Hire
Writers
Editors
Home Tour About Read What's New Help Forums Join
My Account Login
Shop
Save
Support
E
Book
Store
Learn
About
Jesus
  



The HOME for Christian writers! The Home for Christian Writers!
The Official Writing Challenge

BACK TO
CHALLENGE
MAIN

INSTRUCTIONS

how it works
submission rules
guidelines for
choosing a level

ENTRIES

submit your entry
read current entries
read past entries
challenge winners



Our Daily Devotional HERE
Place it on your site or
receive it daily by email.





TRUST JESUS TODAY

TRY THE TEST



Share
how it works   Submit

Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Black (10/15/09)

TITLE: The Doll and the Gum-Shoe
By Mary Lou Cook
10/21/09


 LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
 SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
 ADD TO MY FAVORITES

My name’s Marlowe…Sam Marlowe, private eye. I’m the gum-shoe you call when a member of your family comes up missin’. I leaned back in my office chair with my feet up on the wooden desk when a call came in on the horn. I answered it to hear a doll’s voice. Dame wanted to meet me at a diner near Staten Island Ferry. I hung up and headed for the joint.

A cold rain fell as I hoofed it down the street. Shoppers with their arms full of Christmas gifts hurried past me. I stopped by a newsstand built out of plywood and a few nails. The owner cut twine off the stacks of newspapers.

“Hey Newsie, got the Times there?”

“Marlowe, long time no see. Babe slammed another homer out of the Yankee Stadium.” Newsie handed me the newspaper. When the bangtail he was riding fell it ended his career as a jockey. Being thrown underneath the horse made him a cripple.

I gave him two bits and hurried across the street. A black and white drove by slow, I hurried into the diner. I don’t like the coppers stickin’ their noses in my business.

The diner was like other hash houses, along the front wall were booths, across from that a long counter with stools. On the back wall a swinging door lead to the kitchen. The waitress looked as old and as worn out as the diner. A yellow pencil stuck out of her over-bleached blond hair. At the far end of the counter sat a chump slumped over a cup of joe. He looked like he lost his last sawbuck on some nag. I’d seen that same look on my own mug. I laid the newspaper on the table and slid into the booth.

“What can I get ya’?” I looked up to see the waitress.

“A cup of joe.”

“Want somethin’ to eat?”

“No, just a cup of joe.”

“Want cream?”

“I drink mine black.”

My client walked into the diner, she was quite a dish. Pulling off her fisherman’s hat red curls fell around her face. Removing her yellow rain slicker I saw she wore brown trousers and a black turtleneck sweater. The doll was some looker.

“I assume you are Mr. Marlowe. I called you about a missing family member.” She slid in on the other side of the booth. “My name is Annie Smith. I haven’t much time. I left my tug boat and crew waiting at the docks.”

The waitress sat two cups of joe on the table. “Honey, want cream with yours?”

With a smile Annie answered, “Yes, please.” The waitress stopped popping her gum and smiled back.

Inside my suit pocket I grabbed my notepad and pen. “When was the last time you saw your family member?”

“It was two nights ago. My husband, Tom, got upset because I fixed leftovers for his dinner. He ignored me, gave me the cold shoulder. Late in the evening he would always go outside for a short walk. When he didn’t come back home I wasn’t concerned, I knew how upset he was over the leftovers. When he hadn’t come home the next day I started to worry. This morning he still hadn’t showed up so I called you.” Her eyes glistened over.

I pulled a napkin out of the dispenser and handed it to her. “Could Tom been snatched by someone?”

“Snatched? What do you mean by snatched?” She blew her nose on the napkin.

I pulled out a few napkins, laying the pile on the table. “Kidnapped. Taken against his will.”

“Oh, no, Tom doesn’t like strangers, avoided people he doesn’t know. Before we met he lived on the streets.” In tears she grabbed a napkin.

“What about the slammer?”

“Mr. Marlowe, I’m having the most difficult time understanding you.”

“In the pen, you know prison”

“I made phones calls. Tom wasn’t in any of the slammers.”

“I need a description, maybe a photo of your lug.”

She handed me a photo of Tom and her together on the tug boat. “Tom has a full gray beard. His hair’s all black except for the white strip down the middle of the top of his head.”

“I’ll do everything I can to find your family member.”

Preparing to leave she said, “Mr. Marlowe, your reputation precedes you. Please find Tom and bring him home.”

I watched Annie hurry toward the docks. A man could get dizzy with a dame like her.


The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.


This article has been read 333 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Joy Faire Stewart10/22/09
Oh, what has the "Doll" done? ...missing because of leftovers? He'd be long gone from my house, too. Very enjoyable, love the ambience of the story.
Robyn Burke10/22/09
Loved this-- so authentic and tongue in cheek... I was chuckling right along. fun read!
Debra Elliott10/24/09
Made me want to read more!
Jan Ackerson 10/26/09
I chuckled at your references to black hidden throughout, and also at your nod to "film noir." Well done.
larry troxell 10/27/09
my mind went to humphrey bogart. great narrative. leftovers? what a reason to leave home. lol
Beth LaBuff 10/27/09
I could almost smell the cigar smoke coming from his office.. I enjoyed all the descriptive and character words here and had to smile at the "left-overs."
Allen Stark10/28/09
Great narration! I felt and heard the character throughout the piece. It was alsmost like listerning to the old series when Sargent Friday used to narrate the action.