Written by Phil Colvin, Sun Sep 13 8:52:16 US/Pacific 1998
Chapter 2
COLLOSO'S NIGHT CLUB
Franks declined Mosely’s invitation for a free drink so she was left to stay in the car whilst he went into the club. It wasn’t a bad place, it may be seedy but at least everything was nicely spread out. Go in one room, it was pole dancing. Another, and it was lap dancing. It was tasteless, sexist and degrading...but at least it was stylish. However, the room Mosely wanted was the gambler’s club. There was always some charming conversation to be had down there. Mosely's yellow jacket and Hush Puppies didn't exactly fit the dress code, so we wasn't surprised when a burly bouncer barred his way.
“You got the password, bud?”, he said gruffly. Mosely pulled out his police badge.
“Open sesame” he drawled, “I don’t want any trouble, I just wanna word with Jones.”
“How do you know you’ll find him in here?”
“He’s always here.”
Jones was a gangster. Well, a retired gangster. He had been one of Mosely’s first ever busts. A warehouse on the docks filled with hard drugs, soft porn and weapons. It had catapulted Mosely up the ranks and had made his reputation. But thanks to some swift legal work, Jones had got away with doing little more than some community service. And even then, he’d used the opportunity to set fire to half a dozen buildings. He owed Mosely big time, and was always good for information, especially about drug crime in the city. He was in his usual place, the Black Jack table. The familiar smart suit and tie in place. Mosely weaved his way through the tables too him. It looked like a heavy night, empty glasses and assorted chips surrounded him. And from the look on the face of the dealer, he was losing, badly.
“Lady luck against you tonight?” said Mosely as he observed Jones’ hand. The larger man just shrugged.
“I ain’t here for the money, just the thrill.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know about your thrills.”
“Good to see you, Mosely. I’ve heard lots about you...should I be calling you Mostly?”
“I don’t know what’s worse, Jones. You insulting me, or the fact you read such trashy books.”
“What do you want?”
“Some information, about the old gang.”
“If I win this hand, you can have all you want.” Mosely turned to the girl who was dealing and winked. She smiled back and dealt Jones’ hand. He slapped down the cards face up. Pontoon, top of the house. He palmed the fist full of chips and turned to Mosely.
“Must be your lucky night”, he smiled to the Detective, “And seeing as it’s mine too, I’m in a good mood.”
“I need some info about the old gang. What are they up to, these days?”
“Mulhoney’s dead, met the business end of a semi-automatic a year or two back. Tiger went up to Chicago, haven’t’ heard form him since. Bryce is still around. I reckon he’s still dealing.”
“Bryce? Didn’t he used to push amphetamines?”
“Yeah, he was a crazy son of a Didn’t give a about anyone or anything. There were rumours that he was into Devil worshipping and crap like that. I haven’t heard anything about him for a couple of years.”
"Devil worship? I didn't think your boys were the religious type..."
"Just call it 'extra curricular activity' if you want. Bryce was freaky, he had this way of hypnotising people and stuff. Some people thought it was the Devil in him. And he blew more people away than the rest of us put together!"
“Did he ever kill alone? Outside the gang, I mean.”
“Like I said, he’d blown away a more than a few people.”
“I reckon he’s at it again. We’ve had three corpses in five nights.”
“Yeah, I heard rumours about that. The Midnight Murders, or something. Mind you, there are plenty of other bags in this city. Bryce ain’t more likely to do that than the next of them.”
“Maybe the Devil told him to.”
“You believe crap like that, Mosely?”
“I’ve got a friend who’s into that sort of thing. He's pretty hot on working this stuff out. Maybe I should give him a call...”
“Well, if you want this friend of yours to have all his limbs next week, I’d leave it alone.”
“You think Bryce is dangerous?”
“You’ve got respect, Mosely. You know when to poke your nose in and when it ain’t wanted. You get some other guy involved, the boys might not like it.” Jones took another gulp of drink. Mosely thought of Franks, and the danger he was putting her in by letting her on this case...assuming Jones was being straight with him, of course.
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Mosely got up and gave another wink to the girl dealing. Jones lost the next six hands.
“Did you get what you needed?” asked Franks when Mosely got back to the car. He nodded as he went for the liquor and gulped heavily.
“I got something, yeah.”
“I hope it was worth it. I had to fight off sixteen offers from this place’s patrons who were offering me a ‘real good time’.”
“How much were they offering? You realise I would double it....”
“Just drive the car, Franklin.”
MOSLEY'S OFFICE
SEPTEMBER 2nd
07:00 AM
Mosely picked up the phone and jabbed the numbers in. He’d been up all night sorting through old files on Bryce. Wasn’t much there, and not surprising either. Now was time to try his other line of enquiry.
“St. George’s Books.” the genuine, but slightly bored, voice of Grace Nakamura was unmistakable.
“Hi, Grace. Is Gabriel in?”
“Yeah, hi Mosely. I’ll go get him for you.” She put the phone down. Mosely heard shouts and the odd swear word before the phone was picked up again.
“Humph”
“Knight? Is that you?”
“Yeah, it is. What the heck are you doing calling me at this time in the morning? It’s practically midnight!”
“Yeah, sorry, Knight. I know you need your beauty sleep.”
“Whadda you want, Mostly?”
“I need some information. I’ve got a case here which needs wrapping up and I think something’s come up which you may know about. Apparently, my main suspect may be into Devil worship and crap....”
