Short Story – “En Flagrante” – Part 3

“En Flagrante” but AG Bluvier Part 3

“You’re hurting my arm, Shoe.” I looked down, and let go of her soft flesh. It was like wrestling the winning Exacta ticket from a dead man.Edit

“What makes you think you can get away with this?”
“Look around you, Shoe. This is a place that God forgot.”
“That doesn’t mean…”
“You’re my only hope, Shoe.” She was so close I could almost taste her ruby red lips. I bit mine.

And why was she calling me Shoe? Yeah sure, I’m a private Dick, but I always saw myself as more of a Gunn, or a Razer, or even a Slingshot, but Shoe?

“Leave God out of it.” I had my own bone to pick with the big Holy Roller. “It’s Satan were dealing with”
“See, I knew you’d understand, Shoe.”
“Why are you calling me Shoe?”

She looked down, and I followed her gaze. Sure enough, I had one Black Shoe and one Brown one. A mistake from the Shoe Store? I’d been meaning to deal with it.

“It’s kind of cute.” Her crooked little half smile was disarming.
I could barely manage a grunt in reply.
“His name is Carlos Santorini, you can find him here nights after 7.” She tossed a box of matches at me. I caught it without thinking. I might not play ball anymore, but I still had the knack.

She was already heading for the door. This girl was smoother than the red satin that clung to her every curve. Everything about her was on fire, except her eyes, which were as cool and mysterious as the sea. I’d be damned if I was going to let her just walk away. I ran to the window and waited until she reached the street to see which way she was going. Grabbed my coat and hat and ran to the shadows that trailed her.

I could barely keep up with her, she beat a path to shantytown at record speed. She went into a nondescript run down little shack, like any other that surrounded it. I had to circle the building until I saw her through a window. She was talking to someone. She was obviously upset, then she fell to her knees. There was a shadow across the window, I couldn’t make out what the figure looked like. They were blocking my view, I had to climb the side of the building next to me in order to get a better look. The figure moved and I saw Orchid on her knees sobbing. The figure drew closer, all I could make out was a dark shroud, was it a woman? A frail old hand reached out and stroked Orchid’s hair. In her other hand was a Rosarie. Orchid was praying. I watched for a long moment, then she stood to leave, and I had to break for shelter or risk being seen.

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Posted by on Oct 16 2010. Filed under Projects, Short Story: En Flagrante. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry

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