THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER ~ ~ Epic*sode 19 ~ "LA DOLCE VITA" ~ By Absolutely*Kate and Harry B. Sanderford of Harbinger*33

                                      

Curiouser & Curiouser

* MURDER *

* MYSTERY *

* MATINEE *

  

"THE PRINTS

 AND 

THE POPPER"

FROM WHERE

  WE LEFT OFF

 IN OUR LAST CLIFFHANGER

*AT THE BIJOU*

 

CATCHING UP ON CLIFFHANGERS?

Mosey through Epic*sode Clicks:

    

Epic'sode 18 ~ Bite Better than Bark?

Epic'sode 17 ~ Cassidy & Sundance

Epic'sode Sweet 16 ~ The Great Escape

Epic'sode 15 ~ A Wise Ass

Epic'sode 14 ~ A Wrinkle in Time

Epic'sode 13 ~ Lucky For You?

Epic'sode 12 ~ Midnight Cowboy

Epic'sode 11 ~ The Shadow Knows

Epic'sode 10 ~ The Pissing Match

 Epic'sode 9 ~ Chain, Chain, Chain 
Epic'sode 8 ~ Too Cool!

Epic'sode 7 ~ Meet Virginia
Epic'sode 6 ~ I See the Light

Epic'sode 5 ~ Lucky Shot
Epic'sode 4 ~ Hi Jinks

Epic'sode 3 ~ Groping Against Grope
Epic'sode 2 ~ The Clot Thickens
   and the original mystery of it all ~  Epic'sode 1 ~

 THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER

 

~ ~ EPIC*SODE 19 ~ ~

"LA DOLCE VITA"

~ By Absolutely*Kate

and  

Harry B. Sanderford

"Hello? I'd like to speak to the marketing director of Odell's. Yes, I'll hold." Fingers strummed doubletime across finely penned copious notes, attuned to Tony's croon across the room -- "I left my heart in San Francisco". Focus, focus --

WRITE IT DOWN - StarbucksGuy pic

"Hello? Yes, this is reporter Penelope Payne of THE HAZLETON HOLLER and sundry wire service feeds. I'm wondering if you'll go on the record as to why the thriving theatre, AT THE BIJOU, very recently switched all of their popcorn concessions to your firm?"

"We've been helping theatres and concessionaires pop it and top it right for over 45 years. Before that, we popped and topped popcorn in our own chain of theatres. And for as long as we can remember, the Odell's family has been a family of popcorn connoisseurs. Popcorn is our passion and we are proud to make the products that make the best tasting popcorn possible. Ms Payne, that's true. And it's a big order, let me tell you!"

POPPIN' GOOD!  - pic by bulldog 1

"Well that's all fine and poppin' good for you, but can you tell me in your learned opinion in the concession industry if this is a commonplace occurence?"

"Odell's is the foremost supplier of quality popcorn popping oil and topping products to leading theatres, stadiums, arenas and concessionaires throughout North America. We use only the finest ingredients in each of our popping and topping products. At Odell's, we never compromise quality at the risk of creating a less than perfect popcorn experience."

Dryly, "I take it you're the PR go-to gal for Odell's as well?"

Embarrassed laugh. "I do get kind of carried away, and yes. It's all since the merger. Actually, to use our favorite phrase around the water cooler, the kernel of truth is that this is a bit out of the ordinary. It takes years to build a successful concessionaire's relationship. This is the stuff hot tasty loyalty is made of."

"Wait - Merger?" Penny picked up her Bic, quick. The scribe's inklings surged a'scribbling. Large red loops laced specific sections of her careful copious research notes. Patterns were beginning to form in ways the patent Payne prided prowess didn't potentially see portending.

