The “Gabriel Writer” has printed the 8th installment of “Chapter Play.” You can catch up on the whole story here: Chapter Play

I hope you enjoy it

–Jason

Chapter VIII: In which the hero awakes to gunfire.

Moonlight gleaned from the tip of the dwarf’s 38 special. He bit down on his cigar and glared with his good eye. “She’s dead, Carl, and you’re next!” The gun’s blast lit up the dark office like a strobe light and Carl felt a bullet narrowly miss his cheek.

“Your daughter was dead when I got there, Lewis. Nothing I could do!” Carl inched closer to his desk where he kept a Walther PPK pistol.

“I don’t have a daughter, you idiot. It’s my fiancée who’s dead. You didn’t find her in time, just like you won’t find your daughter either!” The one-eyed dwarf fired again, the kickback almost toppled him. A lamp next to Carl blew apart. “And I’m not a dwarf for Christ sake! That’s only in your stupid book!” The dwarf grew taller; his legs straight, his fingers thinned out, and his forehead receded. He fired the gun twice more as Carl dove behind the desk.

That’s right, it was Lewis’s fiancée who died. This is a tragic love story, not a detective pulp. Carl thought to himself. How could I get that confused?

“It’s not a love story either, you sanctimonious prick! It’s my life!” Lewis screamed. “My beautiful Clair is dead. Your girlfriend, Katarina, will be next. You won’t save her or your daughter!” Lewis fired again and again. “Wake up, Carl. You can’t save anyone!” He blasted out the front window. “Wake up!” he fired again.

“Wake up!”

“Wake up!” Margo screams over the gunfire and breaking glass. “Damn it, Carl get up, we have to get out of here!”

Carl McGavin’s vision swims. The sound of Margo’s cries echo down a long tunnel in the center of his brain. Vincent yells for Margo to take cover as two more loud bangs pound into his skull. Vincent must be shooting but at whom?

The room is in shambles, the front window shattered, and bullet holes riddle the walls. Margo pulls him behind the bed. “Get down!” she yells as another volley blasts through the front door. Vincent, crouched next to the door, is covered in splinters. He springs up and blindly fires two shots out the window before taking cover again.

“What’s going on?” Carl tries to shake the hangover away.

“We were coming to wake you when they pulled up and just started shooting. Vince busted in your door and we barely made it inside. We didn’t even get a good look at them.” There is panic in Margo’s eyes. The gunfire starts again and she ducks her head screaming.

Carl scans the room. The table where he’d been drinking the night before was knocked over and his gun was on the far side of the room. He lunges for it, keeping low to duck the bullets flying over his head. He grabs the gun and checks the clip. Six rounds left, only the bullet he used to kill Matt Richards is missing. The shooting stops for a moment and Carl crawls over to Vincent.

“Where are they?”

“Blue Sonata, on the right, two of them.” Vincent says as he reloads his revolver. “This is the last of my ammo!”

“They’re waiting for us to run dry so they can finish us off.” Carl peeks out the broken window and sights the Blue Sonata.

“What do we do?” Vincent’s voice shakes.

“We charge.” Carl says. Vincent looks at him like he’s mad. “We drive straight at them and make every shot count.” Vincent looks at Margo for a moment. She cringes behind the bed in tears. He nods in agreement. Carl shouts to Margo, “Wait until you hear my call. Then grab my backpack and anything else you can carry and come running.”

“What if you don’t call?” Margo’s voice cracks. Carl’s expression is grim but he doesn’t answer.

“You go low, I’ll go high.” Carl says and Vincent nods again. “On three, 1…2…3!” Carl screams a blood-curdling cry, flings the motel door open, and charges out, keeping his body sideways to make a smaller target. He fires once and the windshield of the blue Sonata spider webs. One gunman breaks cover and fires. The bullet just misses Vincent as he dives to the ground, aiming for the second gunman’s feet under the Sonata. He lets off three rounds, striking the second gunman’s shin. Carl fires again and wings the first gunman’s right arm. Despite his wounded shin, the second gunman leaps up shooting. Vincent recognizes him and freezes, it’s officer Charlie Day. Carl pushes Vincent out of the way and fires back; a third shot that narrowly misses officer Day. The first gunman pushes Charlie into the Sonata’s passenger seat before taking the wheel. Their tires squeal in the parking lot and Vincent fires four more rounds into the car as it speeds away.

“That…was…” Vincent tries to say but he is too winded.

