New Private Eye Story Soon!

New Private Eye Andrew Cherry adventure coming soon.

Sh!t storm....

Don't you wish you could build your dreams out of shit. I mean, imagine this for a moment. If people could build their dreams out shit, the cost to run sewage treatment plants wouldn't be nearly as high.

You wouldn't need to flush your toilet as much, thus saving water, and California. (I have friends there.)

Water would be a lot cleaner overall.

People would probably eat better so they could shit better to make more shit, because the more shit, the more dreams!

People eating better means healthier people, and possible happier people lowering healthcare costs. (In general, my mother is the exception. Nothing can cure her.)

Healthier people means more shit which means more dreams...you see where this is going?

A lot of shit equals a lot of dreams. Everyone will have everything they want!

I think I'll start a crowd funding campaign to research how to turn shit into dreams. How many people will support me in this effort? I'll give out certificates of shit that can be turned in for dreams if we figure out how to do it. And maybe some other things like signed pictures of me or something. Those are worth shit too.

Can you tell it was one of those rare days for me? It's a good thing I can keep my sense of humor isn't it?

Also, I'm full of shit and dreams.
                                     Mark C. Miller Sr.

Be a Human Being, Pay it forward.-MCM

Alone on the Sidewalk

It was a little after 10 pm and I found myself alone on the sidewalk staring at my neighbor's house between the two ambulances, wondering if it was he, or his wife. I knew it was bad who ever it was by the way the paramedics kept running from the house to grab more equipment from the trucks then dashing back into the house.

We've had our share of incidents on the street and I've never seen these guys run like this. Five..., six...., seven trips so far, for more bags and boxes of equipment and medications not counting the trips they made while I was still in my house looking out the window.

My wife and I were watching television when the red and blue lights began flashing off the wall in front of us. Our couch backs up to the big picture window because it's the only wall long enough to fit it. We peeked out to see an ambulance unloading a stretcher. Waiting to see who would be brought out, ten to fifteen minutes passed, watching as they hurried back and forth several times between the house and the truck.

We met Rick and Mandy shortly after moving in to this house. I wouldn't say we're great friends but we're good neighbors. We help each other out, watch out for each other and each others stuff. Actually, Rick does most of the helping.

In the winter when it snows, Rick snow blows four of five of our driveways including his own because he likes it. I've told him he doesn't need to do ours but he continues on.

When I was transforming my front yard into a garden, Rick came over and offered some of the plants from his yard if I dug them up, I said deal! He showed which ones I could have and suggested how much soil to take with it. He said I could take the purple one if I wanted but they almost never transplant well. You have to water them a lot and they still may not make it. I took two of them and watered them and they did survive. Now they've multiplied.

Mandy and I over they last two years have contemplated the drug house next to her, across from me. We've met in my front yard to discuss it, we've met in her front yard to discuss it. The loud music, the fights, the constant flow of cars in and out. We laughed about it at times and ultimately did nothing but complain to each other about it.

Another tank of oxygen...the cold from the concrete seeping through the souls of my shoes, I stood watching the side door of Rick and Mandy's house for twenty minutes or more, still no sign of who was in distress. My dogs would bark through the window every so often, at me, or the paramedics when they come out of house.

More minutes passed, fifteen probably. I paced back and forth trying to decide if I should go over and see if everything was okay when one of the paramedics stepped out of the propped open side door of Rick's house holding his cell phone. He wandered around the grass on edge of the drive away from the door for about ten minutes talking intently to someone on the other end of the phone.

It was then I got a bad feeling and went back in my house to talk to my wife to tell her what I saw and warm up a little. Minutes later we heard a door close outside and looked to see them loading someone into the ambulance. I went back out and waited until they cleared most of their equipment from the side of house by the door before heading across the street to see what happened.

I crossed the street slowly and glanced quickly into the vehicle to see Mandy's pale legs on the stretcher and continued toward the side door but waited on the grass out of the way while the paramedics continued to pack up their equipment. After a few moments Rick stepped outside looking dazed.

