Part 5

“Hey, is that you, Maryanne?” Heap always laughed at his name but Marion didn’t care.

“Yeah, I found the boyfriend. At his own place,” shouted Marion as he pulled around a city bus. “Damn phone. Can you hear me now?”

“So what happened?”

“We had a little problem.”

“Chance got the worst of it.” The Heap laughed.

“No, he didn’t. Couple of bad boys showed up. With sawed-offs.”

“So did Chance get it?”

“No, I told you aw-ready, fat boy. Can you f**king hear me now?” Marion pulled over to park across the driveway of an insurance building. “Stupid damn cell phones.”

“I heard you. So nothing happened. Get it across to him I don’t want him to fool with Zoë. Do something that matters, you know.”

“No, Heap, I damn don’t know. I’m not going to smack a kid around for that. Face it -- she’s grown-up.” The swearing on the other end made Marion blush like the Pope at a bachelor party.

“These two guys tried to take him out. But Chance had his own big bad gun.”

“No shit! We’ll take him in for breaking parole. I’ll send a car to pick him up. You’ll have to write a . . .”

“I’m not writing nothing. You fathead, your girl got grazed by one of the shells from the walk-ups. She was in the car, that red Viper, the one Chance had a canvas on.’

“Zoë’s hurt? How bad? Where is she?”

“Took her to St. Joseph’s. I’m on my way there. I’m going to get Chance to file charges. Maybe he knows what the shooters were up to.”

“Hell, don’t do that. Forget. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

He rang off and Marion shook his big head. This is sure a weird thing, he thought. Heap is smarter than he sounds, he told himself.

Going past Burrito Barney’s, he ducked into the drive through and got a double bean and cheese super size and a quart of cola. Juggling the food and drink, he slowly drove toward the hospital, still thinking of sawed-off shotguns, body armor and young lovers. Finally, he pushed the rest of the burrito into his mouth as he watched over the rim of the paper cup as he followed Heap’s SUV into the parking lot of St. Joe’s Hospital. When Heap parked, Marion pulled his old blue Ford in beside him.

“Hey, Maryanne, where’s your skirt?” The man was ugly, with little piggy eyes and sweaty armpits. He smelled like a whole football team waiting for the showers.

“Corellas is meeting us here, “ Marion told him in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Why the hell is that? He can’t be bothered; he’s a fool paper-pusher since he got his valve job.”

“He’ll be back on the streets.“ Marion growled, “I want him here to help interview Chance. I am sure that Chance Beebe knows who the shooters are and WHY.”

At that moment, Chance came out of the hospital. Marion grinned big and wide, and burped directly at Heap.


Sorry it's longer than I thought it would be.

Like sci-fi? You'll love Cleve Gibson from the UK
Go here for Dragon Remains

or copy and paste in browser window:

*http://home.earthlink.net/~scific/StoryGC1.htm*

Also he has a wonderful story (Lucy Alice Chang)up on my website at www.RDLarson.com

Bitter
By
RD Larson

She wants to leave,
He begs her to stay; He says he's sorry.
She knows he lies.
He weeps and groans; His face is red.

She longs for peace,
He agrees to try; He says he's wrong.
She wishes she were dead.
He pleads with child-like eyes.

She knows the walk.
She's walked before; she wants to quit.
She knows she's stupid.
Her heart is broken and diseased.

He can make her give.
He always could; He knows her guilt.
He knows her sin.
He knows she loves him in his sin.

It won't end until one dies.
He could free her; She could run.
She's his fool; He knows her, too.
He knows she hates the sin but loves the sinner



© RD Larson 2000

Evil Angel is at www.amazon.com


2 ORDER EA

I'm feeling kind of down about another surgery and possible third within a few months. Oh well, no use feeling balky about it. What has to be done is just the facts. I promise I'll get the rest of Sudden Death up before Monday.

Sudden Death
by
RD Larson

Part 4


“Do you know these guys?” Marion waited for Chance to respond. The guy was obviously SO in love with this girl. He looked to be about 25 and had a under-the rock-look. “Hey, Shit-head, answer me. I asked you if you knew the guys?”

