Vivika Widow's Blog, page 54

Knock, Knock: Episode 5: A Room With A View

It was difficult to tell what time of day it was. The light didn’t shine in much from the outside of the club. Tabitha left me in the empty lounge room Dennis had showed me to before. She told me to help myself to a drink and wait at the bar for her whilst she went about the club business.

I didn’t know what she had in store for me. She explained very little on the car ride there.

I drank and I thought about how much of mess my life had become after setting foot in Knock, Knock. I don’t know how long it was – felt like hours, probably only minutes – until there was a playful tap on my shoulder.

I turned and was greeted by the first friendly face I had met in a while. She leaned against the bar casually. Her leather jacket shone under the dim light.

“You have had a bullshit time of it but the looks of things,” she commented. Her accent was strong. She wasn’t a native to Coldford. She came from across the seas in the Misty City known as Bournton. She was attractive, strong and athletic.

“I think Tabitha is going to keep me prisoner here,” I said in jest but I have to admit it was a very real concern.

The woman laughed. “I wouldn’t put that past her.”

It was then I recognised her. I had seen her before. A couple of times.

“You’re one of the dancers!” I stated. She already knew that of course but I had to have confirmation.

“The name’s Lydia.” She shook my hand warmly.

“Sorry,” I replied. “I didn’t recognise you at first. With …”

“Clothes on?” she finished for me. She laughed again and despite everything I laughed too. I wasn’t going to be able to bring Theresa back but at least it gave me time to deal with it all.

“Sam,” I told her.

She raised her eyebrows. “I heard who you are. You have caused quite a stir around here. You ought to be careful. You might ruin things for us poor girls who are just trying to make our way in the world.”

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I shrugged off her comment. “I don’t know. I don’t think a girl with your particular talents would be held back much.”

Lydia laughed. She dabbed my arm with good humour.

I was enjoying the beginnings of what was the closest thing I had had to a normal conversation for some time. It was nice to feel human again. Just when I was about to feel human enough again to carry on Tabitha appeared beside us. It was almost like she had sensed our merriment.

“I hope you’re not feeling neglected,” Tabitha said to me, completely ignoring Lydia.

“Not at all,” I replied. “Lydia and I …”

Tabitha finally did acknowledge her dancer. She was smiling but her grey eyes were as cold as winter.

“Don’t you have a set to prepare for?” she barked.

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“We were just talking,” I spoke up.

Lydia sighed calmly. I admired how cool she remained. She leaned off the bar and turned towards me.

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“Don’t worry about her,” Tabitha groaned, becoming impatient. “She isn’t worth shit unless she’s taking her clothes off.” The words were harsh and venomous but she said them like an old friend teasing. She waited, with her hands behind her back like a scolding teacher for Lydia to react.

Lydia smiled and shook it off.

“Oh honey, they may come here to see you but we both know I bring the thunder.”

“Oh really?!” Tabitha whined like a petulant child.

Before it could escalate any further Lydia stood. She turned back to me.

“Enjoy the show, champ,” she said with a wink. She dabbed my shoulder with her fist playfully.

When Lydia was gone Tabitha was shaking her head. She pulled me closer like I was one of her toys she really didn’t want to share.

She shouted across to Lisa, the blonde bar maid, who had just come in.

“Gin and Tonic,” she said. “This time don’t be afraid to splash a little gin in the glass.”

The bar maid nodded in agreement.

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“Stay away from her,” Tabitha warned me, referring to Lydia. “That girl is bad news.”

‘That’s rich,’ I thought. ‘Coming from you.’

She took a sharp intake of breath and fixed her smile again. In some lights she really could seem quite endearing.

“What am I doing here?” I asked.

“We can chat about that later. You are under the protection of THE HEADLINERS now, so don’t you worry your handsome face about anything.”

She grabbed my chin and shook my head.

“Come with me. I’ll take you somewhere you can get comfortable.”

The way she said it made it sound almost threatening. I didn’t know who these HEADLINERS were or how much I could really count on their protection or what they were protecting me from.

I wasn’t sure just how comfortable Tabitha wanted me to get. The thought made me shiver.

“I can’t stay,” I protested. “I have to get back to the newspaper.”

“Sure you can,” she said. “The Daily isn’t going to blow up without you.” She must have imagined the Daily building toppling because she laughed to herself and sighed.

She started leading me up a staircase at the back of the club to where some rooms lay.

“It’s not like you have a home or wife to go to any more is it?”

As strange as it sounds – despite how cruel her words were – I believe she genuinely thought she was being comforting.

Her heels clicked in a rhythm as we climbed to the second floor. When I saw the corridor darken I hesitated. Her lips puckered as she smiled. Her eye brows raised.

“Don’t go limp on me now,” she said. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

I took a step back. Now I was really confused as to what she meant by getting comfortable. She laughed. It was a musical, girlish sound that made her lose her front and seem more genuine.

“Come on. I’m giving you one of the best rooms.”

I continued on down the hall. She opened a door at the end to a large room with simple furnishings.

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It was eye catching but not because of the aesthetics of the place. It was dark and smelled like the rest of the club.

 

It was because on the farthest wall hung a full sized picture of the lady herself looking elegant in one of her signature red dresses. I looked to the real her but she was in a daze. Her head cocked to one side, doe eyed like she was in the presence of some kind of pop idol. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at a loved one the way Tabitha looked at herself.

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“Great picture, isn’t it?” she awed.

I frowned. I wouldn’t dare disagree.

She squeezed my shoulder.

“Anyway, you get settled in and if you need anything I’ll send one of my girls up.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I replied.

Tabitha closed the door over. I listened as her footsteps disappeared back down the hall. The large poster her stared back down at me knowingly.

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A short time later I heard more footsteps. They weren’t the determined and self-assured steps of Tabitha. Nor where they the clumsy, over-eager steps of Dennis. They were quiet, quick. Before I had time to react something was slipped underneath the door. It was a phone.

There was a note attached that read ‘keep records but keep it hidden’.

I opened the door but whoever had brought it was long gone.

I would keep records. My time in the Knock, Knock Club was only just beginning.

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The Season of the Witch

*EXCITING ANNOUNCEMENT *

This Halloween truly is the season of the witch. The FIFTH ANNIVERSARY EDITION of Vivika Widow’s dark fairy tale RED SNOW will be available 31.10.2018

Join us in celebrating 5 years of madness, witchcraft and all the thrills that Vivika’s debut novel has to offer. Complete with new scenes, stunning new cover and a twist or two never seen before!

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For Red Snow Tales you are in the right place. Click HERE to read more.

Knock, Knock: Episode 4: Take A Bow

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“Do you think he did it?” asked CPD officer Floyd Hicks, as he and his partner watched me nurse my weak coffee through the observation glass.