"Oh, hi Mark."
"Hey, Rick. What happened?" I asked.
"My wife...I don't think she's going to make....."

I won't tell you everything that he told me because it was bad, really bad, but it also made realize that I hadn't been over to see either of them in a while. He told me Mandy had been previously diagnosed with cancer and gone through treatment and it had come back in June in her throat and spread to pulmonary artery. She started coughing, then she couldn't breath and then the bleeding started. Mandy died a little after 11 pm Sunday, December 7th, 2014.

I'm going to miss yelling, "Hey neighbor!" to Mandy and hearing her yelling it back at me, because that was our thing.

(Rick & Mandy are not their real names)

The Perils of Blogging at Lunchtime from Work

The Perils of Blogging at Lunchtime from Work

I'm new to this whole blogging thingy so I'm still getting the hang of it. Also, I have a few handicaps. Not physical, or mental, well that's debatable if you to talk to my family. No my handicaps are that I do most of my blogging from my phone using several different apps that I have to copy and paste between, and that's not even the difficult part. The really hard part is that I write and post during my lunch break which may be from 11:30am to 1:30pm depending upon what crap has hit the fan that day.

Take yesterday when I wrote the Bird Sh!t post. I started that at about 11:45am and finished around 1:10pm I think. But as my wife pointed out when I got home, "You missed a bunch of words."

I went back and reread it, huh! I sure did. There were words missing, "get" should have been in one sentence. The word "with" should have been "without", that changes the entire meaning of the statement! I can't remember the other ones but I fixed them as I went, and added some more content to the story since I was in there anyway.

One of the issues is constantly getting interrupted by phone calls, and/or having to run out to the plant to fix things during 'lunch' which we really don't get if we stay in the building. If something breaks, it needs fixed, usually immediately, because we run constant production. So if a PC or a printer or a scanner goes down, that slows or stops production and that isn't good for anybody.

If I'm in the middle of typing my blog and a help desk call comes in, and I need to go out and fix a printer or a scanner, that's what I do. Then I come back and try figure out where my train of thought was before I got interrupted. I'm not complaining, that's my job. It comes first! But I think that's how words get "missed".

Either that or I have seizures when typing and think I already typed that word! I could go with that! What do you think? No? No, the meds have been working for a while, they won't let me use excuse anymore.....

p.s. If you find errors in this story, ignore them, eventually they'll go away.

Where Did That Sh!t Come From?

Where Did That Sh!t Come From?

So last night before the hockey game my wife got home from work and I went out to help bring in the few bags of groceries she had picked up.

She handled most of them since they were already in her hands and I grabbed the door and released the hounds! Our dogs go nuts every time we come home, actually, every time we walk out the side door and walk back in. They think they have the right to tear off into the back yard, do a few laps, do some 'business', or not, come in, get a treat and jump all over each other for ten minutes because they're so happy to see us, again!
Like we were gone for decades or something.

Anyway, I opened the door, the dogs exit, come back in, the wife puts down the bags, I reach for the dog treats and see I have fresh bird shit on my thumb! Really fresh! Now it's 7 o'clock at night and I swear there weren't any birds flying around when I went out to the car so how the hell did I get bird shit on my THUMB?

Not my head, not my shoulder, my thumb!
Gross! Now we gotta get moving or we're going to miss have the game so I scrub my hand, and thumb, with dish detergent, dry it with a paper towel and head out the door with my youngest son!

After the game I park my wife's car in the street because mine needs gas and she leaves before me for work so instead switching around in the am, I'll do after the station that way I can get a few extra hours (minutes) of sleep. (It's a mind game in my own head, another story)

When my son and I reach the side door there is a frantic sparrow flying around under the awning of the side door! It startled me. This space is only three and a half feet by three and a half feet square under here. I back up and try to shoo it away but it won't leave. No matter what I do it continues to fly around under the awning every once in awhile landing on the light.

As a matter of fact it's looking at me like I'm trespassing on its territory! I mean really, I'm getting the evil eye from this little brown feather duster! "Really dude! You shit on me earlier!"

