The Lost Angel (6 page)

They flopped on the bed and fell into each other’s arms, enjoying each other’s naked bodies passionately. There would be no more running for either of them. They kissed, gently at first, and then with passion and intensity. After a while, they poured themselves a drink and covered themselves with blankets.

***

Jack finished his drink and glanced at the clock on the wall. Nine pm. Not too late, but late enough that darkness would get him across the street and into the hotel unseen. There was only one desk clerk at the front and he was busy reading a cheap skin mag. There was a broad on the centre fold with gams so long she had them wrapped around her head.

It would be no problem getting the hotel register once he’d knocked the clerk out. He straightened his coat and stepped forward when Moses entered the lobby from the bar. He staggered to the main desk. The young clerk put down Miss July and smiled uneasily at the toothless giant. “Yes Sir, can I help you?”

“A bottle of your best house wine for my good friend Eddy Kovakx. He’s in room fif… No. No, that’s mine.” He slapped his hand on the desk. “Room… seventeen.” Mac winked. “He’s got a female caller if you get my drift.”

Jack smiled from the shadows as Mac leaned closer to the clerk. “Charge it to Mr. O’Neal’s account.”

“Mr. Paddy O’Neal?” 

“That’s him!”

The boy nodded. “Certainly, sir.”

Mac glanced at the skin mag and roared with laughter. “Better wash your hands after you’ve finished with that.”

* * *

Jack slipped away from the lobby and headed for the backstairs. “Room nine, eleven, thirteen, fifteen… seventeen.
Got you.
You’re mine, matey.”

He took out the lock picking set from his inside jacket pocket, using the picks to tickle the tumbler until it hit the doors sweet spot. It wasn’t a problem, not for a decent P.I. He eased the door open and slipped inside. A slant of light spilled from the bathroom. Kim was inside, fixing her hair in front of the broken wall mirror. From the fleeting glance he’d got, Jack had to admit she was a swell dame. Eddy was in bed, muttering in his sleep.

Jack knelt down. He eased the key from the bathroom door, pulled it shut and locked it. He didn’t want the broad to see this. If he had to kill Eddy, she might never get over it. He was a gentleman like that.

He tucked the key in his pocket and took out his gun, leveling it at the blanket-covered figure in front of him.

“Don’t try it, gum-shoe,” came Eddy’s low, gravelled voice from under the white covers. “I got you covered, mate.” His gun pointed square at Jack from beneath the covers.

Jack’s trained eye locked on to the snub nose barrel.

“Who sent you?” Eddy’s voice was a mix of anger and concern.

“The name’s Jack Malone. P.I from Central. You’ve got a price on your hide. I’m here to see you answer for the murders of Big Mike and the others, plus a mutual friend of ours wanted to say hello!”

“Well, dick, it ain't going to be as easy as all that. I’ve been ducking and diving all my life. This is my big chance and you, pal, aren’t taking it from me.”

Eddy’s head slid up over the top of the covers. The two men eyeballed each other long and hard. Each man studied the other, looking for a mistake, a wrong move; a slip-up to give the other the edge. Both men had way too much to lose. Eddy couldn’t help himself. He glanced at the leather bag. That one split-second was all Jack needed. He dived for the floor as he let some hot lead loose.  Eddy fired back. The bullet went wide, dinging Jack’s left arm, smashing a lamp and embedding in the wall. The pain burned into him as he dived for cover behind the chest of drawers.

Eddy wasn’t so lucky. He took a bullet square in the chest, his blood spraying a crimson ribbon across the peeling wall. He was dead and dripping blood on the cheap wooden floor. A pool of blood framed his corpse.  Kim screamed. Her voice carried high. It would bring attention Jack could do without. She screamed even louder when she couldn’t get out, banging the door like a crazed creature.

Jack glanced around. The chaos from the bathroom subsided as the words of a well-known prayer chimed. He recognized it from Sunday school and couldn’t help but chant Kim’s plea to the Lord. Jack was saying it more to himself than anything.

“The Lord will keep you from all harm, he will watch over you all your life. The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forever more.”

Jack grabbed the leather bag Eddy had been so interested in. There was no time to check, but gut instinct told him it contained the money from the heist. He searched through Eddy’s jacket. Inside was his driving license. It would do, proof of a job well done.

The gunshots and hysterics had woken people up. It would not be long before they had company. The black-and-whites would attend and that wasn’t exactly on the cards. He unlocked the bathroom door and a furious female charged at him, claws and teeth scratching madly at his face.

Jack held her off for a moment but her frenzied attack caught him on the forehead. With no time to deal with a crazy woman, he knocked her out. One blow on her glass chin was all it took.

Jack gathered her on his shoulder like a stone-aged caveman and hurried from the room. He was just in time too. They missed the hotel manager and other frantic staff as they came around the corner from the elevators at a wary pace. Jack, with Kim still over his shoulder, slipped down a badly lit back stairwell and through a back door and into the night. He took the barely conscious Kim off his shoulder as soon as he was a street or two away, so not to draw attention to himself. He supported her the way he would a drunk, which the excuse he used to the Hindi cab driver who picked them up outside the newspaper vendor’s stall. He bundled her inside, got in beside her, and paid the Hindi a little more than his fare to keep quiet.

