Hi, All...
Sorry I am posting so late on this Wednesday, but I have been working on my current WIP... I have't had a chance to work on my Film Noir novella in months. Mainly because I have been working on the rewrites on my second novel. I still have another half to go... As most of you know these take SO MUCH TIME!
This morning I bit the bullet, put my novel away and brought up my novella, which is currently ALL OVER THE PLACE. LOL.
This all started with an entry for the Romantic Friday Writers, hosted by dear friends Denise Covey and Donna Hole. Sadly the RFW no longer exists, BUT, Denise has created a new and exciting monthly blog hop instead featured at the W. E. P. know as Write... Edit... Publish. If you are not familiar with the WEP, do drop by and say hi to Denise and check out the site. It's really a fun way to post monthly and you can post anything creative. Art, photography, quips, quotes, Flash Fiction, whatever... as long as it pertains to the prompt, anything goes!
This prompt is a new beginning.
This is a longer post so please bear with me.
Today I'm featuring another segment of my on going tale of Rosemary. Here's a quick blurb, so you know what's going on...
Rosemary, a young, pretty woman, from the wrong side of the tracks, finds herself caught up in murder. On October 31, 1947, Rosemary is invited to an elegant Halloween party at the elegant Palmer House and this is where our story begins...
But this scene opens on the following day...
The Palace Grill’s marquis barely penetrates the dim, charcoal sky, as the northwest winds sweep the downtown streets with the debris of once colorful autumn leaves.
All but one booth is empty. A flamingo pink polished hand raises a steaming cup of joe. Rosebud lips pucker and blow, sending vapor curls into an unsuspecting jukebox. A tinny click resonates and another selection begins to play. Rosemary glances at the shimmering, Lady Gruen curvex watch positioned strategically on her wrist.
The bell tinkles at the door and her eyes shift to a dumpy figure hidden under a policeman’s cap. With his head down and eyes averted , he trudges toward her. Leather soles squeak to the beat of Francis Craig crooning Near You. Each step quickens Rosemary’s heartbeat.
A gloved hand reaches inside his coat and pulls out a crumpled envelope. Rosemary extends her hand and grasps the letter. Silence louder than a sonic boom deafens her.
“Thank you, officer.”
He tips his hat, turns, and leaves.
Rosemary stares at the envelop in her trembling fingers. Why didn’t he come? Breathing deeply, she frees the note and drops it onto the table, smoothing out the wrinkles.
Only seven words ink the plain stationary.
In a flash, Rosemary slides out of the booth. She crams the paper into her pocket book, gathers her coat and suit case, and bolts to the door.
Dozens of headlights reflect off chrome bumpers streaking uptown. Rosemary flags a bright yellow, checkered taxi. The brakes grind to a stop. A moment later, a rumpled driver steps onto the sidewalk. Cigar ashes drop inches from Rosemary’s feet as he snatches the luggage and loads it into the trunk. He pulls the door open and stomps around to the driver’s side.
Rosemary slips into the peeling vinyl seat and gasps. A thick haze of cigar smoke suffocates whatever oxygen is present. She winds down the window and her lungs seer from the crisp outside air.
The cabby turns his head and another ash drifts close to her feet. “Where will it be, lady?” His eyes wander to her exposed calves and slowly work their way up to her face.
Heat radiates through her cheeks, tinting them with a hint of ruby. She clears her throat. “Chicago Air Park.”
She is thrust back into the seat as the taxi peels away from the curb.
Thick fingers drum the weathered desk as smoke rings curl into a caterpillar-like state. Haunting, bloodshot eyes read the same letter for the hundredth time. What can she possibly say to me? She’s a murderess. She’s lucky I don’t arrest her on the spot for Marty’s death.
He tosses the note into the gunmetal trash can. “I should go. Hear her side of it.” He slouches back into his desk chair and tears at his thick, raven hair. I
t had to be self defense. Marty was no alter boy.
The smoldering cigarette invites him to take another drag. Inhaling, his lungs fill. Slowly, like steam engine exhaust, the smoke escapes his throat. The minute hand on the clock continues to tick. Each click magnifying the urgency. He snuffs out the butt. As the smoke clears, the hour hand sweeps into the Ninth position.
By the next tock, he is gone.
A black an white pulls in front of the Palace Grill. The fedora hat nearly lifts off his head by an unanticipated gust of wind. He slams the door, takes a step, and nearly falls. He loosens the tail of his coat, rushes inside, and surveys the scene. A family of six sit a circular booth in back corner. A young, teenage couple share a malted in the smallest booth. And other couples and families fill most of the remaining tables, but no Rosemary.