His partner, Delaney, snorted with derision. “Come on Hicks,” he snarled. “He woke up next to the body. He barely remembers getting home that night. It doesn’t take a detective to work this one out. He and the little wife had a fight. He stormed out to the club he keeps talking about, got loaded up, came home in a rage and shot her.”

Hicks still wasn’t convinced though. Something still didn’t add up. There was little blood so the body had been brought from somewhere else and laid in the bed. A man who killed in a rage wouldn’t go to that kind of effort.

“So, what happened?” he asked when he returned to the interview room. He had already asked me this same question one hundred times at least.

“I told you!” I spat with venomous frustration that probably wasn’t helping my cause. “The last thing I remember was that I returned home from the club and went to sleep. I don’t really remember getting home. I I must have had one too many.” I knew that wasn’t right. I only had one but I didn’t want to bring the Knock, Knock Club into the frame any more than I had already, in case it made matters worse. “I woke up and there she was beside me… dead.”

The image of my dead wife will be forever etched in my mind. The cold stare, the haunting paleness of her skin. I couldn’t begin to grieve because as quickly as I had discovered her corpse lying next to me, I was whisked off to the Coldford Police Department and placed under the microscope.

With the finger of blame pointing in my face I couldn’t find a suitable excuse or explanation that would satisfy the wagging tongues of the town or the suspicious eyes of the CPD.

Hicks ran over the details again. The statement that I had made on arrival hadn’t changed by a single word. I was an innocent man after all.

“So, you said you were returning from the Knock, Knock Club?”

“Yes …” I grumbled. “Must we do this again?”

“And that was Thursday evening?”

“No!” I snapped. “It was Tuesday.” He was trying to trip me up but I know what I meant and I meant what I said.

Hicks’ stare narrowed on me. He could see tears begin to form in my eyes but I took a deep breath. I couldn’t begin to deal with what had happened whilst I sat under interrogation. My head began to spin with the information I was being dealt. Delaney continued. Perhaps he recognised the real pain I was in because his face softened.

“I know this is difficult but we need to be as thorough as possible,” he said. “The victim was shot. Do you own any guns?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t handle Theresa being referred to as a victim.

“What brought you to the Knock, Knock Club the night before?”

“I’m following a story for my newspaper. It took me there.”

There was a knock on the door. Hicks looked at his watch. He frowned to himself. The door unlocked and his partner, Delaney, joined us.

He gave me a scathing look that was akin to his wife having told him he had lost his manhood, before leaning over and whispering something into his partner’s ear that I wasn’t supposed to here.

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“You are free to go,” Floyd Hicks announced, standing and scraping his chair back.

I was confused. Subjects of murder investigations don’t just walk free. “But what about my wife? Don’t you want to ask me more questions? What about the investigation?”

I had never known anyone outside the canine community to growl but that is what Delaney did then. “Do you want us to keep you here?” he tried.

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I shook my head. My whole body was trembling. In some feat of unconscious acrobatics I was on my feet and Hicks was leading me down the corridor towards the main entrance of the station.

“Someone has come to pick you up,” he was saying but I wasn’t really hearing any of his words.

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I then figured the message had finally reached Maddy and she had come to help. It wasn’t until we reached the reception area that I finally returned to reality.

“He’s all yours,” said Floyd, but not to me.

A woman in a fitted business suit with her hair pulled back neatly and a pair of thick framed glasses was just finishing a text message.

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It wasn’t until she stood and smiled that I recognised her. The burning expression, the smile with the gap that gave her a predatory appearance. Tabitha had been the one to come and collect me. She was the reason I was walking away so easily.

“About time too. How long were you planning on keeping him here?” She beamed an accommodating grin. “You’re a cruel man detective.”

Hicks turned to me and said, “We’ll probably have some more questions for you. We’ll keep you up to date on the investigation.”

I protested. “I think I should just go home.”

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The detective laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’m afraid you can’t. It’s a crime scene.”

“He’s coming with me.”

Hicks addressed Tabitha. I couldn’t tell if they already knew each other or not. “I can’t have him going far.”

“Don’t you worry your little bald head detective. I’ll not let him get away.”

She wrapped her arm around me and we made our way out towards the street. She gave one last glance back over her shoulder and flashed a smile to the detective.

“He’ll be made to feel so comfortable he’ll think he’s staying in some fancy-smancy hotel. You have a great day now detective.”

Hicks smiled back. He even thanked her.

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Detective Hicks had shown a great interest in the Knock, Knock Club. Every time I mentioned it he had an almost ravenous look in his eyes. His part in the story would become apparent to me later but in the meantime, I was in the clutches of the boss lady herself. My story was going to blow wide open and more blood would be spilled before the end.

***

As we walked down the street she pulled the elastic from her hair and let if fall onto her shoulders. She pulled off the glasses and threw them aside. She looked more like the woman I met on my first visit to the club.

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“Where is Madeline?” I stammered.

“Who?”

“My friend, Madeline. Where is she?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Tabitha shrugged.

“What are you doing here?”

Her lips stretched into a smile. “Saving your ass by the looks of things.”

“I was a suspect in a murder investigation. How the hell am I walking away right now?”

“I’m a fucking miracle worker that’s how,” she maintained.

“I was a suspect in a murder!” I repeated trying to comprehend how Tabitha could be so nonchalant.

“Were you guilty?” she stopped and asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

She shrugged again. “Then what are you wadding your panties for?”

She started to walk again but I stopped her. “Do you know who killed my wife?”

Tabitha turned to look at me and in that brief moment I saw something in her grey eyes. A human resided in there.

“She’s gone, Sam. Can’t change that. Maybe you should just worry about keeping yourself alive.”

Before I could press her further a car drew up beside us.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe, shall we?” she said.

I pulled back. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you explain what the fuck is going on.”

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Tabitha raised her eyebrows. “Look at you getting all upset.”

The frustration of the last few days vented. “My wife was murdered!”

She turned towards the car. “It isn’t all about you, you know.”

I shook my head. This girl was unbelievable. “Then what is it about?”

“You are one lucky son of a bitch because I’m willing to help you. They call us THE HEADLINERS. My club is the perfect place to gain perspective. Come with me and we’ll get to the bottom of things together.”

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I didn’t have anywhere to go. I had no one to turn to. Madeline must have still been out of town pursuing another story. Eric would sooner see me on the streets than help me. I only had Tabitha to rely on and let me tell you, that was no great position to be in.

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Enjoy this?

Click HERE to download the series to your kindle!

or read the story from the beginning free on Vivika Widow Online

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Finding the inspiration

Today I finished one of the most difficult MUSE chapters and indeed one of the most difficult chapters I’ve written yet. I am very much looking forward to you all seeing this final product. It has been an absolute thrill to follow artist, David, into the darkest parts of his mind as he seeks new Inspiration.

