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#Post#: 2897--------------------------------------------------
Haunted by the Past - Chapter 09 - Don't Step on the Mome Raths
By: RampageSports Date: February 18, 2016, 10:08 am
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Author's Note: The Spenser, Hawk and Susan Silverman characters
belong to mystery novelist Robert B. Parker. Mr. Parker is one
of my favorite authors, and his work is a major influence on the
the way I write. Whether I even come close to mimicking his
style is open to considerable debate, but I have chosen to use
his characters in this story as something of an homage. My goal
is to handle them as lightly as possible and to maintain them as
Mr. Parker created them. Any failure on that front is
completely my own.
[hr]
Haunted by the Past - Chapter 9 - Don't Step on the Mome Raths
We drove for a while before I got myself together enough to ask
questions. Whoever this man was, he had gone to quite a bit of
trouble to keep me alive.
I decided it was safe to assume he was on my side.
I gritted my teeth and rolled myself slowly until I was properly
positioned in the seat. Then I waited until the sharp pain in
my side dulled and I could breathe semi-normally, again.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked.
"You won," he said. "Not right you should be punished for
that."
Mob muscle with a conscience. Just what the f*ck was going on
here?
"You didn't know about the gloves?"
"I did."
"She almost killed me," I said incredulously.
"Like the man said, that a risk you take."
He never shrugged or gestured or even looked my way as he spoke.
He just kept his eyes forward and drove.
"So, if I had died in the ring, that would have been okay?"
"Would'a been part o' what you signed up for."
The perfect diction was gone, replaced by an accent that sounded
like it belonged to a newly freed slave, straight out of the
cotton fields of Alabama.
"But dying in the alley?"
"Not part of the deal," he said. "Just ol' King bein' a bad
loser."
Mob muscle with a conscience, and a strict yet warped sense of
right and wrong.
I was starting to feel like I'd fallen down the rabbit hole.
Nothing is as it seems here in Wonderland.
And, unfortunately for me, I had already trampled the mome
raths.
I had no clue what to say next, so I stopped talking. Before
too long, we pulled up outside the emergency room at Boston
Medical Center.
"Wait here," he said, as if my running away in this condition
was a likely risk.
He disappeared through the entrance and returned a minute or two
later with a pair of young female nurses in tow.
They got me out of the car and into a wheelchair, then brought
me inside.
I turned back to thank my unlikely savior, but he was already
gone.
Once inside, I was moved from wheelchair to bed, checked and
prodded and probed, then whisked off to surgery. In the
process, I was asked a battery of questions about my condition
and what hurt where and so on.
No one ever asked who I was or what had happened to me.
Perhaps my outfit gave that last part away.
Once in the OR, I was sedated almost immediately. I did not
fight the urge to sleep when it came.
By the time I woke up, it was broad daylight. I was in a
regular room, with sunlight streaming through the large window
on my left. In my left arm was an IV, from which sprang a
multitude of tubes that ran up to the IV pole attached to the
bed. An automated blood pressure cuff was attached to my arm,
squeezing the life out of it at that very moment.
Seated in a chair on my right was a strange man. Not the black
man who had saved my life. A different strange man.
Because... yeah.
"Who the hell are you?" I asked hoarsely.
He stood and picked up a foam cup from the rolling tray next to
the bed.
He was big... probably as tall as the first mystery man, but
wider. Though he was not overweight, his shoulders were
broader, giving him a more substantial look. He appeared to be
somewhere around middle age... possibly a little older if not
for the thick, tousled wave of brown hair on his head. He was
dressed in blue jeans, sneakers and a Boston Celtics sweatshirt.
A brown bomber jacket hung from the back of the chair he'd been
sitting in.
"My name is Spenser," he said as he handed me the cup. "I'm a
private investigator."
I put the straw in my mouth, not even bothering to wonder what
it was I was drinking. I suddenly realized I was as thirsty as
I'd ever been in my life, and I drained every drop of water from
the cup before stopping to breathe.
"I don't have anything to say," I said curtly, my voice a little
stronger now that my throat wasn't so dry.
He took the cup back, refilled it from a pink plastic pitcher on
the table and returned it to me.
"I'm a private investigator," he repeated. "I'm not with the
police."
Although I had never said anything about police, he had
correctly guessed the reason I didn't want to talk.
"Why are you here?" I asked him.
"The man who brought you here," he began. "His name is Hawk,
and he asked me to keep an eye on you."
The man with the hand cannon had called for help? Hmmm.
"Why didn't he just do it, himself?"
"Let's just say Hawk is not a very public person."
"I see," I said.
In other words, Hawk was not exactly a law-abiding citizen.
That came as no surprise, and it really made no difference to
me. He had saved my life, so he was okay in my book.
"Hawk works for the other guy," I said. "Powers."
Spenser shook his head.
"Hawk only works for himself," he answered. "He may contract
for a specific job, but he's not on anyone's payroll."
I looked over to the windows as I took a moment to think about
the situation. Spenser waited patiently as I did so.
"Why do I need to be watched over?" I asked.
"King Powers has put a price on your head," he answered.
My name on a mobster's hit list. Ladies and gentlemen, we have
officially reached a new low.
"That's me," I said. "Making friends and influencing people
wherever I go."
He snorted.
"Hawk mentioned that you weren't easy to scare," he said. "He
also mentioned that you think you're funny."
"And?"
"You made an impression on Hawk," he said with a shrug. "That's
not easy to do."
Throughout the entire dressing room exchange with Powers, the
man I now knew as Hawk had stood in front of the door like a
statue.
"What does he look like when you DON'T make an impression on
him?"
"Same," Spenser said.
I did not find that answer surprising, either.
"So, what now?" I asked.
"We can discuss a plan of action later," he said. "For now, the
real police have been waiting to talk to you."
I blew out a frustrated sigh.
"If I could make a suggestion," he said, "I would tell them you
don't remember what happened, as opposed to telling them you
have nothing to say to them."
I turned and looked at him.
"They expect to be lied to," he said, "but they don't like being
told to go f*ck themselves."
I smiled.
"Seems I'm not the only funny one in the room."
"'Humor is mankind's greatest blessing,'" he quoted.
I nodded.
"Mark Twain."
"Huh," he said, a little surprised that I knew the source of the
quotation. "I think you and I are going to get along just
fine."
[hr]
Character Reference
[img]
https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=0Bz8YsEjMxOhMODlHdGhIanZrTWs[/img]
Name: Richelle Winterfeld
Nickname(s):
Background: Owner of the RSI stable, former underground fighter
#Post#: 2899--------------------------------------------------
Re: Haunted by the Past - Chapter 09 - Don't Step on the Mome Ra
ths
By: Dragons Den Date: February 18, 2016, 10:19 pm
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Well, that (and what has come before) was f'ing brilliant.
Magnificent work, Richelle, and I really am enjoying this.
You're good at this, you know. ;)
Looking forward to the next chapter!
Oh, and for what it's worth, I've never heard of the characters
you have 'borrowed', but you've done such a good job with them I
actually want to go and find the original texts and familiarize
myself. :)
#Post#: 2900--------------------------------------------------
Re: Haunted by the Past - Chapter 09 - Don't Step on the Mome Ra
ths
By: RampageSports Date: February 18, 2016, 10:48 pm
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[quote author=Dragons Den link=topic=412.msg2899#msg2899
date=1455855542]
Oh, and for what it's worth, I've never heard of the characters
you have 'borrowed', but you've done such a good job with them I
actually want to go and find the original texts and familiarize
myself. :)
[/quote]
My friend, you just made my month.
No, f*ck it... my whole year. I kid you not. :D
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