Jennifer by Wayne Greenough

Author:Wayne Greenough [Greenough, Wayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, contemporary
Publisher: eXtasy Books
Published: 2013-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Two days passed before they wheeled me out the back door of the sawbones factory. I wondered why the doctors and nurses cheered and lit up cigars as Holt drove me away. No one said hurry back. I did hear someone say good riddance, while another said it was too bad the city had only one hospital. Anyway, Holt drove me to my office.

“Let me know if you remember anything that might lead us to the guy that gunned you. We dug a Forty-Five slug from your office wall. It was lodged in your Sam Spade picture, dead center in his left eye.”

The sign on my door said, Four days more, you Deadbeat. I love my landlord. To salute his sympathetic attitude toward my present monetary dilemma, I reached in my desk for the rye bottle and poured a shot. I downed it in one gulp and began doing some serious cogitating. I looked at Sam Spade. There was no hope for a repair job. His left eye was gone, pulped by the slug and by some thoughtless police guy digging the bullet out of the wall behind the picture. He obviously didn’t care what kind of damage he did to my hero. Maybe he’s thoughtless and doesn’t read detective fiction. Oh, well, I could replace Spade with Charlie Chan. Now, there was a great detective.

Holt said it was a .45 slug. That could give me several suspects. One I didn’t want to consider, but my crazy mind did. Jennifer had that Chinese Broomhandle and it was a .45. She would realize I saw it when I went to her bathroom for my bloody nose. Could that stimulate a deadly reaction? There’s no doubt in my mind that I wasn’t supposed to see that gun. She would have to do something about that. Ah, Christ, Blake, you’re a nutcase, thinking such a rotten thing as that about Jennifer. Your alcoholic brain is all pickled up. She’s a friend. Sure she is. I got her parents killed and she was...are we really friends?

Using the Stanislavsky Method of Acting, I put myself in her shoes as far as I could. I felt her terrible anguish, her gut loneliness making her feel hollow and alone in a world full of people. Coupled to her feelings would boil the never-ending mind-destroying frustration of not being able to change what happened. Lastly, this horrendous mishmash of anguish develops into a seething hatred that builds up and up into a terrible revenge that can only be satiated by striking out at the one responsible for what has happened to her.

That’s me. Also, she could put a caricature of me on the internet, and make it look like it was done by an amateur.

Next, there’s Monk. He’s never liked me. He packs a .45 that probably has my name on every bullet in its clip. His comments toward me indicate he would enjoy reading my name in a newspaper’s obituary page. Murphy…he reeked of shaving lotion as he talked about his gat and what it could do to me.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.