Now the light bulb goes off! Pun intended. I know why it won't leave! Ever since our friendly neighbors across the street or whoever it is, has broken into several of our cars in surrounding 6 houses, I've left the side light on. Now that the temp has dropped to below freezing, that little critter decided it was a good place to stay warm.

Resolution without death because I am an animal lover. I turned the light off. An hour and a half later she was gone.

I can't be tracking bird poop into my house with a brand new baby in the family, just can't. It'll find somewhere else to stay warm I'm sure.

Probably, the front porch light.....

Angel and the Private Eye

Angel and the Private Eye

I sit here in my dark still office, reclining in this seasoned leather chair with my feet up on the edge the cherry wood desk. The remainder of the whiskey drips into the glass like the last of a warm summer rain weeping from a gently bobbing elm leaf into a still puddle, filling almost to the rim. I reach over the edge of the desk without looking and drop the bottle into waste basket. It hits the bottom with an overt metallic gong. Of course it would, I haven't had a case in nearly two months. 

That's the last bottle of whiskey I will be buying until I see another paycheck. At least the rent is paid through the end of August, I have a few more months before I have to worry about that!

I finger the glass and hold it up to the ambient city light coming in through the window behind me, admiring the swirls spinning through the amber liquid caused by the melting ice. It wasn't until the third or maybe forth knock, that I realize someone is at the door. I slide my feet slowly to the floor and lean forward in the chair all in one motion, bringing the glass to my mouth so I can take at least one drink before it's too watered down.

I can see through the frosted pane of the door that it's a dame on the other side. I take another quick drink.

"Come in, the door's open." I turn the desk lamp on.

The knob rotates slowly stops, hesitates is more like it, finally it clicks and then opens. I can't believe my luck when I see what stepped through. She is the sexiest brunette I've ever laid eyes on.

"Um, can I help you?" Stumbling to my feet.

"Are you Detective Andrew Cherry?" She asked. The nerves in her voice cracked like popcorn in an open flame.

I offer the lady a seat, she seems pretty upset. I don't care, seeing that diamond necklace hanging around her neck, with the smallest stone in that choker I can restock my booze cabinet for a year.

"That's the name on the door!" She didn't appear to get the humor. I sit on the corner of the desk nearest the chair she had taken so I can get a read on her. "Yeah, I'm Andrew Cherry. What seems to be your trouble miss?"

"My husband and his business partner disappeared....they left three weeks ago on hunting trip to upstate New York and were only supposed to be gone for ten days. Neither one has been seen since! I was told you're one of the best! Please can you find them!" She pleads.

"What did you say your name was?" I ask.

"I didn't. I can't....I can't tell you my name because if people find out my husband is missing it will be....bad."

"Well just how am I supposed to find someone if don't know their name, tell me that?" I figure I better do something to change her mind. I need some leads and a name is pretty good one to have.

"Listen lady, I can't help you. You'll have to find some other schmuck for this job. Have a nice day!" I slid off the corner of the desk, ease around and into my chair, put my feet up on the desk and lean back to the position I was in before she knocked on the door.

"Okay, my name...is Angel...Angel Sullivan." She whispered.

I deliberately ease my shoes to the floor, lean forward, elbows and forearms stretching onto the desk.

"You're Lucky Sullivan's wife?" I breathed back.

"Yes."

"You sure you want him found?" I said a little louder and maybe a little too casual.

“I know what people think of Lucky but he really is a good man.” Angel murmured.

I don't need convinced of Lucky's character, he is useless scum. “Tell me everything you do know about this trip Lucky went on, Mrs. Sullivan.”

Angel disclosed to me where her husband was supposed to be hunting while I pour her a glass of water without ice, I had used the last of it for my drink. The water was still cool from earlier. I hand Angel the glass as I passed by on the way back to my chair.

Angel talked for another forty minutes or so while I listen and take notes, and sip on my drink. I ask an occasional question, just to make it seem like I'm interested, I'm really not. Not interested in finding Lucky Sullivan in the least. If you ask me, Angel, and the world would be better off without him!

