"Murder Is But A Memory" drabbles by Christopher
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 50
Murder Is But A Memory
I needed to relay to Kerri what I found out from those thugs, but after the last time I mentioned Vic Stane and she started convulsing, I was hesitant to do so.
"Kerri," I said softly, "I need to ask you a couple of things, and I need you to stay calm, okay?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Okay," she said warily.
"Do you remember on the pier when you started shaking? Do you remember what we were talking about then?"
She nodded, "Yeah, the gambling ships."
I nodded, "Do you remember who ran them?"
She nodded quickly, "Yeah, Vic Stane."
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 49
Murder Is But A Memory
She looked over at me, the corners of her mouth pointing just slightly upwards in a way that might make someone with 20/20 vision think she was trying to smile.
"I know you are, Jake, and I don't mean to seem ungrateful, really. I just feel so damned helpless."
I took one hand off the wheel and reached over to gently squeeze hers.
"I know you do, baby. But it can't be helped. I'm going to do my best to piece this together and hopefully we'll wind up with a completed jigsaw puzzle that will jump start your memory again."
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 48
Murder Is But A Memory
I felt the emotional chill in the car; an iceberg sitting on the seat between us that made the one that brought down the Titanic look like it should've been sloshing around in a glass of bourbon.
"Is something wrong, Kerri?" I asked, knowing there was.
She looked out the window as the scenery went zipping past in a blur.
"I just feel like you're shuffling me from one place to the next, that's all."
I bit my lip to keep from saying something harsh.
"I'm trying to keep you alive until I can sort this confusing mess out, honey."
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 47
Murder Is But A Memory
I knew I had to find a safe place to stash Kerri. I still had to make a trip out of town and I needed to leave her with someone I could trust. And there aren't too many around that fit that description.
Kerri quickly collected her things from the room. I paid the bill and then called a cab to take us back to the police station where I'd left my car.
I drove us out to Pasadena, where I knew someone who could look after Kerri while I was gone. The miles passed in a cold, deafening silence...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 46
Murder Is But A Memory
I stepped over the two sleeping beauties as I walked back down to Simon's to return his bat before quickly crossing the street and getting Kerri. I was snatching her by the arm in the direction of the inn. I knew we had to grab her things and check out fast.
I didn't even give her a chance to speak, just kept barreling down the sidewalk, pulling her.
"What happened to the two men?" she asked as we reached the front door of the inn.
I pushed the door open and said, "I took 'em out to the old ballgame."
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 45
Murder Is But A Memory
"So," I said, trying to recover my lost composure, "what's your interest in the young lady?"
The idiot looked around, feigning ignorance.
"Lady? Don' see no lady."
I shoved the bat under his chin so hard he tasted the cider coming out of his Adam's apple.
"Listen up, guido, because I'm only going to say this once: stay away from her, or I'll be mailing you and your snoring friend down there back to Vic Stane in a cardboard box, in very small pieces. Have a nice rest."
I pulled his head back and slammed it against the brick wall...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 44
Murder Is But A Memory
My heart started pounding like a jackhammer in an earthquake. I was no coward. I did my bit for flag and country, killed more than a few Krauts during my time in France. But I'd prefer trying to pluck out the Fuhrer's mustache with a pair of rusty tweezers rather than square off against Vic Stane. You'd stand a better chance of reasoning with a rabid dog. Stane was so scary, ghosts sat around campfires and told stories about him.
The guido smiled. After I punched him and he spit a couple of his teeth out, he wasn't smiling anymore...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 43
Murder Is But A Memory
I looked at this fugitive from a pizza parlor as I had him pinned against the alley wall, the borrowed baseball bat wedged sideways under his chin. He was a slimy guido, blue pinstriped suit, a blue velvet fedora that was currently resting on the dirt covered alley ground. A face only a mother could love, and even that was a long shot.
"Which employer are you two schmucks currently disappointing?"
"Vic Stane," the hood said defiantly.
I cleared my throat, "Uh, the Vic Stane?"
He smiled widely.
I felt like the fattest turkey in the barnyard on Thanksgiving morning.
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 42
Murder Is But A Memory
I swung the baseball bat, hitting him across his back and neck so hard that his ancestors in the Old Country felt it. He dropped like the Stock Exchange on Black Tuesday. His companion turned in shock as I flipped the bat sideways under his chin, pushing him back against the wall.
"Hi," I said jovially. "What's a guy like you doing in an alley like this?"
He made sad choking noises until I eased the pressure from the bat.
"Do you know who you're mucking with, pallie?"
I shook my head. "That's what I aim to find out, chum."
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 41
Murder Is But A Memory
Last time? That was no doubt when they had run her off of Desert Canyon Road and nearly killed her. I guessed they were aiming to finish what they had started that night. It was high time to put a stop to this.
I eased into the alley, moving up and crouching behind a dumpster that smelled like the intestinal tract of a recently deceased polecat.