Back at Jack’s hotel, he manhandled Kim up the stairs and into his room. He dropped her on the bed and locked the door, then placed the leather bag on the bed.

His hands shook as he unbuckled the straps. Before opening it, he took a deep breath. There they were, the president and some of his friends, more money than he could earn in a lifetime. A smile crossed his face as he stared at the bundles of bound dollar bills. Thousands of dollars piled up, his mouth watered.

He emptied his clothes from his travel bag and filled it with money. He then took several bundles, maybe two or three hundred dollars, and set fire to them in a waste paper bin. He let the money burn for a brief moment, and then put it out. After that, Malone poured himself a drink, courtesy of the hotel’s bar. He let the cogs turn. After a second whiskey, he had it. As a plan, it wasn’t much, but it might be enough. After all, Victor wasn’t the smartest fish in the big blue.

He sneaked out of the hotel with a leather bag full of burnt money under one arm, and in the other, the bulk of his fee plus and a self-awarded bonus. He’d finally caught his break.

***

Kim tried to open her eyes, but everything was blurred, hazy, and her jaw hurt like hell. After a few moments, the room came into focus and she rubbed her chin with her hand. It was tender and her head felt like a tap-dancer had gone to town on it.

She sat up slowly, glancing around the unfamiliar room. Bundles of banknotes littered the bed. She gathered them, holding them to her chest. Whoever the man was, he’d left her enough to start a new life. Tears of joy welled in her eyes.

***

Days later, back in Central City, a couple of Victor’s henchmen met Jack at the airport. They escorted him back to the club, showing him into a small, poorly lit room, and informing him Victor wouldn’t be long. Left alone with his thoughts something didn’t feel right. He started to wonder if he had made the right choice. But it was too late to change his mind now. He had to see this through to the end, no matter what.

Victor entered, smoking a large cigar. His slick backed hair gleamed beneath the lights of the drab, overdone office. “Well, my boy! Jack. It’s good to see you.”

Jack took a deep breath. “I have some good news and some bad, Vic. Which do you want first?”

Victor rolled a pair of die on his desk, landing on snake eyes. He studied the dice, and then glanced at Jack. “Well… I think maybe the bad first, get it out the way.”

Jack nodded. “I found the money but there was a fire. Eddy tried to get smart. I’m sorry, Vic, but it’s lost.” He dropped the bag on the desk and opened it up, letting the badly burnt notes fall out. “I tried to save it…”

“And the good news?”

“I got him and took care of business.”

“He’s dead? You’re sure?”

Jack dropped the driver’s license on the desk next to the burnt money. “Stone-dead.” Before leaving the corpse, he’d wiped some of Eddy’s blood on it, for effect.

Victor’s smile returned to his bulldog-like face. His criminal reputation was intact. He might have lost some money but the thief had been dealt with; no one messed with him
or
his club. He stood, picked up a handful of the blackened notes and crumbled the paper in his hand. “But how do I know the money’s gone?” His eyes fixed on Jack’s.

Jack kept his calm, meeting his glare. “Cos I swear it, Mr. Renetti.”

The club owner smiled broadly and then let out a laugh. “We’ve been through a lot you and me. You’re right. I trust your word. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to do me wrong, would you?”

Victor sat back in his chair. He stared at the torn bloodstain on Jack’s upper sleeve. “He get you?”

Jack shrugged. “A scratch. He missed. I didn’t.”

Victor laughed again, more relaxed this time. “Yes, my friend, you’re as good as I said, maybe better. You’ve done well.”

Jack thought carefully for a second. “Victor?” he said. “As the money’s lost, you can forget the finder’s fee. You don’t have to pay me.”

Victor stood up and stepped around the table. Opening his arms, he gave Jack a big hug and patted him on the back. “No, no,” Victor said. “A deal is a deal. Job done. Money paid. I gave my word, and Victor Renetti
always
keeps his word.”

He nodded to one of his bodyguards. The man stepped forward with a sleek black suitcase. “Ten grand, as agreed.” With their business concluded. Jack nodded to Victor, who smiled and left the office.

Outside, Jack’s mind was racing, he had pulled it off. He was rich and there was no one after him. There and then, he vowed to make a new agency with more P.I’s, something big. He walked down the street into the cold, cloudy night. “Something Real,” he said, and then lit a cigarette. Inhaling deeply, he disappeared into the fog.

END

Jack Malone P.I
will
return in his own series.

Adam lives at home in Shropshire, UK, with his young daughter Holly and amazing wife, Caroline. Who has put up with all his mad rambling’s and bouts of being ignored.

While writing he is always pestered by their pets Fleur the dog and Skitz the cat.

With all Adam’s book’s he tries to bring awareness that people with Dyslexia can accomplish anything, and it should never hold them back from reaching their goals.

Adam has been a fan of the Film Noir Genre and Classic American crime ever since he read “The Long Goodbye.”

When he's not writing his nose is always stuck in a sketchbook illustrating for his fellow author pals for more information and to keep in touch follow him on:

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