TypedCast

Mendacity was lying still as Web investigates in this attempt at neo-noir welcoming the black/white storm

Mendacity was lying still. Lit by the stuttering strobes, I was able to see it's form laying prone on the dance floor at the door. Feigning life under the jumping flash.

“The First Form” was the type of traditional tavern that served it's own, select group of characters. Figures in speech, rustled to the side hidden by shadow, more dark than light provided here by the owner. Stuck to the corners, drink by drink spent in ebbing dialogue. Nobody had reacted to Mendacity's death since it was reported an hour before, not wanting suspicion befalling them, so simply getting on with revolving rounds, boasting and mocking their fellows. The impressive display of enjoyment, many involved in very loud and private looking conversations, fell dead around the scene of the crime, even the surrounding sound kept out.

In the bubble, my lieutenant ambled up, always eager to please with a notebook at the ready, he really pissed me off sometimes, wandering about like a puppy when I don't give him instruction , always offering to get me something so long as he writes it down to remember. Must take away his notebook at some point to see what happens I thought, memory is that easy. Forgetting about the puppy, his sapphire stare giant and expectant.

“So lieutenant, what have you found out so far” I asked, realising I had completely forgotten this kids name.

“Well sir, nobody saw anything as usual. Though we can probably find someone who somehow

tripped up to see what might have been something similar to this case” He replied beaming,

“Good job Lieutenant, you go find us a witness and could you ask the owner to shut off the strobes, need to scan the scene before the Dead Letter boys show up. Always stealing shiny clues, those f*****g magpies” Setting him off, happy with instruction. Never failing in his tasks, he does get the job done.

Strolling over to the dance floor, splashed vivid neon green and electric yellow reflecting the lightning flash of strobe to paint my vision, stained by infected sunlight. Horrified people had to actually dance on this trap. When the strobe shut down, sight returned instantly, such relief flooded my system I felt better for having going through the sickening experience. While understanding the reasoning behind such an awful installation, getting back to the investigation. Flowing with music, Shakespearian sonnets remixed, pumping heavy bass in a starcrossed breakdown.

Finding Mendacity in the twisted scene, while the darkened crowd gathered gasping, it had to have been a blunt force bending on impact. Broken in the middle, creased slightly on the crazed design of the floor. Peaceful, it's crooked face devoid of any spark it once radiated. Left an empty crumpled shell of the truth. Its' black suit was still without blemish, the only thing he didn't cheat. Mendacity had picked up his own share of enemy's, managing to sell them on the market getting out early before they went ruptured. But it would always be damned by the inevitable deception that it would eventually pull. This was going to be an infinite whodunnit, I thought, looking up to my lieutenant, occupied trying to get a plausible statement from the sordid lot who frequented the place.

Everyone knew that the scourges of fiction all hustled in this bar, simply looking carefully over reveals some familiar villains: Spring heeled Jack sat by the thief of time both trying to pickpocket the other while Bluebeard bellowed drunkenly for a wife to behead, Clegg drank with Lector swapping stories and giggling. Mr Hyde howled alone nobody wanting to touch that deranged mind, watching from the corner Raoul Duke with his Samoan attorney silently twisted supping Singapore slings with mescal on the side and hulking behind the bar, a character only speculated on,

stooped at seven foot the muscle clad epitome of man otherwise known as The Sixth Husband . His gap-toothed wife hovered, always keeping him between me and her, face blushed with the colour of her stockings; she seemed distressed. Checking quickly on Mendacity's remains just in case some fictional had snatched it.

Taking a stool. The hulk served.

“I'm parched, can you mix a Higgins? I asked

“of course officer, is there anything else you need to ask me? A mountain rumbling in reply .

“well first off don't call me officer makes me sound uptight, as if the conversation assumes the officer is superior, the names Web and as the bartender could you shine any light on what happened, did you see anything suspicious” I drawled, noticing the faintest tic click its way across his face.

“Well its .. its hard t'say the place isn't well lit but I would have probably been here where I am now , I don't move much you see and all I've seen of note is peter crumb o'ked at the bar mumbling obscenities to himself. My dear wife served with mendacity though their old friends, well were” he explained. It was enough. To warrant a chat with his dear wife of bath anyway, as I could see my lieutenant was getting nowhere, laughing hysterically with Duke and Dr. Gonzo.