The first thug had his attention on Kerri as the second one turned and was about to retrieve their vehicle. I tightened my grip on the baseball bat, moving up behind the second thug...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 40
Murder Is But A Memory
The grease balls had ducked into an alley between a flower shop and an appliance store. I eased down the alley between Simon's and the flower shop, came around and entered the alley from the opposite end to where they were.
They were watching Kerri with great attention while trying to remain unseen.
"Okay," the first thug said, "I'll keep an eye on the dame. You hoof it back to the car and bring it up here. We'll follow her until the right moment then we'll take care of her. Boss said we better not screw up like last time."
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 39
Murder Is But A Memory
I passed the cigar shop and stopped in front of Simon's Department Store, ducking behind a hat rack that stood just outside the doors. The man inside, presumably Simon, looked at me like I was an escapee from a mental institution, and I didn't really blame him. I was crouched behind some pork pie hats, for God's sake!
The two thugs I was trailing had looked back briefly, but I didn't think they had spotted me. When Simon wasn't looking I borrowed a Louisville Slugger baseball bat that was leaning up outside the store. I left the catcher's mitt, though...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 38
Murder Is But A Memory
I told her not to look across the street, just stroll down the sidewalk and peer inside the store windows as if she were out for a day of shopping. She looked slightly apprehensive, but followed my instructions to the letter.
I crossed to the other side where the thugs were and stayed far enough back where they wouldn't see me. They weren't looking back at all anyway. They kept their attention solely on Kerri, which suited my needs just fine. But I still moved with great precision, making sure I stayed a good distance behind and out of sight...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 37
Murder Is But A Memory
I told Kerri I wanted her to leave the inn and walk a few blocks down the street to the open air market on the corner, and pretend she was just out shopping. She protested, saying she was frightened, and I told her that although she wouldn't see me she would never be out of my sight. She agreed and quickly dressed and made her way out to the sidewalk.
I watched the two little grease balls snap to attention as they saw Kerri exit the inn. Now there was no denying who they were waiting for in the alley...
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 36
Murder Is But A Memory
Now, I don't mean to imply that all Italian guys in suits look like mobsters, but these fellas may as well have been wearing signs around their necks saying, "Hi, we're in the Mafia."
I walked to the payphone at the gas station just down from the inn. I could still see the two thugs in the distance. They were watching the front of the inn so intently you'd think it was a Betty Grable movie.
I dialed the Seaside Inn and told the switchboard operator what room I wanted.
Kerri answered, "Hello?"
"Hey, baby. It's Jake. Change of plans."
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 35
Murder Is But A Memory
We gave a repeat performance of the previous night's triumphant debut before I got up, dressed and headed out the door.
My car was still at the police station where I'd left it when Harrigan took me up to Desert Canyon Road. It was a lovely day, I was feeling good, so I decided to walk until I got tired, then I'd get a cab to take me the rest of the way to the precinct.
As I started down the sidewalk outside the inn I saw two guys in the alley across the street, and they looked like trouble.
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 34
Murder Is But A Memory
I ran my hand down under the covers and pinched her bare backside. She squealed as she grabbed a handful of my chest hair and twisted it.
"Oww! Okay, I give up!" I said hurriedly.
"Good," she said as she gently rested her head again on my chest.
"How long will you be gone?" she asked.
I shook my head, "I'm not sure. Probably just a day or two."
"Where are you going?"
"Until we figure this mess out, baby, the less you know the better. I'll tell you when I get back."
"Be careful," she said, kissing my lips.
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 33
Murder Is But A Memory
Kerri stirred in my arms, yawning and stretching. She snuggled herself back against my chest and brought her hand up to lazily draw random patterns through my chest hair.
"Good morning," I said with a raspy, early-morning voice.
She giggled, "Yes it is!"
I smiled, gently running my hand up and down her back.
"Listen, I've got a few things to check out today, including a short trip out of town. I want you to stay put."
She looked up and frowned, "Got what you wanted and now you're leaving town, huh?"
She started laughing, and I followed her.
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 32
Murder Is But A Memory
The early morning light flooded the room, and my mind was swept away in the tidal wave. Back to last night. The passion and lust, flesh against flesh, lips against lips, fingers laced, hand squeezing hand. Our bodies moving in perfect rhythm as our gentle moans harmonized to create a symphony of ecstasy unmatched in the annals of music.
I looked down at this gorgeous creature lying naked in my arms, so helpless, so fragile, yet so confident in what she wanted. I only hoped when her memory returned that she could live with what we'd done the night before.
Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 31
Murder Is But A Memory
I produced a weak smile.
"Kerri, it wouldn't be right. God knows I'm no saint. Hell, I hold very little sacred in this ole' world. But honor is at the top of my list of priorities. It's really all I have. And if that's gone, kid, then I don't have a damn thing I can call my own. You could be married, could be a nun for all we know."
She looked me dead in the eyes.
"Jake, I have no idea who I was before. But I know who I am now."
She grabbed my shirt, pulling me inside.
