Sorry for the wait, I've been very lazy. I'm going to try to stick to every Saturday routine, but I can't promise anything. And now, the Chapter!
Margaret sidled through the mob in the disco bar, silently giggling at what her mother would think of her getup. She wore a blue mini dress with suntan tights to fake having good legsand her favorite pair of red heels.
She tugged down the hem of the skirt and scanned the bar. Ah. There he was. Russ Moon. Lazy eye and all.
Margaret swallowed down the bile that had surfaced in her throat and shouldered her way through the slithering mass of people dancing under red lights.
"Hi." She said, sliding onto a barstool next to the big man. "I'm Maggie. Who're you."
Russ Moon smiled with surprisingly good teeth, his eyes taking her in. "Russ. Can I buy you a drink?"
Margaret clenched her teeth behind charmingly smiling lips. "Well aren't you the gentleman? No thanks though."
Russ Moon leaned towards her as if to confide a secret and Margaret struck. With snakelike accuracy she latched onto his arm and dug her nails in and twisted his arm behind his back, slamming his cheek down on the bar. Russ Moon groaned.
"You're a cop!" He growled.
Margaret found herself laughing cruelly. "Far from. Yesterday you took a girl form line at a Young Engineer's Fair. That was my daughter."
Russ Moon grit his teeth, somehow making his face even redder. "I don't believe you. No civilian would get to me that fast."
Margaret dug the heel of her shoe into his toe.
"My kid means the world to me." She said. "You better believe I'm that fast."
She neglected to tell Moon about Bubblegum.
"Now." She whispered. "Where did you take her?"
"I ain't sayin'."
Margaret smiled. Thank God for Pug August.
"Really, Mr. Russ Moon, wanted for Assault-and-Battery, Trespassing, Shoplifting, Breaking and Entering, Destruction of Property, abduction and Theft? I can't go to the police about my problems. I can't tell the police about my problem, but I'm sure they'd be pleased to have you."
Moon bucked, trying to throw her off, but with no success.
"My boss would kill me." He said.
"I know all about Moriarty." Margaret replied. "I can strike a deal with him."
She could feel the cogs in his brain turning.
"Fine!" He snapped. "I brought her to Silver."
"Who's Silver?" Margaret whispered.
'I don't know." He said. "That's what he calls himself. He' s a rich guy, I think. He always wears a suit."
Margaret tightened her grip, but couldn't extract anything else. She let him up and left him with a thick purple bruise on his arm. She left quickly, her mind buzzing frantically, listing possible people who could go by the name of Silver.
Russ Moon was found dead two days later. Someone had slit his throat and horribly stitched it up.
SNITCHES GET STITCHES the blood on the wall read.