"Why yes. It's corporate news sweet as kettle corn it is. Gabardine Unlimited International Liaison Enterprises godfathered into our parent company. Why we got raises faster than a consumer can say 'Jiffy Pop' and -- "

Payne stared down at the megaglomerate's corporate name just scrawled fast and free onto the yellow legal pad prominent on her inordinately neat desk. Penny wasn't pleased when things were out of place. Like the way Paul Caracas challenged her skepticism. Focus, focus! The red letters G. U. I. L. E. popped right out, like -- well, you know.

Masking the frisson of excitement an expose can run away with until tediously nurtured to front-page fruition, Penelope cleared her throat and calmly cut in, "Congratulations are in order of course. Who contacted your firm to begin this hot buttery partnership?"

Computer clicks were heard. "Just a moment Ms Payne. Yes, I have it here."

Payne held her breath.

"A Mr Chester Hanks."

The glisten of a recent Red's the Rage manicure lifted a sheet of canary yellow. Penny circled her usual suspect near the bottom right hand corner of the second page.

"But this is odd -- "

Payne paused. It was the tone. It's always the tone at the other end of the line. "Odd?"

"There's a notation by our sales manager that all communications are to go to another gentleman AT THE BIJOU head office. This is highly irregular. We pride ourselves in popping our business along with just how it started -- "

"That name?"

"It says here ONLY a Mr Harry Shanahan should be the recipient of all company newsletters, e-mail, calls, invitations to popping conventions and general correspondence."

"Well that's interesting, Ms -- "

"Eiffel. Janet Eiffel."

"Like the tower?"

"I'm tall. It works. Any other questions Ms Payne? I hope we've satisfied your inquiry and can put you on the mailing list for client Christmas corn o'the month celebration mailings. The only thing we are more passionate about than our products is our customers. Whether you need an innovative product developed or a shipment rushed to a referred distributor, our service is unmatched! Our goal is to achieve 100% customer satisfaction with all of our products and our service. "

"Uh, I'll get back to you on that Janet. I am curious though -- real butter, all these years?"

"Odell's introduced our Original Popcorn Butter topping in 1962. Theatres have known it as Anhydrous Butterfat / REAL Butter popcorn topping. Since then we've added a complete line of innovative and quality popcorn popping oils and an economical buttery flavored popcorn topping, Supur-Kist Two. Our products are the most widely used in the concession industry and our customers tell us that they have a better aroma, a richer color and a more delicious flavor than any other product on the market today! If your popcorn isn't wowing your customers then try Odell's quality products. You'll be glad you did!"

Glancing at her Timex, Penelope shook her head, gathered notes into the zipper compartment of her suede briefcase, and opened the bottom right desk drawer. Just for a swift spritz. "Thank you Janet. You're a credit to the popping industry, I'm sure." 

"Looking for the best tasting popcorn popping and topping products for your theatre or concession? You've come to the right place! At Odell's, we know popcorn!"

Eau de Dolce Vita by Christian Dior hit its usual mark behind the scenes of  Penny Payne's wrists, lobes and the secret sensation, just beneath the knee. "Janet, it's been a joy. Best to you in your successes."

"Ms Payne thanks. But there's more -- "

Penny was late. She smiled. It was going to be better now than ever to let Caracas wait. She put a sashay into a strut she hadn't used since feeling frisky back in Frisco. Oh, this was going to be good. 

A refreshing feminine fragrance blending fresh cut flowers with a trace of aromatic woods and vanilla wafted across the room. She turned off both the radio and Ruby Keeler's "Sunny Side of the Street" and smiled, the way she had in Frisco. Scentsual appeal put the blues on parade. Penny Payne left her worries on her doorstep.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

IT WAS A GOOD ONE - pic by moacirpdsp

“I was already up Sergeant Smartypants. What brings you around?” Chester asked. He’d opened the door only halfway so it would not be confused with an invitation inside. Stine saw his invitation over Chester’s shoulder anyway should he decide to use it, in the form of the bong standing General over the army of dead soldiers strewn over the coffee table. “Need to ask you a couple questions about your replacement AT THE BIJOU, Sparky Denton.”

