. I noticed the large gun sitting amongst the scalpels and spreaders, what ever this dame was up to, she was prepared and that’s never a good thing.

I drew my eyes away from the table of horrors and took stock of my soundings. The empty warehouse offered little to help me; cleared out years ago by the looks of things, my only company the hundreds of dust bunnies and spiders holding the ancient place together. No, the only help I was going to get was from myself or the gods, and the way the gods have been looking at me lately it seems I’m on my own for this one. I struggled against my bonds as quietly as I could, aiming for that bit of leeway to free a hand or a foot. My struggles were in vein, her ropes too tight and the only thing I accomplished was to scrape the chair backwards. The sharp screech of metal on concrete caused her to turn and walk towards me, her face blank and unreadable. I held my breath as she calmly walked behind me, the clack, clack of those heels echoing through my dulled brain. A sharp cold pain suddenly shot through my finger followed by a quiet whirr and a harsh ding of a typewriter. I had to say something, get her talking at least, buy some time. ‘Anything I can help you with back there?’ I asked. May as well be polite, more flies with honey and all that. She responded with a low hum and returned to her table. That’s when I noticed the machine she had in her hands, it looked smaller than the one in the office lobby but there was no mistaking it, ‘is that what I think it is? Where’d you get yourself a portable machine?’ That got her attention.

She turned and looked directly at me. Her eyes no longer held the soft pussy cat look she fed me in the office, these were cold, dead eyes of a killer. A shiver ran through my spine. I cleared my throat and pushed on. ‘If you wanted to know how I died you could have just asked. No big secret there, liver failure comes with the territory you know.’ I laughed, ‘at least the barkeep down the road will be happy, keep him in business; you know I put his kid through college?’ She continued to stare at me, her face as blank as my last rent cheque. ‘Look, kitten, why would you want to hurt me? I’m just some lonely private dick slowly drinking himself into an early grave, leave me alone and in a few years I’ll probably be out of your hair.’ I gave her my most pathetic look, one I’d been practicing my entire life. ‘Let me go, I’ll walk out of here and forget the whole damn thing. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve brushed something under the carpet, I know when to play dumb, baby doll.’ Her mouth twisted into a crooked smile, those ruby red lips no longer played havoc with my heart strings, well, maybe just a little - I wasn’t dead yet.

‘You all think alike you know that?’ Her voice purred with sex. She was a woman and knew how to play the game, even when we were off the board. ‘Do you know how many of you stupid private eyes I’ve rubbed out? This isn’t even my first state.’ I watched her walk slow circles around me. Talk was good, keep her talking James. ‘So you’ve done this before, huh? All because some little piece of paper said a PI will kill you. Come on love, we’ve all heard this story before, open a new book, I’m bored.’ I spat out the last part, trying to push those buttons and make her slip. That smile again. ‘You can’t kill all the PIs in the world, just give in, live your life, get knocked up by some grease monkey in debt up to his ears and be content.’

‘You think I’m doing this to prevent my death? Is that what you think?’ A shrill laugh cut the air, ‘I’m doing this for fun you idiot, the PI thing is just a bit of pre-emptive revenge for kicks.’ She circled behind me, her voice disembodied, a whisper behind my ear, ‘but do you know were the real enjoyment comes? Trying to match your machine death, that’s the real challenge.’ Her warm breath caressed my neck and sent shivers through my body. ‘Would also keep the cops guessing,’ I mused out loud, ‘who would suspect it’s the same killer if all the MOs are different.’

‘Now you’re getting it. See, something like GUNSHOT is easy, too easy, but LIVER FAILURE, now that makes me think.’ A soft kiss landed on my cheek as she walked back to her toys. She held up a syringe, its clear contents shot up out of the needle and glistened in the harsh warehouse lighting. ‘Could mean anything, I could cut out your liver, stab it a few times, or...’ she walked steadily towards me, syringe hanging limply at her side, her eyes wide with excitement. OK, now I really hate temple girls.

My heart filled my throat, beating faster than a humming bird on smack. I tried to swallow and gain some composure, but the thought of dying at the hands of this psychologists wet dream was too much. I needed an out, something to throw her off. ‘I’m cursed,’ I rasped.

‘You can say that again, honey.’ She ripped my shirt sleeve apart, revealing bare flesh dripping in cold perspiration. The point of the needle scraped lightly down my taught skin as she searched seductively for a suitable vein. ‘I mean it, kitten. Cursed with a capital C.’ I strained my head around, ‘One of the big G’s owed me a favour see, put this curse on me.’

‘Couldn’t have been much of a favour then,’ she laughed.

‘Not that kind of curse, kitten. You see, this guy is real big into revenge, it’s kind of this shtick. Anyway,’ I let out a nervous laugh, ‘thing is, anyone who kills me is not going to enjoy the next few minutes of life; well, I say minutes but knowing him it will probably stretch out into a few days, weeks even.’ I was laying it on thick, maybe too thick but I needed a few more minutes.

‘Bull.’ She said, but the needle hesitated for a moment. I had her.

‘Do you really want to risk it? A dedicated temple girl like yourself bringing down the wrath of a rival god? The goddess will not be happy, to under state the fact. Hel I should know, she’s been pissed off at me enough times.’ I watched a shadow in the corner move quickly from pillar to pillar, making its way through the warehouse.

‘How dare you call upon the goddess here, filth!’ She struck me hard across the face with the back of her hand. I’ve had worse, frequently. I spat out the blood pooling in my mouth, ‘your goddess is a two-bit whore and you know it. She’s been invoked more times than I’ve had liquid dinners. Go cry on the shoulders of that slut priestess!’ Another slap. Harder this time. I saw the shadow move in behind and a glint of metal.

‘Drop the needle Charlotte!’ His voice rang loud and clear through the steal and concrete cave. I could have kissed the bastard.

Charlotte spun around; the needle, her only weapon, poised to strike. I spat again and smiled, ‘thought you’d never get here.’ He moved slowly around, keeping the revolver and an eye trained on the girl at all times. ‘I had a little problem picking up the trail after you ditched me three blocks away.’ His grey fedora dropped a shadow over his face but I didn’t care who he was, he was my deus ex, and that’s all that matters. ‘Uh, uh girl.’ He waved the gun inching her back away from the medical trolley and her weapon. ‘I’ve been after you for a long time now, you killed some good and some not so good friends of mine. I don’t know wether to thank you or shoot you.’

‘You could start with untying me,’ I said.

‘Do it,’ he gestured with the piece in his hand. She smiled and moved to untie me, in a second she had thrown the needle and dived towards her gun. The syringe found its target, piercing the detective’s cheep suit. His gun fired on reflex as he was taken off guard. I ducked as best I could and shut my eyes, wishing the bullets away from me. When the rounds stopped firing Charlotte was face down in the dust and muck. Her black dress oozing blood onto the cold floor. I looked over towards my saviour to find him in no better condition. I sighed as the adrenaline quickly flowed out of my system and the realisation hit me, it was a Friday night and I was stuck tied to a chair with two stiffs for company. Shit, maybe I am cursed.

Fin.

Artist

Beats Antique

Song

Alleyway

Reason

I just started getting into Beats Antique while writing this story, safe to say they are now my favourite writing background music.

She produced a wad of bills thick enough to make a Rockafeller drool