“I know.” Carl says. “Margo! Let go, now!” He yells. Margo runs from the motel room with Carl’s backpack stuffed full and the threesome climb into Vincent’s green Dodge. “Get us out of here fast. Head east on 29. We’re close to Buchanan Lake. There are some back roads on the other side of the lake were we can lay low for a while.” Vincent puts the car in gear and peels out of the parking lot onto TX-29.

“I can’t believe it, that was Charlie back there.” Vincent concentrates on the road. “I spoke to him last night. He said they traced some calls you made to New Orleans, Carl. They think you’re going there. Charlie said he was covering for me and asked if you were still dead! Acted like it was a joke. I told him we were in Burnet. He must have traced the call.”

“But why? Charlie let us go in Austin?” Margo cries.

“That’s because he thought I was already dead.” Carl says flatly. “Somehow he found out different. He’s probably mixed up with the same people who sent Matt to kill me.”

“Jesus! It’s my fault!” Vincent says. Carl knows better. He made a call of his own last night. He remembers the thick Russian accent on the other end telling him he would be dead by morning and he remembers Saffy’s screams. Who are these people? Katarina’s husband, Igor, must be behind this but he never had cops in his pocket. He must be big time now.

“It’s not all your fault, Vince. I might have…” Carl starts to say when the car jolts forward. Margo screams and Vincent sees the blue Sonata in the rearview mirror. It speeds up and rams them from behind again. His car swerves and Vincent tries to keep it on the road. “Damn it!” Carl yells. “Give me your revolver!” Margo fumbles Vincent’s gun from his holster and hands it to Carl. “We’re coming up to the bridge. Just beyond that is a side road. Take it!” Carl shields his face with his casted left arm and fires the revolver out the back windshield. It shatters and he empties the gun into the Sonata. It swerves into oncoming traffic, narrowly missing a silver Prius. They enter the bridge and the Sonata speeds up. Carl draws his Walther PPK and gets off one shot before the Sonata clips their left bumper. The Dodge spins out, crashing through the concrete railing of the bridge, and into the water below.

To be continued…

The “Gabriel Writer” has printed the 6th installment of “Chapter Play.” You can catch up on the whole story here: Chapter Play

I hope you enjoy it

–Jason

Chapter VI: In which the hero makes new friends.

“Drop the gun now, Mr. McGavin! I won’t tell you again.” Officer Vincent Burke’s hand is steady; his gun doesn’t shake, but sweat beads on his forehead. Nothing good will come of this standoff if he can’t end it quick.

“So you can off me for shooting your partner? Not gonna happen, son.” Carl’s voice is steady but the pain from his burned leg causes his gun-hand to shake. “Shoot or talk. Your choice, Vince old pal.” Carl knows if this goes down, he’s going to loose. Then, a shadow catches his eye and Margo Burke rushes in. She slides between the two men, in the line of fire. They both raise their guns rather than risk shooting her.

“We don’t have time for this, Vince! They’ll be here any minute. We…” Before Margo can finish, Carl collapses on the edge of the bed and she rushes to his side. “What’s wrong?”

“My leg, the pain’s getting worse.” Carl groans.

“Jesus, the bandage is a mess.” She says, lifting his pant leg. “Where’s the Hydrocodone?” Carl points to the bag of medicine and bandages he forced Margo to steal in their escape from the hospital.

“Why are you here?” Carl asks as Margo removes the old bandage.

“I told the cops what you asked me to, that you killed Jenny and then officer Richards when he tried to arrest you.”

“Her name was Jenny?” Carl asks. Margo looks at him for a moment before digging out some gauze from the bag.

“But what you said about Richards wanting to kill me instead of Jenny really scared me. Before I left your room he said he wanted me to…”

“Margo!” Vincent interrupts. “I’ve heard your side but I’m not taking another step until I get the truth from this guy.”

“Vince, I called Brenda. She was on duty all night and no one visited Carl’s room. He couldn’t have gotten a gun like Richards said. So where did it come from? Richards had to have brought it to frame Carl. If I had gone back to that room instead of Jenny, I’d be dead now.” The words catch in Margo’s throat.

“You want the truth, Vince buddy? Fine but you ain’t gonna like it.” Carl grunts as Margo cleans his wound.

“Try me.” Vincent keeps his gun at the ready.