“I ain’t sure I can hep ya there chief. I don’t rightly know the boy. So if that’s all then . . .” Chester figured it was worth a try but he wasn’t exactly surprised to see Dan Stine’s brogan step in before he could get the door closed. “Something else officer?”

DING DONG - BONG! - protokol pic

“I know it’s early.” Crack of noon, Stine thought and rotated his head side to side working out a kink in his neck. “So let’s try again. It looks like you had a little party here last night. Maybe if you can’t think of anything pertinent to my investigation into the murder of your replacement, one Sparky Denton, you’d prefer to tell me about the bong I saw on your coffee table.”

“Well the short answer there officer, is that is not mine.” This was true but Chester knew it made no difference to the detective. Chester had a hard and fast rule about cooperating with revenuers. He didn’t. He knew he was going to have to give this one something though. Because for the life of him, he could not recall where the owner of that bong, one Eugene Gabardine had gotten to and he did not want Dan Stine helping him figure it out. “You know, now that I’ve had a moment to study on it, I do ‘member that Sparky feller was referred to me by another feller workin’ off his debt to society over in Alice.”

“Do tell,” Stine said pushing the door open a little wider and stepping back from the threshold.

“Feller named Dudley, Malcom Dudley I think. Ever’one jes calls him Malc-Dud. Get it?” Chester smiled his I’m on your side here podnah, smile hoping that would be enough.

“Go on.” Stine prodded.

“I don’t know if it’s true, but word is Malc-Dud walked from a murder two wrap with time served and 120 hours of commie service.”

“So what’s his connection with Sparky Denton and why did he want him working AT THE BIJOU?” Stine circled Malcom Dudley, Malc-Dud on his note pad.

Chester knew Malc-Dud had been setting him up all along now. Apparently Sparky had accidentally taken his fall. He intended to settle that score himself but he didn’t mind if the cavalry helped a little bit. “Boss Gabardine provided Malc-Dud’s defense,” he answered.

"Open a window Hook," Stine said flipping his pad closed indicating they were done.

 ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Leon and Eddie pulled up just as Stine was leaving Chester’s porch and Stine filled them in. “Sounds like we need to find out just who this Malc-Dud was accused of killing,” Leon said.

“That’s right. If you two don’t mind looking into that, I’ll go see Harry Shanahan.” Daniel said just as Eddie’s iPhone rang.

“Speak of the Devil,” Eddie said and shined the display in Leon and Daniel’s direction:  Incoming: Harry Shanahan

* C * L * I * F * F * H * A * N * G * E * R * S * !

* AT THE BIJOU * 

Mosey on over to next Sunday's Matinee

for the next gut-gripping epic'sode!

" The Prints and The Popper "

(c) 2010 ~ Dashing Duet Authors

Absolutely*Kate and Harry B. Sanderford

ACCLAIMER (vs Disclaimer) ~ There was no need to conjure up a surreal firm that served the industry in poppin' up the best popcorn. ODELL'S is the real deal, a scrumptious family firm. Seriously folks ~ The promotional pitch is indeed all it's popped up to be!

THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER ~ ~ Lucky Epic*sode 13 ~ "LUCKY FOR YOU?" ~ By Absolutely*Kate and Harry B. Sanderford of Harbinger*33

  The *SUSPENSE*

s i z z l e s

PRESENTING

OUR

  * MURDER*MYSTERY *

* MATINEE *

 

 "THE PRINTS

 AND THE POPPER" 

FROM WHERE WE LEFT OFF

 IN OUR LAST CLIFFHANGER

*AT THE BIJOU*

CATCHING UP ON CLIFFHANGERS?

CLICK EPIC*SODES BELOW:

    

Epic'sode 12 ~ Midnight Cowboy

Epic'sode 11 ~ The Shadow Knows

Epic'sode 10 ~ The Pissing Match

 Epic'sode 9 ~ Chain, Chain, Chain 
Epic'sode 8 ~ Too Cool!