I enjoy tackling themes that make me uncomfortable and are outside me comfort zone. I am hoping It pays off. Muse will be released in December so you can decide for yourself.

[image error]COMING DECEMBER 2018

The Ace Reporter

Name: Sam Crusow

Age: 34

Position: Reporter

When the mayor of the city went missing Sam thought he was on to the story of his life. When that story led him to the Knock, Knock club it would put his life in danger. As his world crumbles around him he realises even those closest to him have their secrets.

He is forced to wade through a mess of corruption, deceit and murder to bring these hidden agendas to light. When the truth is exposed it isn’t pretty.

Kind, noble and determined – Sam’s honesty is unflappable but when he is up against some of the shadiest characters the city has to offer he is going to have to learn to fight dirty.

Join Sam every Monday @ 6pm as he continues on his quest to bring the Knock, Knock Club down.

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Enjoy this?

You can read the Knock, Knock series free on Vivika Widow Online

Click HERE to download for kindle!

Knock, Knock: Episode 3: Sleep Tight Sam

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After finding our home ransacked, Theresa decided to stay with her mother. She said she would be home the following afternoon. She pleaded with me to go with her but in desperate times, my job at the newspaper was important. Through the night I had been restless. I watched the quiet streets from my window until my eyes were burning. After falling asleep on the sofa for a few hours I left to meet Madeline for lunch at the local diner. She was already waiting for me at a table by the window with a bowl of watered-down soup in front of her. An empty one left by the previous occupant had been pushed aside.

 

“Are you okay?” she asked as I sat on the booth bench across from her. She hadn’t seen me since the house breaking. She was filled with genuine concern. She had spent an hour on the telephone with Theresa the night before.

The white washed walls of BOBBY’S LUNCH BOX were harsh on my tired eyes.

“I’m fine,” I said, not convincing anyone. “I don’t think they’ll be back.”

I tried a smile. Madeline shook her head sympathetically. A large middle aged, grey haired waitress with thick rimmed spectacles approached. “Just some coffee please,” I told her. She grunted and disappeared back to the kitchen to fetch the coffee. “She’s a charmer…” I commented.

“Are you sure you are okay?” Madeline asked again.

“I told you I am fine,” I insisted. “Unfortunately, these kinds of things are happening a lot these days.”

“Nothing was stolen though. If it was a robbery surely they would have taken something.”

“There isn’t much to steal at my place. We sold the best bits to pay the rent.”

“Theresa told me about your visit to the Knock, Knock club.”

“The woman I spoke to wasn’t much help.”

“What was her name?” Madeline couldn’t help but press like a reporter.

“Tabitha.”

She clasped my hand.

 

“You should be careful Sam,” Madeline warned.

“Do you know the club?”

“I’ve been there once or twice,” she stated. “I tried get a story on it before but the owner wouldn’t give me anything. They try to keep it hush hush.”

“The house breaking and the visit to the club could just be coincidence but I’m going to have to go back and talk with Tabitha. Maybe I will get you your story after all.”

“Don’t do anything stupid Sam.”

As if I would…

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***

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That evening I returned to the Knock, Knock club. Perhaps my journalistic instinct was getting the better of me or perhaps I wanted to avoid the confinement of my empty home. Either way, there I was knocking on the door as the sign suggested. Dennis was the one to answer.

 

“Table for one?” he asked with an ironic smile. “Sometimes it is more hassle than it’s worth to bring the missus isn’t it?”

“I’m not staying,” I explained to him. “I just want to speak to Tabitha.”

“I shouldn’t let you in at all after the stunt you pulled the other night. Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s rude to barge your way into a lady’s room? Luckily for you, I hate to lose a customer.”

I tried to push past him. “I’ll be quick,” I said.

“Just a minute pal. Miss T isn’t here tonight.”

“Perhaps you can help. You manage this place right?”

Dennis raised his dark eyebrows. “I shouldn’t be talking to the papers.”

“Have you seen the mayor around?”

He shrugged off my question. “You see all kinds of faces in a joint like this.”

“Surely you would know the mayor of the city when you saw him,” I pushed.

Dennis’ expression softened. “When the lights go down they all look the same,” he said.

I stood my ground, refusing to be brushed off.

“I get it. You need to be quiet around here. I don’t want to cause anyone unnecessary hassle so the quicker I get some answers the sooner I can leave you to carry on doing whatever it is you do here.”

Dennis’ dark eyes widened. “You must have a death wish.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You say you don’t want to step on any toes and you have no idea just whose toes you are talking about. Let’s not stand around here talking about it though. Come in.”

The club seemed surreal lying empty. It was like the life had been drained from it.

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“You have no idea the shit storm that would fall on me for talking to a reporter. Besides, Tabitha knows more than I do,” Dennis continued.

“Is this club hiding the mayor?” I asked.

Dennis laughed. “Not quite.”

“There is a connection here. It’s going to come out one way or another.”

“Don’t let the Knock, Knock club fool you. I mean I love the old girl like my own but she doesn’t look like much on the surface. Still you don’t want yourself caught up in what’s going on here.”

“So what is this about then?”

“We do whatever it takes to survive,” said Dennis matter-of-factly.

I knew times were desperate for the people of the city, but the way Dennis said it seemed as though there was more to it than that.

“I can keep your name off record if you tell me what you know,” I suggested.

Dennis shrugged his shoulders, unmoved. “It wouldn’t matter. You have no idea what they are capable of doing and how high this goes. You would be dead before anything got to print.”

It wasn’t the first time someone had threatened me to stay away from a story. It just made me bite down harder. Before it all got out of hand I admit I did think this was going to make one hell of a story.

I followed Dennis across the club. His lean frame was much taller than mine. He strode confidently with long legs. A girl stopped him. She was dressed in a sequinned leotard. She had a large black

bow in her blonde hair. Her face was so thick with make-up it almost looked like a mud mask.

“She’s on the phone again,” she whined.

Dennis shook her off. “Not now Bette. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Bette was relentless. She continued pleading her case. “If your little whore is going to keep calling here I’m telling Miss T.”

Dennis gripped both of her shoulders. He was clearly frustrated but he still spoke in a calm tone. “Listen, why don’t you tell T all about it when she gets back.”

Bette must have decided that it wasn’t such a great idea. Her expression changed from sour to fear.

“She just needs help okay. I’ll deal with it,” Dennis groaned.

Without another word the girl dashed off towards backstage. Dennis flashed me a charming smile.

He showed me to an empty room that appeared to be having some work done. He pointed over to the bar where Lisa – the blonde serving girl I met before – was playing a game on her phone. She looked up and beamed her pretty and engaging smile.

