"Murder Is But A Memory" drabbles by Christopher
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 110
Murder Is But A Memory
Sal and Rocco didn't hesitate to grab my arm and start snatching me toward the door. I walked backwards so I could keep looking at Vic, who was still staring bullet holes through my face.
Rocco opened the office door and the casino cacophony of winners cheering and losers moaning came piercing through my eardrums. Just before they pulled me through the open door and out into the casino I called back to Vic.
"Don't worry, Vicky boy. As soon as I've dispatched these two clowns of yours, I'll come back and we can have a proper chat. See ya!"
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 109
Murder Is But A Memory
"I don't think you understand the severity of this situation, Randolph," Vic said, enunciating every word.
I grinned, "Oh, I'm willing to bet I do understand the severity of this situation, Vic."
"Tell me where the lady is," Vic said calmly.
I was going for broke. "Stane, you can pack a suitcase and go straight to hell."
Vic looked me dead in the eyes, never looking away as he gave instructions to his men about what to do with me.
"Take him to the doc. He knows what to do."
That didn't sound good. That didn't sound good at all...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 108
Murder Is But A Memory
I wasn't exactly sure how to handle the situation. I didn't know if I should bluff, lie about Diana's location, or be belligerent and obstinate. You can probably guess which one I went for.
"You know, Vic, greed isn't a very attractive character trait. That's probably why she ran off and left your ass."
I saw something in his eyes change, so subtle it could've easily gone unnoticed.
"Well, thank you very much for that lesson in aesthetics, Jake."
He unlaced his fingers and began drumming them on the desk top. It sounded like a stampede of very tiny cattle...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 107
Murder Is But A Memory
"Now," Vic said like a teacher about to start a lecture, "I have two things missing: my lady, and a bowling ball bag containing 250 g's. I want them both back, as they are both very important to me. Now, I know you know where Diana is. I need you to tell me. Right now."
I looked puzzled, "Vic... Mr. Stane, I can understand you wanting the woman back, but you are super rich. Is 250 grand that important to you?"
"Money is money, Mr. Randolph. I don't care if it's 250 grand or two bits. I want it all."
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 106
Murder Is But A Memory
Vic laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the desk in front of him. He was looking at me strangely; almost like a guy that had to fire a close friend that worked for him, and he didn't relish the task. I'd never met the man before in my life. I'd seen him in the flesh once at Rosie's L.A. establishment, and his reputation walked a hundred miles in front of him, but other than that we were strangers.
I had one thing in my favor: as long as Diana's location was a secret, they needed me alive...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 105
Murder Is But A Memory
"Yeah, boys, ole' Jakey here is quite a legendary figger in L.A."
Sal popped off again, "He don't look so tough ta me, boss."
Vic grinned, "It took two of you ta bring him in, didn't it?"
I smiled. That shut Sal's mouth.
"Now, onto business," Vic said as he rose up from the table. Tassels on the ends of his scarf, I knew it!
He walked over to his desk and sat down behind it. The ashtray looked like a battlefield, with the bodies of charred cigarette soldiers strewn around, illustrating a hard fought skirmish with no clear victor...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 104
Murder Is But A Memory
Rocco actually looked as worried as I was. I think their lives depended upon them locating the missing bowling ball bag containing Vic's quarter of a million dollars. He stepped up to the table, practically trembling.
"Mm.. Mr. Stane, sir? We didn't find the money," he said hurriedly. "But we found this joker at Ms. Blackmore's apartment building."
Sal piped up, "Yeah, Mr. Stane. He was claiming ta be Ms. Blackmore's brutha."
Rocco finished the thought, "But we kept at him until he gave us another name. He claimed he was...."
"Jake Randolph, the one and only," Vic said, smiling.
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 103
Murder Is But A Memory
I saw him once at Rosie's when they were both still in L.A. He hadn't changed much. He still had that black, slicked back hair, only now the sides were a little gray. He still had the same pencil-thin mustache above his top lip, but just a bit thicker than it used to be. He was wearing a black three-piece suit with white pinstripes, a blood red rose in his button hole, and a white scarf draped around his neck hanging down below the line of the table. I bet it had little tassels hanging from the ends...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 102
Murder Is But A Memory
Sal and Rocco directed me to the main office door in the back of the casino. Rocco knocked twice, heard the invitation to come in, and opened the door.
There, in all his glory, sat Vic Stane. He was at a table littered with dishes containing only scattered mementos left on them of the bountiful meal on which he must have just gorged himself. He was leaning back in his chair, a fork shoved in his mouth, using one of the tines to pick some stubborn piece of food out of one of his back teeth. Class and grace personified...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 101
Murder Is But A Memory
I was hoping to be able to grab that giant four leaf clover from the casino sign before we went in. I needed all the help I could get.
No such luck. Sal was behind me pushing. Every time I tried to lag, he would shove a little harder.
We moved from the lobby to the front part of the casino: several rows of slot machines, followed by the main part of the casino, the pit. The pit area contained tables for Blackjack, Craps, and Roulette. Someone yelled, "Blackjack!" joyously. Good for him.