Epic'sode 7 ~ Meet Virginia
Epic'sode 6 ~ I See the Light

Epic'sode 5 ~ Lucky Shot
Epic'sode 4 ~ Hi Jinks

Epic'sode 3 ~ Groping Against Grope
Epic'sode 2 ~ The Clot Thickens
  
and the original mystery of it all ~  Epic'sode 1 ~

 THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER

 

 

    ~ ~ Lucky  
EPIC*SODE 13 ~ ~

"LUCKY FOR YOU?"

~ By Absolutely*Kate 

and 
Harry B. Sanderford

In a sure-fingered digital maneuver of surreptitousity, the ever-on-alert Sergeant Dan Stine tapped the app on his iPhone to record within the safe realms of his lower left pocket. InterNoir's hotshot Caracas and investigative ace Payne were on  a refrain decibels above the rat-a-tat-tat of their prior repartee reign. Now this could be something he could use . . . past the stingy ante-out of Commandant Phillips with local crime-scene clues. Dan was a driven man for pulling no punches while playing by the rules . . . and going after what he was after. He was nobody's fool.

Stine's smug smile at his own deft action, not being quite as surreptitious, did brook a notice, a notice now cross currenting from The Phantom on telepath to Ms Carrie all alone at her table . . . well except for her beer. She perked right up, leaned right in to the conversation and naturally, signaled the barkeep for another Coors, of course.

Stine and clever Clevenger heard it all. Sparks of  Paul. Plenty of Penny grillin' on the spitfire:

She:  "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

He, smile simmering around his sipping:  "But how will you tell if you can trust my intel?"

She, ignoring the ploy of his play:  "Facts check themselves out. They're like library cards that way. I'll find you out and fine you if what you tell me is overdue as clue."

He:  "Fair enough Ms Payne. Looking forward to the Penny of your thoughts on the exchange."

She . . . harrumphed.

He . . . quirked.

She . . . waited . . .

He . . . smirked. "Ladies first, you know. It's the lay of the land."

She:  "Well the land deal was just part of it -- "

He:  "Boss Gabardine you mean?"

She:  "Precisely. Persistently. Purposefully. But what in particular would You say was his more powerful claim to corruption's fame?"

He:  "Boxing me into a corner eh?" He smiled, warmer than he'd first expected he'd let show, lit a Gauloise with a handy pack of Lucky Shot bar matches the even more alert barkeep Anthony V had slid his way. Now there's an affable bartender tendering a shelf-full of secrets, he reminded himself to delve into. He fingered the pack, leaned back, didn't let on what the quick scrawl inside said to fire up more than just a nicotine fix. "You're asking me On the record or Off?" He blew a little smoke screen 'round the halo of her hair. He liked how it just hung there.

She, waving his wafting away:  "Off  -- I'd prefer you didn't hold back."

He:  "We're still talking bad crimes, not good times . . . yet, righto doll?"

She . . . huffed.

He . . . puffed.

She:  "C'mon Caracas, you magnificent misogynist. Give it up."

He, smile surging all the warmer:  "No holding out on you Payne. You're some indirect direct dame. S'alright. I like you all the same. You've got gruff to your grilling. Heat to your -- "

She:  "Drop the dance Spy-Guy. Spill."

He:  "Here I was going to say what you gave heat was rather a thrill. You wound me Penelope. To the quick."

She:  "Your quick has seen 'em all Paul. Save the line for a cheap thriller on a dark night when your luck's running out the door you came in out of the relentless rain from."

He:  "Hmm, I see why your editors like you so well. You flair when you flare."

She:  "Caracas!"

He:  "Alright then. Most likely we've perused the same reports. Gabardine and his Gotham gang had been up to their nefarious neck-collars in the rackets for thirty some years before any threatening tampering from the outside."

She:  "Other gangs? Crimestoppers? Press of the press?"

