Death on the Streets : A Malifaux Murder Mystery

[Chucklemonkey]

I wasn't going to write another one of these but a slow day at work ended up with me throwing a few ideas around in my head.

One of those was a Smokey and the bandit style chase through the badlands, which I look forward to writing at some point, but before that, one more murder mystery.

Thanks for reading.

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Part 1

I had felt sick for months, 3 months to be exact. That was how long it had been since I had unwittingly sent an innocent man to his death. Since then my guts had been churning like a small boat in a rough sea. Right now I wasn’t sure if it was the sense of guilt that had been following me around all this time to blame, or simply the beers and clam chowder I had at lunch over at Jenny Macey’s canteen.

As I sat in the Carriage with my best bud Graeme Stryder, I regretted that the damn messenger had found us so easily. Someone had discovered a body, and despite it being my day off, the Chief had decided this was one for me. The Carriage was Graeme’s private one, and despite the fact it was slightly more luxurious than most, the advanced suspension was not assisting in the effort it was taking to keep down my food.

I turned and stared out of the open window as we passed a row of stores that all seemed to have had their windows destroyed. In truth, I just wanted my head to be near a gap, you know, in case the worst happened.

We turned right onto a dusty side-street and travelled forward for just a couple of hundred yards, before pulling up next to an area of wasteland.

I stumbled out of my side of the carriage. I didn’t need to help Graeme out, he had some fancy automated machine to lower him to the ground. Damned if I knew how it worked. He came round the back of the carriage just as I was taking a big lung-full of air. Something didn’t smell right around here. I mean literally, something really stank.

“Let’s go shall we?” He asked.

“When did you sign up?” I responded.

He shrugged and started buttoning up his coat, knowing full well I would let him do whatever took his fancy.

We headed away from the road and crested a small ridge. I looked around noticing that the parcel of land was almost bowl shaped, before descending down into the middle of it.

Two redcoats were there waiting for us, well, me more specifically, next to what I assumed to be the body under a white sheet. You don’t get to where I am without observation skills! I recognised one of them as Duvall. He was ok, he had a chance of making it off the street, there had even been talk of him joining our unit, although I hadn’t heard anything about that in a while.

“What have we got?” I asked as we approached.

They both looked down at Graeme and took a moment before noticing my cold stare, and replying.

“Deceased male, well we assume he was a male with the moustache and all, maybe early 30’s, unknown height and weight.” Duvall explained.

“What the hell do you mean unknown height and weight?”

“I take it nobody explained quite what we have here? Damned if I’ve seen anything like it before” Duvall continued, motioning his partner to lift the sheet.

I crouched down and took a look. It took all of my resolve to prevent the contents of my stomach from evacuating and making a run for it. He was about my age, ginger hair and moustache, and where his legs should have been, there was nothing but a mulch of blood and bone. I had seen a body look like this only twice before - once after a big nephilim attack, the other a rogue necromancy - because despite the stories told to scare the kids, attacks of this sort of kind were few and far between.

The odd thing of it was that where his feet should have been, was a brand new pair of shiny leather shoes. I don’t imagine a forceful attack could have ripped him right out of them, but hey what did I know, stranger things had happened.

Either way, this was disgusting. I could only imagine the Chief picked this one special for me after all the fuss I had kicked up over my last couple of cases. One of these days I was gonna put his nose through to the other side of his face.

I looked up at the Redcoats. “Hey guys, I left my camera in the coach, you boys mind grabbing it for me? And taking your time?” I asked.

“What both of us?” replied the one I didn’t know. He clearly didn’t have a good instinct for self preservation but Duvall knew enough to grab him and start heading up the rise.

When they reached the top I pulled the sheet clean off the half body or so that was down there, and motioned for Graeme to take a proper look.

He wandered over, taking his time to look at the shoes, before slowly running his eyes over the cadaver and making his way round to the head. There he leaned over, put his face to the dead guy’s mouth and sucked in a load of air.

That was it for me. I dropped the sheet and just managed to turn away from the body before my stomach tied itself in a knot, and in doing so forced Jenny Macey’s very own homemade clam chowder back out of me.

“Right” said Graeme, “I hope that’s you finished, it’s time for us to go” he turned and started back to the carriage.

I followed slowly, reaching the top of the natural bowl only to find Duvall and his crony staring at me in disgust. I grabbed the camera and shamefully boarded the coach.

Edited June 1, 2011 by Chucklemonkey

[Absolution Black]

Excellent start Chuckle! I see the writing bug has bitten you again.

Just what has our intrepid hero gotten himself into this time?!