But she is going to pay me to find him, so I have to pretend to look for a day or two. Okay, I won't pretend. It isn't in my moral fiber to take a dames money and lie to her about her husband. I'll head up north in the morning and check out the hunting lodge and town.

"...so what do you think Mr. Cherry?"

"Huh, oh, well see, I think I'll head up to the lodge in the morning like I said before, and then poke around the town and see what that kicks out."

"What if you don't find anything there?"

"Then I come back here and go to his place of business. Don't worry I won't tell them who I'm working for or what I want." I reassure.

"Alright. Whatever you think is best." She said.

I see Angel to the door, shake her hand and said goodbye. I watch her walk to the elevator before I close the door, just because I want to.

In the morning I make the long insipid drive up to the lodge. I have no animosity toward nature but all these trees remind me too much of the Ardennes, and the war.

The lodge, I find when I arrive, is more of a four star hotel in the middle of the forest. No wonder all these rich bastards leave their wives at home and come up here to hunt. Although, I'm not sure it's the four legged variety of animal they may be hunting way up here.

Prior to speaking with the desk manager, Crockett, I first have to contrive a story about being a friend of friend of Sullivan's, to make like I was planning on joining this boys club. I spin the whitewash for an hour before I get around to asking Crockett when the last time Sullivan was here.

"Oh we haven't seen Mr. Sullivan for nearly six weeks I'd say. Which is normal because he usually stops in about five or six weeks for at least a few days to a week."

"Yeah, that scoundrel told me he was going to be here this week. That's why I came up here today!" I made like we were old friends.

The manager's attitude toward me changed, eased I guess you could say.

"You know, he and his partner had a meeting the last time they were here with 43rd Street Jake. I couldn't hear anything that was being said but it sure didn't look like it went so well."

"You don't say..." Trying not to seem too interested as I look around.

We wander the grounds another hour or so before returning to the lodge where I tell Crockett I will be in touch about the membership. He hands me a few brochures and I thank him for his time.

In town I ask about the lodge and Sullivan. I stop in at the diner, the gas station and even the grocery store. It is a different story here. Either nobody knows anything, or they aren't talking. I can't tell which it is.

With nothing else to look for and no questions left to ask, I head back to the city.

I spend the sleepless night in my tropical, cramped apartment, thinking about how to approach 43rd Street Jake tomorrow. Dealing with Jake can be tricky, so is not getting killed. With Jake, it's one in the same, he's no one to mess around with. I'd had my run ins with him when I was on the force, but that was years ago. Jake was a punk kid back then stealing apples from sidewalk stands and pitching pennies in alleys.

He worked his way to the top protecting shop owners on 43rd street. Anybody that didn't pay, got robbed once, beaten the second time. They usually paid before there was a third. Eventually Jake expanded to 44th, then 45th. Before too long he controlled an area of several city blocks square and had a gang of around fifty. Now he runs a quarter of the city and is one of the most feared criminals and respected business men in it. Yeah, this day is going to be just peachy!

I drifted into the 43rd Street Nightclub, Jake’s hangout. It was smoky and jazz was playing through it like The Sirens calling ships eerily to their doom. There were a lot of new faces in Jake’s gang and probably the reason nobody stopped me at the door, or when I took my old stool at the bar.

“What’ll be Mr. Cherry?”

I turned my head toward the bartender, “Al.” I nodded, “Whiskey on the rocks. Hasn't changed. How you been?”

“Hasn't changed here either Mr. Cherry.”

“Al, how many times have I told you to call me Andy?”

“Lost count Mr. Cherry.” Al said while drying a glass he had just pulled from the water.

“You’re never going to, are you Al?”

“Probably not, Mr. Cherry.” He returned with a grin.

“That’s what I like about you Al! Honesty! You don’t find that anymore!”

“Find what, Andy?” The deep whisper of Jake's baritone voice cut through the music in my right ear causing the hair to stand up on my arms and the back of my neck.