He:  "All and more." He paused, watch his own smoke almost question mark his next remark. "And the call from on high."

She:  "I'd heard the rumours of that call's connection. You unequivocably confirming?"

He:  "Let's just say between two potential . . . uh . . . you know . . . " Looks were exchanged. More than mere smoke screens swirled. "Let's say you never heard nothing from me I didn't deny."

She, sorting that out somehow, but swallowing all the same, moved on in her thirst for black and whiting truth:  "All the rackets?"

He:  "All the rackets. Bookies, booze, vending machines in front lobbies to better haze backroom corporate come-ons, lucrative speculations on the Exchange, creative tax evasion, and even fixing international odds in their favour. You recall hearing of the brouhaha at the US Open in Forest Hills back in '77?"

She:  "Oh, all the rackets -- so I'd heard. Even tennis rackets for the best net results. Something about Jimmy Connors and the move to Flushing Meadows?"

He:  "You've got resources. Source the deed indeed. Who owns Flushing Meadows?"

She:  "I get your lob. I see your backhand coming. But the overhead smash? What got to Gabardine to change how he used to work so smoothly behind the scenes?"

He, with a surge to a stare that just held the proud Payne there:  "Cliche as it may be ~ Cherchez la femme." A pause in his heated consternation, "Wait. But you knew that. You just played me."

She, out of her barstool like a made-shot in the dark, a 10-spot on the counter, a little Revlon lingering now on his brow. "It's always a dame."

He, quick-clearing his head, yet feeling what lips could feel like ... potentially:  "You pun well. You going now?"

She:  "You make it too easy."

He, heedless of the self-control that always held his game in check, watched fascinated as his hand twirled a single strand of her hair, right there, where she kept her #2 Ticonderoga.  "Doll, I never make anything easy."

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

“Harry, thank Christian Dior! How on earth did you ever find me?” Jeanette excitedly exhaled.

“You just wait until my uncle hears about this Harry,” Sappy whined sitting up now and holding his ear.

“Who the hell do you think sent me Eugene? You had one simple thing to do. If you had a brain in that punching bag on your shoulders you’d know to steer clear of your uncle right now.”

“Wait, Eugene? Harry, you two know each other?” Jeanette’s jubilation was taking a turn she was becoming all too familiar with.

“I’m sorry, Jeanette meet Eugene. Eugene is just leaving,” Harry said hauling the man to his feet. Harry whispered in the ear the man was not holding. The man struggled to pull away like a boy who doesn’t like being told what to do. Harry clamped a hand on Eugene’s throat and finished what he had to say. Releasing him, Harry said loud enough for Jeanette to hear, “Leave the keys to the Charger in the ignition. Catch a bus or hitchhike, I don’t care but get some real gone between you and the boss,” and then he shoved the shaking, bleeding and stinking man in the direction of the door.

“Just a damn minute here Harry, that man’s not going anywhere. I’m calling the police!” Jeanette said fishing for her iPhone.

“Go!” Harry ordered and Eugene actually ran down the hall.

“I’m sorry Jeanette. I really am, but I’m going to need for you to give me that phone,” Harry said pulling the 45 from his waistband.

“What the hell are you into here Harry? Who is that boy’s uncle?”

“You already know Jeanette,” Harry said with a sad smile. “He’s The Boss’s sister’s boy, 215 pounds of total fuckup. Eugene Gabardine.”

* C * L * I * F * F * H * A * N * G * E * R * !

* AT THE BIJOU * 

Enjoyably return to next Sunday's Matinee

for the next gut-gripping epic'sode!

" The Prints and The Popper "

THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER ~ ~ Epic*sode 12 ~ "MIDNIGHT COWBOY" ~ By Absolutely*Kate and Harry B. Sanderford of Harbinger*33

  The *TERROR*

t e a s e s

PRESENTING

OUR

  * MURDER*MYSTERY *

* MATINEE *

 

 "THE PRINTS

 AND THE POPPER" 

FROM WHERE WE LEFT OFF

 IN OUR LAST CLIFFHANGER

*AT THE BIJOU*

CATCHING UP ON CLIFFHANGERS?