[Chucklemonkey]

“What the hell was that? You damn near kissed that guy” I screamed as we entered the coach.

“That, my endearing yet ignorant friend, was me finding out where that poor gentleman came from and what his evening proclivities usually are, or were, as the case now seems to be.” Graeme replied calmly.

“Evening what?” I was puzzled by some of the big words that seemed to just roll off his tongue.

“Let me lay out my observations for you, I imagine you noticed the same things and probably came to the same conclusions. The deceased is late 20’s, probably 29. 190lb’s and was maybe around 5 foot 9 in height, although it’s safe to halve that now.” He paused briefly to chuckle at his own joke. “He is of Irish descent, the shamrock tattoo on his right wrist means he must belong to the Doyle or O’Leary crime family, I can never remember which wrist they each tattoo, pretty sure it’s Doyle for the right isn’t it? He has probably not been on this side of the breach for very long at all. The shoes were his size but had never been worn, perhaps he bought them on the day he died? He has a sweet tooth and last night he enjoyed more than a few of that odd black drink they all seem to enjoy so much. That much you can tell from the smell of his mustache and the sugar on his coat”

I stared at him for a moment. I was never quite sure how he did it or why he ever chose to throw me a bone. Still in honour of keeping to our unspoken arrangement, I pretended that had been exactly what I noticed “Hmmn, I responded, those were pretty much my thoughts in a nutshell. Glad to see we’re on the same page. So that means we’re now going...”

“To the pub, yes.”

“Graeme, I can’t go to the pub, I’m on duty now I think.” I wasn’t sure how that worked what with me being on a day off and all, I would have to check that out.

“We are going to the pubs on Keel Street, that seems to be where the Irish among us like to spend their leisure time, all in the name of the investigation, don’t you worry about that.”

I sat back in my seat and tried to shake off the feeling that that had replaced my lunch at the pit of my stomach.

..........................................................................................................................................................

We entered the lion and lamb pub at 3pm and the place was already packed to the bursting. We made our way over the beer sodden floor towards the bar at the back of the building. A few people were shouting and waving at Graeme, I would say about 80 percent of them were ladies, it looked as if their male acquintences were taking note of the situation.

Still, It would definitely be worth visiting this place when I wasn’t working one evening.

I leaned down to Graeme, “Why are they all calling you by your last name?”

“It’s the name I like to use when I’m not spending my time with you. Also, and I’m surprised you haven’t noticed before, it is the name I give to the fairer sex. I find it has a certain degree more mystique than my given name.”

We reached the bar and Graeme signalled the barman over while untucking a roll of scrip bills from his inside pocket, this seemed to have the desired effect with the barman heading straight for us all obedient like.

“What can I get you boys?”

“A glass of your finest Irish whiskeys for me barkeep, and a large glass of that terrible looking black stuff you insist upon purveying. Oh, and while i’m here, I was just wondering if you had seen Doyle, eh, what’s his first name again, I can never remember, can you?” he asked tapping me on the shoulder, I just about had time to shrug before he continued. “Average lookin’ fella, ginger moustache.”

“You mean Tommy Doyle? Well you aren’t the first ones looking for him today, but I ain’t seen him.”

He poured our drinks, Graeme seemed to pay more than was required and we retired to a quiet corner booth.

Despite myself, I had to admit that Graeme constantly surprised me with his quick wit. “How did you know they would know him in this pub?” I asked.

“In truth, I thought we might end up having to to hit every pub along this road. When we’re together we do seem to get lucky with these little investigations of ours don’t we, it’s like someone’s guiding us. Still doesn’t seem to stop you getting beat up more often than not” he replied.

“So where do we go from here?”

“Firstly, I do wish you would stop calling me that. Call me by my second name will you. Secondly, I say we finish this drink and then get word out on the street that we’re looking for information on Tommy’s recent activities and may be inclined to pay for its supply. Unless you want to go straight over to Big Jim Doyle’s and straight out ask him how one of his crew ended up half eaten?”

I didn’t know too much about the Doyle’s but I knew enough that I didn’t like the sound of that idea. “Lets go with your plan A”.

I looked down at my glass and tried to form a view as to whether I would feel better or worse if I drank it. Before I could come to any conclusions though, a dark shadow passed over the frothy cream coloured head of my beer.

We both looked up to see four rather large looking gentlemen in bowlers staring down at us. The one at the back started cracking his knuckles as the one nearest me placed his fists on the table and leaned in closer.

“I hear you’re friends of Tommy’s, well that wee scrunt ran out of our regular game owing us some winnings last night. I hear you’re holding on to his cash.”

