Showing posts from January, 2012

Darkness in the Afternoon - Part One

I was sitting in my office cleaning my handgun when it accidentally fired narrowly missing a flea on the head of Mr Alfred Rukelhaus who was having his hair cut in “The Hair’s Progress” across the street—a business run by a man with large black eyes that squinted intensely called Stravinsky. I immediately leapt from my chair, closed the venetian blinds and crawled on my knees back to my desk. I was on the floor when someone entered my office.

"That sounded like a shot?"

"It was my new coffee percolator. Buying a 'twenty cup' was a blunder. It flew out the window. Probably in Shoreditch Park by now."

"Are you a private eye?"

I slipped back into my chair and shuffled the one piece of paper on my desk. When I glanced at the source of the voice, I saw a beautiful woman with fine black hair and piercing dark eyes. Normally I stand to greet clients, but decided—for her modesty, and mine—to remain seated. I gestured to the lady to take a seat.