 

“I’ve gotta go,” Dennis said. “Tabitha told me to give you a drink and send you packing if you stopped by. I highly recommend you not be here when she returns pal.”

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Dennis was ensnared by the club. If Tabitha wasn’t around I thought there was no point in me being there. I had hoped to nosey around but since there were few people in the club at that time I wouldn’t go unnoticed. By the sounds of how tightly Tabitha kept a hold on things, I doubted anyone would be willing to talk to me anyway. I could only count on Dennis’ support so far and that wasn’t much.

Lisa dropped her phone and hopped behind the bar.

“Nice to see you again sweetie,” she said.

Dennis nodded to her and disappeared deeper into the club to deal with the drama on the telephone. Lisa filled a glass with clear liquid.

 

“How long have you worked here?” I asked.

“Oh long enough,” she replied.

“Do you like it?”

She shrugged her shoulders and giggled. “It pays the bills.”

 

I lifted the glass and sniffed it. There was no real detectable scent.

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“What is this?” I asked.

Lisa tipped a wink and beamed. “It’s on the house is what it is honey. We don’t give much away for free in here you know. You may as well take it whilst it’s going.”

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She was right about that.

I took the glass and gulped the liquid down. It did taste like very dry gin with little life left in it.

Lisa waved me off.

“Bye bye honey!” She called. “Come back later when we’re open. It’s sure to be a real hoot.”

Tabitha clearly hadn’t told her what I was.

***

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The drink rested warm in my belly. As I left the club behind me and made my way from the ominous dark alley to the bright lights of the street I actually started to feel quite giddy. By the time I reached my home the giddiness had given way to haziness.

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I fell in the door, barely able to hold myself upright. Theresa was home. I hadn’t expected her. Before I could question her I felt myself fall over. The last thing I remembered as my vision clouded was her terrified expression as she looked down at me.

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The next morning, I awoke to a thundering headache. My mouth was filled with cotton. Slowly I came back from the land of nod into the land of reality. The questions that plague us every morning queued up like always. ‘Where am I? What has happened?’ I realised quickly that I was at home in my own bed. The sun was streaming through the window so I guessed it was around noon. As I turned I felt a heavy object beside me. The haze in my eyes cleared. I felt Theresa beside me. I shivered.

 

“I don’t know what happened last night,” I said. “I must have had way more than I should have.”

Theresa didn’t respond.

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I looked beside me and that’s when I saw her. Stone cold dead. A bullet wound from an expert shot in her forehead.

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Enjoy this?

Episode 4 will be live on the 3rd September. Free to read at Vivika Widow Online or click HERE download for kindle!

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Been there; Done that

This weeks episode introduced our club manager.

Name: Dennis Platt

Age: 42

Position: Manager of the Knock, Knock Club

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Once upon a time Dennis had it all. A wife, a lucrative business and a child on the way. Like most people in Shady City Dennis holds a dark secret close to his chest.

His whole life changed when he brought home a lost and dazed young girl named Tabitha. He made the mistake revealing his dark desires to her. His not so wholesome life came crashing down around him.

To most, Dennis is a happy go lucky man. He can even make the Knock, Knock club seem inviting but his stare lingers just a little too long, his grasps are a little too tight.

If Dennis has any hope of ever escaping the Knock, Knock club he must accept responsibility for the atrocities he committed before the doors of the club opened. Only then can he have any kind of redemption.

Dennis is smarter than he seems and he is observing more than people realise. He knows what it takes to stay alive in Shady City but there may come a time when his luck runs out.

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Join us for the Knock, Knock series and be greeted at the door of the Knock, Knock club by Dennis. Follow the story as the story of intrigue, murder and mayhem unfolds.

Free to read @ Vivika Widow Online

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Click HERE to download issue # 2 for kindle.

Knock, Knock: Episode 2: Don’t Come Knockin’

So I admit, I gave it more than a second thought. Holding the card tightly between my fingertips wondering, ‘Who is this woman and what does she know about the mayor?’ Then there was the club – The ‘Knock, Knock’ Club – that I had been invited to. I had never heard of it before but the story on the mayor was leading me to some strange places.

“Why don’t we go out and celebrate my new job?” I suggested to my wife.

She was apprehensive. “No Sam,” she returned. “I’ve had a long day. Can’t you see how exhausted I am?”

“Maybe getting away from the house will make you feel better?”

She shook her head and pursed her doll-like lips.

“You always do this!” she slapped my arm impatiently.

I took her in my arms.

“Fine, we’ll stay here.”

She looked back at the living room. She must have decided getting away from the house was a better idea after all.

“Where will we go?”

I raised my eyebrows and offered a wry smile. “I hear there is at least one club open. I may even be on the guest list.”

Theresa slapped my arm again, playfully this time. She managed a smile. “That isn’t funny Sam!”

I put my arm around her. “Don’t worry. Nothing is going to happen to me. But I have to chase this story. It could mean big things for us. Unless you’d rather stay here?”

Theresa shook her head. “No, I don’t want to be home alone again.” She started to sob.

“I’m sure you will find that it was all for nothing. She probably just has some information on the Mayor.”

Theresa hesitantly agreed.

 

As I washed and freshened up I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of club the Knock, Knock Club was and what I would find there.

Around 8pm, Theresa and I drove through the sun scorched streets. The summer looked as though it was nowhere near ready to give up the fight. There weren’t many people out though. The Shady City looked like a ghost town. The address for the club was in the South West, in an area known as The Shanties. The Shanties was the most deprived part of the city. It was normally over-crowded and the streets full but, on that night, it was like a ghost town. Mayor Feltz had helped in draining it of the last life it had.

“I want go home Sam. I don’t think we are going to find that club,” Theresa said.

I was just about to agree with her when I noticed a brazen neon sign flashing deep within an alley. ‘The Knock, Knock Club’. Perhaps it was my own apprehension, or maybe empathy for my wife’s concerns but I found myself asking, ‘Are you sure about this?’

Theresa gripped my arm. “You are just going to ask some questions right?”

I smiled and sighed, the nerves fluttered in my chest. I was never this nervous of a story. Perhaps it was because Theresa was with me, but as we approached the heavy door I hesitated. The main street seemed a long way away. The door wasn’t particularly welcoming for a night club. The sign above offered a light humming noise as the bulbs committed tirelessly to their duty.

 

A man stood outside. He looked as though he was waiting for someone, leant against the wall like a school boy hiding from the teachers. When he saw us his expression changed from boredom to excitement in an instant.

“New faces,” he cheered.

“Is this the Knock, Knock club?” I asked. It was a stupid question given the sign but I had to confirm.

His stare lingered on Theresa. She smiled back at him girlishly.