I quickly took a gulp of my drink. I had the feeling I was not going to be allowed to finish it.

[Chucklemonkey]

I do hope the bug will go away after this one, I have things need doing that aren't being looked at while the story is ongoing.

Edited October 13, 2011 by Chucklemonkey

[DavidKerrSmith]

Yay, another narrative from our unnamed hero.

[Absolution Black]

@ Absolution Black : I do hope the bug will go away after this one, I have things need doing that aren't being looked at while the story is ongoing.

Oh, i was hoping it wouldn't!

fantastic part 2 as well, and I really do wonder how this guy has survived so long, the amount of scrapes he gets into!

I know the feeling of writing getting in the way of life, which is why i am 'planning' on taking a break for a bit after book 6 of the Black stories.....'planning' being key!

[Chucklemonkey]

I spent the rest of the day nursing a bruised jaw which I had received in the ensuing brawl. In truth we had gotten lucky, managing to escape the bar just prior to what i’m sure would have been a proper working over, despite my natural martial prowess that is.

Graeme, despite taking one or two digs to the stomach seemed to have found the whole thing rather exciting and while I tended to my wound throughout the evening he had been a hive of activity, getting in touch with all of his contacts and spreading the word that we were looking for information on this Doyle douchebag, and now we were waiting on a knock at the door.

One of Graeme’s female acquaintances had, upon completion of her services, noted a Doyle clan tattoo on her customers right wrist. She had informed him there was money on the line, and his criminal code of ethics seemed to be broken right there and then. He was on his way over.

I wasn’t really sure what we had to gain getting to know about Tommy, my thoughts were that we should be out busting heads to find out about whoever killed him. It seemed he didn’t pay his gambling debts, so those four goons had been my first thought.

Graeme had explained that as the four tops had been looking for him they clearly hadn’t been the ones who ended his life, also he asked what they could have done to obliterate his legs so bad. That I didn’t have an answer to. He explained that knowing about the victim, or victimology, as he called it, might give us an idea what Tommy was all about and what he had been mixed up in. I had begrudgingly agreed it was worth a shot, so now we were both sat on Graeme’s expensive couches with drinks in hand, I could get used to this kind of investigation.

Then it came. The knock at the door.

We could hear Rosie, Graeme’s maid, in discussion with our visitor, followed by footsteps climbing the marble staircase and approaching, what Graeme liked to call, the drawing room.

The Gentleman was shown into the room and it immediately became clear to me that he would be less than useful. He seemed totally out of it. I don’t know if he had decided to stop off on his way here to chase the magic dragon, or if he had just had one too many black pints after concluding business with his and Graeme’s mutual friend. He was looking around the room seemingly trying to take everything in but without much success it seemed to me.

Graeme though, just unfurled a roll of cash, laid it on the table and started asking questions.

“What’s your name?"

“Shit Stryder, you know my name!”

“Tell my friend!”

“Owen O’Reilly, everyone calls me crikey.”

“What can you tell us about Tommy Doyle?”

“Not much.” He started. Given the look of him I was pleasantly surprised he had been able to string together the words he had.

“He’s new to the Doyle clan, just crossed over the breach three months or so ago.”

“A popular addition is he?” Graeme went on.

“Not really, he didn’t seem to know how things worked on this side, started throwing his weight around getting into things that were not the usual Doyle business.”

“Like what”

“He called it consumer protection. It wasn’t popular with the big guy.”

“Unpopular enough to have got him killed?” I asked. He seemed to glaze over before staring down at the cash on the table. “I ain’t sayin’ another word till there’s more”. Graeme duly obliged and a smile went over Crikey’s face before he continued.

“Nah, you guys have it all wrong.” He looked straight at Graeme. “Stryder, it’s been too long since you’ve been on the street, you’re losing everything that got you where you are. Anyway, I have information, but it’s risky, real risky”. He did seem to be getting steadily jumpier and jumpier, I couldn’t tell if that was fear or withdrawal.

Graeme placed some more bills on the table but made it clear it would be the last.

Crikey seemed to weigh things up, nodded slightly and then seemed to decide he was deep enough in he may as well see it through. Either that or he was calculating how long Graeme’s wad of cash would feed his habit.

“The Doyle’s are in some serious shit. Johnny Doyle, the eldest, blew a whole through one of Seamus’ Belles, ever since then the crews been disappearing one by one. The Doyle’s are petrified, they don’t know who’ll be next and they’re running scared. The other Irish gangs haven’t got wind of all this yet, but when they do, you can bet your bottom dollar there is going to be a war and the Doyle’s will be gone for good.”