Sometimes a little prod with the old foot gives a person the will to talk. So I kicked him a bit. He looked up, temper making his face flush.

“No but I saw them around,” Chance told me, still kneeling with Zoë on his lap. “They came into the shop last week.”

“And what shop would that be?” Marion was getting cranky since he could hear the sirens and wanted to talk to Heap before he heard it on the radio. “Quick, Chance.”

“Harley’s Hogs, at the corner of Milltown and Verna out in the south part of downtown. I work there sometimes.” Finally, the boyfriend had caught on to the fact that Marion eould and could kick his butt all over the place.

“You go to the hospital with her. Stay there. I’ll be around. You leave, you won’t like me so much any more,” Marion said bending over and looking at Chance. When Chance gave a slight nod Chance, he bolted to his car.

As he passed the ambulance he gritted his teeth and grabbed his phone. Dialing with his thumb he got 45th Street station.

“Let me talk to Heap, okay? Right now.”

Sudden Death

A Marion Riles Soft-boiled Detective Story

by

RD Larson
(there's more Marion Riles Stories at www.BeWrite.net under my name)
Part 3

Marion ran toward the covered sports car and pulled back the other side. The side on the street was pock-marked with blasts and as they pulled the canvas back , Marion could see Zoë slumped between the steering wheel and the door. A rivulet of blood trailed down her face.

Chance wrench the door of Jaguar XKE open. Zoë fell into his arms and he gently laid her on the damp pavement.

"This is my fault -- oh, honey, be alright, please Zoë, please," crooned Chance as I dialed 911.

I could see that it wasn' life threatening but never-the-less she needed medical attention. I went over to them.

"Hey, Chance, I'm Marion Riles, friend of Zoë's dad; he's worried about her hanging with you. I'd say about NOW he's got good reason. "

He turned his face toward Marion. Chance actually looked like a fresh-faced kid in hot water. Marion felt sorry for the dumb ass kid. He quickly snatched the Walther P-38 out of his clench hand.


to be continued: (you must realyze that this is a story in construction)

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Individual Gold
As if from beyond, is heard a voice,
Calling,
Faint, yet clear, one can hear,
The stream of future thoughts
Not yet born nor yet formed,
For each success, and each gain,
By its nature must preclude,
A struggle,
from choice to finish,
Of a mindful grasp of its valued result.
A search for fulfillment,
Is but true
Exploration of the ages,
For every conquest,
The valiant seek,
Not others to set the goal,
But the conqueror,
His inner clock and self alone
Can know the battles
Won
And feel the peace of work well-done.


© 1998 RD Larson

Salute to Athens and our teams!

Short short Marion Riles Soft-Boiled Detective Story

Sudden Death
by
RD Larson

Part 2

The spatter of shot pinged against the building and sidewalk. The pavement looked like black hail. The dull thud against the canvas car cover made an underbeat. With the sound and the shadows around the ghostly covered car the street seem dreamlike. As Marion watched Chance suddenly stood up with heavy Walther P-38 in his hand. Marion recognized it because it was just like his own.

A shot rang out, hitting one of the intruders in the leg. He was felled like a tree, groaning and crying on the ground. Shot spun out around both men as Chance continued to fire. The unhurt man fired again, closer to the car. Chance blazed away at him, the bullets hitting him the chest.

Marion realized the guy had on body armor and wouldn’t go down. Numb, Marion watch the man grab his wounded partner by the arm and drag him to the van. Chance quit firing and watched in silence as the men struggled into their Honda.

As they drove away, Chance began to rip the cover off the car in a frantic hurry.

To be continued:

Short short Marion Riles Soft-Boiled Detective Story

Sudden Death

When his old friend called him and asked him to check on his daughter’s new boyfriend, Marion at first refused. He didn’t like to stir around in family potties.

“Come on, Zoë is a kid. she just turned eighteen two weeks ago. And she thinks she’s grown-up, and I‘m scared,” said Heap Matthews. “She wants to be free of her mother. And me too. Damn it to hell.”

Marion had a hard time picturing the kid he’d known for ten years being an adult. It seriously hurt his “feel-young” attitude. Against his better judgment Marion told Heap he’d take a look at the guy.