“The body you found in my house, it was a woman named Martha Ellington. She represented an old client of mine named Katarina Sereda. Katarina’s daughter is missing but before I could find out more, the Ellington woman exploded in my office. Someone must have planted a bomb in her purse. I told your pal Richards all of this and that I was going to find out who was responsible. That’s when…Jenny walked in. Richards shot her with this gun.” Carl holds up the Walther PPK, it’s silencer still attached. “Then he tried to shoot me with his Revolver. He missed. You know the rest. I think your partner was sent to kill me by the same people who planted the bomb on Ellington.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment. Then holsters his gun and picks up Carl’s backpack. “We need to get moving. The cops will be here soon.” He starts packing Carl’s belongings.

“Aren’t you the cops? Why help me?”

“Margo’s right. It doesn’t add up.” Vincent nods to the Walther PPK. “And I recognize that gun. It’s Matt’s. He took it off a junkie we arrested two years ago. Called it his Bond gun.” Margo and Carl are both stunned. “I’ll meet you at the car, get a move on.” Vincent steps out.

“How did you find me?” Carl asks Margo.

“The hotel manager here saw your picture in the news. He tipped off the police. We got here first but they’re on their way.” Margo gives Carl two Hydrocodone “Can you walk?”

“I’ve done a lot worse on this leg lately, I’ll make it.” Carl stows his gun in the waistband of his pants and limps to the door. Margo helps him down the stairs and to Vincent’s beat up, green Dodge. Vincent tosses Carl’s backpack into the open trunk and then motions for Carl to climb in as well.

“In there?” Carl sighs.

“Just until we get through the roadblocks.” Vincent says.

“Where are you taking me, anyway?”

“North, out of Austin, after that you are on your own.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this but thanks.”

“Just get in.” Carl climbs in with the old spare tire, a jack and crowbar, some bungee packing cords, and his backpack. Vincent slams the trunk shut as a police cruiser pulls into the hotel parking lot.

“Vince, what do we do?” Margo whispers frantically.

“Stay calm. Get in the car and wait.” Vincent recognizes the two officers stepping out of the cruiser, Charlie Day and Mac Johnson. “I’ll take care of this.”

“What’s officer Burke doin here? He’s supposed to be on mandatory bereavement?” Officer Day says to his partner loud enough for Vincent to hear. Officer Johnson doesn’t respond.

“I heard you guys had a lead on Matt’s killer. Thought I could help out.” Vincent tries to sound professional.

“Not your job, Vince. Bereavement leave means just that…you leave.” Officer Day smiles broadly.

“Matt was my partner, Charlie. What do you expect me to do? We’re too late anyway. He was here, room 26.” Vincent points to the second level room where Carl was. “But he’s long gone.” Officer Johnson runs up the stairs to room 26 without a word. Officer Day continues to smile but never takes his eyes off Vincent.

“That’s too bad. Say, is that little Margo?” Officer Day walks past Vincent toward the car. “Why would you bring her here after all she’s been through?”

“You try telling Margo no?” Vincent says half-heartedly.

“How you holdin up, sweetie?” Officer Day leans in and looks around the interior of the car.

“I’m fine, Charlie.” Margo’s tone is clipped.

“Good, good.” Officer Day says, looking back at Vincent. “You know I’m going to have to search the car?”

“Why?”

“For all I know you just killed yourself a cop killer, stuffed his body in the trunk, and now you plan to dump it outside of town. Not that I’d blame you but I’ve gotta check.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“It is ridiculous isn’t it? But that’s the job.” Officer Day keeps smiling but Vincent is sweating. “Pop the trunk, Vince. Don’t make this hard.”

Continued in Chapter VII…

The “Gabriel Writer” has printed the 5th installment of “Chapter Play.” You can catch up on the whole story here: Chapter Play

I hope you enjoy it

–Jason

Chapter V: In which the hero escapes.

“I repeat, send out your hostage, safely. We can still work this out Mr. McGavin.” Officer Vincent Burke shouts into the megaphone. There is no answer but he knows his sister is in the burnt out house. Keep it together, Vincent, he thinks to himself.

Margo hears the subtle tremor in Vincent’s voice. He’s worried. Her captor stands by the window with his gun at the ready, cool as a cucumber. She remembers Officer Richards, Vincent’s partner, whispering in her ear as she left Mr. McGavin’s hospital room, “Your patient’s a dangerous guy. We think someone smuggled him in a gun. Give me five minutes to sweat him then come in with an excuse for me to leave. Maybe we can catch him trying to dump it.” But Margo was pulled into another patient’s room and asked Jenny to help Richards instead. A few minutes later, they were both dead and Margo was a hostage.