I looked over at Graeme to check his reaction, he just seemed to be nodding thoughtfully. Then he looked up, thanked Crikey, and told him he could go. That was all that Crikey wanted to hear, he scooped up the cash, tucked it into his pants, and left.

Graeme took a moment before turning to me. “It would make sense” he said, “there are only a few things that could do the damage that had been done to Tommy, and Seamus, being a Resser, is able to ensure some pretty scary things do as he says.”

I didn’t know much about Seamus. I had always thought of him as some sort of Bogeyman, despite the fact I knew they had a whole squad dedicated to getting him off the streets over at HQ.

Either way, it seemed to me that this had just taken a step above my pay-grade.

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I am hoping to be able to be able to throw a little surprise into part 4 but will have to wait and see.

Edited June 3, 2011 by Chucklemonkey

[DavidKerrSmith]

Nice little nods to existing world characters there. Not leaning on them for anything more than a vague plot reference. keep up the good work. I wanna find out what happens next.

[Chucklemonkey]

Nice little nods to existing world characters there. Not leaning on them for anything more than a vague plot reference. keep up the good work. I wanna find out what happens next.

Well, there may be a slight delay as it looks like there will be something a little different for Part 4. :whistle:

[Mbbelius]

Really enjoyed all parts

Loving the characters and plot so far

Good job and being a Seamus fan looking forwarded to more of the same!

[Chucklemonkey]

Really enjoyed all parts

Loving the characters and plot so far

Good job and being a Seamus fan looking forwarded to more of the same!

Many thanks for the feedback. Of course it's nice that it was positive. :thumb:

Most of the rest of the story is finished so I imagine more will be posted by the weekend. While I can't say whether Seamus himself will make an appearance there is certainly more to look forward to for fans of him and his minions.

Although I may annoy fans of certain other masters. :vb_mad2:

[Chucklemonkey]

Well my original idea for part 4 hasn't worked out, although I hope to still see it at some point.

So without further ado here are parts 4 and 5.

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We had got word of his death not through its report to my unit, the case had gone to Becker, and at the time we didn’t have a name so there was no reason to connect them. It had been Graeme that gave me the heads up. I was starting to realise he had a lot more contacts on the streets of Malifaux than any of my Guild colleagues.

This morning we were once again in his carriage heading towards a body. By chance we happened to be passing the site of the first one, I noticed that the row of shops that led onto the street it had been found, had workers replacing the broken glass from before.

Five minutes later we pulled up outside a laundry building, hopped out and then made our way up the stairs. The victim lived in one of the rooms above. We reached the top floor and the place was an absolute mess, there was blood everywhere!

A few science bods were milling around, Becker was staring at the body but turned when he heard us enter.

“What are you doing here? And who’s your friend?” he asked.

“This here is Graeme, he gave me the tip about the body, I think it might be related to the wasteland killing?”

“Hi, the name is Stryder actually”. Graeme said, holding out his hand. Becker ignored him and went on.

“Related case eh? Why do you think that?”

“We might have been the last people to see him alive, he was at Graeme’s last night giving us information on the victim and his associates” I answered. I looked down at Graeme who seemed to nod slightly. “He mentioned someone that may be a suspect in our case”.

“Well don’t you think you can muscle in here and steal a conviction from under my nose, this case is mine, you better give me the name and then stay out of my way” he answered somewhat louder than before. I didn’t care. After sensing an easy conviction he had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

“Well Becker, if it was anyone else I would try and steal the credit, but I wouldn’t try to pull that on you. If you want to hold on to the case then you’ve got it.”

“Good, so you going to tell me who he pointed the finger at?”

“Sure thing, he said the Doyle crew, who my vic belonged to, had been having serious problems with this guy. That he had ended more than one of their top guys.” I kept him hanging.

“Come on, I don’t have time for stories, give me the name so I can go and bash some heads.” He was clearly excited about the prospect of closing his case early this afternoon and earning himself a nice relaxed evening.

It was time to let him know he had been played. “Seamus!”

He seemed to stop and take a breath before muttering a curse under his breath. “Shit, how the hell am I supposed to get a conviction outta that? You must have heard him wrong!”

“I’m just telling you what he said, it’s your case, do what you want with the information.” I’m pretty sure he could hear that I was smirking inside.

“Get off my crime scene will ya’” he turned back to the body and waved at us dismissively.

