siskin – part 3

by underswansea

It was all up hill. Bruce Street was deserted. It was early. The tourists were at bay. I was tripping on the loose boards. Snow and mud on the street. it looked like more was coming judging from the clouds.

Svendsens’ was near the edge of town, across from Fisher’s. I was getting out of shape. Or maybe just old.

It wouldn’t be long and there’d be no use for the the Private Detective. Everyone would confess on Facebook and the authorities would knock on their doors. That’s what he whole racket was coming to. The mystery was gone.

The deception was being done in by everyones willingness to confide.

A liquor store presented itself. I stepped in and found the purple bag right off. Grabbed a pint and laid down a five.

The boardwalk turned to cement. Svendsens’ magazine shop! I pulled the bottle and unleashed the cork. It was smooth and hot down my neck. I pushed the door. What seemed like bells in a hurricane announced my arrival.

Once I stepped in. It was strangely quiet and well lit.

 

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