Carl McGavin is bruised and bleeding from his fight with Richards. His burned leg is flaring up and the cast on his left arm feels like an anchor. Outside, Burke is waiting for him to say something. The rookie’s scared but not fooling around. Jesus, what a mess! Carl looks over his bedroom. The fire left it untouched but, across the hall, sunlight pours through the ceiling of the guest bedroom. The collapsed plaster and rafters form a rickety ramp to the roof. He looks at Margo and sighs.

“You need to go before things get worse.”

“What?” Margo asks in disbelief.

“I’m sorry I got you involved but I didn’t have a choice.”

Margo slowly stands up but doesn’t leave.

“Go on, I won’t shoot you.” Carl says quietly. Then he shouts to Burke outside. “Hold your fire, Officer Burke. Your sister’s safe and I’m sending her out.” She slowly walks backwards to the door, still not trusting Carl. “Margo,” he says making her jump. “Don’t tell them what I said about being set up. When they ask, you tell them I killed that girl. Tell them Richards tried to stop me.”

“Why?”

“Richards needed an excuse to kill me, that’s why he had two guns. Killing the girl and framing me would have worked but people would still have asked questions. If I had, on the other hand, killed the sister of a fellow police officer then he could fast-track the case and nobody would raise an eyebrow.” Margo turns white. “I think he planned on killing you instead of that girl. If the people who sent Richards think you know something, they’ll come after you too.”

“Oh…” Margo doesn’t know what else to say. She turns and walks to the stairs as if in a trance.

“She’s comin down, Vince old pal! Safe as can be” Carl yells again and shoves the gun in his backpack. He runs to the stairs and listens as the officers move in to grab Margo. She’s telling them not to shoot and Vincent asks if she is okay. Carl runs across the hall and into the guest bedroom. The debris ramp doesn’t look very secure but there’s no time for second-guesses. The scorched rafters creak under his weight as he climbs up but they hold. On the roof, he crouches low and works his way to the east side of the house. It always irritated him how close his neighbor’s house was built to his, now it might be his only chance. He gauges the distance. Can he jump it? Does he have a choice? Hopefully, Margo is distracting the cops. Carl takes off running, waiting for the last second to jump. He makes the other roof with an inch to spare but lands on his wounded leg, loosing his footing. He rolls down the steep roof, off the edge, and into his neighbor’s shrubs. The pain is awful but he’s made it. The tall fence hides him from the cops. He pulls himself out of the bushes, limps to the back fence, and hoists himself over. Beyond the fence is a large, undeveloped field with a small wooded area in the center. Carl runs for cover. He can hear Burke on the megaphone again, calling for him to come out, but the police are already moving in. He makes it to the trees and pauses to catch his breath. Any minute now, they’ll realize he’s gone. On the other side of the wooded area, at the corner of Howard and Metric, a large green bus is pulling up to its stop. Carl’s in luck, he grabs the lock box from his backpack and pulls out a couple of dollars. Carl limps on board and pays the driver. As he sits down, two police cruisers speed by.

***

Carl woke the next morning with his leg on fire and his whole body in pain. He had ridden the bus as far south as he could and then crashed for the night in a motel more accustomed to hourly rates than nightly. The room had two bullets holes through the front door and a pair of soiled panties in the corner but he didn’t care. Carl dry swallowed two of the Hydrocodone he took as they fled the hospital and started going through Officer Matt Richards’s belongings. There wasn’t much, his keys, some receipts, and a wallet holding forty dollars in cash, ID, and some credit cards. He found a business card for the “Yellow Rose” with a phone number written on the back. From the area code, Carl could tell it was a Chicago number. Then he came across a picture of Matt’s wife and two children and paused. He rubbed his eyes to keep the tears away. Why would Matt try to kill him? Why didn’t Katarina tell him about his daughter? Why send the Ellington woman? And why was she killed?

Carl needed answers and could only think of one place to find them. Katarina and her husband, Igor, had disappeared without a trace. That was a dead end. But he might be able to track down Saffron. She had introduced him to Katarina and had always been the link between them. Although Saffy denied it, Carl suspected they had kept in touch. If she did know where Katarina was, he needed to find out. The only problem was he hadn’t seen her since he left New Orleans, sixteen years ago. Saffy had no family and few friends but there was her AA sponsor, a woman named Lorena Collins. Finding Ms. Collins turned out to be a task in itself. After several hours on the phone, Carl discovered she had gotten married and was now Lorena Woods. She remembered him and said Saffy had moved to Chicago with some friends six years ago. She didn’t know who these friends were and hadn’t seen Saffy since. Then, about a year ago, Saffron called her. She was clearly using again and mumbled something about being fired from a strip join called “The Player’s Diamond.” She wanted money but Lorena refused. Saffy got angry and hung up. That was the last anyone heard from Saffron James.