He steps to the counter.
“What’s buzzin cousin?” the waitress asks.
“Have you seen a blonde, young girl alone, earlier?” he asks in a gruff voice.
She eyes the detective like a hawk ready to devour its next meal. “She’s long gone, sweetie. But I get off in fifteen minutes.” She snaps her gum and winks at him.
“Did she say where she was going?”
The waitress didn’t answer.
“This is police business. You better tell me everything you know or I’ll run you in for questioning.”
Her face flushes. “All right, don’t flip your wig.” She snapped her gum. “All I knows is, she had luggage with her and she was dressed pretty spiffy. I’d try the airport if I was you. That gussied up dame wasn’t goin on no bus or train.”
“Fine. I’ll check the airport first.” He turns on his scuffed wing tips and heads out the door.
A hazy moon beams through starched clouds on this All Hallows evening. Each one filled with icy flakes anxiously waiting to dust the streets of Chicago with its crystalized beauty. No longer do the winds rend. Only a quiet chill permeates the air as two automobiles streak southwest toward the same destination.
Polished chrome wings reflect bright incandescent rays on a single cinder runway. Frost lives in the brown-black vesicles, glinting fragments of starry light. Two figures appear and position a staircase in front of the aircraft door.
Scantly dressed passengers cloaked in furs and overcoats wait inside the lobby. Only one more passenger is expected. A checkered taxi parallels the curb. The door opens. Rosemary steps out onto the sidewalk and rushes inside. The cabby drops her luggage at the curb and is gone in a flash.
The porter joins Rosemary a moment later. She hands him a bill and smiles. The young man pales. His freckles more noticeable than ever. “T-Thank you, miss.” His voice cracks.
Rosemary nods.
An enormous stack of Louis Vuitton suitcases and trunks roll into sight. Rosemary glances at the tragic valise next to her and pulls the veil from the hat over her eyes.
How could I forget the luggage. Now they will know I’m not one of them.
The porter lifts her bag and adds it to the top of the tram.
“Fifteen minutes to Boarding for flight 227 to Miami,” blasts from an overhead speaker.
The elegant group of seasoned travelers gather, and stroll merrily to the the gate. Chills run down Rosemary’s back.
It’s time. My life will never be the same.
She inhales and checks the seams in her silk stockings, squares her shoulders, and takes her first step.
“Rosemary.”
Rosemary’s penciled brow raises and with wide eyes stares at the person in front of her.
“What’s the matter honey, cat got your tongue? Wasn’t expecting me, were ya?”
Rosemary swallows and licks her lips.
“Doris. What are you doing here?”
“Never you mind. Where’s my Marty, you two-bit hussy?" Doris turns her head in different directions. “In the gents, I bet. Sprucing up for your big trip.”
She closes in on Rosemary and flicks the delicate fur collar on Rosemary’s coat. “Spent a pretty penny on ya, didn’t he? That louse never bought me anything this nice.”
Rosemary backs away. “Doris, you don’t understand. It’s not at all what you think.”
“Oh. And what’s that honey. That you and Marty cooked up this whole scheme, so you can run away together.” She steps toward Rosemary, pointing a finger. “I see it so clear now, all those warnings about what Marty was.” She pokes Rosemary in the shoulder. “You just wanted him for yourself.”
“That hood! Not even for a million bucks.” Rosemary pushes past Doris. “I have a plane to catch.”
“You ain’t going nowhere, toots. Not with my Marty, you ain’t.” Doris grabs hold of her arm as heavy footsteps pound the floor.
“Rosemary! Doris!”
Both heads turn. Cal charges up to them and skids to a halt.
“Doris, what are you doing here? I thought you would be in mourning, and preparing for Marty’s funeral?”
Doris pales to alabaster and faints into Rosemary’s arms. “Quick Cal. Help me with her please.”
He rushes to her side and lowers Doris gently to the ground.
Rosemary whispers, “He’s dead…he’s honestly dead?”
Cal turns toward Rosemary and lifts her face, locking his eyes on hers. “You didn’t know? I thought…”
She pulls away from him. “You thought what?”
Cal flushes pink. “I thought perhaps…you may have bumped him off.”
“What?! You’re just as nutty as she is!” Rosemary points at Doris still passed out on the floor.
“Last call for flight 227 to Miami.”
She steps toward the exit. “I have to go. Goodbye Cal.”
“Rosemary, wait!” He sprints passed her and blocks the gate. “I want to know what happened.”
“Please get out of my way, Cal. You already think I’m guilty.”
“I thought it was self defense. I know Marty dragged you off, during the party.”