“Jake..., how have you been?” My voice reacts like the hair on my neck.

“Relax Andy, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have made into the club.” Jake said with a friendly smile while patting me on the back. “So what’s this I hear about you up at the hunting lodge asking questions about a membership? You don’t seem the hunting type to me. Animal hunting anyway.” He laughed.

I joined in the humor, “Well you caught me. I’m looking to buy it for my retirement!”

Jake slapped me on the back really hard and let out a boisterous laugh, “Oh that’s a good one! Al, give Andy another one on me.”

“Comin' right up.”

“Thanks, Jake.”

Al set the glass down in front of me and strolled down to the other end of the bar.

“Now Andy, why are you here, really?” Jake looked me dead in the eye, I knew I had better make up the perfect lie, ….or tell him the truth.

“Okay, here it is Jake. A couple days ago this dame comes into my office looking for her husband who has gone missing. The last place he told her he was going was the hunting lodge up north. So I ask around up there and someone says they saw him talking to you. This was a few days before he disappeared. I’m not saying you had anything to do with it, I’m just tracing his steps. That’s why I’m here.”

“Well, I’m glad you don’t think I had anything to do with it!” He laughs. “Because that might hurt my feelings!”

“Yeah...., I wouldn’t want to do that now would I Jake.” I down the first drink and slide the glass down the bar toward Al.

“So what is this blokes name?”

“Um.” How am I going to do this? I raised the glass of whiskey I’d been playing with and took a large swig.

“Come on Andy, out with it? What’s his name? It can’t be that much of secret! Hell, it’s not like you’re looking for Lucky Sullivan or anything!”

My grip loosed on the glass. I watched as it tumbled away, rebounding off the rounded edge of the bar sending ice flying to eye level, then with an almost inaudible crash, glass shattering when it finally impacted the floor. Choking on the whiskey that had not quite made it past my tongue when I inhaled at the name Lucky Sullivan.

“Holy SHIT! You ARE looking for Lucky! You’re working for Angel? She thinks he’s missing? Oh, this is rare, just rare! Listen, Andy. Here’s what you’re going to do.” Jake was talking really fast now. Like urgency was the important thing right now. “Go home..., go home and wait for a phone call. You be told what to do from there. It's critical when you get that call, you follow those instructions exactly. Angel will see Lucky soon.”

“Wait..., let me get this straight! So Lucky's not missing! You know where he is? Right now?" I'm either about to die or the second luckiest man on the planet.

"Did I just say that! I thought I just said that!" Jake said looking around at his guys for affirmation. "Finish your drink, and go!" I hadn't noticed Al put another drink in front me. Jake swiveled slowly off the bar chair, slapped me hard on the left shoulder twice and march back toward his office. He moved with confidence, power and a hint of malevolence.

Not that I was afraid but the other people in the club were, I could see it their faces.

"Hey, Andy! Don't be a stranger. It gets boring around here!" Jake bellowed while he waved over his head without looking back.

"Sure thing Jake!" I yelled back. I'm not sure if he heard me over the music.

I left the club, and after I was sure I wasn't being followed, headed uptown to one of my favorite bars to use the phone.

"Hey lieutenant, I think I may need your help in a day or two....yeah, a case I'm working just threw me a curve and I think I'm being played for a fool....ha ha, have your fun, just be ready to meet me when I need you alright? Sure...sure...okay, expect my call in a day or two. Okay."

The ringing of the conch shell interrupted my nap on the beach. “Hello?”

“Cherry?” The nameless voice on the other end asked.

“Who else would it be? You called me, remember? You know, I was in the south pacific a few seconds ago, and it was pretty nice there!”

“Huh?” He sounded as confused as I was pissed.

“Never mind, what time is it?” I glance at my watch through nebulous eyes, three thirty five in the morning, shit.

He ignored my question, “Listen, Cherry. Be at your office with Angel Sullivan in one hour, got it!”

“One hour? Sure mac, one hour, got...” The phone went dead, “...it.” That was rude, his is mother should teach him proper telephone etiquette.