Carl replays the conversation with Lorena in his mind. He feels like he’s been kicked in the gut. The idea of Saffy back on drugs has shaken him to his core. Would she be using again if he hadn’t left? He doesn’t know. All he does know is that everything points to Chicago and that’s where he’s going. His leg starts to hurt again. He stands up to get more pain meds but stops when he hears footsteps outside his room. The sun is setting and two solid beams of sunlight shine through the bullet holes in the door. Suddenly one goes dark, then the other. Carl hears whispering on the other side. He grabs his gun just as the door is kicked in. He spins around, aiming the Walther PPK, and sees Officer Vincent Burke aiming his revolver at him.

Continued in Chapter VI…

The “Gabriel Writer” has printed the 4th installment of “Chapter Play.” You can catch up on the whole story here: Chapter Play

I hope you enjoy it

–Jason

Chapter IV: In which the hero takes a hostage.

Officer Matt Richards fires his Walther PPK pistol, its silencer muffling the sound. A small red hole appears in the hospital tech’s head, blood splattering the door behind her. Richards pulls a second gun with his left hand, a police issued 9mm revolver, and aims it at Carl McGavin. “You never knew when to let things go.” He fires. The blast is deafening. The bullet ricochets off Carl’s bedside table, spraying his lunch all over him. For an instant, the two men look at each other. One shocked he missed and the other shocked to be alive. The moment gone, Carl shoves the table away with his clumsy, casted, left arm and rolls to his side. Another loud boom as Richards fires again, this bullet strikes the pillow where Carl’s head just was. With his right hand, Carl throws the IV stand at Matt, yanking the IV from his arm. Richards smacks it away but he’s distracted long enough for Carl to rip his covers off and tackle him. The Walther PPK skitters into the corner as Carl grabs hold of Matt’s left hand, the one with the revolver. He slams it into the wall until the gun drops. Richards punishes Carl’s ribs with blows and then delivers a roundhouse right to the bandaged wound above his right eye. Dizzy, Carl rears back and Richards kicks him in the chest, sending him sprawling into the corner of the room. He’s on Carl immediately, battering his ribs and kidneys. Carl tries to block with his cast as he reaches for the PPK. He feels the gun, grabs hold, and shoves it into Matt’s stomach. His eyes are closed but he hears the thump of the silencer as he fires. Richards’s body goes taught and then collapses on top of him. He shudders a few times and then is still. Breathing hard, Carl closes his eyes and tries to collect himself.

A scream jerks Carl into action. He pushes Richards’s body off of him and gets to his feet. The nurse, Margo Burke and a security guard have run in. Margo futilely attempts to revive the hospital tech while the guard fumbles with his revolver. Carl levels his pistol. “Don’t, young man.” He tells the guard and notices his wedding band. “Your wife don’t wanna be a widow.” The guard looks Carl in the eye and freezes.

“You killed her!” Margo screams in tears.

“I didn’t, he did.” Carl motions to Richards’s limp body. Then realizes he’s holding the gun that did kill her. “Damn it!” He says to himself.

“Please, Mr. McGavin, stop this before anyone else gets hurt.” Margo tries to steady herself.

“No one will get hurt. Just give me a minute to think.” The police are going to match the bullet that killed the tech with the gun he now holds. Probably what Richards intended in the first place. Carl sees a plastic grocery bag by the sink. “Fill that bag with pain meds and some fresh bandages.” He motions to the sink with his gun. Margo does as she’s asked, hoping to get rid of him. “Then empty Matt’s pockets in the bag too.” Margo looks uncertainly at the officer’s dead body but says nothing.

They hear sirens from the front of the hospital. The cops are here already? Carl thinks and starts to pace back and forth trying to decide on the next step. He points his pistol at the guard. “You! Where’s your car parked?” The guard can’t speak so he motions towards the sirens. “Damn it! What about you, girl? Where’s your car?”

“You don’t have to do this, Mr. McGavin. Turn yourself over to the police before things get worse.” Margo says as she stuffs Richards’s wallet into the bag.

“Where is your damned car?” Carl shakes the gun at her.

“Out back! Out back!” She closes her eyes and waits to be shot. Before she can open them again, Carl has her by the arm and yanks her out into the hallway. It’s filled with nurses, patients, and a doctor who all stare at him wide-eyed. He must be a sight, wearing nothing but a hospital gown. More security guards approach. Carl holds Margo in front of him with his cast around her waist and puts the gun to her head.