 

“The name is Dennis,” he told her. “I’m the manager here. You just let me know If you need anything.” He took her hand and kissed it. “It’s always nice to see new faces.”

‘Yeah,’ I thought to myself, ‘as long as they’re women.’

Dennis pushed the door open and the music from the club flooded out on a wave of excitement from the patrons.

With a flick of his wrist a scantily clad young girl dashed over to Dennis’ side.

“A good table Lees,” he requested. The girl, blonde haired with a large beaming smile nodded.

“Sure thing,” she said. “Follow me hon.” Theresa gave one final glance back at me and headed into the darkness.

I made my way to follow her but Dennis put his arm out across my chest and stopped me.

“Not so fast buddy.” He flicked his fingers. “Invitation?”

I passed him the invitation with a glare and headed on in.

Lisa – the serving girl – offered us a menu each. They were simple, black with the name of the club on them. My menu was sticky and well used. There was a stage as the main focus of the club. The band was deep in their music. The chorus girls were dancing around in a parade of sequins and feathers. The Knock, Knock Club was actually so homely it would be pleasant if the brick work walls didn’t make it seem like a prison. Theresa was still nervous. She kept turning back to look towards the door. We ordered some food. It wasn’t fine dining but it was effective none the less.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” the voice of the Knock, Knockers band leader boomed over the soft playing. Most of the room looked up from their conversations and gave him their full attention – including my wife and I. “Welcome to The Knock, Knock Club. It has now come to that part of the evening that we all love. I know it’s my personal favourite. Please welcome on stage – Knock, Knock’s finest – Miss T.”

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In a rush of drums and wind instruments, like the welcoming flag parade of a queen, the man rushed from the stage. The spotlight caught a very striking woman in its clasp. She was met with a thunderous applause. She was accompanied by two bare breasted dancers.

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She started to sing. Her voice was sultry but strong. The red dress she wore flowed perfectly across her modelesque body. When she smiled I noticed a gap between her front teeth that gave her a charm that she knew how to wield.

I turned back to Theresa. Her already pale face had drained completely of all colour.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

She reached her quivering hand out and pointed to the stage. “I don’t want to stay at some filthy show Sam!” she screeched. “You shouldn’t have brought me here.”

“I just have to find out who it was that came to speak to me today.”

I turned back to the stage. Miss T was singing a melody with a touch of old school cabaret. The drum beat was reminiscent of a military march. Her red dress glinted under the stage lights. Her voice was a pleasant tone, soft and warm like honey.

Theresa remained frozen in her chair, staring at Miss T, complete with appreciative calls from the crowd.

Dennis walked by so I stopped him.

“I need to speak to the one who owns the club,” I told him. “It’s urgent.”

Dennis narrowed his gaze on me but his handsome smile remained. He leaned over and pointed to the stage. “You’re looking at her pal,” he explained.

“Come on Dennis!’ cried one of the other patrons inviting him to a card game.

“Don’t worry my man. Just deal me in,” he replied over the music.

He turned back to us.

“Enjoy your evening folks but I wouldn’t go bothering the boss lady,” he said. His voice sounded different. His expression was softer.

A woman approached him and called something Into his ear. He put his arm around her and headed off to his card game.

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Theresa stood. She threw her arms up in exasperation.

“Where are you going?” I asked, trying to grip her arm.

“I’ll wait for you outside!” she spat. “I’m not interested in this filth.”

I gave a glance back at the stage and Miss T looked down on me knowingly. Her smile stretched before returning to her audience for the last piece of her song.

***

I was surprised that no one stopped me as I slipped backstage. At the end of a long hall, carpeted in a sticky well-used black, lay a door with the name Tabitha on it. I assumed it to be Miss T’s dressing room. I knocked.

“Come in,” came the same silken sound to match the singing.

I pushed open the door. The cabaret singer was looking into her mirror so she turned to face me.

“You are very lost, my man,” she said. A smile formed. Her chestnut brown tresses flowed over her shoulder. Her lips were still painted a bold red. “Unless you are a waiter and bringing me the drink I asked for you shouldn’t be in here.”

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“I’m Sam Crusow,” I said with some severity. “I am a reporter for the COLDFORD DAILY.”

“Then you really, really shouldn’t be in here,” she replied unmoved.

“I’m following the story on the mayor. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“I wouldn’t talk to a rag like the DAILY,” she said with a smile. “It’s pages aren’t worth putting down for a dog to piss on.”

I remained calm. “I was told the mayor was a regular here. Did you hear anything about where he might be going?”

Tabitha was still amused at her own jest about the paper. “Lot’s of people come and go here Scott. It’s hard to keep track of them all.”

“It’s Sam.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “What ever.”

“I would like to ask some of your staff some questions. Maybe they saw something you didn’t.”

Her smile widened. “I wouldn’t hold much hope on that.”

I pressed, “surely you would know the Mayor of Coldford has been here more than once. Surely you would notice such a high profile regular?”

She rolled her eyes. “I think when you are as naughty a man as Jim Feltz was, you are bound to make some enemies. It doesn’t take an ace reporter to crack that one.”

I noted that she referred to him in a past tense.

“Did you know him personally?”

She flicked her legs over and leaned back on her chair. “Not exactly.”

“How do you know he was a naughty man as you say?”

She gave that honeyed laugh again. “It’s not exactly a health spa I run here. The people that come here are looking to be discrete. It isn’t the kind of place men bring their wives.”

I thought of Theresa standing outside waiting on me so I made to leave.

“I have to go but I’ll be back. I hope you can give me some insight into what goes on around here. It could help trace the mayor’s last steps.”

“Discretion Mr reporter,” she said. “My clientele wouldn’t be happy if they found out I was advertising in a newspaper. It’s bad for business. I do have one question for you though.” She stood and drew closer to me. Her hands clasped behind her back. “This club is by invitation only. How the fuck did you get in?”

I kept her gaze. “I’ll come back,” I repeated. “Perhaps if you remember something it will help. I’ll keep your name off the record. Miss T is it?”

“If you are going to come visit me in my dressing room how about you just call me Tabitha.”

“My wife is waiting outside but If I come back will you give a statement? Will you answer some of my questions?”

“Pop quiz. You’re all about the fun.”

I turned to leave but she stood and pulled me back.

“I look forward to seeing your handsome face around here again then. Apparently we just let anyone wander back here these days,” she said.

As the door closed behind me I heard Tabitha’s voice.

“You are so fucking gorgeous!” she cheered. It seemed she had turned back to her own reflection.

A woman was wandering down the corridor. I recognised her as the topless dancer that had been to the left of Tabitha during her performance. The dancer smiled in acknowledgement as she passed me, as though she wasn’t as naked as the day she was born. It was no holds barred at the Knock, Knock club and that was just the beginning.

