Writing Challenge Part V: Oleander Plume’s Mystery
We finish up our challenge with Oleander’s story, The Alibi. Oleander has all the attributes that make up the best kind of woman: she’s sexy, she’s witty, and she has a mind dirtier than most sailors after six months at sea. She has a slew of panty melting stories over on her blog. Click the link at the end!
I glanced over the crime scene photos, and almost lost my lunch. Normally, I’m not a squeamish guy, but these made me cringe.
“What’s in his mouth?”
Tom grimaced before answering. “His penis.”
“Sweet Jesus on the cross.” I closed the manila folder, then poured another two fingers of whiskey for the both of us. “This is a crime of passion. And you say there are no suspects?”
“As far as I’m concerned, there’s only one suspect, Jack’s wife Tina, but she has an iron clad alibi. I don’t care what the cops say, that bitch had something to do with this. Maybe she hired somebody.”
I shook my head. “No way. This was no hired hit. He’d have a bullet in his back, not fifty stab wounds. And he definitely wouldn’t be sucking on his own dick.” I crossed myself. “All apologies, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“My brother wasn’t a saint, and he pissed a lot of people off, but he didn’t deserve to go out this way. He’s been dead for six months, and my family wants justice. Will you take the case?”
“I’ll do what I can, Tom.” I picked up the snapshot of Tina Murphy. “You really think this little gal murdered your brother?”
“I’m sure of it. She might look like an angel, but inside she’s the devil’s bride.”
The woman in the photo was slender, with pale blonde hair and a softly pointed chin. No rack to speak of, but she had nice legs. I flipped through Tom’s notes.
“So, she has witnesses that saw her at the grocery store, the car wash and the movie theater at the exact time Jack was being murdered? Not much evidence at the crime scene, either.”
Tom drained his glass, then sighed. “Please, I”m begging you, just poke around a bit, she’s guilty, I know it. My mother is really sick, I want closure before she passes away.”
I shook Tom’s hand. “I’ll do my best.”
The next few weeks were spent interviewing cops, witnesses and various family members, but the one person I was the most interested in questioning kept eluding me. Tina Murphy was harder to catch than smoke, she could have made a living as a secret agent. But after going over the file a hundred times, I was as convinced as Tom that she was the killer. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the woman. Every attempt I made to get in contact with her came up short. After another long day in the trenches, I paid a visit to my favorite watering hole. The place was packed with sports fans, and I had to take a seat at a table, which turned my mood even more foul. Until I saw her.
Flaming red hair has the same effect on me that a stop sign does, and I almost spilled my drink when I saw hers. Long and wavy, with shorter bits that fell into her eyes, I couldn’t help but imagine how that fiery mane would look spread out over my pillow. She motioned to the empty chair that was across from mine.
“Do you mind? It’s so crowded here tonight.”
“No, please do.”
She perched herself on the seat, then leaned over to tuck her large handbag under the table, offering me a nice view in the process. Call me shallow, but I’m a sucker for a nice pair.
“Never saw you around her before.” Witty banter like this is why I’m still single at 35.
She smiled at me. “I’ve never paid this particular establishment a visit before.” Her eyes darted around the place, then settled back on me. Even in the dim light I could see they were a deep blue and rimmed with makeup that was expertly applied, but overdone. “Seems nice.”
“Mickey’s? It’s a hell hole, but I know the owner.”
“Don’t insult my place of employment, Mason Reed.” Sully set a fresh drink in front of me, red lips puffed into a sneer.
“It’s only a hell hole when you’re not here, Sully my love.”
“Mm, hmm.” She eyed the redhead suspiciously. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll have what he’s having.”
I watched Sully scamper away with her round tush shaking. We have history, Sully and I, ancient history. Which is too bad, because she’s quite a hell cat between the sheets. I turned my attention back to the woman sitting across from me.
“A redhead who drinks whiskey is always welcome at my table. What’s your name?”
She blinked and hesitated slightly before answering, hallmark of a liar. “Lisa.”
“Mason.” I stuck out my hand and she grasped it with a stronger grip than I expected.
“I know, I heard you tell the waitress. First name basis with the hired help, huh?”
“Mickey’s is my home away from home. Hell, if they let me put a cot in the back, I’d never leave.” I took a sip of my whiskey. “So, what brings you here?”
“I was just out and about, and felt thirsty.”
Another lie. Nobody just shows up at Mickey’s unless they’ve either lost a bet or lost their way, the place is a dump. The only reason why I hung out there was because it was within walking distance of my apartment. Sully bounced over and set a drink down, shot me a death glare, then flittered away before I could retort. The redhead picked it up and inspected the glass before she took a drink.
“Your brand?”
She shivered. “Definitely not top shelf, is it?”
“Not here.” I clinked my glass against hers, then knocked back the contents, enjoying the whiskey’s slow burn as it made its descent.
“So, Mason, what do you do for a living?”
I braced myself for the barrage of questioning that always follows when I tell someone my career choice. “I’m a private detective.”
“How exciting!” Her voice and her facial expression didn’t quite match up. “Are you working on a case right now? Is it murder?”
“Yes, I’m working on a case, but that’s all I can tell you.”
“Can’t you just give me a little hint? I love a good mystery.”
She reached down and fished a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. When she sat upright again, I noticed the part in her hair had shifted about two inches to the left, and a narrow blond tendril was poking out over her ear.
“All I can tell you is, I’m looking for a woman.”
Her eyes widened slightly. Eyes that were a little too blue to be natural. “A woman? That’s strange.”
“Yeah, but she’s impossible to find. I’ve been staring at her photo for days, and she’s really gotten in my head.” I leaned back in my chair and smiled.
“In fact, I’m starting to see her everywhere.”
Cue Twilight Zone music!
You can read Oleander’s more risque stories here www.oleanderplume.blogspot.com
