The Job: A Short Noir


Veronica Lake 2

The dame I was hired to tail was a real looker. Twenty-six, tall, and packaged to make a blind man give up his cane permanently for one telling “read” of that face and body. Hair like spun gold draping over her shoulders and across one eye. Think Veronica Lake, but add a foot in stature and a cup size. Maybe two. Before I ever laid eyes on Mae Schumer I got all the particulars from the man who’d hired me, Dexter Denning, bank president with reputed ties to the local mob. He was married, three children, but what the hell—with prestige and power come fringe benefits. Denning’s description and the photo he’d given me didn’t do the lady justice. My service binoculars did.

Spam 3

In most times I would’ve avoided this type of case like the clap, but these weren’t most times. I was a year out of the Marines and…

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