“Yes he did, and almost… If it wasn’t for—”
“For what? Please tell me.”
Rosemary sighs and looks up into Cal’s deep, brown eyes. “I need to leave town. That’s all I can say.”
He wipes the beads of sweat from his brow. “Nothing more?”
She moves closer to Cal and stands on tip toe, reaching toward him. He hunches over as she kisses him on the cheek and whispers, “I didn’t do it.”
In one swift movement, Rosemary pulls away and exits through the gate, holding her breath.
Farewell Cal. Farewell Chicago.
She exhales and her warm breath mingles with the chilly night air, creating a veil of fine mist. Bright flecks of silver glint in the hazy light. Rosemary quickens her step. As she approaches the beaming aircraft, a weight lifts from her shoulders and she sails up the stairs and into cabin.
The stewardess smiles. “Welcome to Pam American Airlines, flight 227, miss. May I have your ticket please?”
Rosemary fumbles through her purse, clasps the ticket, and hands it to the uninformed woman.
“Follow me, please.” She skirts down the aisle with grace and composure. Her soldier blue cap at a jaunty angle, accenting her blushed cheekbones and rosy-red lips.
Excited conversations echo around Rosemary, as the luxurious surroundings and Chicago’s elite begin to overwhelm her.
What am I doing? I don’t belong here. I should go back to Cal.
“Miss. Are you all right?” The stewardess beckons her, waving a white-gloved hand through the ringlets of smoke, curling in front of her. “You have a lovely window seat. No need to be nervous. We’ll do everything we can to make you comfortable.”
The cabin door slams behind her.
Oh, no. There is no turning back now.
Rosemary unlocks her legs and like a new born colt, advances toward the awaiting stewardess, holding her breath once more. She exhales slowly, clearing away some of the anxiety.
The stewardess smiles as Rosemary brushes passed her. She slips into the seat next to a woman clad in silver mink.
“Good evening,” she says. “Is this your first flight.”
Rosemary nods.
“Relax dear. Before you know it, we will be in Miami.” She pats Rosemary on the arm and her kind eyes sparkle from a ray of bright light, emanating from the runway.
“I will try. Thank you, Madame.”
“Better buckle up, we should be leaving shortly.”
Rosemary reaches for the fine, leather straps and buckles herself around the waist. As she settles into the plush seat, a loud bang comes from the cabin door.
“Open up! This is the police!”
Well, that's it. I hope you all enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think! The last section is what I wrote today, so it may be a bit rough.
Please drop by and read the other entries...I know you'll enjoy them!
Have a WONDERFUL Eventing everyone!
Sorry I am posting so late on this Wednesday, but I have been working on my current WIP... I have't had a chance to work on my Film Noir novella in months. Mainly because I have been working on the rewrites on my second novel. I still have another half to go... As most of you know these take SO MUCH TIME!
This morning I bit the bullet, put my novel away and brought up my novella, which is currently ALL OVER THE PLACE. LOL.
This all started with an entry for the Romantic Friday Writers, hosted by dear friends Denise Covey and Donna Hole. Sadly the RFW no longer exists, BUT, Denise has created a new and exciting monthly blog hop instead featured at the W. E. P. know as Write... Edit... Publish. If you are not familiar with the WEP, do drop by and say hi to Denise and check out the site. It's really a fun way to post monthly and you can post anything creative. Art, photography, quips, quotes, Flash Fiction, whatever... as long as it pertains to the prompt, anything goes!
This is a longer post so please bear with me.
Today I'm featuring another segment of my on going tale of Rosemary. Here's a quick blurb, so you know what's going on...
Rosemary, a young, pretty woman, from the wrong side of the tracks, finds herself caught up in murder. On October 31, 1947, Rosemary is invited to an elegant Halloween party at the elegant Palmer House and this is where our story begins...
But this scene opens on the following day...
The Palace Grill’s marquis barely penetrates the dim, charcoal sky, as the northwest winds sweep the downtown streets with the debris of once colorful autumn leaves.
The bell tinkles at the door and her eyes shift to a dumpy figure hidden under a policeman’s cap. With his head down and eyes averted , he trudges toward her. Leather soles squeak to the beat of Francis Craig crooning Near You. Each step quickens Rosemary’s heartbeat.
* * *
“Fine. I’ll check the airport first.” He turns on his scuffed wing tips and heads out the door.
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *
“Follow me, please.” She skirts down the aisle with grace and composure. Her soldier blue cap at a jaunty angle, accenting her blushed cheekbones and rosy-red lips.
Please drop by and read the other entries...I know you'll enjoy them!
Have a WONDERFUL Eventing everyone!
