Project: Legerdemain - Pt. 1

Exploding into life the match head burned a bright red then pure yellow. Fire; man’s greatest creation gives life to the cigarette and causes destruction to Marko’s lungs. Light from the match lit up his face for a moment as he leaned against his car in the dark alleyway. Under the solitary light the gangster’s men had surrounded me.

He had tricked me into the alleyway with the young woman in the purple fur coat. My kindness was repaid with her leather boot striking against my gut. Falling to one knee I grabbed at my stomach. I should remember that good deeds often go punished, as well as not making for good paydays. Smoke rolled off Marko’s lips as his goons parted so that I could see him.

“It appears my polite nudging for you to stay away,” he paused as he exhaled the smoke, watching it roll up to the moon, “didn’t work for you.” He knocked the ash from the end of his cigarette with a determined motion. “So allow me to give you my last polite, but stern reminder.”

He turned and flicked the lit cigarette against the dirty brick wall, forcing it to spray the destructed cherry across the surface. My view of him getting back into his pearl white Cadillac was obscured by the sets of legs that filled in the open space of the circle. I looked back up only for a moment, I knew it was time to look down and cover my head. My arms came up defensively. Feet began to fly as the car started up and rolled off. I felt the treads of boots and heels of dress shoes crash into me. I won’t lie, it hurt, especially the bitch in the purple coat who decided after one kick that she’d rather dig the heel of her Gucci knock-offs into my side.

I could have stopped them. I forced myself not to act though. It was too early and I didn’t know enough, no need to tip my hand. Besides, other than some stitches and maybe a cracked rib it wasn’t anything to sweat. These guys weren’t trying to permanently hurt me. I second guessed that as the bald guy with the aviator shades reached deep down and kicked me as hard as he could though. I watched my blood spray from my lip onto the ground.

Ok Marko, message received loud and clear.

I thought about what I was going to do when this was all over, assuming I didn’t pass out. I thought about the future, and asked myself why she had to walk into my bar.

Three Days Earlier

I watched the numerous potential patrons walk by and scoff at my bar.

Graffiti helped hide the many small holes in the walls. The window to the left of the door was cracked and still had metal bracers where iron security bars once rested. My establishment was old and run-down, to put it politely. I had bought a shit-ton of Christmas lights and tacky dime store paintings to help hide the desolation until I could get up some money to remodel. The bar was doing shit for business though and I don’t think it was just the appearance.

I sat staring at the large double doors under the old archway, expecting someone to come in and spend a lot of money. You could make rent with a little luck and one or two steadily drunk patrons with holes in their pockets. The old wood didn’t move though so I just kept drinking from the bottle of Jack Daniels. That probably wasn’t helping my profits come to think on it.

“If you can’t make someone come in here I’m gonna start drinking myself.”

Picking up my guitar I glanced over, “say what?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” the snarky short haired girl said, “did you not notice it was empty in here?”

I glanced around as if I hadn’t noticed, but I had.

“If no one is in here drinking and handing me money, you can’t pay me.”

“Good point, why don’t you buy something?”

“Or, I could leave and go somewhere that there are actual people.” Her mischievous smile clued me in on her intentions. She was going to be a pain if I didn’t let her go.

So I sent my lesbian bartender home, better I didn’t have to pay her for standing around and insulting me while she spent the rest of her time on Twitter. I don’t mind when she steals from the stash because frankly, she’s more tolerable when she’s drunk and gets more tips when she hits on both genders.

My other job hadn’t really been panning out either. Officially I was a licensed private investigator, but that was just because it was the close-to-legitimate license I could get in a weekend that looked semi-official. I did a little of everything to some degree. Money collecting, bodyguard work, hunting down cheating spouses: those were the most frequent, and almost always a guaranteed income. You let one person get shot in the arm though and suddenly the phone stops ringing. The fat commie bastard had it coming, and it was just a flesh wound. I hate when clients cry, pisses me off.

I had kept myself on the right side of the law through for the most part, but with money like it was, I would be lying if I didn’t say some quiet illegal activities hadn’t crossed my mind. Maybe I was just bored? That could have been it, but I didn’t want to let my flaws get me in over my head.

I remember sitting there by myself though, thinking I was in for a long night of drinking, attempting to play the guitar, and skin-a-max since I didn’t have any customers and had less drive to go out and do anything else. I’m a little fickle though and decided I needed some music to cheer me up. Shooting out, my leg extended and my boot kicked the old jukebox I had re-done for the bar. I heard the guitar and leaned back closing my eyes. My fingers mimicking the chords on my own instrument.

