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Subject: At last!
Author: La Reina   (Authenticated as La Reina)
Date: May 16, 2012 at 11:08:11 PM
Reply to: Build-a-Soundtracked-Story Part 1 by klundtacular

I. Rene.

Irene, Irene, Irene.

She was more than just a woman when she walked into my office that cold, rainy night. Her fair hair was still dripping with the rainwater, her grey overcoat embraced her like a thick fog, and her jewellery - not quite concealed under the layers of covering - sparkled and twinkled like street lights in the night. And those eyes - those beautiful, blue eyes...

She was more than just a woman. She was a city.

And she needed my help. Said she needed my help to find a missing person. Her lover (pah!) had gone missing overnight, leaving behind a lingering scent of cologne in the air and, upon closer inspection, a silver pendant under the bed. It was so blindingly obvious: he had left her for another woman.

In fact, it was too obvious.

It wasn't until the second shot of whiskey that Irene spilled the beans and told me just who, exactly, her lover was. Andrew Baltimore. Inspector Andrew Baltimore, of the New Camden police department. Bucky Baltimore, Green-Eyes Baltimore, out of whose cells you can squeeze out after a fistful of dollars. A corrupt policeman if there ever was one. It was a wonder that the Magister overlooked him for so long - it was a wonder that Irene withstood him for so long. But her eyes were true - misty, wet, but true. She was anxious enough.

I reminded her that her boyfriend had had me fired from the force years ago due to a personal grudge and would not be likely to be grateful for her asking my assistance, but she was adamant. She would have no-one but Detective Hal Langley. Heard I was the best, heard that I always gets my man, heard that I had honour.

Pah, gossip. Rumour can run halfway across the world before the truth has got its boots on.

But of all the private detectives in the world, all the forlorn little rooms with sizzling neon signs outside them, all the flimsy wooden doors leading to dark offices, she had walked into my office. And of all the lonely hearts in the world, she had entranced mine.

Started with a reference (well, two), and ended with another. Film noir time!

An omnivorous reader with a strangely retentive memory for trifles.

This message was edited by the author on May 17, 2012 at 1:10:05 AM

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