Down the Hall on Your Left

This site is a blog about what has been coasting through my consciousness lately. The things I post will be reflections that I see of the world around me. You may not agree with me or like what I say. In either case – you’ll get over it and I can live with it if it makes you unhappy. Please feel free to leave comments if you wish . All postings are: copyright 2014 – 2021

Fiction Saturday – Untitiled Story – Conclusion

noir detective office

Untitled Story – Conclusion

The fight in the other room had stopped and the two women were standing in the doorway. I put Little Adam down and he went to his mother’s side.

 Cream, pushed a small lever on the arm of the chair and moved away from the table, facing me. “You have no idea how much we have already, let’s be honest, stolen from my company. We are all rich beyond your feeble imagination. Today was to be our last meeting, finalizing our exile plans, but now you have decided to insert yourself into our affairs.” His voice was rising. H was holding in the desire to do what he was no longer physically able to do.

“I’ve been in this dump for more than a year, making decisions and running the company ‘in absentia,’ as it were.

“Do you know why I’ve done this to my own company? I built Pyramid from nothing. I became 2the company and it became me. I was strong and powerful, able to do it all. Look at me now. I can’t even dress myself without help.

“If I was to present this pathetic me as the image of the company, it would die. Investors would abandon the company and competitors would pounce on Pyramid like it was a wounded animal.

“So, rather than allow it all to wither and die, I decided to end it on my terms. Milk it until there was nothing left, but a shell for the vultures to pick at.”

I looked at the men sitting around the table. A few still looked defiant, but a couple of the others knew that what Adam Cream had just said was nothing more than an out of control ego vainly trying to justify fraud and embezzlement on a major scale. For these six Board members it was all about greed.

“Well, Mr. Cream,” I said, “that was the weakest, and most laughable justification for simple ‘stealing’ that I’ve heard since, ‘The Devil made me do it.’ I hope you get a lawyer that’s smarter than you are – and saner.”

Cream rolled closer to me – trying to intimidate even now.

“What makes you think I’ll need a lawyer, you two-bit clown? We’ll all be out of the country long before they even find your body.” Turning his focus to his trophy wife – “Ginger my love, I know you’ve got that gun I gave you for your birthday – I want you to use it. Kill our uninvited guest here and then help me dress.”6

I didn’t like that at all. If she had that gun, and I think it was a sure thing that Cream was armed – it made me having to quickly grow eyes in the back of my head. My piece was handy, but up against two crazy people, both of whom weren’t happy that I was there – well, that’s no way to treat a house guest.

Sally, sensing that things might be turning ugly, bent down to kiss her baby boy, and sent Little Adam out of the room.

Ginger didn’t move. She looked at her once rugged and virile husband and sneered, “You want him dead? You do it. I never agreed to kill anyone. Sure, I’ve got my little pea shooter here.” She took it out of her jacket pocket – a .25 – an effective weapon, if you’re Annie Oakley. “But I know, Adam, that you have some sort of cannon hidden in the crotch of that, oh, so attractive, bathrobe of yours. So, if you want him dead – you do it. You’re supposed to be the Big Macho Stud around here. Go ahead.”

My hand curled around the pistol grip in my pocket. This was going downhill fast. Adam Cream’s face was turning red and he was fumbling under his lap blanket with his one remaining scarred hand.

Ginger had already started walking across the room with the .25 in her hand. I could see that the safety was off. “Here,” she said. “You can have this one too.” She tossed the small pistol into his lap. 5At the same time she pulled a large 1911 .45 caliber semi-auto from her other pocket. Funny, I’d never noticed that she was a Southpaw.

Too late, Adam Cream got his .38 untangled from his blanket.

Both shots came right on top of each other. The room stunk of something other than fish.

Ginger took the .38 to the throat – probably the only way to shut her up. Luckily, for her I suppose, the angle was such that the bullet missed major blood vessels and her spinal cord. I got the .45 away from her in case she had further plans for it. She’d live. I couldn’t say the same for her husband.

Cream’s face wasn’t good looking to begin with. Now there was just a lot less of it after the .45 slug went through it.

Two of the “Suits” panicked and tried to make a break for the back door. They were met by six officers from the Police Marine Unit(one advantage to living in a port city) who were bursting through the door. The front door was getting similar treatment.

Adam Cream was dead. Ginger was on the floor. I wondered if they would call her Gita in court. She wouldn’t be saying much of anything, ever.

Just about everybody in that house was going to go to prison – except me and the kid.

As half the Police Force piled into the dining room, the neglected child with the filthy clothing and the dirty face came to the door.

“Mommy, Mommy, there’s lots more cop cars coming down the street – a whole bunch of them. Is there going to be a parade?”4


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2 thoughts on “Fiction Saturday – Untitiled Story – Conclusion

  1. That was a good short-story, John. Any others coming up?


  2. Good story. Loved the last two sentences.


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