We wandered slowly back down the stairs and I had to admit I had a little chuckle to myself as we entered the coach picturing the knuckleheaded Becker trying to find a way round that one. Of course it didn’t really help progress things with my case, but it was still a small moment of pleasure, and they seemed to be getting rarer and rarer these days.

“So, how do we find Seamus?” I asked Graeme.

“Firstly, I’m not too sure we want to find him. He’s probably the most dangerous man in Malifaux. Certainly one of the craziest, and there is some pretty hefty competition for that title. No, you don’t find Seamus, Seamus finds you. Of course, that doesn’t mean we can’t talk to him, sort of” He turned and gave me a smile.

“What the hell are you talking about Graeme? How can we talk to him if we can’t find him? And why would we put ourselves at that much risk if he is as crazy as you say? Sometimes you make no sense at all.”

He didn’t seem to hear me. He just pulled out his pocket watch, muttered something about it maybe being late enough, and shouted directions to his coachman.

A frustratingly silent forty-five minute trip across town later, and we came to a halt. I looked out of the window but didn’t recognise the street. I looked at Graeme who seemed to be more nervous or anxious than I think I had ever seen him. He stepped onto his machine to exit the coach. I did likewise and started to look around to see if I could get my bearings. There weren’t many places in this hell-hole that I didn’t know but I was certain I had never stepped foot here before. There was plenty of activity right enough, with stalls lining the street serving up freshly cooked food that I have to say smelt delicious.

Graeme looked at me seriously, “Just follow me, and do not say a word” he instructed.

“You know me Graeme, silence is golden and all that.”

He walked towards what looked like a run down canteen, I did as he asked and followed. We entered and it turned out to be just exactly what it looked like. A number of large dumb looking individuals turned to take a look at us before turning back to their plates and their conversations. The woman behind the server nodded silently to Graeme and he started forward again walking past the tables and down the side of the servery to a flight of stairs. I noticed the handrail was very low but we started climbing them nonetheless, at the top was another door we stepped through to be met by nothing but heavy red velvet curtains.

Graeme stopped, turned to look at me, then took a deep breath and parted the curtains.

[Chucklemonkey]

It was like entering another world. A very smoky world!

The drawing back of the curtain revealed a cavernous, windowless room. Sheer white curtains on either side of the room appeared to lead into booths and the whole place appeared bathed in a dim red light. I could hear faint music but couldn’t place its source.

“Can I help you Mr Stryder? ” came a voice to my right.

It turned out that to the right of the entrance was a small wooden lectern, behind that, was a guy who made Graeme look tall. He was wearing a tuxedo.

“I’m not here for leisure today, I’m here to see Carter” Graeme answered.

“Well, that may be, but as a founder member of this establishment I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the rules with regards to the likes of your...companion.”

He seemed to spit this last word out.

“As a founder member of this establishment, i’m sure I don’t need to remind you that it is the likes of me who pays your wage. Tell me if he is here, which booth he is in and then stand aside.”

Graeme stared at his challenger until his resolve waivered.

“He is in VIP area sir. Please head on back.”

“Thank you Thomas, I did rather hope that you would see sense.”

Graeme turned and started walking straight down the middle of the room. I decided I was out of my comfort zone so I would do as I had been told so I followed closely. I could see just enough through the curtains to the right and left of me that the majority of the booths were occupied, with who or what though, I couldn’t tell.

We reached the rear of the room and a set of curtains maybe twice the size of the ones hanging at the sides. There was no delay this time as Graeme stormed through the curtains.

The occupants of the VIP area did not seem surprised by our sudden entry. I on the other hand was hugely surprised by what was before me. In truth I didn’t know where to look! Before me was a large padded booth, shaped kinda like a doughnut with a bite taken out of it, with a low table in the centre. There were four occupents to the room. On top of the table - in addition to a shisha pipe - was a dancing, blindfolded female dwarf who was wearing a black corset and was being prodded with a plastic sword by a male dwarf who was in the centre of a group of three reclined on the booth’s low level seating. On his left, another female dressed as some sort of slutty cow-girl character wearing chaps, a big hat and a very tight, low cut t-shirt . To his right, one who seemed to be wearing a long duster style trenchcoat and very little else. She was playing with matches so I could only assume she was the fan of the pipe. They all reminded me of someone or something but I couldn’t quite place it.

The male, who seemed to be dressed in a blue-green suit and with a top hat several sizes too large, slowly looked up at us upon our entrance - as if having to drag his eyes away from what had, until now, been the centre of his attention.

“Top o’ the mornin’ to yae both, what can I do for ya fellas?” he asked almost lightheartedly.

Graeme took another step forward, “just after a chat Carter, alone if you don’t mind.”