***

I managed to catch up with Theresa just outside the club. She was laughing and talking with Dennis.

“Is everything all right pal?” It was Dennis who spoke first.

“Fine,” I replied coldly.

Theresa linked her arm around mine and brought herself close to me. She still seemed to be a little shaken but the night air was cooling and it did some work in taking away our cares.

***

When we arrived home we found our door lying ajar. We both stopped suddenly.

“Wait here!” I instructed, leaving her and venturing into the house to assess the damage.

The door hinges were broken. The furniture overturned. Upon initial inspection it appeared that nothing had been stolen. Someone had been just trying to shake me up. What was clear though, was that whoever it was, they were relentless.

Theresa followed me in. She cried when she saw the mess.

“What have you done Sam?” Theresa cried.

That was a damn good question.

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KNOCK, KNOCK: Episode 1: Welcome to the Club

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Mayor Jim Feltz gave a lot to the city.  Coldford was a demanding mistress though. It had earned its nick name as the Shady City not just because of the gloomy weather but because everything was there for the taking for anyone who wasn’t hindered by morals or conscience. Jim was such a man.

Whilst the city’s funds depleted he squirrelled away as much as he could. There was a war brewing on the city streets and he was damn sure he wasn’t going to get caught up in it. Things were going to implode soon. It was only a matter of time. The regeneration projects he had promised during his last campaign were halted by the Law Makers in the city. The poorest area known as The Shanties had been left worse off than they ever had been. The Tradesmen of the city were fighting back.

People in high positions – people he considered friends – had pilfered the money away leaving those lower on the ladder high and dry.

As the class war raged it left no money for the expecting mothers the mayor swore he would help. School budgets were cut to compensate for any losses caused by riots and looting. Only the exclusive Alban’s Boarding School managed to weather the storm.

What did it matter? When campaign time came again he could blame the opposition. He was just dealing with the mess they had left behind. Half of the city would believe it and the other half wouldn’t care either way. But he was done with all that.

“Will you be home on time?” Sylvia Feltz asked her husband as he prepared to leave. “We have the Weirs coming to dinner,” she added. “I need you here.”

The plan to leave everything behind had been in the works for weeks. The day had finally come. He had enough money to start over now. When the finances of the city finally tumbled like a house of cards and the war spilled onto the streets he would be out of the picture. Sure his family would have to face the music at first but they would get out of it cleanly for the most part.

His eldest daughter, Lacey, kissed him.

“I’ll be by the office this afternoon,” she said. “We need to go over a campaign plan.”

Lacey was her father’s daughter in every sense – so like him she was. She had gotten involved in his political career right from the beginning. The day he announced he was running she was by his side. She had aspirations on becoming the city’s first female Mayor. She had a naïve view of politics though. A certain lack of compassion was required despite what many might argue. She would learn that soon enough.

He stepped outside of his building. People were becoming irate so he kept his security close. His silver town car wasn’t waiting for him at the entrance of the building as it always was. He trusted his driver, Shane. He was nothing if not punctual. He looked at the security guard he was assigned. He was expressionless with hands clasped on his stomach. His cold stare was masked behind spectacles. He recognised the man’s face. He had been with him before. His name was Marcus the mayor believed. As soon as the mayor was in his car though Marcus would be left behind and Shane would take him to the airport. The mayor said nothing to the body guard. He just looked at the empty space where the car should have been and couldn’t help but worry something had gone awry.

His heart increased the tempo of it’s beat when the silver car pulled round the corner. It was really happening. The car pulled close but Shane in the driver’s seat was covered by tinted windows. Marcus leaned over and opened the door. The mayor made to climb in but he hesitated. A woman was sat waiting for him. She shifted over and patted the seat beside her.

“Don’t be shy,” she said.

Her ruby lips curled into a pretty smile. The collar of the grey coat she wore was pulled up around her neck. Marcus pushed him in and sat beside him.

“Isn’t this cosy?” she remarked.

He tried to control his breathing. He called upon every political stoicism he had in the hope he didn’t look worried. The sweat gathering on his brow didn’t lie.

“What do you want?” he asked.

The woman looked out of the tinted windows and watched the city pass by at greater and greater speeds.

“I just wanted to give a proper farewell,” she replied. “Surely you wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to little old me?”

Fear erupted inside him. He didn’t care that he would be leaping from a moving vehicle. He clutched for a door handle but Marcus snatched his wrist and twisted it causing the bones to crunch together.

“Let me out!” he cried.

The woman laughed. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re not going far. The city wishes to thank you for your service.”

Her name was Tabitha and he should have known there would be no escaping.

The car stopped. The driver opened the door. It wasn’t Shane after all. It was a woman. She wore a plain white blouse and simple black trousers. She had a familiar face but he couldn’t place her. If he paid more attention to the people he threw money at he would recognise her as the scantily clad girl who spent some glorious time on his lap during his last visit to the Knock, Knock Club. He had paid her extra to finish the job but that was all but a distant memory.

Tabitha stepped out first. They had parked outside an office block in the business district not far from his home in the North Side. Marcus pushed the mayor out onto the street.

He was escorted into the building. Tabitha was in front of him and Marcus loomed behind to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

Tabitha said nothing as they climbed the steps. The mayor was sobbing. Each time he thought they had reached the end of his torture they had another floor to climb. They finally reached the top. Tabitha fished a key from her coat pocket and unlocked the green door that greeted them. It still had a sign that said ‘BECKINGRIDGE FINANCIAL FIRM’ on it but it had been mostly scratched off.

“Your daughter wanted to say good bye.”

His youngest daughter, Amber, was tied to a table. Her arms and legs spread. She had been stripped to her underwear. Jim moved to run to her but Marcus grabbed him with great clenching hands and pulled him back. The room was empty save for a chair, a large machete blade that leaned against the wall and the table that held the seventeen year old girl. Amber’s mouth was covered but she was screaming. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

Back when the BECKINGRIDGE FIRM operated from this building it had been a golden age. They were one of the largest organisations in the city and had been for generations. When the war erupted between the Law Makers and the Tradesmen the firm became collateral damage. The office had remained empty ever since the FREE FALL MASSACRE. Fifty five people lost their lives that day and no one dared take over the space again.

“Leave her alone!” The mayor cried desperately. “She’s done nothing to you.”

Tabitha clutched his face and rested her chin on his shoulder.

“You have really pissed me off Jim. You think you can abandon ship just like that? I have to take it out on someone.”

“I wasn’t leaving. I just needed time to think. The Law Makers are pushing me more and more. I could come back and be of more use to you.”

Tabitha slid her hand into his pocket and pulled out the flight reservations. She looked at them and dropped them on the floor.