I call Angel first, because everyone knows it takes women way too long to get ready for anything, that’s just a fact, “Hello Angel, I’ve got some good news.”

“You found him!” She shrieked. I knew I should have held the phone away from my ear.

“Yeah, but for reasons I can’t explain right now we have to meet at my office in an hour. Can you be there?”

“An hour, oh, sure, sure, I can be there in an hour.” Sounding winded as if she was already dressing which I'm sure she was.

“Alright Angel, I’ll meet you there, in an hour.” The next call I make is to the lieutenant I used work with. We go way back.

“Hey lieutenant, it’s Andy.”

“What the hell time is it Cherry?”

“Three forty. Listen, Mike. It’s going down now at my office in about forty five minutes. They just called to set it up. I already called Angel.”

“I’ll get my guys down there in twenty. You said that office across from yours is never locked?”

“Right, but make sure you stay in the back room because they can open the door too!”

“I’ll have a few men on the street. I hope you’re right about this because I’m gunna get hit with a bag of overtime on this one, Cherry.”

“I think I am Mike, but who can tell with gangsters and love?”

“Alright, I’ll call it in and see you after it all plays out.”

“Thanks Mike, see you there.”

I arrive about twenty after four, Angel is already waiting anxiously by my office door wearing a snow white evening dress with sequins, a matching white scarf. It almost looks like a wedding dress. I flashed a glance at the unlocked office as I walked passed, no sign of the cops inside. Good. If I couldn’t see them, chances are pretty good Lucky wouldn't either. I hope they're in there.

“Good morning, Angel. Come on in.” I slip the key in and unlock the door. It sticks as usual so I deliver slight kick at the bottom, it gives. “There we go.” I let Angel through the door first, check the hall then follow and close it behind me. “I got to fix that door one of these days.”

“Where is he? Where’s Lucky? You said he’d be here!” She hammers my desk with her fist.

“Whoa.” I put my hands out to calm her down, “First off, I never said Lucky would be HERE. I said we needed to meet here!”

“WHAT! You lied! Why? What do you want from me?” She seemed truly agitated.

“Settle down Angel. I also didn’t say Lucky wouldn’t be here, but there are a few things you need to know first. It seems there was this girl, a dancer at a club down on forty-third, he’d been seen with a lot…”

“I don’t believe you!” She cut me off.

“I’m just telling what I heard. Do you want to know or not?” She nodded, “Anyway, she turned up dead and that’s why Lucky has been laying low. The cops think he had something to do with it, lovers quarrel and all that.”

“He wouldn’t do that! He wouldn’t!”

“You’re probably right. He would have had one of his henchmen do it.” I made a slashing motion across my throat.

“Who was she? Do you know?”

“Sheila…something? I wasn’t paying attention when the cops told me.”

“NO..NO..no..Sheila O’Reily?” Angel shook her head in disbelief.

“That sounds right, you know her?”

Angel sank calmly into the chair nearest her, seemingly defeated by some unknown adversary.

“We grew up on the same street. I’ve known her my whole life…we were best friends.” Angel’s voice trailed off, her eyes focused on some distance point far beyond the office window. A single tear rolled down her right cheek.

I loud banging on the door startled us both out of our chairs.

“Come in.”

The door rattled a few seconds, the handle jiggled, then the door rattled again.

“Turn the handle and kick the bottom!” I yelled.

The door popped open and there stood two goons I recognized from Lucky’s crew.

"Come in gentlemen, is your boss with you?"

"Yes, where's Lucky? Where's my husband?" Angel pleaded.

"I'm right here sweetest." A tall man in a black suit and hat rounded the corner and stepped into the office. "Hello dear' how have you been."

"HOW HAVE I BEEN?” Angel sounding agitated at first, “How have I been? I was afraid you were dead." She ended solemnly.

"Really! Should I tell that to the police?" Lucky charged.

"What do you mean?" Angel sounding surprised by the accusation.

