Sunday, August 23, 2009

Zack Martinez Case 10

Zack Martinez knew it was going to be bad the minute he pulled up to the little stucco house.

Neat lawn: check; trees: check; carefully pruned roses: check.

He'd seen places like this before. Hell, he'd grown up in one. He could still hear his parents arguing over what pan to use for the rice.

He looked around the living room. Overstuffed couches, soft beige carpeting, massive bloodstain from the crushed skull of the man. He didn't need to look closely at the overturned table and scattered wooden pieces to get a pretty good idea of what had happened.

He could see their old house, his brother Vic hoarding the money because he ran the bank, duking it out with Vic and Charlie over who got to have the little pewter car. Mom chainsmoking while keeping little Lucy from flinging the cards everywhere. And Dad, shouting that if he said the gaddamned top hat was a hotel, then the goddamned top hat was a hotel.

Inhaling deeply, trying to chase the memories of his childhood away, Zack knew two things, who murdered the father and that if he hurried he could pick up some take out from Wan Ho Red Dragon, for his wife and maybe, just maybe, get lucky that night. He said with a slight drawl, “Pick up the family member that had the dog. He’s the murderer. Lean on him a bit and he’ll spill his guts.”

“How do you know?” the still-wet-behind-the-ears officer asked.

“Everyone wants the damn pewter dog. It’s the only piece in the game worth fighting over except for Boardwalk and that other blue property. What's it called? Nevermind, I don't care. The game just got started, so it had to be about the dog. The collar probably still has it clutched in his hand.”

Opening: Khazar-khum.....Continuation: Vivian Whetman


Evil Editor said...

Unchosen continuation:

It was the tiny tin dog laying at his feet that broke him from his reverie. Scrabble pieces and tin dogs didn't go together, this carnage and the Monopoly Murderer did.

He knew there were three pieces left; the flatiron, thimble, and the shoe. Since the deceased Mr. Kibbling was a high priced groomer with a shop in Manhattan, he had an idea of the kind of victim the killer might take down next. Hell, the only way to put a hold on the mayhem would be to shut down most of Soho. No, there were other clues, other ways to find this gruesome game board bandit.

Mrs. Kibbling was known to run the rounds of some rather high priced cocktail venues. She had plenty of motive to get rid of her dog-boarding baggage. It was a well known fact that she was on the outs with victim number two, a haughty socialite with a Scottie that wasn't the only thing fluffed and manhandled by Kibbling's philandering husband.

The only problem was, she had a rock hard alibi—her rich pal's gardener. Maybe he and his wheelbarrow were next.

--Aimee States

Evil Editor said...

Unchosen continuation:

These were, THE ARISTOCRATS, the one, the only, the original family that started the joke so many years ago. They were the legendary work of words, entertaining in the most vulgar of ways with their unicycles, golf clubs, diapers, hatchets, knives, flaming braziers and acrobatics. Comedians everywhere owed their lives to this family. He gazed at them arguing, bickering. Stared at the urns of ashes creating a shrine of loved ones on the mantle. Here they were, the royalty, the kings and queens, the dukes and duchesses, the second bananas responsible for all court jesters, working out new material for the masses to laugh. The family projects always ended the same way... Uncle Guido's latest joke won the day. He lay ceremonially dead as a doornail on the living room carpet.

--Dave F.

Dave F. said...

I'm guessing that you guys never scream and yell during Monopoly Games? I mean, what's a good Monopoly Game without neighbors banging on the walls or calling the police?

William Highsmith said...

Yeah, Dave, we had monopoly money up our sleeves from another monopoly set.

Khazar-khum said...

Zack would have you all rounded up as the suspects.

The man was killed in a game of Scrabble, NOT Monopoly.