Chapter 1
He slipped through the alley, holding the 357. down so it wouldn't glimmer in the moonlight. He was almost to Jackson street. Now was the time for his sweet revenge. This wouldn't take long.
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Harold Jackson jammed another cigarette into his mouth. Pulling out his ever-present lighter, he flicked it on until the cigarette glowed nicely. Drawing in a deep breath, he leaned back in his chair. Things had mostly quieted down, but as a detective, he was almost always busy. If he didn't have a report to write, then there were calls to make. Yes, he couldn't remember the last time he sat down with a good book.
Suddenly, the phone rang, jarring Harold back to the present. Groggily, he leaned forward and picked up the receiver. He recited his little speech from memory, "Detective Jackson, at your service. How may I help you?
"Hey, Harold! This is Frank, from the police department."
"Oh, hey Frank! How's it going?"
"Not too good. Did you hear?"
"Hear what?" Harold leaned forward in curiosity.
"Well, last night, there was a murder."
"Oh, great! Where?"
"1238 Jackson St. A guy by the name of James Manfield. His wife found him this morning. Had 2 holes in his chest."
Harold sighed and said, "You sure it wasn't a suicide?"
"Well, I thought of that too. But, the lock was broken and there were muddy footprints leading to the bedroom. Whoever did it was pretty sloppy about it."
"Why didn't his wife hear the shots?
"She was in Vermont last night. Came home this morning to find him in the bed."
"So, why you telling me?" Harold sighed. Of course he knew. Another case.
"Well, I was wondering…"
"Alright, I'll be right over."
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He flipped up his laptop and clicked on Internet Explorer. Surfing his local news sight, he saw an article. He clicked on it.
A local man was found shot this morning in his bed at his 1238 Jackson St. residence by his wife. Two bullet holes were found in the man's chest. The type of gun used has not been released by the police at this time. The man's name was also not released. But it is considered a homicide at this time, Sheriff Frank Johnson said earlier today.
A slow, evil smile spread across his face. He had done what he wanted to do. He had his revenge at last. Yes: mission accomplished.
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