Carter seemed to take a moment to consider this then clapped his hands together, “Girls, leave us for a wee whiley will ya? Playtime can resume once I‘ve attended to business.” The females put on a look of dis-appointment before exiting through a door to the rear of the room.

Graeme took a seat in the booth and motioned for me to follow before turning back to Carter, “can we have this conversation without the ridiculous Irish accent you put on?”

Carter burst out laughing. “Hmmn, quite. Always the straight talker Stryder, that I can do. It is tiresome to pretend I’m some kind of deranged leprechaun after all. It doesn’t mean that you’re going to get what you’re after, assuming you’re after what I think you will be. I am a very loyal chap after all, and my position does come with a certain amount of fringe benefits which i’m sure you will have just noticed.” He then turned to me “I know you noticed, and liked what you saw didn’t you?. Which one took your fancy? You should come and work for me instead of this has been.”

“Enough of that, get your own Goon” answered Graeme. I made a mental note to to get mad at him for that one when we were through here. “I’m only here for some information. Call it the satisfaction of curiosity. We have been hearing your boss has a dislike for a certain crime family around these parts and has been making his feelings known” he continued.

“I assume by boss you mean my partner in crime? If, in theory, someone had killed one of his girls, then yes it would shorten the life expectancy of whoever had carried out such a heinous act, as well as that of everyone they knew.”

Graeme leaned forward slightly “In theory then, would Tommy Doyle have had his life expectancy shortened?”

Carter took a moment, and is if deciding whether to go along with this charade, he grabbed the mouthpiece of the Shisha and took a big draw, before blowing the smoke back in our direction. It smelt of apples. “What’s in this for me?” he asked.

“Well, the continued use of this establishment for a start, I do know how you enjoy your little visits here. I can’t deny I would still owe you, although I think you would agree that I always pay my debts.”

“You would still owe me Stryder, that’s a fact.” With that final statement Carter seemed to have made up his mind to assist. He removed his giant top hat, placed it on the seat next to him and leaned over it. To me it seemed like he could fall in and disappear, but with a flourish he removed a scroll of paper.and unfurled it.

From the angle I was seated I could see his eyes scan down the scroll. “Tommy Doyle you say? He is still on my list. I take it we are too late to have fun with this individual?” He looked over to see Graeme nod. “That is a shame” he then leaned back over to search his hat, produced a feather quill and ink pot and put a line through what I could only assume to be Tommy’s name on his little list.

“Thanks for your time, that’s all we needed to know” stated Graeme as he rose to leave.

“Tut tut Stryder, you give away your favours too easily these days” replied Carter, before shouting for the return of his lady companions.

We made our way back to the coach. I was feeling pretty dejected as I felt we had made our way all the way back to square one.

Edited June 12, 2011 by Chucklemonkey

[Chucklemonkey]

I was in a tavern surrounded by beer swilling, big breasted wenches. The music was loud and everyone was pleased to see me. Some were very pleased to see me. Graeme was there too, he was playing on the organ in the corner below the stairs. I didn’t know he could play but nothing surprised me and I was too busy french-kissing Jessica Magnum to really care. She was beautiful and her hands were travelling all over me. It was clear I was gonna hit the jackpot. Despite that, something in my head was nagging me about her but it wouldn’t come to me, and in truth I was too busy to care.

Tap Tap...

I took a moment to look towards the dance floor, Collette Du Bois was there moving slowly and provocatively, her heels clipping the wooden floor as she traversed towards me.

Tap Tap...

I shouted over to the bar that I needed more beer. Larry, Curly and Moe were behind the bar, all of them wearing giant green top hats. That was odd. They all started pouring beers but it looked like the beer was red. It came to me as the liquid started spilling over the sides of the glasses that it was blood.

Tap Tap Tap Tap...

Soemthing wasn’t right, I looked back to Jessica. She had stopped moving completely, her head was at an angle that could not be natural. She slumped onto the table creating an almighty racket as glasses and bowls spilled all over the place.

Bang Bang

“Wake the hell up!”

Graeme seemed to have stopped playing the organ to scream in my face.

“Open the god’damn door.”

This wasn’t real. I was dreaming. It was the realisation rather than the banging and screaming which eventually roused me.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, shambled towards the door, and flung it open.

“What the hell Graeme, what time do you call this? What’s so important it means you have to wake me on a Saturday?”

He looked very pleased with himself. “Firstly, it’s nearly noon. Secondly, you might want to put your uniform on as we’re heading out. I’ve solved your case!”