I'm afraid my luck just ran out...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 100
Murder Is But A Memory
The Golden Clover Casino it was called, a great flashing neon sign with "Golden" in bright yellow, "Clover" in bright green, except for the "O," which was actually shaped Iike a four leaf clover and in the same yellow as the first word, and "Casino" under the other two words in a blinding white light.
Rocco got out of the driver's seat as a red-jacketed little guy, probably barely old enough to drive, quickly ran up and got in behind the wheel as Sal exited the vehicle and went around to the other rear door and snatched me out...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 99
Murder Is But A Memory
When I regained consciousness, and the constellation blocking my vision finally started to disappear, we were pulling up to the front of what I presumed to be Stane's casino. I raised my throbbing head up to look at it.
A long, bush-lined half-circular driveway led up to the front doors, which were recessed back under a porte-cochere, held up by giant marble columns. It looked much classier than Stane and his idiot thugs. Before we pulled under it and the valet ran up to park the car, I got a glimpse of the sign above the joint...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 98
Murder Is But A Memory
I repeatedly punched his face, even after his nose started oozing blood. I knew he had already been knocked cold, but I was taking all my frustrations out on his ugly mug.
Then, a giant meteor fell from the sky and landed on the back of my neck and head, causing me to fall forward onto Sal, roll to the ground beside him, and lose consciousness. It was either a meteor or Rocco slipping up behind me and bringing the butt of his gun down on the back of my head.
The way it felt, my money's on the meteor...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 97
Murder Is But A Memory
I knew if he landed a couple more punches on me that I would go down and wouldn't get back up of my own volition. My head was still spinning like a rotisserie chicken. I don't know if it was my instinct for survival kicking in or if I just got tired of feeling like a battered wife, but I summoned the strength to lunge at his midsection, knocking him to the hard asphalt with me falling down on top of him. I heard his head as it snapped back and hit the ground. Now he was seeing the stars...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 96
Murder Is But A Memory
I felt every nerve ending in my body come alive; synapses firing neurotransmitters to one another like pirate ships trading cannonballs. Electricity was sizzling through my veins. I was unstoppable.
Until Sal pulled back his fist and socked me on the jaw before I could even dodge. I staggered back, almost falling to the ground.
Sal was relentless. He stepped forward and before I could even see straight he punched me in the breadbasket, winding me. As I tried to catch my breath, I shook my head to see if some of the stars still orbiting would finally go away...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 95
Murder Is But A Memory
Sal came tearing out of the backseat as Rocco quickly exited the car and tried to restrain him.
"Damn it, Sal! You're not listening!" he yelled as he grabbed Sal's arm, spinning him around to face him.
"We gotta get him to the boss," Rocco continued pleading. "He's no good to him if he's dead."
Sal chuckled, "Oh, I ain't gonna kill him, ya know? Only.... after I'm done with him he's gonna wish he was dead!"
Sal handed the gun to him, cracked his knuckles, and turned back, saying, "Stay out of this, Rocco."
I brought my fists up...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 94
Murder Is But A Memory
Rocco pulled off the road into the parking lot of a furniture store, driving the car behind it. Thankfully, the joint was already closed. I didn't want to put anyone but myself in potential peril. But the peril waiting for me at the end of our journey was far worse than anything that might happen behind the furniture store. At least I had a fighting chance here, confronting these two idiots.
When the car stopped, Sal motioned quickly with the gun toward the door, ordering me out. I opened the door and stepped out into the warm Las Vegas night...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 93
Murder Is But A Memory
Apparently, I did hook the fish after all.
The goon driving, which I now knew as Rocco, turned back saying, "We need to get him to the boss as soon as possible, Sal. Since we didn't locate the money, this joker is the only thing standing between us and a bullet from the boss."
Sal looked as if he might heed his buddy's words until I asked, " What's Sal short for? Sally? It suits you."
I saw the muscles in his jaw jumping like a frog on hot asphalt.
"Stop the damn car now!" he growled through clenched teeth.
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 92
Murder Is But A Memory
The goon with the gun laughed, "Would you believe I'm Mary Queen of Scots?"
I studied his face. "Now that you mention it, there is a slight resemblance."
He gritted his teeth, "Oooh, you're asking for it, ya know? If we didn't need ta bring you back to da boss I'd pound the life outa you, ya know?"
I looked him dead in his beady little eyes and calmly said, "I'd sure like to see you try it, friend."
He looked back at me just as determined and called to his buddy up front, "Stop the car, Rocco. Right now."
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 91
Murder Is But A Memory
The driver, with whom I had exchanged words in the alley, spoke up.
"Suppose you tell us who you are, pallie?" he asked softly.
Before I could speak, the one with the gun chimed in, "And don't go telling us you're Mr. Blackmore like you fooled that apartment manager. We know Diana... I mean, Ms. Blackmore, doesn't have a brutha."
I smirked, "A distant cousin, maybe?"
The gun barrel dug into my side so hard I felt like I was going to be impaled on it.
"Okay, okay," I said with resignation. "Would you believe I'm Jake Randolph, private investigator?"