CLICK EPIC*SODES BELOW:

    

Epic'sode 11 ~ The Shadow Knows

Epic'sode 10 ~ The Pissing Match

 Epic'sode 9 ~ Chain, Chain, Chain 
Epic'sode 8 ~ Too Cool!

Epic'sode 7 ~ Meet Virginia
Epic'sode 6 ~ I See the Light

Epic'sode 5 ~ Lucky Shot
Epic'sode 4 ~ Hi Jinks

Epic'sode 3 ~ Groping Against Grope
Epic'sode 2 ~ The Clot Thickens
  
and the original mystery of it all ~  Epic'sode 1 ~

 THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER

 

 

 

~ ~ EPIC*SODE 12 ~ ~

"MIDNIGHT COWBOY"

 ~ or ~

"DELVE TWELVE"

~ or ~

"Keep the Change

from the Dozen, Cousin"

~ Har and I had a plethora of Epic'sode titles;

Care to help us out?  ~

~ By Absolutely*Kate 

and 
Harry B. Sanderford

"There is an elegant art to detection my new friend." Caracas smiled complacently at the amber in a glass which had the sense to have a bartender who maintained it at more than half-full. 

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Observation. Reflection." His tumbler swirled. His trained demeanor wouldn't dare. "On occasion, Refraction -- seeing how what once enlightened can be lit in entirely different perspicacious perceptions."

"So that's what you've been doing all this time -- Detecting, refracting? Here I thought you were just drinkin' and swallowing up the local atmosphere. Top you off?"

Go at it, Caracas nodded, simultaneously intent on all The Lucky was pouring out this evening --  the detective discourse with the eager-eyed lad to his right, the press pondering front and center, the Lieutenant and the shadowy lady near the front of where the back room took over, and the twitch of the suave barkeep each time he opened a conversational pundit upon . . . detecting. Palpable at best, there were tensions under talents. He'd bet his bottom euro and the villa in the south of France, if only he still had it. That's why this case mattered. Coffer-filling manner to means. On both sides of the coin. This Anthony of the Lucky Shot local saloon had tasted out-of-luck and spit it out once or thrice. He could tell. Types always told. This one? Too quiet for his own bold. What was he in on? And could he be trusted as a fast foil?

Though a dozen conjectures appeared humid and hazy in Hazelton from a day's worth of liquidation duty, an InterNoir gent must do what an InterNoir gent must do. Someone had to. He'd been called in on the crime when it was still in the making. Best way to see a spin before it had a dangle to tangle, a pot to spit in, a skein to unravel --

"You're Paul Caracas, orbiting InterNoir star, correct? I have questions. My readers appreciate succint answers."

Though he'd seen her purposeful stride, and the solemnity in her eye of a woman who got what she came looking for, Caracas liked what he was looking for all the more from private eye to public view.

"Ahhh, Penelope Payne I presume. Reporter of rabid rep. The minute you walked in the joint I could tell you were a dame of distinction -- "

"Yeah, yeah - a real big spender of quality time. Listen artful dodger. You have a who to who-done-it?

"Could be."

"Already?"

"Could be."

"You sharing?"

"Could."

"How?"

"You know."

"You mean?"

"I should."

"But you won't?"

"Must finish the job I've been started on Miss. But then -- "

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all - true bliss?"

Caracas smiled way back in his eyes where the low growl on out-of-town nights preferred to prowl. Payne's not a pushover. This held sport. He rather favoured sport.

"Let us count the ways . . . "

Her eyes flickered but her retendree never blinked.

"Don't swerve. Who pulled the plug on Sparky? Where's the beloved BIJOU film reviewer Jeanette? Why was Chester seen in town when Sparky Denton was known to be his replacement because he was up on misdemeanors out of town? You know how to make the room move when you meet a lady worth the tango?"

