Jack's Mess (Prt2-Murder In Blue) (standard:action, 13408 words) [2/2] show all parts
Author: Reid Laurence	Added: Dec 12 2005	Views/Reads: 3115/2950	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A psychotic murderer, Jack Carter earns his place among serial killers of his day amidst an era of machine-gun-wielding gangsters, crooked cops and beautiful women. He learns to kill indiscriminately, leaving behind a trail of blood and a stack of bodie

Jack looked at his watch. It was two thirty in the afternoon. “What time
did he say he'd be here?” “I told you, Jack, two twenty.” “Well, he's 
late. I'll wait another ten minutes, then I'm leavin'. I still haven't 
eaten lunch.” “Hold on,” replied Detective Gray. “I think I see him. 
Yeah that's him, look at the third elevator from the left. Remember his 
photo?” “Yeah, I remember. Keep your eye on him. You can bet he's 
packin'. They all do.” Detectives Jack Carter and Jim Gray watched as 
the informant they were supposed to meet that day walked toward them 
and started his way down a long flight of steps to where they were 
standing. As the man came closer, the detectives could tell that he was 
very slight of stature at about five-foot seven inches tall. Judging 
from the reputation this gangster had, Jack expected someone much 
bigger than the person walking toward them. Can't judge a book by its 
cover, I guess, thought Jack, as he focused more now on the man's face. 
The closer Louie Ancona got, the more prevalent a large knife scar 
became. It was once a very deep wound on the left side of his face, 
that ran from underneath his eye down under his chin. A wide fissure of 
scar tissue that the awful cut left behind told its terrible story, as 
the gash tried in vain to close and heal, but the bearer of this wound 
seemed to wear it proudly. “I wonder what the other guy looked like?” 
whispered Jack to his partner. “He's dead,” came a faint reply. 
Suddenly, the gangster stopped his descent down the long staircase. He 
seemed to smile as he made eye contact with Jack, and began slowly to 
reach into the inside pocket of his black suit coat. Without notice, or 
hesitation, Jack threw his coat back to reveal the forty five caliber 
automatic he kept with him at all times. Pulling it quickly from its 
holster, and aiming directly at their informant's head, he pulled the 
trigger twice. The shots were deafening as they rang out in the huge 
enclosed lobby of the courthouse. Blam, Blam they seemed to say, as the 
terrible echo which followed filled their ears with shock and pain. The 
two projectiles found their mark, one in the middle of the forehead and 
one square in the chest, and as the gangster lay dead and bleeding, 
Jack and his partner strode up the flight of steps to meet the body 
where it'd fallen. “You sure don't like to miss, do ya,” said a 
bewildered Jim. Kneeling down, he put his hand under the man's head to 
find out if there might still be a breath of life left in the body. 
“He's dead,” said Jim. “He ain't breathin' worth a damn.” “It's just as 
well,” replied Jack. “He was goin' for his gun, wasn't he?” “Don't 
think so. Look here. This is what he was pullin' out,” said Jim, as he 
removed a small box wrapped like a present from the gangster's inside 
pocket. “Looks like one a the shots went right through it. What do ya 
want me ta do with it?” “Open it up,” said Jack, insensitive to the 
entire scene as usual. “The anticipation's killing me.” As detective 
Gray pulled on the curled gold ribbon to untie its knot and tore away 
the red wrapping paper, he reached down into the small box to reveal a 
man's ring. “Look here,” said Jim. “He musta spent some money on this.” 
The white gold setting of the ring once held a beautiful blue sapphire 
in place. So shiny was it that the two detectives could almost see 
their faces in it, but now it was a shattered mess. The second shot 
Jack had fired tore into the stone and destroyed it. Like the broken 
fragments of a mirror, it reflected only garish, distorted images and 
as Jack stared into it, even he felt almost bad that he'd destroyed 
such a beautiful stone. “Too bad,” Jack remarked. “Give me a second to 
look at that thing, would ya?” As Jack spoke, a small crowd of 
onlookers arrived at the scene one by one to stare at the fallen 
gangster. “Hey, there's an inscription on the inside,” said Jack. “Read 
it, what's it say?” “It says, To my new friend, Jack, from Louie 
Ancona.” “It was a kind of peace offering, wasn't it,” said Jim. “He 
must'a wanted to make a good impression.” “Guess so. Hey, look here,” 
Jack said, as he pointed to the top of the stairs at the elevators. 
“Don't we know him?” A tall, fierce looking man had emerged from one of 
the elevators and stood looking around himself, eyes darting back and 
forth, and finally, at the crowd that had gathered around the 
detectives. His eyes locked with Jack's momentarily in what seemed to 
be a kind of struggle for power and dominance, and in the seconds that 
followed, Jack realized the familiar looking man's intentions. “Watch 
out!” screamed Jack, as the angry onlooker threw his overcoat open to 
reveal a deadly Thompson sub-machine gun. Neither of the two detectives 
had time to get a single shot off as the tall malevolent man began to 
spray the entire scene with 45 caliber rounds. None of the crowd that 
had gathered around Louie Ancona's body had time to take cover, as 
scores of bullets found their mark in the bodies of the innocent. All 
Jack had time to do was grab Detective Gray by the coat and hide behind 
a wall at the bottom of the staircase. The two of them watched in awe 
as the fifteen to twenty people who were only moments before standing 


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