“You see,” she said, “the thing is, I would love to believe you. I really would. This is a one way ticket though.”

“Let her go,” the mayor sobbed. Tears were rolling down Amber’s face. “I’ll pay anything.”

Tabitha shook her head. She stood up straight. “It’s not about the money,” she stated. “We have that already anyway. This is personal now.”

She sat across his lap and kicked her long, slim legs out.

“A girl could be insulted with a man running out on her like that. I thought you liked my little club.”

“I do,” protested the mayor of Coldford.

Tabitha grinned. There was a gap between her front teeth that gave her a quirky, girlish quality.

“Let’s see how much then, shall we?”

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With a nod to Marcus he swung the blade and cut her left hand. The sharpened blade swiped through flesh and bone with ease. Her screams of agony were muffled by the cloth over her mouth.

Her father screamed too. He didn’t have time to gather himself when Tabitha pointed again for Marcus cut off her other hand.

“You’ve made your point!” said Jim. “Let her go!”

Tabitha gave a raspy laugh. “And miss the chance to see Marcus at work? The man is an artist, isn’t he?”

The mayor tried to push against the binds. Tabitha was on her feet again. She walked over to the table and took the blade from Marcus.

“I will give you a choice,” she offered. “Since your girl is going to die anyway I can either continue cutting her up into little pieces or just end it now for her. What do you want me to do?”

The mayor sobbed. “Please just leave her.”

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

“End it,” the mayor cried louder. “End it for her.”

He had averted his gaze unable to see the pained look on his youngest child’s face. Her eyes were hazy. She was going to pass out from the blood loss soon.

“I will if you tell me I’m pretty,” Tabitha teased.

“Just kill her! Just kill her now! Please!” the mayor roared.

Tabitha’s grey eyes widened. “That is your daughter!?” she gasped. She grinned. “You are a nasty piece of work Jim.”

She lifted the blade and centred it on Amber’s forehead. Before the point penetrated her skull there was a flash of realisation on Amber’s face.  

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The mayor cried. He knew he was playing a dangerous game but never would he have thought it would come to this. He was leaving his life behind for sure but not in the way he had intended. 

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Tabitha dropped the blade, circled behind him like a predator and began massaging his shoulders.

“Well Jim, we must dash. You know what it’s like when I’m away from Knock, Knock too long. Well … Well it can be just murder!”

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Times have been desperate for the people of Coldford, better known as the Shady City. Once upon a time executives now reduced to rummaging through their neighbours’ trash to find a meal. Many are hunting for shelter wherever they can find it – like stray cats. Their once well tailored suits now hanging in rags. It’s surreal to see once proud captains of industry reduced to the indignity of soup kitchens. Nowhere to go, no means of rising back up to their ivory towers.

My name is Sam Crusow. When the depression hit, two industries were saved – entertainment and news. People always need to know what’s happening in the world and people always need an escape from their reality. Luckily for me I’m with the latter. I have been a freelance journalist ever since finishing college. As the financial belt tightened it was harder and harder to get a full time position with a news paper so I (and most of my colleagues) went from story to story just trying to make it. Most of my stories sold to the biggest newspaper in the city – COLDFORD DAILY.

I thought I had managed to successfully navigate through the choppy waters of recession until the day I discovered that beneath the harsh surface lay a more terrifying truth. But I get ahead of myself. I write these notes so that everyone can know the truth. Chances are I will be gone by the time you read this. I am on borrowed time as it is.

It began just as summer was breaking. We were experiencing one of the warmest spells we had had in quite some time.

The Mayor – Jim Feltz – had disappeared without a trace. That morning he had kissed his wife, a voluptuous and formidable woman named Silvia, and his eldest daughter, Lacey, goodbye. He straightened his power tie in the mirror and made his way to wade through the city’s financial crises, which if you were to believe the tabloids were largely his fault. Normally he would have been escorted to the office by security of some kind. The citizens of Shady City, riled at the very sight of the Mayor, only made matters worse. However, that morning he never arrived at his office. Making his way down his street in his luxury silver car was the last anyone saw of him. Some of the neighbours remembered hearing loud music blaring from his open windows as he passed which was most unlike the buttoned down, conservative man that he was.

I had been covering the story as it developed. This meant I had been spending more time at the offices of the Daily. The Daily was the only source of news on the mayor by Mrs Feltz’s request and being area’s largest newspaper. It was also the provider of food on my table. Hiring freelancers had been their way of protecting themselves. It meant that they were only paying for the material they needed, without any full time mouths to feed.

I never liked Mayor Feltz. I certainly didn’t vote for him. As I pursued the story I uncovered gambling debts and a mistress at the far end of town. He must have been quite the charmer. When I interviewed his mistress she told me that he was planning on leaving his wife (which is probably what they all say). On the morning he disappeared he had been planning to visit her. They were going on a trip together, which is why he had wanted to be discreet. The mistress, Cindy, had waited for him for most of the morning in her lavish apartment that the city coin had paid for. She flipped between anger and worry as she did. By two in the afternoon the police swamped her, acting quicker for such a public figure than they would have for any ordinary citizen.

Neither his wife, his mistress nor his gambling associates could offer the police any idea as to where he went, so on that warm morning I made my way to the stretch of tower blocks that housed the newsroom in the North Side. My mind was occupied by ways I could spin the same story or offer a new angle.

Close to the office the clang of metal bins falling over drew my attention. From behind the cans crawled a man. He was young, filthy and with a mop of thick hair. Like many of the others forced to live on the streets. He sat with his back against the wall and brought his knees to his chest. His eyes were dulled by the effects of alcohol. He held a core of an apple and made breakfast of it. Sights like these were shocking when the recession first hit but they became more common and so you no longer noticed. The mighty had fallen and the rest of us became desensitised to their plight. I gave him what coins I had left. With very little I could do to help him, I entered the tall grey building with the large towering sign on top that read ‘Coldford Daily’.

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The newsroom was hot and thick with the smell of coffee. Full time reporters had become scarce but those of them who did remain in work dashed back and forth trying to perfect their articles. Nothing quite so stimulating as a looming deadline. The brown leather satchel that I always carry my articles in was dropped on an unoccupied table. I rested at the desk, drew out my notes and began to review them. I had to ignore the hum and chatter around me to focus on the words.

“Hey Sam,” came the voice of Madeline Lower. I looked up and briefly acknowledged her presence with a smile. Madeline and I had been friends since college. She too was a freelance writer although she would admit her stories weren’t selling as well. I don’t think my writing was any better than hers, its just that the editor, Eric Waddle, was a bit of a chauvinist and what articles of hers he did accept were probably grudged.

‘Maybe if I slept with him he would change his mind,” she had said. She was joking of course but everyone had their motives in Shady City so it wouldn’t surprise me.