“Devil worship?”, Gabriel suddenly sounded more awake. “Have we got a Satanic cult, here in New Orleans?”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, you ain’t getting any privileged information.”
“Aww, c’mon Mostly...it sounds like a great idea for a book.....And anyway, no offence, here but we both know how incapable you are of doing stuff like this. You’d better leave it to the expert.”
“Thanks for your help, Knight.” sighed Mosely, “Next time I’ll just bang my head against a wall, instead.” He put the phone down. So much for his Devil worship lead. He was hunched over the table with his head in his hands when Franks walked in.
“Making progress?”, she asked. Mosely just grunted. “Well, you might like to know that I’ve found something similar to this case, we might have a motive.” Mosely sat up and took a look at the files she was holding.
“What am I looking at?”
“Just an old case from the 50s. There was some sort of drugs war going on. About six bodies were found with almost identical MOs. It turned out that all the victims worked for the same gang and had been trying to go solo by stealing drugs from their boss and selling them on. Their boss didn’t like that so had them all killed.”
“That sounds similar. And according to the man I spoke to last night, the gang has all split anyway. It seems likely that Bryce’s boys might be trying to go it alone. What happened in that case?”
"We caught the boss and he did the 'sit-down dance' in the electric chair. Mind you, that guy wasn't a Devil worshipper who hypnotised people..."
“Franks, don’t go thinking that this is all occult mumbo jumbo. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all this.”
“We’ll get the chance to find out. We may have an address for one of Bryce’s boys. If the gang really has split and he's trying to sell drugs without his former boss' permission, then he could very well be the next victim. Of course, there’s no reason why he should help us...”
“I think after seeing what’s happened to all his little drug-pushing buddies, he’ll be only too glad to help us. Let’s go pick him up.”
“Mosely, are you sure? If we’re getting into danger....”
“Don’t worry, Franks. Unlike some members of the force, and unscrupulous so-called authors, I don’t like getting into the thick of things until I know the cost is clear. That’s what makes me different from most other detectives.”
“No, it’s the extra 50 pounds which makes you different from most other detectives.”
“Just get the car, Franks.”
“Whatever you say.”
KRATZ AVENUE
Mosely checked the address again. This was definitely the place. The name of the man they were looking for was Josuah Crab. But the place seemed deserted. The house looked like the Bates Motel, all boarded up windows and creepy looking doors. Franks was knocking at the door, there didn’t seem to be anyone home. She shrugged and walked back to the car.
“Maybe he’s seen what’s happened to his old comrades and has done a runner?”, she suggested. Mosely nodded but kept an eye on the building. It was quiet here, Mosely didn’t like quiet. You couldn’t hide the sound of gunfire in the quiet, if someone was getting killed, he’d know about it. Mosely preferred not to know when people were being killed, he just preferred to walk in and see corpses. He watched figures walking up and down the road. Most of them heading towards the docks. One of them looked familiar. Mosely signalled to Franks.
“It’s Crab, looks like he’s coming home after a night on the town.” They got out of the car and walked over to him.
“What do you want?”, the man asked nervously. Mosely reached for his ID.
“Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Crab. We’re from the NOPD, we just want to ask you a few questions...”
“Yeah like hell!”, spat Crab, “You’ve been sent to kill me, haven’t you!” But before Mosely could protest his innocence, Crab was running away.
“Aww, shi...” he sighed as Franks ran off in pursuit. Mosely watched them go. He could follow, eventually. He decided to save his strength and walked back to the car.
Franks was fast. She’d been one of those child prodigies, always picked first for the sports teams. Always won every event. But she’d had her eyes set on another career so her athleticism just became a part of her job rather than the whole thing. Crab wasn’t so good, he was huffing and puffing and trying to stay upright. They ran down a street towards the docks, past warehouses and restaurants which had a distinctive smell of smoked fish. Franks was closing, Crab tried to know some baskets into her way but she easily jumped them. She’d been a good long jumper, too. Crab spun into an alley way, maybe hoping to lose her. He took a look behind his shoulder...she wasn’t there...maybe he’d lost her....then he ran straight into the figure at the end of the alley and collapsed. He looked up into the eyes of his former boss, Bryce.
“Hi, Joshua”, he rasped, “You’ve been a naughty boy....”
Franks ran into the alley, she knew it was a dead end. She’d stopped to radio Mosely and tell him to drive down here. All she had to do was walk in and arrest Crab...but when she walked into the alley he was gone. To all sides were solid brick walls. No ladders or stairs. She wandered down the alley, checking for the escape route. But there was nothing. She pulled out her radio again. Mosely was half way down the road, doughnut in one hand and steering wheel in the other, when the radio crackled into life.
“Mosely? I lost him.”
“Oh, frickin’ heck!” spat Mosely along with a large piece of doughnut, “I thought you said you had him cornered!”
“He just sort of vanished.”
“Sort of vanished?”
“There’s no way he could have escaped. Maybe he’s hiding...” Then the radio went dead as she was knocked out from behind. Mosely shouted into the com unit. But there was nothing. He spun the car right in front of the alley and got out.
“Jesus frickin’ Christ....” He saw the body immediately. Just at the end of the alley. He ran over. It wasn’t Franks, thank God. But it was Crab. It didn’t take Mosely more than five seconds to find cause of death. Six bullet holes in the chest.... and no sign of Franks.
If you have any comments, you can email Phil Colvin at sculder_mully@geocities.com.
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