The dame was nervous. I could see it as she moved in her seat and looked at me, the wall and then out of the window at a long shadow that was shown on the next door wall, right next to the motel light.
"My father... He's dead. He was shot yesterday" the soft voice penetrated the still air and I was focused on her moving lips. Many thoughts went through my head and the femme fatale wouldn't even need to try to lure me if she wanted something else of me than to find her father's murderer.
"He had some kind of a trouble with Jimmy the Llama" she continued, and I couldn't but chuckle. Jimmy the Llama was the local Cartel boss with a habit of spitting on the wrong peoples' faces at the wrong times, like the time a couple of months ago when he spat on the face of Michail, the boss of the Russian mob down by the docks. They've been at each others' throats ever since and the Triad's been getting most of their weaker territories since then.
"Well, what does this have to do with me, sweet cheeks?" I asked and dropped a bit of ash from my cigarette and onto the ash tray. The dame was more nervous than she had been since stepping into my office, her body looking like she would be ready to climax any minute but her face showed a totally different story.
"Jimmy left me a message" she said, offering me a piece of paper. Where she had gotten it from, I do not know, but the note was crumbled up a bit instead of being folded neatly.
My hands spread the paper and the light coming through the window blind behind me, making a set of light and dark strips across the paper.
I read the paper swiftly and then dumped my cigarette into the ashtray, even if it wasn't finished yet. I downed the whiskey and looked at the dame.
"What beef did Jimmy have with your father?" I asked and looked at her, leaning back in my chair again. Legs stood up and looked at me, frightened of something.
"I fear for my life..." she said and walked for the door, shaking her behind like a professional dancer.
"...please help me" she said before opening the door and walking out. This was all a big mess of grey substance in a bowl of berries. My feet carried me up and then to the door as I ran after legs, but when I got to the door, she was gone and a car started outside the building. All I could hear now was a faint scream of the dame. I knew it had been Jimmy the Llama, but how to prove it was another thing. This went from a huge mess to a huge mess with a race against time. At least if I wanted my reward from the dame
I admit it, this isn't as good as the first one
Support your local Pirates - So the feds won't go Orwellian on your ass.
"Either we, as a society, decide that copyright is the greater value to society, and take active steps to give up private communications as a concept. Either that, or we decide that the ability to communicate in private, without constant monitoring by authorities, has the greater value - in which case copyright will have to give way. My choice is clear."
- Rickard Falkvinge
Last edited by Black Knight of Keno; 03-29-2007 at 10:11 AM.