“Keep back!” He warns the guards and pushes the gun tighter against Margo’s temple. “Where are your keys?” He whispers in her ear.

“Purse.” She points to the nurse’s station. Carl drags her over and she grabs her purse. The guards step back.

“What’s the quickest way to your car?” Carl whispers again and Margo points to a door marked stairs. “Anyone follows us and she’s dead!” Carl shouts before they open the door and race down the stairs. They make their way through the inner corridors of the hospital, people clearing the way as he waves his gun, until they reach a service door that empties out into the parking lot. Margo takes him to her Mazda 3. “Drive!” He tells her and pushes her into the passenger side door. Margo climbs over and takes the wheel.

“Where are we going?”

“My house.” Carl sits low in the passenger seat and tries to catch his breath. This is all too much for him.

“Why are you doing this?” Margo fights back tears.

“I don’t have a choice. I didn’t kill that girl but nobody’s gonna believe that. This is a set up and I mean to find out why. Turn left.” Carl points with his gun.

“Just talk to the police, I’m sure they can help you.”

“The police just tried to kill me. Turn right and keep to the speed limit.”

A few minutes later, they pull up to 2005 Maize Bend Drive. Half of the house is a blackened skeleton with much of the roof collapsed. Police tape surrounds his home. His next-door neighbor’s house, which was built way too close, has also been damaged in the fire. Scorch marks cover one corner of its roof.

“Alright, we’re here. Now please, just let me go.” Margo wipes tears from her eyes.

“Sorry, not yet. I might need your car.” Carl pushes her out the driver’s side door and they dash under the police tape and inside the house. They hurry past the baked remains of his office where the Ellington woman exploded and run up the stairs. In Carl’s bedroom, he sits Margo on the bed, still soggy from the firemen’s hoses. He opens his closet door and pries up a loose floorboard. Carl pulls out a metal lock box, dusts it off, and shoves it into a backpack along with the plastic bag full of medicine and Richards’s belongings. Carl strips off the hospital gown, unconcerned by his nakedness, and quickly dresses himself in an old tee-shirt, brown slacks with suspenders, and an old pair of sneakers. His cast makes it awkward but Carl manages. That’s when they hear sirens and the screeching of tires. “Damn it, faster than I thought.” Carl grumbles.

“Carl McGavin, this is the police. The house is surrounded. Release your hostage and come outside.” Margo recognizes the voice over the megaphone. It’s her brother, officer Vincent Burke. Carl stuffs some extra clothes into the backpack and slings it over his shoulder. He holds the pistol at the ready and peaks out his window. The police are putting up barricades and forming a perimeter. He sees Burke with his megaphone in one hand and a gun in the other. There is no way out.

Continued in Chapter V…

The “Gabriel Writer” has printed the 2nd installment of “Chapter Play.” You can catch up on the whole story here: Chapter Play

I hope you enjoy it

–Jason

Chapter II: In which the hero finds love

Carl McGavin knows he’s screaming. He can feel the muscles in his jaw strain, the vibration in his throat, and the pain in his lungs. But he can hear nothing but a high-pitched whine. Something is in his eyes, blurring his vision red. He rubs them with the back of his clenched fist and sees that it’s blood. Was he shot? Maybe the one-eyed dwarf shot him because Carl wouldn’t find his daughter. He pats his chest with his bloody fist and then his stomach where the scars of two bullet holes still remain. He doesn’t find any new wounds. No, he wasn’t shot and there was no dwarf. That’s only in his book. In reality, Louis wasn’t even a dwarf, just a short man with a Napoleon complex. But he did have one eye. Is it offensive to make him a dwarf in the book? Carl doesn’t know. And why is he on the kitchen floor?

Carl coughs and tries to sit up but his left arm collapses under his weight. Pain shoots through him and makes his jaw ache. There was an explosion. Jesus Christ, a woman just exploded in his house. What was her name? Martha…Stuart? No, Ellington. Martha Ellington. She claimed Carl’s daughter was missing. But that doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t have a daughter. She exploded, right in front of him. The blast must have knocked him into the kitchen. He coughs again, rolls over on his right arm, and pushes himself up onto his feet. Carl shakes his head to clear the fog. Fresh blood gushes down his face and he wipes it away with his forearm. The Ellington woman knew a lot about him. Too much, it made him uncomfortable. She knew he was forced to retire and she knew Katarina.

