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With Part 4 coming out this Friday (10-2-15) let’s revisit the story piece by piece until then (Parts 1-3 posted daily until then). Things take a new turn in Part 4, but let’s see how the case began.
Part 3 of 5
(Hard-boiled, Detective Fiction – Featuring Charles Splints)
By Dan Leicht
“Tell me something about yourself,” said Splints to his new informant.
“Who are you? You weren’t supposed to be back there!” replied the man on the ground, Splints grip still tight on the collar of his worn out polo shirt. The man tries to pull something from the pocket of his corduroy jacket, but Splints catches him and is able to pull the blade out and toss it into the gutter. He raises the young gun up to his feet and throws him into the brick wall of Tappers. The smell of scotch still on his breath Splints repeats his question.
“The kid. I was there for the kid, but you screwed it up!”
“Why mess with a kid? What’d he do to you?”
“Not me. Kid’s an orphan, foster parents wanted him gone.”
Splints delivered a swift fist to the man’s gut, causing him to topple over into the whiskey covered street. The man tried to get back to his feet but Splints placed his shoe onto the back of his head. A couple walking by on the other side of the street, dressed for a night out, stopped and stared.
“Hey, kids!” shouted Splints to the onlookers, “Just taking out the trash is all. Keeping the city clean and whatnot.”
“He’s a liar. His mother told me so.”
Splints removed his foot and bent down, placing his fist into the man’s chest to prevent him from getting up. The man coughed and choked, still recovering from the punch.
“Where are the parents? Upstairs in this bar here?” said Splints as he pointed to Tappers.
“No, yes, but not now. They left for the week, locked the kid out.”
“Not sure I like this bedtime story. I’m going to need you to leave and forget about whatever these people told you they’d do for you,” Splints cracked his knuckles and adjusted his hat.
“Not unless you feel like paying me, old man.”
“Hmm, hate when people call me that.”
Splints waved to the onlookers one last time and dragged the young gun back into the alley where he first noticed him.
“Help me get up to that balcony,” said Splints, his hand still on the man’s shirt collar.
“Not a chance.”
“Gave you one last shot. Don’t you forget that.”
Splints knocked the man out using his left shoe and heaved him up onto the dumpster. Climbing onto the dumpster and standing on the man’s chest Splints was able to grab hold of the railing. He pulled himself up and managed to get over and onto the balcony. He checked the door handle to the inside of the apartment. It was unlocked.
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