Dead men Don't Phone Home
My name is Graver – Jim Graver. I am a detective. I live in a black and white world while most people sit in the gray.
I was sitting at my desk late one rainy evening when the phone rang. I picked up its heavy receiver, just the right size for knocking a menacing threat out, and answered, “Graver here.”
The someone on the other end didn’t say a word. He just breathed heavily into the phone, like he had just run a marathon. Of course, I realized that it was only my assumption that it was a “he,” and in my line of business, assumptions can be dangerous. It could have just as easily been a “she.”
I crushed out my cigarette. Yeah, I know the things can kill me, but I never really expected to live that long anyway. Maybe, I should give them up.
“Hello,” I said. The line went dead. The person at the other end had hung up.
The rain tapped against the window lending a strange, syncopated rhythm to the night. I had hoped to be in the office long enough to let the storm pass, but that didn’t look like it was going to happen. I got up from my desk, took my overcoat from the coat hanger near the door and put it on.
I locked my door and went down the stairs. Opening the door to the outside, I knew that this evening’s storm would be a gully swamper. I turned up my collar against the wind and rain and walked down the wet concrete of the sidewalk. It looked like it was going to be another night of The Shadow on the radio and a drink in my hand.
But you now the old saying, “Looks can be deceiving.” I was about to find out what that really meant because my next case was about to find me at the phone booth on the corner.
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I was sitting at my desk late one rainy evening when the phone rang. I picked up its heavy receiver, just the right size for knocking a menacing threat out, and answered, “Graver here.”
The someone on the other end didn’t say a word. He just breathed heavily into the phone, like he had just run a marathon. Of course, I realized that it was only my assumption that it was a “he,” and in my line of business, assumptions can be dangerous. It could have just as easily been a “she.”
I crushed out my cigarette. Yeah, I know the things can kill me, but I never really expected to live that long anyway. Maybe, I should give them up.
“Hello,” I said. The line went dead. The person at the other end had hung up.
The rain tapped against the window lending a strange, syncopated rhythm to the night. I had hoped to be in the office long enough to let the storm pass, but that didn’t look like it was going to happen. I got up from my desk, took my overcoat from the coat hanger near the door and put it on.
I locked my door and went down the stairs. Opening the door to the outside, I knew that this evening’s storm would be a gully swamper. I turned up my collar against the wind and rain and walked down the wet concrete of the sidewalk. It looked like it was going to be another night of The Shadow on the radio and a drink in my hand.
But you now the old saying, “Looks can be deceiving.” I was about to find out what that really meant because my next case was about to find me at the phone booth on the corner.
Want to read more or write the next section? Check out this page on how to do it.
