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Assassination with Davina

George Hardwick III

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Manhattan 1940 ~ G Hardwick, private dick


Here I was laid out on the rooftop, chill raising up into my bones and starring down the gunsights at my enemy; Bic C's operation was like cheap wine, and I was going to pop the cork...


How had it come to this?


2 weeks previous


The night she walked into my office was like any other night. Unpaid rent, phones on the fritz, and the bottle of whisky in the file cabinet was empty; to name a few of the problems that rattled around in my head like a dice in a tin cup. And then there she was, dressed to kill, and taking no prisoners.


I could tell she'd been crying, as she put a wad of cash on my desk, and fixed me with those peepers. I was like a deer caught in her headlights, all I could do was stare as she bowled me over. What a broad. But how did a classy dame like this make it though the grimy alleys, past greasy diners and tough guys to my neck of the woods with all that cash? She'd made a wrong turn somewhere, and I'd be the one to pay the ferryman.


"This aint the neighbourhood for a gal like you." but she just looked at me all icy like, and told me she needed me to take care of a little problem for her. Little, I thought, yeah just as little as those double d's. She was my kinda gal. Trouble with a capital T.


"Listen lady, if you think I'm going to off someone for you, you are staring at the wrong guy." My hand reached under the desk, my instincts told me there was something all off about this.





OOC: Welcome to join me, or I might simply carry on my little story tomorrow

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I'd Thought it Over. Tossed it Up and Down. Back and Forth. There was Only One Answer.


The cab set me down just a half block from his place in that part of Town I'd clawed my way out of. Nothing changed. Still smelled of cheap booze lost dreams and lies. I held tighter to my coat as my heels made noise on the uneven sidewalk moving around the same drunks and wise guys out for a fast buck that always littered up the place.


There it was - G Hardwick - spelled out on dirty windows and peeling paint.


The door made noise as I went in not bothering to close it. Past the eager beaver that typed her life away and made straight for the closed door not sparing her a How do You Do. I'd made a touch up out in the hall - used some saliva and a bit of powder - works every time for that teary-eyed look that never fails. I figured I might need another weapon besides ME.


Walked right in letting my coat fall open and then slouched it off my shoulders. Wearing a dress that best showed off my assets in that shade of blue all men seen to like.


And there he was.


"I need your help." Says I getting all Girlie. "Here."


The bills hit the desk. A Grand to start off negotiations.


I could tell by the way he'd eyed me over then made with the comments after I'd said I had a 'little problem' he was no push over.


"How about you offer me a chair and a drink?" I purred like a baby kitten. "And I hope its a bottle your reaching for ......"

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  • 2 weeks later...

The cool touch of the colt met my hand, I was just waiting for some ruckus to break out in the next room. A jilted lover bursting in after her perhaps, or some heavy looking for his money - and he needn't look far. But there was nothing, just Lulu's infernal typing.


It was the Dame before me what said it all, purring like a kitten, and the way she looked at me said all the rest. My hand glided past the revolver and fastened round the neck of Jimmy Beam. "Sure doll, take yourself a seat then, then you can tell me what's your bother with Big C." Steely eyes fixed on her, looking for clues to what she was about. She was dressed too good for this neighborhood, her frock looked like something right out of a shop window on 45th...


Passing her a glass, I downed my own in a single gulp.

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I stood for a half minute watching as he pulled a bottle out then offered oh so polite like a chair. So I sat. Inching up my skirt first. To bad he'd not get a look at my legs but, hey, that come soon enough.


His words about Big C straight off gave me pause and a quick rethink - had he been tipped off by some Pigeon eager to spill the beans?


"Thanks." And reached for my own glass. I was no dainty flower and tossed it back then held it out for a refill.


What makes you think its Him?" I purred dabbing at my eyes with a hanky.

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The dame got all nervy, like she was a mouse caught in the middle of a cat fight.


I moved to the window, and after checking out to lamp lit street below, pulled down the blind. "Well sweetheart, I think that cause its what you told me*. What's the deal going on here?"


Changing her tune so soon? I smelt a rat disused as Sunday dinner. I'd not put anything past C.Dubble-yer.






* Ref my first post (the intro) to the thread.

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He'd not fallen for that trick so I dropped the helpless Dame and got straight to the point.


"I want Out. He wants me In." I gave a casual shrug. "That's the Deal. He's playing footsie with a new Jane - lying bastard. Told me I'm his one and only."


I tossed back the shot and reached for the bottle on my own topping it up. Yea its cheap hooch not like that French Imported stuff but it was the only thing on offer.


"I'm Smart you know. I run and then he makes it look like this girl pulled the Dutch Act. Well that ain't happenin. Thats why I came here."


He was silent and listening so I pushed ahead.


"Look. You help me and I'll be like a Canary and sing a pretty song. I asked around. You're a Right Guy. Will you help me."


Giving him one of my Trademark watery smiles.

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