Paul Caracas didn't flinch. Not even with that billiards babe Carrie-something-or-other gesturing a frantic thumb in the air configuration and mouthing, well, never mind.

   "One - The prone projectionist was a clear cut case
      of poison popcorn made to preoccupy
      the premiere crime scene. 

   Two - Smoke and mirrors make better illusions
    come to play.

   Three - Some say it packs the house. 

   Four - A packed house leaves an open door. 

   Five - An out-of-town job
    needs and out-of-town perp. 

   Six - Misdemeanors are never what they seem.

   Seven - Never met a tango needing turned down. We've got five more numbers to even the odds on a dozen by midnight. You got a nickel Penny? Stoke the nickelodeon. Play Misty for me."

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Leon finished his drink and made a bottoms up gesture for Eddie to pick up the pace with his beer, “We have to stop and pick up a Happy Meal on our way, better get moving.” 

“You’re going to see Fat-Cop!” Stine accused. “What did you find?”

Alan Burger’s nickname started out Fat-Al, a play on the word fatal due to his propensity in the early days of his career to shoot rather than chase a suspect. His natural laziness coupled with a proclivity for the food that shared his name, numbered his days as a beat cop. Before he hung it up to ride a desk full time, a suspect who did survive to see the interrogation room asked of Al and his partner, “What is this, good-cop fat-cop?” It stuck.

“So, now you want to share information?” Leon grinned. 

Stine knew there was no point in reading Leon the rulebook, “Cheeseburger, curly fries and a rootbeer’s the goin’ rate. If he talked you into a shake you’re getting old my friend.”

Leon paid his bill and bought another round for Stine, “Looks like your InterNoir date’s getting chummy with the press Dan. Be careful.”

“Copy that Podnah.” 

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Sappy’s cowering whimper ended with the short report of Jeanette’s derringer pistol. Click…Click. “Godammit!” Jeanette broke Virginia open to stare in disbelief at the two empty chambers staring back. Sappy uncoiled from his fetal position still reeking of urine and cowardice and never once thought of counting his blessings.  He swept a leg catching Jeanette off guard and sent her sprawling. He leapt upon her and seized her by the throat. 

Jeanette hammered with her fists and bicycled her legs but she hadn’t drawn a good breath. She was leaving and she knew it. She hated going at the hands of such a pussy. She did not close her eyes, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She couldn’t talk but if looks could kill, she meant to stare this son of a bitch straight into hell . . . and then, over Sappy’s shoulder she saw an angel. Oh crap, what’s next trumpets? she thought. Before she finished her thought the angel clobbered Sappy with an enormous nickel-plated pistol and sent the bastard tumbling. The angel went on to kick and stomp the living shit out of the once again cowering sap and with each gasp of sweet oxygen her angel came more fully into focus. “Harry!”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Mary Lou came with their order and placing the tray on the table read back the receipt, “Okay, that’s 8 mini cheeseburgers and an order of 9 chicken nuggets to split. Comes to 10 dollars and 11 cents.” 

Sugar was between paychecks and down to laundry quarters, most of which she had spent on combs from that damn irresistible vending machine in the men’s room. Zelda dug around in her pocketbook and came up with a five and eight ones. She smoothed the wrinkly pile keeping one dollar for her lotto ticket and slid the pile to Mary Lou saying, “Sorry Doll, all I have right now is 12 bucks, but you keep the change from the dozen cousin!”

Legs stretched out, sitting sideways in the Dairy Queen booth, Zelda spun the little bullet on the table between her and Sugar. 

“You know, technically that is evidence,” Sugar pointed out dipping a nugget. 

* C * L * I * F * F * H * A * N * G * E * R * !

* AT THE BIJOU * 

Enjoyably return to next Sunday's Matinee

for the next gut-gripping epic'sode!

" The Prints and The Popper "