A quick piece I did for my American Literature class in the Film Noire style
The Woman in the Red Dress
It was a grey day when I received the mysterious phone call. I was sitting at my desk at work with my feet propped up smoking a cigarette. I was supposed to be working. The phone rang. I picked it up and said “Hello. Sgt Siler speaking.” For a moment there was silence on the other end then I heard a woman’s smoky voice. She said “I have some information for you that I’m sure you want. Meet me at the Rio Verde restaurant at three on Saturday. I’ll be at the bar.” The phone clicked as she hung up. I sat at my desk for a moment more. Then the clock rolled over to 5:00. It was time to go home. My chair creaked as I stood up. I just know that one day it is going to collapse. I should get it replaced. I grabbed my coat and swung it over one shoulder, the packet of cigarettes in the inner pocket banging against my back. I locked the office door and headed home.
As my car turned the last corner before my house, I saw a thin figure standing on my porch. As I approached, it glanced up and saw me. Then the figure darted away. I was to far away to catch up to it, so I parked my car and walked up to my porch, looking closely at everything. It wasn’t trapped. As I opened my screen door I could see a corner of a slip of paper under the crack of the door. I was curious. When I opened my door, I saw a letter with my name scrawled across it in big, messy, hurried writing. I picked it up. I dropped my coat onto the chair in the living room, holding the letter in my other hand. I turned on my lamp, sat the letter down on my coffee table, and went to pour myself a glass of whiskey. I thought I’d need it.
I lit another cigarette as I sat down in my old recliner next to the table. I sat my whiskey glass in it’s usual place on the ring in the finish of the table. I picked up the letter and carefully opened it. Inside the envelope was a newspaper clipping from this morning’s paper. That was it. The headline read “Man Accused of Murder”. I read the article. It was very biased against the man and filled with circumstantial evidence that wouldn’t hold up even in a kangaroo court. I held the article up to the light and noticed there was something written on the back. I turned it over. It read “I didn’t do it. Please. Help me! Meet me at the Rio Verde restaurant at 5:00 on Saturday” I tossed the article to the table and picked up my glass of whiskey. I was right. I needed it.
Saturday arrived cold and rainy. As my only day off, I didn’t want to get out of bed but the day was looking like it would be interesting. When 2:30 rolled around I put down my cigarette and strolled out to my car through the cold rain. I pulled up to the restaurant at 2:50, a young man in a uniform walked up to my window and asked me if I wanted him to park my car. I said “sure” and got out. The Rio Verde was a restaurant that catered to the seedy type rich. Everyone there dripped with silks and diamonds and other precious materials. But it all smelled fake. Fake was in the way they walked, the way they talked, it covered them like a cloak. I stood by the front door and looked around. There was only one person at the bar. A stunning beauty with long wavy brown tresses and flashing blue eyes. She wore a tight little number, bright red with matching red heals. Her legs were crossed at the knee and on her knee she had rested her hat, a large velvet thing with an enormous purple plume sprouting from a base of tawdry jewels. Her eyes watched me as I made my way over to the bar and said “Hello.”
**If you're interested in getting more in this vein, let me know and I'll work on it some more. It was fun ^.^**
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