Writing the name and address down, Marion scowled. Chance Beebe. He’d heard that name somewhere, but how and in what context? Heap had said he’d run a check on the boyfriend down at the station but it had come back clean. Still, he’d had a feeling about this Chance dating his sweet young daughter. But now Marion couldn’t place the name but he knew it.

After a bologna and sour Kraut sandwich, he jumped in the old blue Ford. He could feel that a bubble from the kraut sitting just over his gut. He ate some breath mints and six Tums; then he started up and drove over to the neighborhood where Chance Beebe was supposed to be living with his sister.

Lights were just coming on in the kitchens on the block when Marion nosed the Ford to the curb. It was a big, dilapidated house that had been converted to a four-plex. Some kind of sports car under a cover sat in front. Around the bottom of the car ran a steel wire with a padlock so big that Marion could almost read the numbers from his car.

He got out and went over to it. As he bent down to peek under the canvas skirt the frigging alarm went off. He ran like hell to a dark brushy tree across the street. As he turned to watch, a sinewy young guy came out, all muscled up with his hair buzzed off. He was wearing shades and didn’t take them off as he slowly walked around the car. Marion could almost feel his eyes darting around, trying to spot him.

Damn glad he was wearing dark clothes, Marion hunched down by the bush. Uh-oh, the kraut bubble was about to escape. Gritting his teeth, Marion held firm until the other man went back inside. Good thing, too, else he’d be up for murdering him with poisonous gas.

A screech of tires from the corner caught his attention. He stared as a Honda Acura spun around the corner. The darkened windows hid the occupants. Chance Beebe ran behind his car. Marion felt rather than saw the headlights sweep over him. He knew Chance had seen him and maybe so had the driver of the Honda. He crouched lower as the car jerked to a stop.

Two men jumped out of the back. Marion saw they carried sawed-off shotguns.

To Be continued:

I'm home; didn't have to stay in the hospital. Feeling pretty good after a very long day. A friend wrote that my head was full of computer ink, and I just loved hearing that. I'm sure I will be back my high speed in a day or so. Thank you EACH for your kind and good thoughts. It matters to me.

For those of you who love Erle and Stumpy stories, in only 402 words:

http://www.bewrite.net/free_fiction/flash_fiction/500_words_6.htm#PeakHigh

Night dreams bent on a post,
scattered thoughts on a line;
feathered fears caught on a wing,
gathered,
spending in the daylight hours.

Hi!:D

I heard from cardiology this AM. Leaky right valve and increase in right side of heart. It's not a problem yet, but my doctor will follow up on it. Green light for surgery on Friday.

Now the good news. At www.BeWrite.net, my story is up at first place



If you haven't read this funny, cross-species romance yet, give it a go.

Thanks. RD

pre-op stuff today. Echogram and EKG. Chat with doctors. Long day though.

In honor of the Olympics!

Individual Gold

By

RD Larson

As if from beyond, is heard a voice,
Calling,
Faint, yet clear, one can hear,
The stream of future thoughts
Not yet born nor yet formed,
For each success, and each gain,
By its nature must preclude,
A struggle,
from choice to finish,
Of a mindful grasp of its valued result.

A search for fulfillment,
Is but true
Exploration of the ages,
For every conquest,
The valiant seek,
Not others to set the goal,
But the conqueror,
His inner clock and self alone
Can know the battles
Won
And feel the peace of work well-done.


for Steven
1998
By
RD Larson



and





No redemption
By
RD Larson

He knows his fractured death,
Lies so very near indeed.
He keens to carry on, blinded
By the shadow of his bleed.
Glitter hangs in shreds
Once he stood, man-seed,
Now he crumples, falls
Curled now in fetal need
That falls to fatal curl.

Can't seem to write today. On Sunday, sweet Sunday, with nothing to do. It's been so nice that I'm just languid, thinking I should be drinking a cool drink instead "getting bizzee" Like Sci-Fi???? -- try this --

http://home.earthlink.net/~mimibelle/StoryLRD1.htm

Instinctive Fear By RD Larson