mikepb

A couple of weeks later, I had an unexpected visitor in Miss Jones. Marcia showed her into my office with a little bit of a smirk, which I ignored as I let Miss Jones to a chair. Not that I wanted to agree with Higgins on anything, but she was a dish. Dark hair that fell to her back, she favored a light but conservative red dress. “How are you Mr. Fenning? ” “I should be asking you that, Miss Jones. You had a rougher time that I did.” “Surviving. Apparently, Mr. Robbins left me his business. I'm not sure why, all things considered.” Yeah, even if it was Higgins' idea, Robbins did go along with it

Higgins had me pull over in front of an old office building. It looked half abandoned, which was starting to become commonplace. He warned me not to try anything funny, which just meant he wasn't paying any attention all these years, and walked me into the building. There was paper strewn all over the place, almost looked like a hobo hotel. He guided me down the hall and into an office in the back. Once I saw who was in the room, I knew exactly what was going down. Robbins' secretary was gagged and cuffed in one corner. She looked like she'd been there for a day or two. “I'm the fall guy for whatever you got planned, I

Once I got home from that dog and pony show, I was ready for bed. Higgins had made sure they held me as long as they could. The man knew how to hold a grudge. I checked my messages and found one from Pat. Apparently, Robbins had been a diamond merchant. If someone was going to rob him, why take papers and not diamonds? It wouldn't have been blackmail, since they killed him. Not only that, but some alphabet agencies had been sniffing around lately. I wrote all this down. I figured I would talk to Pat in the morning, see if she had more details. Then I'd call Diane. That would give her someplace to point the police. Might even get Higgi

“Okay Fenning. You're going to tell me exactly why you were there, why he had your card, and why the ballistics matched the gun you were carrying. A gun, I might add, that was involved in several armed robberies. No more bull-crap!” Jersey meant business. She slammed her palms down on the table and glared at me. The only thing that kept me cool was Susie making faces behind Jersey's back in the two-way mirror. I had to cover my mouth to hide my amusement. Which was not hidden well enough, apparently. “This funny, Roger? A man is dead!” I put up my hands. “I know, I saw his body.” Diane Jersey wa

When I walked into the outer office the next morning, Marcia was whispering with my my research assistant, Patricia. They stopped whispering guiltily and both were blushing furiously. Sometimes I wondered about those two. “Hey, morning, boss!” Pat was a tomboy through and through. She was a contrast to Marcia in a lot of ways. Short blonde hair, where Marcia's was a shoulder length mousy brown. Pat's green eyes almost glowed with her energy, while Marcia's flat brown eyes were hidden by large round glasses that looked like a family heirloom.  Marcia always wore nice dresses, and I doubt Pat ever owned a dress, preferr

I stared at my own reflection, finding as usual, that I wasn't starting back. “Are you even listening?” I was. I always did. I stared at the reflection that wasn't me. The woman who looked back was young, twenty-something. I never did find out before she died. Susan, or Susie as she insisted she be called, glared at me prettily. I could fall in love with that face, if she didn't annoy me every time I looked at her. She wore period 1920's flapper attire. An actress, she was in costume when she died. “Yes, Susie, I am listening. I'm just thinking.” Mulling over our strange predicament always made m

 “A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark.” ― Dante Alighieri A supremely ironic thought hit me as I pulled my mask back on and hurriedly looked for something to spark a fire. I was getting out of shape because I didn’t need to run for my life as often anymore. I wheezed a laugh at the thought. The dragon was the only hint of corruption we’d seen in years. It made me a bit uneasy, on further reflection. I put that aside for the moment. There were more pressing issues at hand. There were power lines down here for the tourist routes, but they make a show of trying to reclaim more or the Underground every few years

  “The wasting moth ne'er spoiled my best array; the cause was this, I wore it every day” ― Alexander Pope I’m not sure I can describe what the fight looked like. Mainly because the action moved too fast for me to keep track of. I winced every time I saw Sam take a hit, cheered every time she scored on the dragon. I don’t know how long it went back and forth before a lucky swipe of the tail nailed Sam and sent her flying. She corrected before she hit the wall badly, hooking her talons into the stone with a squeal of chitin on rock. Her mask was shattered and useless, hanging around her neck. Her eyes were wide

  "Do not meddle in the affairs of Dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup!" ― Unknown Proverb “Go! Go! Go!” I shouted at Sam. She was moving before I opened my yap. We broke to either side of the dragon’s charge. (Dragon? Did I really just say that? My life is fucking weird.) I rolled to my feet and fired a few rounds off. Even now, I couldn’t tell you if they hit the thing or not. If they did, it didn’t react to them, other than to skid to a halt and turn around. A lot more graceful than I would’ve thought, too. It wasn’t huge, maybe a bit bigger than an African lion. It&#

“Walking is a virtue, tourism is a deadly sin.” ― Bruce Chatwin, What Am I Doing Here? You can spend your whole life in a city with a tourist attraction in it, and never go. That’s how it was between me and the Seattle Underground. I knew it was there, just never cared. Now I wish I had. “When they call it a maze down here, they weren’t kidding,” I mumbled. “Yeah, not many signposts either.” She frowned, “The general direction I’m getting keeps away from the tourist areas. It,” she paused, “It feels different every time I look for it. Always dark and greasy, tho