This conversation wasn't going at all how I had expected, and now it's becoming clear to me what the circumstances may actually be. All of the running around I've been doing, questions I've been asking, have they been about the wrong thing, the wrong person? I knew was in the middle of a love triangle gone awry but I think I am definitly on the wrong leg of this one.

"What ARE you talking about Lucky?" I asked.

"Stay out of this Cherry, this is none of your concern now." Lucky snapped.

"There is the matter of my bill."

"Open your mouth again and I'll have one of my boys bust your head." Lucky announced in the cold careless manner I remember from earlier days.

“That's the Lucky I remember, you can try and fool the members of society by giving to charities and throwing big parties but you'll never change. You can't the hoodlum out of a punk like you Lucky.” I step toward Lucky. That speech might have gone a little too far, "You're a guest in my office Lucky, maybe you should show a little respect."

One of Lucky's thugs reached into suit. I ease back. Fine time to leave my gun in the desk.

Lucky reached his hand over and stopped him. "There's no need for that."

"Anybody want a drink? I've got whiskey and whiskey." I offered, trying break the tension and also gain the opportunity to get back behind my desk.

"Yeah, I'll take a one thanks." Lucky looked at the two guys in the room with us, "Boys?" He offered, everyone in the room knew they would refuse. They both shook their heads to just to confirm.

"Lucky, where have been?" Angel asked again.

"Hiding from the cops, because they think I killed Sheila, isn't that right boys?" Lucky looked around, they didn't move, "Pretty sure that bullet was meant for me though."

"How so Lucky?" I asked.

"Well, you see Cherry, I was standing right next to Sheila when she was gunned down. I think the person holding the gun wasn't such a good shot."

"So you saw who did it?"

"Did I say that Cherry? Sheila was shot in the back or didn't your copper friends forget to mention that? Yeah, I thought so."

I pour three drinks at my liquor cabinet. I hand Lucky his first, reaching out as not to get to close.

“No ice?” Lucky asks.

“Sorry, fresh out. I been busy.” I made a motion between Angel and him and smiled.

Lucky chuckled.

I pick up the other two drinks, hand one to Angel, walk around my desk, sit down in my chair and put my feet up on the corner of the desk by the drawer holding my gun. I never practiced getting the gun out of that drawer fast because I've never had a reason before. Guess I'll be practicing or maybe I'll move it to a holster under my desk that way I won't have to open a drawer.

"Keep your hands where I can see them Cherry." Lucky was suspicious.

I lean back a little further in my chair, "Relax, Lucky. I'm just here for the paycheck, so I don't care if your wife pays me, or you pay me, I just know I'm owed about a hundred and fifty bucks."

"You're not getting anything, Cherry." Lucky smirked.

"Don't worry Andy, you'll get paid." Angel said.

"Andy is it? Something I should know about? Should I be jealous, dearest?" Lucky mocked.

"No more than I, dearest Lucky." Angel gulped down her whiskey, as her head tilted back, the necklace she wore the first time I met her exposed itself from under the scarf she had draped around her neck. "Here Mr. Cherry." Angel reached into her purse.

The shots rang out before I had time to move my feet! Angel fell in front of my desk, the gun she was holding skidded across the floor. One of Lucky's thugs stood holding a 45. I reach in the drawer, he fired, the window behind me shattered. I duck behind the desk and felt for the 38 Special in the open drawer. I felt the cold blue metal! Two more shots hit the top of the desk, I jump out sideways from the desk and fire two shots of my own hitting the goon with the gun. He spun around and fired a round into Lucky's left arm. I fire two more quick shots then duck back behind my desk.

"You're done Lucky, the cops are across the hall, they'll be here in seconds!" I yell, my ears ringing from all the gunfire.

"Let's get out of here boss!" One of his men yells.

I fire four shots through the wall where I think someone is standing.

I barely heard footsteps heading down the hallway.

"Lucky Sullivan, stop, this is leut...." Gunshots rang out again. The window in my office door exploded. I'm not sure how many bullets were fired but it seemed to be at least fifteen. 

