Hawkman
07-13-2010, 11:11 AM
It was no good, Lilly just had to go.
Dash sat by the window and looked out into the city night. The neon from across the street, garishly red, blue and green, flickered in its weariness at a lifetime of proclaiming, ‘Joe’s Diner’ to an uncaring world. The stuttering colours stained his face in pale imitation as he listened to the ever-present growl of traffic and the inevitable police siren in the distance. Dash loved the city almost as much as he hated it. It was his home. He sighed and reached to the cord which dropped the blind and pulled it.
The blind came down, echoing his sigh but it was tinged with a hint of death-rattle. The slats were open but he left them; he didn’t want to shut the city out, he just needed a tangible barrier between it and him. He swivelled in his creaky office chair and scooted a couple of feet nearer to his old, ink-stained desk with it’s scratched leather top. It provided a platform for a green shaded lamp and a heavy typewriter. The lamp was on, casting a pool of light against the gloom of the invading night.
He looked at it and chuckled. Well, maybe the old lamp wasn’t winning, but it was holding its own, staking a claim to the centre of the desktop. Stalemate. He took out a cigarette and lit it, then reached down to the bottom right-hand draw and pulled it open.
Salvation!
The whiskey bottle clinked cheerfully against the glass which kept it company as he pulled them out to join him. The bottle was only quarter full. He poured himself a stiff one, put the stopper back in and left the bottle on top of the desk. Then he took a deep drag from his cigarette and leaned back in his chair, holding the glass up to the light, admiring the clarity and colour of the amber liquid it contained. When the last of the smoke had escaped from his lungs he took a sip.
Yeah. Lilly had to go, she was a real problem, she was holding him back.
He finished the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray then took another sip. Then another. He sighed again and closed his eyes, cradling the glass on his lap with both hands.
When he opened them Lilly was sitting across from him on the other side of the desk, with the malignant bulk of the typewriter squatting between them. He hadn’t heard her come in, he must have dropped off for a moment. He sat up and put the glass next to the bottle and scooted sideways a little so he could see her clearly. She didn’t say anything, just watched him with those unfathomable dark eyes of hers, with the soft light from the lamp bringing them to life with highlights and gently illuminating the smooth skin of her face.
She was wearing her favourite pill-box hat, the one with the little veil that she always turned up. She knew she had a good face and didn’t see why she should hide any part of it, but the little veil gave her a sense of mystery that she knew he liked. Lilly always knew what to wear, how to dress chic. She had class.
But that didn’t matter, he reminded himself, he had to get rid of her. He needed her gone.
Permanently.
She wasn’t going to make it easy for him though. Oh no, Lilly had a mind of her own.
“What are you doing here,” he demanded, pushing all the warmth out of his voice.
“I wanted to see you, Dash, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh yeah? Why?” Her steady, level gaze made him uncomfortable. He’d almost barked at her.
“Do I need a reason?” she asked with a half-smile. It made her look sexy as hell.
“I guess not,” he said, “But couldn’t it wait?"
“Maybe it could, but I thought you might want to see me too. I guess I was wrong.”
“I’m working.” He said, but he was close to caving in, close to forgetting about the whole damn thing.
“Sure you are,” she smiled, all the way this time, “I could tell by the snores.”
He pulled himself together. “Hey, how did you get in here, anyway?”
“I let myself in, I didn’t want to wake you,” she said.
She looked at the bottle on the desk. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?" she asked.
“Help yourself,” he replied, “you’ll have to use my glass, I’ve only got the one.”
“Thanks," she said, but made no move toward it. Instead she looked right at him, through him, even.
“Look, Lilly, -" he began, but she interrupted him.
“We’ve been good together, haven’t we, Dash? We’ve had some good times, out there, on the mean streets, mixing with the mugs.”
“Yeah.” He said, it was all he could manage, all that was expected of him.
“Remember the Delgado case? It’s what made you famous. What would it have been like without me?”
“Different.” He said.
“And then there was the Hassingford murder. Didn’t I crack that for you? It was my testimony that got Anderson convicted, remember?”
“I remember,” he said.
She knew. She’d probably known before he did.
“We’ve so much history together. Why would you want to throw that all away?”
“Because it’s history, Lilly. It’s not a future, it’s all in the past.”
“How can you say that, Dash, how can you even think it?”
He wanted it over with. Over and done. He didn’t want to hear any more, he didn’t want to see her tears. He didn’t want to feel her pain at the betrayal or feel his own shame and guilt. Just for a moment, a split second, he thought of the .38 snub-nose in his top right desk drawer.
Stupid.
He couldn’t do it himself. It just wasn’t possible. He’d have Benny do it. Benny was a professional who did what he had to do. She wouldn’t suffer, it would be quick and clean.
“It’s over, Lilly.”
“Why, Dash? Don’t you love me anymore?”
“No,” he lied, it was what they both needed to hear.
He thought he saw the wet sparkle on her cheek reflecting the lamplight as she pulled away from him, receding into the shadows, the light dying in her eyes. And then she was gone. He didn’t even hear the door. Taking a deep breath he poured himself another drink and gulped it down. Then he reached for a sheet of paper, fed it into the typewriter, pushed the carriage over and began to type.
CHAPTER 13
The death of Lilly
Every stroke of the key sounded like a gunshot in his ears and as his fingers pounded the keys, a lone tear rolled unheeded down his face.