Madeline was an athletic woman in her late twenties. Her shoulder length brunette hair fell loosely around her shoulders. Her skin was a warm caramel colour like she had come from a sun kissed land. Her pale blue eyes were sharp and feline. That morning she wore a white shirt and a plaid skirt. She sat herself on the edge of my desk with the leap of feminine grace. “Waddle was looking for you,” she informed me. “He told me to kick you into his office as soon as you got here.”

“Thanks,” was my reply, still absorbed in my reviewing. I brushed my auburn hair away from my face. I was always pale but in those days of hard work I was even paler. I gathered my strength. Discussions with Waddle took a lot of energy. He was the kind of man who didn’t talk to you but talked at you.

“You look like hell,” Madeline commented – ever the crusader for honesty. “Go see what he wants and I’ll get us some coffee.”

Madeline slipped off the desk and made her way to the farthest end of the newsroom where the fresh coffee was being brewed.

I knocked on the door of the editor’s office. I could hear Eric’s voice inside having a one sided conversation which suggested that he was either conducting a telephone call or some journalist was on the listening side of a hostage situation. I pushed the door ajar slightly. I caught a glimpse of Waddle standing behind his desk. His back was to me. He had a black telephone receiver placed to his ear. He heard me as I stepped inside because he swivelled round, smiled and waved at me, gesturing me to sit down.

“I gotta go, sweetheart,” said Eric. “If I hear anything I will let you know.”

I took the seat across the desk from Eric, laying my papers on top. Eric Waddle was a tall man. He had a thick beard and always wore a long, black pony tail.

“That was Silvia Feltz,” he informed me even though I hadn’t asked. “Poor thing is still in shock. Trying to piece together what happened. Jim and I go way back and even I had no idea what he was up to.”

“I have nothing new really,” I ventured.

Eric reached his heavy hand across pulled my papers towards him. “It doesn‘t matter. People can’t get enough of the story. They’re swallowing it down like buzzards and coming back for more.”

“I think I’ve spoken to everyone he ever met. That is everyone but you…” Eric had been quite adamant that he not be included in any of the articles but I didn’t become the reporter I was by not chancing my luck.

“I have nothing to say,” Eric snatched up a glass bottle filled with whiskey and poured himself a generous share into a square shaped glass by his hand. “I asked you to come here because there is something that I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Go on…”

“As you know, times are tough. We can only handle the best which is why they want you Sam.”

“Want me for what?”

“I’m talking about full time,” Eric said. His face beamed with excitement.

“I don’t know what to say,” I stammered.

“Say yes!” he bawled before emitting roars of laughter. “These kind of opportunities aren’t easy to come by these days.”

I stood. My actions became subconscious. “That is a great offer. I am very grateful. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, just do what you do best,” Eric dismissed, downing his glass of whiskey in one single gulp. The bottle was probably less expensive than the MACK AND SONS brand he was used to but decent alcohol was becoming increasingly difficult to come by. “You don’t have to be hanging around here all day. Go home and tell your wife the good news. You can start fresh tomorrow.”

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My wife, Theresa, had studied journalism too. In fact that’s where we met. When Theresa and I married she gave up a career. Her mother blamed me for this but the truth was I had been the one trying to discourage her from doing so. Theresa didn’t want to take any chances on a writing career when housewife was the most stable job to be had. I never corrected my mother-in-law as to whose decision it had been to give up. She already hated me anyway. She thought me too self absorbed to be a suitable husband for her daughter. Her concerns weren’t completely without merit. When I was caught up chasing stories I often missed what was happening to the people closest to me. Theresa would be excited though. I couldn’t wait to tell her the news. 

***

I was out of breath by the time I got home, my heart beating forcefully with exertion and excitement. The drums of anticipation rattled in my ears. I fumbled for my keys in my pocket. I leaned against the door as I reached deeper into my pockets. As I did so the door fell aside. It was very unlike Theresa to leave the door unlocked even when she was at home. She was a cautious little thing and home invasion robberies were happening a lot in our neighbourhood on the South West Side.

Our humble home was a small, one bedroom terrace amidst an array of similar granite buildings. What separated ours from the rest was the addition of an emerald green front door. Green was my favourite colour and it matched the shade of Theresa’s eyes. I called for my wife but there was no response. Heaps of blankets lay across the worn brown sofa which kept us warm without any extra cost. The scent of baking apples danced from the kitchen. Theresa had been baking apple pie which she always did when she had had a rough day. The kitchen was a direct off set from the living room. I found Theresa in there lurched over the cooker. She was weeping heavily. Her mousey brown hair was uncombed. When I pushed the swinging door open she gripped a knife that was close at hand. She stumbled backwards emitting a frightful shriek.

When she saw it was me she dropped the knife, ran at me and threw her arms around my neck. She didn’t ask why I had come home so early. It was I who asked the questions.

“What happened?” My heart was now beating to a completely different rhythm.

“I wasn’t expecting you so early,” she said. “A woman was looking for you.”

“What did she want?” I asked.

Theresa gathered her wits. “She gave me an invitation to a club.”

“And who was she? What was her name?” I enquired, assuming it to be someone I had been questioning on the Feltz story.

Theresa shook her head. “She didn’t say.”

Theresa wandered into the living room and dropped herself amongst the blankets sobbing. “She told me that this story on the Mayor could put you in danger. She told me that you would return to me one day in pieces. She said you were getting involved in something you shouldn’t.”

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I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulder. “That’s all nonsense, I promise.”

Theresa shuddered. “She gave me this…”

She gave me a black business card. On the front read ‘Knock, Knock Club’ with two finely shaped female figures on either side. It was an exclusive club in town. A club I would visit that night and my life would be changed forever.

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Been there, done that and wore the hat.

Name: Dennis Platt

Age: 42

Position: Manager of the Knock, Knock Club

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Once upon a time Dennis had it all. A wife, a lucrative business and a child on the way. Like most people in Shady City Dennis holds a dark secret close to his chest.

His whole life changed when he brought home a lost and dazed young girl named Tabitha. He made the mistake revealing his dark desires to her. His not so wholesome life came crashing down around him.

To most, Dennis is a happy go lucky man. He can even make the Knock, Knock club seem inviting but his stare lingers just a little too long, his grasps are a little too tight.

If Dennis has any hope of ever escaping the Knock, Knock club he must accept responsibility for the atrocities he committed before the doors of the club opened. Only then can he have any kind of redemption.

Dennis is smarter than he seems and he is observing more than people realise. He knows what it takes to stay alive in Shady City but there may come a time when his luck runs out.

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Join us on August 11th and be greeted at the door of the Knock, Knock club by Dennis and follow as the story of intrigue, murder and mayhem unfolds.

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