I jump up and rush around the desk to Angel. She was laying on her side motionless, blood covered her chest, neck and left shoulder. I carefully remove the scarf from her around neck, ball it up and press it to the bullet hole in Angel's chest. I'm so intent on stopping the bleeding that didn't noticed anyone else had entered the room.

"Andy..., Andy! Come on, she's gone." The lieutenant tapped me on the shoulder.

"Yeah, sure. I know." I stand up, "Her gun's over there. I think you'll find that's the one that killed Sheila O'Neil. I guess she was just a jealous wife that didn't want to share her husband so she tried to take care of him."

"Tried to take care of him?"

"Yeah, but she hit Sheila by mistake. They were best friends since childhood, I guess blamed Lucky for the infidelity and not Sheila."

"So what happened here?" Lieutenant Mike asked.

"Well, we were having a nice conversation until Angel pulled a gun, I'm not sure if she fired first because I was looking down at the time, but this guy here shot her in the chest. I pulled my gun out of the desk and shot him, he shot Lucky in the arm, I dove back behind the desk, told them you guys were across the hall and they left. That's when you took over, is Lucky dead?"

"Yeah, so is his buddy. I got one injured officer."

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Leg wound, he should be fine."

"Good." I look down at Angel laying on the floor, a sparkle caught my eye under the tangled mass of her usually perfectly combed hair. I reach down and slip the broken diamond necklace from Angels dark locks.

"What do you got there?" Mike asked.

My hearing was starting to come back a little and I can hear the street noise filling the office, "Oh. Evidence I guess. She was wearing this, it must of been broken by the bullet. Heck of a thing."

"Yeah, heck of a thing. I'll make sure it gets tagged. Not sure what's going to happen to it though. Auction I guess along with everything else in Lucky's estate."

After I gave my official statement, the police left, and the coroner took the bodies away, I got a broom, dustpan, mop, bucket full of hot water and some rags from the janitors closet. Back in my office I start to pour a drink, oh the hell with the glass! I take the bottle and from my chair between swigs, I stare at the bullet holes in the desk.

"Shit, my desk is shot up, my door is shot up, my window is shot up, and I didn't get paid.” I look out the broken window toward the sky, “Thanks Angel!" I take a giant gulp of whiskey from the bottle, "Well, the blood isn't going to clean itself."

I start by sweeping up the glass, careful not to get any of the now drying sanguine syrup on the broom. With the mop to got majority of the it off the floor, not that that was a lot. When people die fast their heart doesn't have a chance to pump much out. Good for me, I guess. After half a bottle of booze and two water changes I'm almost done. On my hands and knees scrubbing with an old rag, I'm wiping up the last of the water when something scratches across the floor. I lifted the rag a shake it, nothing falls out. I run my hand across worn wood grain and fell the pebble that is causing the mischief. It is coated with coagulated blood and is about the size of small pea with rough edges.

“Damn glass is everywhere.”

I rinsed the rag and placed the pebble in it then rolled it around to remove some of the blood. I open the rag it is as I suspected, broken glass. I pick the shard out of the rag, give it one more wipe to remove the last of the sticky redness and toss it at the waste basket in a high arc, as the shard floats through the air, the light from the lamp, and hallway hit it at the same time and I see that it isn't glass at all! I jumped at the basket to catch the diamond before it falls into the broken mass of crystal infinity.

The can topples over with crash almost as loud as the gunshots that were heard earlier in the morning, the shattered glass spills out onto the freshly cleaned floor.

"Great! That's what I need. Another mess to clean up." Laying on my side with my arm extended and hand clinched tight, I slowly open my fist one finger at a time. My hand fully open I get to feet, take a few gulps of the half empty bottle sitting on my desk. Carrying the bottle with me around the desk, all the time staring down at the palm of my hand, I go to my chair and sit down very gently. 

Smiling, I lean back, put my feet up and begin to roll that clear faceted stone between my finger and thumb watching it sparkle.

"Thanks, Angel." I drink myself into oblivion.