Disclaimer: People, places, events, shoes, yadda yadda yadda, from Newsies
belong to Disney. I'm making no money off of them so please don't' sue me.
Other things in this story belong to me; please don't use them without my
permission. Enjoy!
Post-disclaimer Disclaimer: There are adult situations, language, and violence in this story. Nothing absurdly graphic, but this is not about happy squirrels.
Post-post-disclaimer Disclaimer: I know, I'm starting to sound like the goose in Charlotte's Web. Last one, I promise. I'd just like to thank Brooky for her marvelous summary. Hers is much better than anything I could ever come up with. Thanks babe!
1 Shadow of a Doubt
By Athena
The bone-shattering blast of the bullet shattered the silence and tension that had filled the room like an ominous cloud just a moment ago. It had all happened so quickly that Lucia, who now stood frozen with the gun grasped firmly in her hand (as though she feared that by allowing its release, the man on the floor would rise up), could only stare at the corpse in a combination of shock, amazement, relief, and horror. It was the body of a man nearing middle age, his blonde hair beginning to grow gray and the faintest wrinkles growing apparent near his cold green eyes. His mouth was set in a firm, hard line which seemed to hold unpleasant, unsaid remarks. He was a tall, slender man who had obviously been an athlete in college. The last breath that had escaped his lips a split second ago lingered in the air and was laced with the aroma of expensive cigars and far too much liquor for any one person to handle. Clad in a freshly- laundered gray suit and wine-colored tie, he lay on his back on the lush, Persian carpet, his arms and legs bent in an extremely awkward position. A pool of warm blood was gathering under his head and spreading swiftly.
The girl, dark-haired (natural, deep red highlights evident throughout her tresses) with attractive elfin featured, mahogany eyes and tanned skin, crumbled to the ground in terror. The sound of her panicked, fractured breathing was the only noise in the room now. She gently placed the gun beside her on the carpet and vaguely wondered if the blood would spread that far. Pushing a lock of hair out of her face, she studied the cadaver with fearful eyes.
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," she murmured to herself, over and over. The repetition of the phrase helped to calm her a bit.
Come on, Lucia, get it tahgethah, she thought to herself with more self- control than she felt existed in her spirit at the time. So ya shot a guy; dis is no time ta turn inta a tremblin' mouse.
She drew a deep breath and sluggishly rose to her feet, ordering her legs to stay firm beneath her. Pushing the gun under a nearby comfortable forest green couch where no one had dusted in at least a month, she cast one final glance at the corpse before staggering out of the room.
Unfortunately, there's a limit as to how much one can lie to oneself, even in dire situations. Lucia raced for the bathroom where she was quietly sick for the next several minutes, followed by an exodus of tears and shaking so fiercely that she imagined she would fly apart at any given moment.
Leaning against the elegant flowered wallpaper, she brushed teardrops out of her eyes with the back of her hand and attempted to think rationally again.
I shot a man. Dat would mean trouble for me, especially wid DIS corpse. Geez, Lucia, ya had ta go and woik for a politician, didn't ya? she scoffed disdainfully at herself. Maybe...maybe da cops'll believe me if I tell dem what really happened. Aw, dat'll nevah woik! Dey'd t'row a goil like me in jail as quick as look at me. Okay, t'ink, t'ink!
She pressed her fingers to her temples in concentration. At least dis mansion ain't in da middle of da city.... I'd have been in prison da minute I pulled da triggah. I still got time, but not dat much.... All right, come on, come on! A thought struck her then, and slowly an idea was forming. What do people do when dey get inta trouble? Dey hit da road, of coise! I need somewheah ta go, somewheah da bulls wouldn't t'ink ta look for me, like Boston (nah, too hoity-toity) or San Diego (nope, too far) or New Yawk City. Yeah, dat's it, New Yawk! I lived deah once...and hey, I already got da accent. I can just blend in wid da crowd, no one'll evah notice me. Aw, shit, I hope dis woiks.
Rising unsteadily to her feet, she marched from the bathroom and into the foyer where her ancient pocketbook (something retrieved from the garbage years ago) lay stop of a lengthy, expensive table. She knew that inside rested a wad of bills ('pay upfront' was her motto) which would allow her the train ride to Manhattan and maybe even a sandwich. She reached for the doorknob and as she turned it, tried to block the sight of the bleeding corpse out of her mind.
*****
"I heard the shot around one o'clock, one-thirty at night," a stocky many with a thick, gray mustache informed a thin detective who wore a tan duster which practically hung to his heels.