Edited June 12, 2011 by Chucklemonkey

[DavidKerrSmith]

I feel sorry for him. I hate it when people disturb those types of dreams.

As always, I want to read more.

[Absolution Black]

Yup, just caught up with the last three parts and can't wait for the next!

[Chucklemonkey]

Thanks for the feedback, it is much appreciated.

Only one more part and a small epilogue to go and this one is done, hoping to have that finished later today.

Then it's on to a solo missing persons case for Stryder.

[Chucklemonkey]

We stepped out of the coach right next to where Tommy Doyle’s body had been found. The place still smelt pretty bad, I guess it hadn’t been the body that had caused the stench.

Graeme led me around the corner to the shops we had seen a few times on our travels and walked straight into the first one. A little bell above the door signalled our arrival but it wasn’t needed. We had entered what was clearly a working bakery with counters around the perimeter with the exception of course of the wall with the door we had just used. A young girl, maybe 15, was behind the counter on the left and was dusting what looked like Turkish delight in fine icing sugar. Straight ahead of us was a rotund man kneading dough and laying out sections of it onto big metal trays.

“What can I get you gentlemen?”

Graeme was in no rush to answer as he inspected the goods on offer but after a few seconds he looked up at the baker “Can I have two of your cherry tarts, an apple turnover, and.....I notice you sell Turkish delight, may I try some before I make a purchase?”

“Sure, go on right ahead.”

Graeme walked towards the girl, looked down on the counter then plucked two peices off the counter, threw one toward me, and popped the other in his mouth.

Graeme seemed delighted by it. “I’ll definitely take some of that too sir, if you don’t mind. Maybe a quarter lb of assorted flavours. It is delicious.”

“Best in Malifaux” replied the baker with what seemed like genuine pride.

Graeme paid for his cakes and sweets and then we left.

“So where we going Graeme? Why did you stop for cakes? I know she looked good but I think she’s too young, even for you.” I asked.

“If you must know i’m in a relationship right now. My goods are off the market” that old dog, “anyway, as for where we’re going, we’re going in here” he answered as he walked through the door of the next shop.

This wasn’t making any sense to me but it seemed like this whole case pretty much just had me following in his wake, why change now?

The shop was laid out almost identically, instead of a bakery however, it was clear this place was a delicatessen, on the right were jars and jars of what looked like pickles and olives. Below the counter to the left was a display case with roasted hams and such. Above it, on hooks were a variety of different sausages. There was no one behind the counter and a strange grinding sound prevented anyone from hearing us enter. There was a door leading into the back and Graeme walked right up to the counter in front of it and tapped it hard three times on its veneer surface.

A moment later the door swung open and a portly man walked through wiping his hands on a blood stained rag, behind him I could now see the origin of the sound as a young boy fed joints of meat through some sort of mulching machine, the meat coming out as fine looking sausages on the other side.

Graeme addressed the new arrival “I’m looking for 3 lb of your finest sausages please sir. Was that pork sausages you were just putting through your machine in the back there? If so, that would be just what i’m after.”

The man who I presumed to the owner of the deli went back through to the rear of the store. I looked down at Graeme, his eyebrows were raised as he looked back up at me.

A couple of minutes later we left the deli with sausages added to our cakes and sweets.

“So what’s going on Graeme, did you lie to me about solving this case and now you just want to take me on a picnic?”

Before he could answer he had bolted through another door. By now I was getting pretty angry so I stormed after him in a foul mood. I slammed open the door and strode in to what turned out to be a shoe shop. There was one weedy looking be-spectacled man behind the counter. He looked nervous. At first I thought it must have been because of the way I stormed into his shop but then I looked over at Graeme who not only had a smug look on his face but also had sugar all over his sleeves.

I walked straight over to the cobbler, grabbed his shirt collar and proclaimed that he had some explaining to do.

He was a wus and broke instantly in a panicked confession. It turned out Tommy Doyle had been hitting this street as part of his little sideline in protection from pretty much the moment he had come through to this side of the breach. On the night of his death he had come by, completely drunk, looking for some extra scrip – to pay off his gambling debts I presumed. After smashing the windows of all the stores, he had stormed through all the stores looking for valuables finishing in the bakery where they had been working through the night to have everything ready for the morning. Rather than just go after the scrip however he had decided he also wanted a kiss from the baker’s assistant and had made a grab for her over the counter. Apparently this had been the last straw. The commotion had ensured all three store owners were there and they took their chance, knocking him out before feeding him into the sausage machine and dumping his body.

“So why did you leave the pair of shoes with him?” I asked.

“Manners. My mother always told me that whenever I took something I had to give something back.”

