Long dark night

If I’d been a character in a detective story, they’d call this the long dark night of the soul. Drawing deep from the amber leaf, I knew why. I took in another lungful, tasting like a motorman's glove. I laughed at myself, thinking up a Chandler-Marlowe quote at a time like this.

Read from the beginning

I threw the butt down, where it joined its buddy left by Stevie. That's not all she left. I felt a ton weight in my stomach that almost floored me.

Looking at the cheery photos on the shelf, I thought about all I'd lost. The only people who meant anything to me. My wife and my brother. Now, I'd lost Stevie too. Betrayed.

I jumped in my skin as the telephone rang. I picked up.

“John? You planning on coming in today?” It could only be the Captain.

“Sure, chief, just making some breakf..”

“Well don’t,” he said. “You need a break… see the strain in your eyes… get some rest… go see your wife or whatever you do when you’re not working.”

When I wasn’t working! I thought. When was that?

I took his advice anyway.

“Hey hon, how ya doing?” I said, holding out some flowers. Three years since we last spoke. After an hour of my inane attempts at conversation, I figured she’d had enough.

I headed home, passing another man clutching lilies, bending over another grave.

Unlocking the front door, I caught a whiff of Miss Dior with a hint of boot black.

“Stevie?”

O ~ 0 ~ o ~

What happens next?

Part seven: Pretty Miss Trouble

O ~ 0 ~ o ~