Tuesday, May 27, 2008

500 Word Nano

Molly Mcfee strutted down the avenue arm and arm with Malicious Intent. Everyone on the strip knew Maledict “Malicious Intent” Cartwright had come into some money as of late, though where it had come from was something of a mystery. Molly didn’t care a fig so long as he was willing to pay for her “services” and buy her a round or two at the corner pub.

They crossed paths with Constable Oliver Toliver, a local bobby making his rounds. Sneering and twirling his night stick, the good constable blocked Malicious and Molly's path on the street.

“Good day to ya, officer,” said Malicious with a gracious tip of his dusty brown bowler.

Constable Toliver pointed his baton in Malicious’ face. “Me and the rest of the boys at the Yard have been looking for you, Intent.”

“And what would London’s finest be wantin’ from the likes of me?”

“I know it were you that done the Mayfair job. Admit it!”

“I couldn’t ‘av done it copper,” Malicious gave the Constable a Cheshire cat grin. “I was with Molly here all night. Weren’t I, love?”

Molly nodded her pretty little head. Constable Toliver scowled.

“You think the judge will take the word of a brazen hussy such as she?”

Molly pouted at the insult.

“If you don’t believe me ask around,” said Malicious. “The whole of Pettigrew Street heard her crying out my name last night.”

Molly giggled as Constable Toliver growled at the two of them. His knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on his night stick. For a second, Molly thought he would use it. The man calmed, smiled.

“One of these days, Intent, you will slip you will,” he said through gritted teeth. “I just hope I’m there to see you fall flat on your arse when you do.”

“I’ll be sure to stuff a pillow down me drawers in preparation for that fine day,” said Malicious giving the open mouthed bobby another tip of his hat as Molly and he went on their way.

When the constable was out of earshot Molly whispered, “So it was you that did it!”

“Don’t be daft. I was nowhere near Mayfair last night.”

“Then why did you tell him you was with me?”

Malicious smiled. “Just ‘cause I didn’t do the Mayfair job don’t mean I wasn’t doing something else, if you be getting’ my meaning.”

He winked and Molly giggled. He took her to the pub where there was much imbibing on Molly’s end, followed by a quick tryst up at Molly’s one room fire trap on Pettigrew where the other tenants exalted in Molly’s melodious utterances accompanied by the squeaks of the Molly’s worn bed.

The symphony was over, Molly lay back with a sigh and immediately fell asleep thanks to the sleepy drops Malicious added to her ale. He climbed back into his clothes, removed the bloody straight razor hidden in his right boot, and hid it in the clutter under Molly’s bed.

“I told you true. I wasn’t near Mayfair,” he said, placing a kiss upon the whore’s sweat covered brow. “And when Constable Toliver gets word of the murder down on Marley, a little bird will tell him just where to find the culprit,” he said and left her to take the rap.

No comments:

Post a Comment