Pretty stupid is what it was if you asked me.

In any event, I had my killers. My conviction rate would be safe.

I also had to admit that as a result of the circumstances it was likely these three chumps would just be sent to the mines rather than the hands of an executioner. That was something I was glad of these days.

[Chucklemonkey]

It had been twenty four hours since I had arrested the killers and I entered HQ with the feeling of a job well done. A few of the guys gave me the thumbs up as I made my way to my desk. My coffee tankard was there and had been washed by the cleaner. Today was going to be a good day.

I turned my chair around to look at the blackboard. I could see the details of my case; the name Tommy Doyle had a white line of chalk through it. Then I noticed something else, above it was the name of Crikey O’Reilly, he had also been crossed off.

“Hey Domingo, you seen Becker?”

“Sure, he’s outside taking a smoke” came the reply.

I headed on out and found Becker alone with one of his ‘I just got shit done’ cigars hanging out the side of his mouth.

“I see you solved your case Becker. You’re not telling me you managed to catch or kill Seamus?”

“Didn’t need to. I pinned it on your guys. Crikey tipped you off on them and then they must have got wind of it and killed him right? That’s what happened. The lawyers agree with that assessment in any event, and if they haven’t yet been executed it’ll be soon. A job well done all round I would say.”

I started to feel sick again.

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Any feedback on the ending will be much appreciated, it's always the bit I worry about the most given it needs to tie in with everything.

Anyway, thanks to anyone who made it this far.

[DavidKerrSmith]

I was a bit "eh?" by the ending, but after re-reading it as one big story, I noticed all the little bits and pieces, seeming insignificant at the time.

I can't help feeling that this is a little bit like Holmes & Watson, but remember that Watson was a trained professional in his own right. Don't make out hero out to be a hapless sidekick to Stryder.

Well, that's just my take on it. It's your story and characters: do with them as you want to.

[Chucklemonkey]

I was a bit "eh?" by the ending, but after re-reading it as one big story, I noticed all the little bits and pieces, seeming insignificant at the time.

I can't help feeling that this is a little bit like Holmes & Watson, but remember that Watson was a trained professional in his own right. Don't make out hero out to be a hapless sidekick to Stryder.

Well, that's just my take on it. It's your story and characters: do with them as you want to.

They are all Fair points and I'm happy to take constructive criticism as hopefully it will make future stories better.

This one didn't flow as easily as the first and I could feel that the protagonist was being sidelined.

Have decided to give him a rest for the next story in any event, although he is likely to pop up briefly. It's a missing person case so should also make it easier to have a satisfactory ending.

[Necromorph]

I thought it was very well done altogether.

I do kinda like the idea of the 'hero' being in the background a bit, but I do agree with the other post that he should have a bit more of a concrete role. As is, he's a very cool character, but he seems like he doesn't have as much...idk how to describe it...'something' when he's around stryder. It would be nice to see him one-up stryder occasionally.

[dublindawg]

The story was a nice read and gives you a sense of the city of Malifaux without one of the main crews involved. I do have to agree with the other poster that it is very Holmes & Watson themed story. The clues in the beginning were a bit pronounced and revealed too early in the story line causing the ending to seem rushed and simplified. The explaination of the new shoes made sense in terms of the shop owner, however if Doyle was placed thru the meat grinder wouldn't the feet have been ground as well? If not then clean cut marks above the ankles would of been noticable by Stryder as the feet would have been cut off. The final part was well done showing the hero puts work into his cases, whereas others in the guild just ride on the coat tails of others.

[Chucklemonkey]

The story was a nice read and gives you a sense of the city of Malifaux without one of the main crews involved. I do have to agree with the other poster that it is very Holmes & Watson themed story. The clues in the beginning were a bit pronounced and revealed too early in the story line causing the ending to seem rushed and simplified. The explaination of the new shoes made sense in terms of the shop owner, however if Doyle was placed thru the meat grinder wouldn't the feet have been ground as well? If not then clean cut marks above the ankles would of been noticable by Stryder as the feet would have been cut off. The final part was well done showing the hero puts work into his cases, whereas others in the guild just ride on the coat tails of others.

Thanks, the feedback is appreciated.

The shoe thing is something I regretted putting in. In my head they were placed at the same time as the body was dumped so therefore not causing inconsistencies with the grinding. I could see fairly early it didn't work.

It's something I hope to keep in mind when I get round to writing a third one.

[dublindawg]

Glad I could be of assistance. I sent you private message regarding 'All I have'. It has been a great read so far and look forward to reading the conclusion.