|Brisco Waters, Private Eye (Part 2) (standard:mystery, 2158 words) [2/5] show all parts|
|Author: Red Storm||Added: Jul 18 2001||Views/Reads: 1443/1034||Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|In the second part of this unique murder-mystery, Brisco finds himself looking for answers in a pub full of cutthroats and mobsters.|
Jacobi’s Landing--a run-down pub on the abandoned docks of Lake Michigan, surrounded by abandoned warehouses and broken sheds. There was nothing in this area but trouble, and the pub was the only source of life for three miles in every direction. It was common ground for street thugs, convicts, cutthroats, and mob bosses alike. Nobody ever went in unless they were ready to throw their life away, and that was just the way it was. Barfights commonly ended in the morgue, and the place was a hive for illegal activities. It was also the perfect place for doing a little reconnaissance work. I had frequented the pub for as long as I could remember, since before most of the area had been condemned. I knew most of the riffraff there, and who to ask questions to and who to leave alone. I entered the pub, not really sure whether or not the place was open. There weren’t set hours of operation like most businesses, it just opened when a certain crowd of people decided to open it. I had my .38 Specials strapped in a double shoulder harness under my brown overcoat and my military knife tucked away in my pants. It just wouldn’t do for a fight to break out and me be the only one blasting away with pistols. That would draw too much attention, and that was not what I needed at this point. What I did need was information on who might want Mrs. Schillaci killed. Sure enough, the smoke gave away the fact that Jacobi’s Landing was indeed operating on this dark and dreary night. Thick cigar smoke hung in the large barroom as I walked slowly in, immediately searing my overly-sensitive eyes. I blinked a few, dry times to try and moisten them up, but to no avail. I proceeded into the pub and took a seat at the bar. “Bourbon, straight-up.” I knew the response that was about to follow. “We don’t sell it any other way, Waters. You know that.” The bartender gave a slight grin, then slid the shotglass across the bar. I downed it without a second thought, then signaled for another. “You should watch your drinking, old man. It’ll kill you before any of these thugs gets the chance,” came a horse voice from behind my stool. I turned slowly, hardly recognizing the person through the blanket of tobacco smoke. A man’s face poked through the cloud as he took the seat next to me at the bar. “Thanks for the warning, Jack. I’ll keep that in mind.” Jack was a low-life who I had come to know through his sister. Now that was one hot broad, Jack’s sister Maria. We had seen each other off and on for about a year, but my tendency to put my work ahead of her really did us in. Jack, on the other hand, was relieved to know that his sister wasn’t going to end up with a bum like me. Anyway, Jack was a small-time thief and conman who preyed on the local public. He was a good guy, you just had to get to know him. “What brings you in here on a night like this, Waters?” He grumbled, lifting a heavy finger to signal the bartender for a scotch. He was a heavyset man, short and explosive though, and Italian throughout. I was never sure that he wasn’t more than a small-time thief, but I didn’t go there. “Just missed spending quality time.” I replied, getting a laugh from the other side. “Well watch yourself in here, there’s word out that you been takin’ payoffs to tip the police on a few of us.” “Now who’s been spreading the good word?” I asked, knowing that the rumor was false. “I dunno, but watch out.” He nodded and swallowed his shot. “Tell me about a guy named Schillaci, Jack.” I offered, ordering another bourbon. I was going to need it. “I think I ‘member hearin’ something about it last couple o’ weeks or so. Someone did a nice pop job on his car, took him out real clean.” A slight chuckle. Click here to read the rest of this story (144 more lines)
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