Coughing, he stumbles into his office. The air is smoky. The heat has him sweating. Something must be burning. The room looks like a charred cinder. His desk is wrecked and there is no sign of his laptop. His book is gone, all the notes he’s taken over the years, his outline, the short stories, the previous drafts, the shaky re-start to his first chapter, everything. The thought makes him sick. He remembers the Ellington woman’s wrinkled nose expression when she read his main character’s name out loud. Now, there is only a scorch mark where she stood, along with a few scraps of clothing and some chunks he won’t let his mind decipher. Someone must have planted a bomb in her bag, but why? Then Carl remembers what’s in his clenched right fist. He relaxes his hand and looks at the ring Ellington gave him. Katarina’s ring. She offered it as proof that he had a daughter. It doesn’t prove anything. He rolls it over and reads the engraving again, “LOVE ALWAYS – CM.” The same engraving he asked a jeweler to put there sixteen years ago. Damn it, all of this is Saffy’s fault.

Carl was a beat cop in New Orleans when he busted Saffron James for rolling some tourist. She was a fifteen-year-old junkie with no family and no future. Carl had already lost his sister, Marguerite, to drugs and didn’t want to see Saffy end up on the skids too. He took her under his wing, helped get her sentence reduced, and put her in rehab. He did what he could for Saffy but mostly he just listened when the kid needed him to.

Carl coughs but doesn’t notice the flickering orange light coming from behind him or the intense heat. The Ellington woman knew how important this ring was to him. Did Katarina tell her the story? Did she tell Ellington how they met?

One night, Saffy showed up at Carl’s door with a beautiful Russian blond named Katarina Sereda. She was in a bad way, Katarina had been beaten but refused to say who did it and wouldn’t go to the police. Carl reluctantly agreed not to report it and took care of her wounds. Although her English wasn’t very strong, Katarina and Carl talked most of the night. By morning, Carl knew two things. First, he’d been on enough domestic abuse calls to recognize the work of a wife-beater and second, he was in love with Katarina. Both spelled bad news. Saffy didn’t know much about Katarina’s husband, Igor Sereda, other than he was a dangerous man. He had been Saffy’s dealer and she became good friends with his wife but beyond that, she never had much to do with him.

Smoke fills the room. Carl tries to keep from coughing but can’t. Could Igor Sereda have planted the bomb in Ellington’s purse? Carl wouldn’t put it past him but bombs never seemed to be his style, too elaborate.

Igor was a small time thug. In the two years he’d been in the U.S., he’d already had a couple of run-ins with the law. A few charges of drug possession, one charge of dealing, some assault and battery, but none of the charges stuck. It seemed that Igor was protected on high. Because of this, the N.O.D.T., New Orleans Drug Taskforce, were keeping tabs on Igor. They suspected he might have connections to the Russian Mafia and could be trafficking drugs into the U.S. Carl tried to convince Katarina to work with the N.O.D.T. and put this scum ball behind bars. She wanted to but was afraid. Not only of Igor but also of the man he worked for. Igor’s benefactor had arranged for them to enter the U.S. and now they were his slaves. Carl promised he would protect her and she reluctantly agreed to wear a wire.

For six months, they tried to get the goods on Igor but he was too clever. Carl and Katarina saw each other whenever they could and fell deeply in love. But they got sloppy and Igor found the engraved pearl ring Carl had given Katarina. He followed them to a motel on the outskirts of town, kicked in the door, and put two rounds in Carl’s gut before grabbing Katarina and making a run for it. They didn’t get far. The police caught up with them and Igor was arrested. The taskforce couldn’t get him on the drug trafficking charge but shooting a police officer was good enough. They locked Igor away. However, once again, the case was ultimately dismissed. Maybe he turned stoolpigeon on his benefactor. Maybe Carl’s indiscretion with a key witness was a liability. All he knew was that Igor was on the streets a few weeks later.

Carl was still in the hospital when Katarina paid him one brief visit. Something had changed in her. She told him that Igor was going to be released and planned to leave town. Katarina made it clear she would be leaving with him and that Carl was not to follow. Igor’s bullets had almost ended Carl but Katarina’s words destroyed him.

“It’s because you were pregnant, wasn’t it?” Carl mummers to himself, “That’s why you left with him.” Tears stream down his face as he looks at the ring. “He would have killed you, me, and the baby if you’d stayed.” He coughs. Blood drips into his eyes again and he wipes it away. Carl looks around at the destruction. The flickering orange light of the fire now fills the room. He should get out. Carl starts for the door but a wave of dizziness washes over him and he stumbles to his knees. The fire quickly engulfs the room. “You should’ve told me about our daughter, Kat.” Carl’s vision blurs and he falls face forward to the floor, unconscious. The ring bounces into the encroaching fire. Flames quickly surround him, leaping onto his pant leg.