“-in time you’ll find, the reason I’m here. And in time all things shall pass away, in time you may come back someday. To live once more, or die once more, But in time, your time will be no more. “

This was working already, I thought to myself as I suckled the opening of the bottle for one last drink. That was the last moment of peace though, because that was when she walked in.

The old wooden door creaked on its hinges as I lazily lifted one eyelid. Her heels clicked on the floor to the rhythm the jukebox leaked out. The sound caught my attention, sending my gaze up the stocking clad legs to the coal grey skirt and tightly pulled half-coat. She wore a scarf with a silver dragon embroidered at the end that wrapped around pale skin. It wasn’t cold though unless you counted her gaze. Her look did tell me she didn’t know me so this wasn’t one of my mistakes and I shouldn’t be worrying about claiming any illegitimate children, which was good to know. She was hot enough though, I might have copped up to it.

“Mr. Mars,” she asked pulling off her stylish French beret.

“So they say.”

“A detective, Templeton, lead me to you, said you were the best private eye in the city.”

“Frankie’s too modest,” I lied. “Pull up a chair. I’ll pour you a drink.”

She eyed the barstool and brushed the top of it off with her hand. “I have a problem,” she said still glancing at the stool before finally sitting. “My brother, Marion, has gone missing and the police,” she paused and chose her words carefully, “won’t do anything.”

“Missing persons?” I asked with an intentionally bemused tone. I was okay with the investigation aspect of my career but it certainly wasn’t my specialty, that and half of these missing persons cases that come across my desk are boring as hell. It’s always some guy who just wants to get out from under his wife or people trying to get away from their families. The few actual missing persons, sadly, are never found. I really shouldn’t be turning down anything right now though that is a paying gig, and I do charge hourly even if we don’t find him. I saw her expression and realized she knew I hadn’t taken it seriously. Taking another look at her though, I changed my mind. “Tell me more.”

“I’m afraid of what happened to him, I think the police aren’t being up front with me.”

“You might want to,” I placed the guitar down by the bar and uncorked the vodka bottle, “start from the beginning.” I poured us each a shot but I ended up drinking both.

She took a deep breath before she began. That was when I noticed her hand was slightly trembling. I leaned back in my chair and propped my feet back up on the bar.

“My brother’s name is Marion Harper and he’s a financial analyzing consultant for Siredyne Industries,” She paused and gave me a once over with her eyes. She probably didn’t see much with the way that I was dressed and the fact that I smelled, well like a bar. “You’ve heard of it I trust?”

“Sure, I’ve seen the commercials, people leave a Forbes magazine here now and again.”

“Right,” noting my cynicism she continued. “Well he enjoyed his job and Siredyne pays very handsomely. He was enjoying his life until one day I noticed he hadn’t called me in several nights.”

“You two were close?”

“Are, Mr. Mars, we are still close. I knew something was wrong.”

“My apologies,” I have to stop assuming the worst. “Please continue Miss Harper.”

“I didn’t hear from him for days and when I finally did he was…different, scared. It wasn’t like him at all.” She watched me take her shot and down it since she wasn’t toughing it. “He said he had found something, he had seen things that he didn’t agree with and he felt like he had to tell someone.”

“Seen stuff as an accountant?”

“He was an analyst. He had access to records from all over the company.”

“So he sees something he shouldn’t and tells you, and now no one can find him right?” It seemed simple enough.

“Yes. I’ve done everything I can think of but the police aren’t being honest with me and Siredyne says they’ve told the police everything. They think that my brother stole money from them and ran off.”

She could tell I was about to ask.

“He wouldn’t do that, my brother is an honest man,” she looked away dealing with the emotion of the situation. “And he would have told me.”

My hand covered my mouth as I began to think about what she was telling me. I got a bit distracted watching her though and wondered if this was worth pursuing for other reasons. I couldn’t think like that right now though. I shouldn’t figure it out too soon either. Staying on the case longer meant more money and more time to test the waters.

“You really think there was foul play involved?”

“I do,” she said without hesitation.

“You believe he’s still alive?”

“Emphatically so,” she said sincerely. There was something in her eyes that told me she was going to do this with or without me.

“My fee is one-fifty an hour and five hundred each day after the first, non-negotiable but I’m flexible on my expenses.” I was stern with the price because she looked like she could afford it, and even if she couldn’t she’d figure out some way to pay me if I actually found her brother.

“Thank you Mr. Mars, I was running out of options.”

She stood and extended her hand to make. I took it, not realizing what I had just gotten myself into. If you haven’t figured it out though I’m a little cocky and thought I could handle it.