I got back to my hotel at around four; it was starting to rain, and the month was May.
I looked at myself as I passed the big mirror in the main hall as I proceeded to the staircase, and I had to admit that I looked all right, except for a cauliflower ear, the left one, not my best side. Legacy of a quick and brutal career as a boxer, cut short by a total lack of interest or talent in that field. Hanging round the boxers’ gyms and listening to them talk – that’s when I changed fields. Listening in on people and spying on their activities appealed to me. I was a rat.
Continue reading “Whatever Happened To Yvonne LeDoux? – Part 3”
The address on the envelope was in the city, possibly Mapes’ last residence before his arrest and incarceration at San Quentin. It wasn’t sealed, the flap tucked inside. It was creased in the middle and folded in two, very neatly, and a short message was handwritten with one of those new fangled pens some guy in Argentina invented, name of Biro. The ink was smudged on the thin writing paper, but I could just make out these words:
Continue reading “Whatever Happened to Yvonne LeDoux? Part 4”
Never Die Alone
She wasn’t really sure how long she’d stood motionless, with the derringer still in her hand. A trail of smoke floated freely out the tip of the barrel, like a cigarette. She noted it without seeing it – just a small piece of the scene of horror in front of her, Jimmy’s eyes in a long stare, as if he’d found something interesting on the ceiling. A hole in his chest, though it was only the blood she could see, pooling and spreading, a stain she was responsible for.
Continue reading “The Chanteuse & The Derringer – Conclusion”
Whereas bad men are usually depicted as being brash, charismatic and just downright evil, Larry is uncharacteristically meek, indecisive, even apologetic.
In my post, Deceitful Dames,
I talked about bad women, and now I’m going to talk about bad men. I’m not sure why there has been so much written and spoken about femme fatales, but almost nothing has been mentioned about bad men, so called homme fatale.
Whatever the reason, I hope this post might redress the balance, just a little bit.
Continue reading “The Very Bad Men Of Noir”