Dash sat by the window and looked out into the city night. The neon from across the street, garishly red, blue and green, flickered in its weariness at a lifetime of proclaiming, ‘Joe’s Diner’ to an uncaring world. The stuttering colours stained his face in pale imitation as he listened to the ever-present growl of traffic and the inevitable police siren in the distance. Dash loved the city almost as much as he hated it. It was his home. He sighed and reached to the cord which dropped the blind and pulled it.
The blind came down, echoing his sigh but it was tinged with a hint of death-rattle. The slats were open but he left them; he didn’t want to shut the city out, he just needed a tangible barrier between it and him. He swivelled in his creaky office chair and scooted a couple of feet nearer to his old, ink-stained desk with it’s scratched leather top. It provided a platform for a green shaded lamp and a heavy typewriter. The lamp was on, casting a pool of light against the gloom of the invading night.
He looked at it and chuckled. Well, maybe the old lamp wasn’t winning, but it was holding its own, staking a claim to the centre of the desktop. Stalemate. He took out a cigarette and lit it, then reached down to the bottom right-hand draw and pulled it open.
Salvation!
The whiskey bottle clinked cheerfully against the glass which kept it company as he pulled them out to join him. The bottle was only quarter full. He poured himself a stiff one, put the stopper back in and left the bottle on top of the desk. Then he took a deep drag from his cigarette and leaned back in his chair, holding the glass up to the light, admiring the clarity and colour of the amber liquid it contained. When the last of the smoke had escaped from his lungs he took a sip.
Yeah. Lilly had to go, she was a real problem, she was holding him back.
He finished the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray then took another sip. Then another. He sighed again and closed his eyes, cradling the glass on his lap with both hands.
When he opened them Lilly was sitting across from him on the other side of the desk, with the malignant bulk of the typewriter squatting between them. He hadn’t heard her come in, he must have dropped off for a moment. He sat up and put the glass next to the bottle and scooted sideways a little so he could see her clearly. She didn’t say anything, just watched him with those unfathomable dark eyes of hers, with the soft light from the lamp bringing them to life with highlights and gently illuminating the smooth skin of her face.
She was wearing her favourite pill-box hat, the one with the little veil that she always turned up. She knew she had a good face and didn’t see why she should hide any part of it, but the little veil gave her a sense of mystery that she knew he liked. Lilly always knew what to wear, how to dress chic. She had class.
But that didn’t matter, he reminded himself, he had to get rid of her. He needed her gone.
Permanently.
She wasn’t going to make it easy for him though. Oh no, Lilly had a mind of her own.
“What are you doing here,” he demanded, pushing all the warmth out of his voice.
“I wanted to see you, Dash, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh yeah? Why?” Her steady, level gaze made him uncomfortable. He’d almost barked at her.
“Do I need a reason?” she asked with a half-smile. It made her look sexy as hell.
“I guess not,” he said, “But couldn’t it wait?"
“Maybe it could, but I thought you might want to see me too. I guess I was wrong.”
“I’m working.” He said, but he was close to caving in, close to forgetting about the whole damn thing.
“Sure you are,” she smiled, all the way this time, “I could tell by the snores.”
He pulled himself together. “Hey, how did you get in here, anyway?”
“I let myself in, I didn’t want to wake you,” she said.
She looked at the bottle on the desk. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?" she asked.
“Help yourself,” he replied, “you’ll have to use my glass, I’ve only got the one.”
“Thanks," she said, but made no move toward it. Instead she looked right at him, through him, even.
“Look, Lilly, -" he began, but she interrupted him.
“We’ve been good together, haven’t we, Dash? We’ve had some good times, out there, on the mean streets, mixing with the mugs.”
“Yeah.” He said, it was all he could manage, all that was expected of him.
“Remember the Delgado case? It’s what made you famous. What would it have been like without me?”
“Different.” He said.
“And then there was the Hassingford murder. Didn’t I crack that for you? It was my testimony that got Anderson convicted, remember?”
“I remember,” he said.
She knew. She’d probably known before he did.
“We’ve so much history together. Why would you want to throw that all away?”
“Because it’s history, Lilly. It’s not a future, it’s all in the past.”
“How can you say that, Dash, how can you even think it?”
He wanted it over with. Over and done. He didn’t want to hear any more, he didn’t want to see her tears. He didn’t want to feel her pain at the betrayal or feel his own shame and guilt. Just for a moment, a split second, he thought of the .38 snub-nose in his top right desk drawer.
Stupid.
He couldn’t do it himself. It just wasn’t possible. He’d have Benny do it. Benny was a professional who did what he had to do. She wouldn’t suffer, it would be quick and clean.
“It’s over, Lilly.”
“Why, Dash? Don’t you love me anymore?”
“No,” he lied, it was what they both needed to hear.
He thought he saw the wet sparkle on her cheek reflecting the lamplight as she pulled away from him, receding into the shadows, the light dying in her eyes. And then she was gone. He didn’t even hear the door. Taking a deep breath he poured himself another drink and gulped it down. Then he reached for a sheet of paper, fed it into the typewriter, pushed the carriage over and began to type.
CHAPTER 13
The death of Lilly
Every stroke of the key sounded like a gunshot in his ears and as his fingers pounded the keys, a lone tear rolled unheeded down his face.