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The Hive
Down in the Dirt (v137)
(the June 2016 Issue)




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A Stormy
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Blackmail the Devil

Alex Kingsley

    Before me lay a long hallway covered with a disgusting off brown and well-stained carpet. I walked slowly while whistling a sweet tune I had heard on the radio that morning. The separate offices all looked different from their windows as I passed them. One was a dental or optometry office, while the opposing side held a darkened and empty room. I passed one more set of doors before reaching my destination.
    I turned toward the frosted window of Trenton Investigations. The sign read that they were “Private Investigators” and listed their hours of operation. I stood there for a moment to finish my whistling before rapping my knuckles on the glass. I could hear faint shuffling as someone rushed to the doorway. I quickly scanned the hallway for other people yet found none.
    A heavy man wearing a white shirt, brown slacks, suspenders and a belt opened the door to greet me. His face was a deep red from exertion and his weight I’m sure. He had beady dark eyes that revealed that he was a scared, obese slob. He greeted me with a smile, but seeing my face the color drained from his face and his eyes widened in horror. I met his gaze with a smile as I drew my suppressed Walther P22 and lodged two rounds into his skull.
    His body fell with a sickening thud and his fat rolls swayed like waves on the beach. As thick blood began trickling down the cavities in his face, I stepped into the office and closed the door behind me.
    “Hello Mr. Trenton. I am Mr. Richter, but I am quite sure that you already knew that. It took me quite a while, but I found you!” I spoke to his body cordially, almost as if we had been friends for years. I smiled as I waited to be absolutely sure that he was dead before I began to look about his office.
    The tiny office looked as if it were ripped straight from film noir. I had even noticed that Mr. Trenton had a brown duster and matching fedora hanging from a mount on the wall.
    “You take this private eye thing too seriously Mr. Trenton. Honestly these relics should have been left in the 50’s. It can be found quite offensive to people of taste.” I laughed as I spoke with him. This little pig of a man probably envisioned himself as some hero in a Dick Tracy comic.
    I began to search the room for evidence that connected me to my line of work. I could be called a hired gun, mercenary or assassin. Whatever my title, I killed people for my income. Life could be quite sweet when you pull in over $50,000 a week. However, Mr. Trenton sought to ruin my manner of living.
    Everyday for the last two weeks Mr. Trenton had been calling me, from an unknown number, at 9 am. Each time I answered, he would threaten, “I know what you did!” At first I was unintimidated, but after a week I began to take more notice. I grew tired of this weak and childish tactic, and therefore I began to track my would-be blackmailer.
    Two days ago I had discovered Mr. Trenton and Trenton Investigations which confirmed my worry that he possibly had info on a hit. I had resolved that I could not allow this information to be put in public eye, for both myself and my employers.
    “So where is it, you wretch? Where are the pictures!?” My cordial tone had disappeared as my irritation began to bubble. I dug through the files on his computer hoping to discover some fragment of information about me. I looked at his body in anger as I struggled to find the evidence. As I looked at him, and then his office, I had a moment of clarity. Someone stuck in the past as he would surely use Polaroid!
    I looked in the drawers in his desk and quickly found what I was looking for. I took a moment flipping through the pictures of me and could only laugh heartily.
    “You stupid bastard, you didn’t have to die!” I threw the pictures at his corpse and began laughing hysterically. I poured gasoline around the room and Mr. Trenton. I took one last look at the pictures of my affair, laughed yet again and threw the lit match to the ground.



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