"One o'clock to one-thirty?" the detective reiterated solemnly. In the next room, the living room of the summer estate of the celebrated Senator John Bainsworth, several police officers were gathering evidence and covering the body of the senator himself in a deep gray blanket. "Could you say closer to one o'clock?"
The man thought seriously for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, it probably was. I live nearby in a small cabin, the only one around for miles. I usually go hunting for deer around this area, but it's not deer season. That's why I was surprised to hear the shots. I thought it might be someone shooting out of season. I never thought it was MURDER."
The detective never shuddered at that word. In his mind, murder was only a matter for such emotion if one had no hope of solving the case. And he never let a criminal slip from his grasp.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Jenks. We genuinely appreciate this."
"Don't mention it, my pleasure, Detective Sarmons," the older man answered with a complaisant nod. "I really hope you find the killer."
"Trust me," the detective drawled, his voice chilling and his eyes dogged, "I will."
*****
The wintry moonlight streamed into the nearly empty passenger car and enclosed the scantly clad Lucia in an icy blanket. She shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around herself in hopes of fighting back the hypothermia. Well, I couldn't exactly head ta pick up more clothes, she told herself with a slightly bitter tone and frowned deeply. Most other passangers on the last train to New York City had cast her disgusted glimpses as she took her seat among them. At least no one had decided to sit with her; she had enough on her mind without worrying about other people.
She pressed her palm to the frigid glass of the windowpane and stared at the scenery, strange and shadowy, whirling by. It was as though she were watching her life disappearing along with the snow-covered trees. And somehow this concept didn't frighten Lucia in the slightest. Maybe I can actually start fresh in New Yawk, not like when I moved to Chicago. Maybe I can get a real job and people won't look down on me like dey do now. Scowling bitterly, she muttered silently and facetiously, Yeah, and people are jus' so great. Well, who gives a damn about any of dem, anyhow? I can get along on my own jus' fine, t'anks. Gazing upwards, she caught sight of the glorious full moon that seemed to travel with her. I got da moon, who needs anyone else? She forced a smile upon her lips and decided to get some sleep. She would need to be rested if she was planning on looking for work in the morning. But behind her eyelids, she could still see the corpse, blood gushing from the large wound in his head. She flung her eyelids back open and forced the image out of her mind. She just needed to suppress it, to just forget about it and it would be over.
As she drifted off to sleep, Lucia prayed that this scene would never come back to haunt her....
~~More to come soon. Please review!
Post-disclaimer Disclaimer: There are adult situations, language, and violence in this story. Nothing absurdly graphic, but this is not about happy squirrels.
Post-post-disclaimer Disclaimer: I know, I'm starting to sound like the goose in Charlotte's Web. Last one, I promise. I'd just like to thank Brooky for her marvelous summary. Hers is much better than anything I could ever come up with. Thanks babe!
1 Shadow of a Doubt
By Athena
The bone-shattering blast of the bullet shattered the silence and tension that had filled the room like an ominous cloud just a moment ago. It had all happened so quickly that Lucia, who now stood frozen with the gun grasped firmly in her hand (as though she feared that by allowing its release, the man on the floor would rise up), could only stare at the corpse in a combination of shock, amazement, relief, and horror. It was the body of a man nearing middle age, his blonde hair beginning to grow gray and the faintest wrinkles growing apparent near his cold green eyes. His mouth was set in a firm, hard line which seemed to hold unpleasant, unsaid remarks. He was a tall, slender man who had obviously been an athlete in college. The last breath that had escaped his lips a split second ago lingered in the air and was laced with the aroma of expensive cigars and far too much liquor for any one person to handle. Clad in a freshly- laundered gray suit and wine-colored tie, he lay on his back on the lush, Persian carpet, his arms and legs bent in an extremely awkward position. A pool of warm blood was gathering under his head and spreading swiftly.
The girl, dark-haired (natural, deep red highlights evident throughout her tresses) with attractive elfin featured, mahogany eyes and tanned skin, crumbled to the ground in terror. The sound of her panicked, fractured breathing was the only noise in the room now. She gently placed the gun beside her on the carpet and vaguely wondered if the blood would spread that far. Pushing a lock of hair out of her face, she studied the cadaver with fearful eyes.
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," she murmured to herself, over and over. The repetition of the phrase helped to calm her a bit.
Come on, Lucia, get it tahgethah, she thought to herself with more self- control than she felt existed in her spirit at the time. So ya shot a guy; dis is no time ta turn inta a tremblin' mouse.