Continued in Chapter III…

I am currently writing a serialized short story called “Chapter Play” for “The Gabriel Writer,” a member’s only publication put out by The San Gabriel Writers’ League. The story is a modern pulp in the vein of the old Chapter Plays or Serial Films of the 40′s and 50′s. The chapters are short and each one ends in a cliffhanger – like the old Chapter Plays.

I will be posting each chapter as it is published in “The Gabriel Writer.” I hope you enjoy the story and please let me know what you think.

-Jason

Chapter I: In which we meet the hero…

Cigar smoke swirled through the dark office in snaking tendrils. Thin rays of evening sun poured through the blinds, slicing the gloom, and dancing with the smoke. It irritated the one-eyed dwarf.

“Do you have to smoke those?” The dwarf waved his pudgy hand in front of his face.

“You wanna talk about why you’re here or about my bad habits?” Jon Sledge drew on his Cohiba and puffed out another funnel of smoke.

Carl McGavin looks at what he’s just written. “Jon Sledge?” Good god! What a horribly cliché name. Might as well have named him “Dick Tracy” or “Sam Spade.” The protagonist’s name needs to be stronger and more dignified but not highfalutin, like “Lamont Cranston” or “Phillip Marlow.” He sits back in his chair, staring at the screen of his Apple Laptop. He runs his calloused hands through his dark gray hair and considers naming the character “Carl.” After all, the detective is base on him. But, no, Carl is too pedestrian. And “loosely based” might be better anyway. No one wants to read about a 49-year-old retired PI with a beer belly and a face that’s taken far too much abuse. However, Carl’s boxer arms are still fairly impressive, they would work for a main character.

There is a knock at the door. Annoyed, Carl tosses the laptop on his desk. The screen flickers. He pushes himself up and cautiously looks through the peephole. A woman stands in the late Austin sun. She’s well dressed with medium length brown hair and large sunglasses. A huge purse hangs from her shoulder. She looks at her watch and knocks again. He opens the door.

“Carl,” a broad smile spreads on the woman’s face. “McGavin?”

“That’s me, do I know you?”

“No, but I know you.” She walks past him and begins to look around the house. “Nice shirt.” She says, referring to his stained wife-beater.

“Thanks. Who are you and how do you know me?” Carl lets his irritation show.

“My name is Martha Ellington and we have mutual friends.” She speaks slowly; her pronunciation is deliberate and calculated. “I have a job for you. I need you to find someone.”

Carl groans. “Straight to the point, huh? Well, maybe you haven’t heard, but I’m not in the people finding business any more.” He stands by the door, hoping she’ll take the hint. She doesn’t. Martha walks into his office, exploring the room.

“So, what business are you in?”

“I’m a writer, and I really should be getting back to it, Ms. Ellington.”

She looks at his laptop, reading what he’s written so far. “Jon Sledge?” She wrinkles her nose and looks up at him.

“It’s a work in progress.”

Martha stops snooping. Her mood is suddenly serious. “I know you are retired, Carl, and I know it wasn’t exactly your idea. But this is a chance to make up for what happened. You can redeem yourself.”

Carl takes a closer look at this woman who clearly knows too much about him. She’s in her early forties, a little overweight but still very attractive. He feels the old detective in him and has a thousand questions he wants to ask. Instead, Carl says. “I’m a writer now.”

“It’s a sixteen year old girl. She’s missing, Carl.” Martha starts rummaging through her huge purse. “She might already be…dead for all I know. But she’s won’t be the only one. Thousands will die if we don’t do something.” She pulls out a button pearl ring and holds it out for Carl to see. “The girl’s name is Isabella, Isabella Sereda. Your daughter.”

Carl’s mouth drops. “I…I don’t have a daughter.” Martha doesn’t reply. She holds the ring out for him. He reluctantly takes it and walks across the room to a lamp. He holds it under the light. Carl knows this ring and the inscription engraved on the band. Tears well up in his eyes.

“Isabella’s mother, Katarina, gave me that. She said you’d recognize it, she said you’d help.”

“I don’t have a daughter. I don’t.” Carl says in a whisper.

“I have a picture of Katarina and your daughter here.” She digs through her purse again but pauses when she finds something alien. “What’s this?” she says to herself. There is a small metallic click. Carl looks up. Martha Ellington explodes.

Continued in Chapter II…