A classy broad

Fitz looked down from his sparse top floor office at the lunchtime SUV and yummy mummy traffic, rolled a cigarette between tar stained fingers and thought, anywhere but here. A gale blew down Main Street, and the sky promised another deluge soon. His life tied up in that room, desk, two chairs, a cluttered filing cabinet and a phone which rang less and less. He looked at the clock and tried to reason why he shouldn’t open that drawer when a shadow paused outside the door. He pulled back his shaking hand and told the dame to come in.

Willowy,  five eight with a trench coat over a cut suit, a veiled hat hiding her face, she sat away from the desk, legs leaning to one side, gloved hands resting on her lap. One look told him a lot, the wedding band, the classy shoes and poise, he waited.

 I’m looking for a man, Mr Fitzgerald.

 The wise cracks piled up quickly and screamed to be let out, but her voice was sad so he let it go.

 Call me Fitz

 I’m looking for my husband Mr. Fitzgerald, she wasn’t there yet, he’s missing six weeks now and the police don’t want to know anymore.

 He’d heard this one a hundred times before, but this broad didn’t fit the bill

 Tell me about him, about you and him

 He’s tall, six three, broad shouldered, slim, strong and handsome. Thirty-eight last birthday and we were happy, very happy together.

 He heard her voice trail off and only then noticed she’d been crying.

 Joe Courage, you may have heard about him, he was in the news.

 Fitz took out his cigarettes; she declined, he lit up and caught himself gazing down at the drawer again. The name had thrown him; he exhaled slowly and watched the smoke curl round a rare afternoon sun-beam. His mind flashed back to the head-lines, Stand up guy, role model, and this in a town sucked down to the depths by a gang of scum-bag killers. Joe Courage missing.  His disappearance became another piece of trivia to a national media who craved trivia.  Their kid had been beaten up and didn’t understand the other kid’s connections, so he hit back. Joe tried to do the right thing, tried to talk and hadn’t been seen since. 

Did I need this, Jesus Christ I need a drink. Fitz looked into her eyes and saw despair, the man had turned his back on her and she was alone and helpless. He knew she couldn’t pay much but also that she was proud and wouldn’t ask for charity. 

Can you find my husband Mr Fitzgerald?

His diary wasn’t exactly full. She looked tired and she looked like trouble. He heard himself give her his knock down rate, a hundred a day plus expenses, one week in advance. He asked where he’d last been seen and told her he’d call her that evening. He opened the drawer.




8 responses to “A classy broad

  1. Sublime noir, Mr Sniffly! Gorgeously written. I knew if I just pretended you hadn’t gone away, it would go away!

    Welcome welcome back, m’darlin’.

    Don’t be too long with the next episode, k?

  2. Hi Sam, thanks for the kind comment. Yeah, its gota be bourbon.

  3. Well..if I had known you were going to blog about my visit to your office I would have worn something a bit more va va vooom.

    Do you drink the bourbon out of a teacup?

  4. Hey Devin,

    You’re a class act kid.

    And I thought you were very va va voom that evening in Dublin.

    Whiskey from a teacup, perfect disguise for an early morning hit.

  5. a lot better than i expected from a big auld swob. Well done meehauling boy, i enjoyed this one the best. Yar no darlin boy, but i’ll give u and yar big black gloves this, ya don’t look a day over the cross bar a me bicycle, gaud bless the little willie on ya, mite c u up the canal bank yet, if u don’t c me 1st. Well done for gettin out there and doin the blog. Now if we could get that wally face up off his arse and do the same, rather than leave that talent a his lyin idle and rustin away to natin, talk to im meehaulin, talk to im .. tk

  6. ok, i’ll leave u b now, promise

  7. Thanks for the kind thoughts cool glasses, don’t think yer man’s into it though. I’ll ax him though.

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