She drew a deep breath and sluggishly rose to her feet, ordering her legs to stay firm beneath her. Pushing the gun under a nearby comfortable forest green couch where no one had dusted in at least a month, she cast one final glance at the corpse before staggering out of the room.
Unfortunately, there's a limit as to how much one can lie to oneself, even in dire situations. Lucia raced for the bathroom where she was quietly sick for the next several minutes, followed by an exodus of tears and shaking so fiercely that she imagined she would fly apart at any given moment.
Leaning against the elegant flowered wallpaper, she brushed teardrops out of her eyes with the back of her hand and attempted to think rationally again.
I shot a man. Dat would mean trouble for me, especially wid DIS corpse. Geez, Lucia, ya had ta go and woik for a politician, didn't ya? she scoffed disdainfully at herself. Maybe...maybe da cops'll believe me if I tell dem what really happened. Aw, dat'll nevah woik! Dey'd t'row a goil like me in jail as quick as look at me. Okay, t'ink, t'ink!
She pressed her fingers to her temples in concentration. At least dis mansion ain't in da middle of da city.... I'd have been in prison da minute I pulled da triggah. I still got time, but not dat much.... All right, come on, come on! A thought struck her then, and slowly an idea was forming. What do people do when dey get inta trouble? Dey hit da road, of coise! I need somewheah ta go, somewheah da bulls wouldn't t'ink ta look for me, like Boston (nah, too hoity-toity) or San Diego (nope, too far) or New Yawk City. Yeah, dat's it, New Yawk! I lived deah once...and hey, I already got da accent. I can just blend in wid da crowd, no one'll evah notice me. Aw, shit, I hope dis woiks.
Rising unsteadily to her feet, she marched from the bathroom and into the foyer where her ancient pocketbook (something retrieved from the garbage years ago) lay stop of a lengthy, expensive table. She knew that inside rested a wad of bills ('pay upfront' was her motto) which would allow her the train ride to Manhattan and maybe even a sandwich. She reached for the doorknob and as she turned it, tried to block the sight of the bleeding corpse out of her mind.
*****
"I heard the shot around one o'clock, one-thirty at night," a stocky many with a thick, gray mustache informed a thin detective who wore a tan duster which practically hung to his heels.
"One o'clock to one-thirty?" the detective reiterated solemnly. In the next room, the living room of the summer estate of the celebrated Senator John Bainsworth, several police officers were gathering evidence and covering the body of the senator himself in a deep gray blanket. "Could you say closer to one o'clock?"
The man thought seriously for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, it probably was. I live nearby in a small cabin, the only one around for miles. I usually go hunting for deer around this area, but it's not deer season. That's why I was surprised to hear the shots. I thought it might be someone shooting out of season. I never thought it was MURDER."
The detective never shuddered at that word. In his mind, murder was only a matter for such emotion if one had no hope of solving the case. And he never let a criminal slip from his grasp.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Jenks. We genuinely appreciate this."
"Don't mention it, my pleasure, Detective Sarmons," the older man answered with a complaisant nod. "I really hope you find the killer."
"Trust me," the detective drawled, his voice chilling and his eyes dogged, "I will."
*****
The wintry moonlight streamed into the nearly empty passenger car and enclosed the scantly clad Lucia in an icy blanket. She shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around herself in hopes of fighting back the hypothermia. Well, I couldn't exactly head ta pick up more clothes, she told herself with a slightly bitter tone and frowned deeply. Most other passangers on the last train to New York City had cast her disgusted glimpses as she took her seat among them. At least no one had decided to sit with her; she had enough on her mind without worrying about other people.
She pressed her palm to the frigid glass of the windowpane and stared at the scenery, strange and shadowy, whirling by. It was as though she were watching her life disappearing along with the snow-covered trees. And somehow this concept didn't frighten Lucia in the slightest. Maybe I can actually start fresh in New Yawk, not like when I moved to Chicago. Maybe I can get a real job and people won't look down on me like dey do now. Scowling bitterly, she muttered silently and facetiously, Yeah, and people are jus' so great. Well, who gives a damn about any of dem, anyhow? I can get along on my own jus' fine, t'anks. Gazing upwards, she caught sight of the glorious full moon that seemed to travel with her. I got da moon, who needs anyone else? She forced a smile upon her lips and decided to get some sleep. She would need to be rested if she was planning on looking for work in the morning. But behind her eyelids, she could still see the corpse, blood gushing from the large wound in his head. She flung her eyelids back open and forced the image out of her mind. She just needed to suppress it, to just forget about it and it would be over.
As she drifted off to sleep, Lucia prayed that this scene would never come back to haunt her....
~~More to come soon. Please review!