Leaving my addled assistant to it, I smiled at the nervous poppy flitting behind her husband having disappeared during our chat, stopping with a strained smile wringing her hands she greeted me warmly, the past middle-English had been lost replaced by modern slang all text-talk and expletives

“So ya wanna know sumthing then? Slurred The Wife, seeming to have left her wits with Chaucer.

“Your very perceptive my dear lady, I was wondering if you knew Anything, anything at all about Mendacity's murder? I enquired with respect.

Her agitated eyes jolted on hearing MURDER, swinging around her sockets.

“Naw look 'ere my love, I got nothing to do wit Mendacity. E' chats more bullshit than my c**t of a fifth husband and he used to 'ave a catalogue of women's wrongdoings against religion and there is

a lot . I talked with Mendacity sure, e' ordered 'is drink then tha c**t started to play the big man. Telling me bout boats 'nd s**t 'e owned and how 'e was gonna take me rawnd the world. So I told 'im to f**k off and die 'nd 'e did. That's all I got to tell, so why don't you go find his killer and shake their hand for me” The wife warbled by estate overtones, still hiding the fact that her husband went to the cellar after was causing her twitch

My Higgins finally arrives, justified by its recipe of epic proportions: One shot of Jagermeister, One shot of Morgan' s spiced, One of Jack Daniels, One of cherry sourz, One of Southern comfort, equal measures of Viru, Lucky Beer, biere speciale, Green Dragon Absinthe (A Half), A teaspoon of holy water/water from the river Bann, A single drop of your Ex's blood and top off with an umbrella. It always mystified me when the drink arrived on how they fit it perfectly into a half pint. The wife watched in anticipation as I took the first … Zap … POW.... Zooom

Lost in lashing lightning, fast, too fast, spinning into space, Venus and Mars collide,

f*****g, epiphany, milky way spread out , a lucky horseshoe the wrong way round , solar fortune falls spiralling away, swallowed, void gulped , dark matter in the odds , universal casino, celestial craps, snake eyes black holes, comets spin in rocky roulette , trailing fire and ice, cooling,

cooling , cold , gone...

… And I was back on the stool , sweat stiffened foam solid. Desiccated brown bar strewn by axe bites and embedded bullets. The Higgins stared at me, asking for a second trip. But the key to the drink is a sip every hour, spaces out the Vacations from reality and just one sup brings inebriation. The divine intoxication. Lost for ten minutes or so, The Wife probably staring in curiosity, jumped a little when I came back. Fervour and fright framed, falling from my eyes, back in focus she decided to question me on the experience.

“Wot waz dat? She asked, peering into the Higgins shifting it's state and colour according to whim.

“Hic … that was a Higgins a very very special beverage brewed exclusive God-Kings and Genius! My explanation not really covering what exactly it is. But im sure getting across the theory of mind expansion would have gone straight over her Scarlet Clad Head!

Back to the point; give me three coca colas.

Turning to the wife, swaying in my seat, I decided for a different tact in questioning.

“So, when did you sleep with Mendacity? Was he good? Or is that all hearsay too”

sentences stumbling unchecked now, the anger shock horror meshing, Anocor vivid, she reacted.

“wot da f**k? Why da f**k did you say that shithead? You think me and Mendacity got together,

stop chatting s**t you f**k. It neva happen'd alrite, what eva he told you, it neva happened” She frantically spat, confessing it all with that reaction. Staggering up, ready with one final question: “Then why did you kill him?” Sober sentence rolled out.

And in a paroxysm of confession, she spilt

“you don't know, you just don't know what it's like to be the Wife of Bath. I'm never satisfied by anyone because of my f*****g description, no choice in development just, I did this , I did that , I fucked over the guy, married that one. I'm a type cast quent. And mendacity understood being given a shaded image; told on creation that he had to lie and steal for …. no f*****g reason at all! And there is no reason, not for our fling, not for his lie over loving me and not for my passion spurred break. We were arguing on the dance floor, when he admitted his devotion was a farce, so sorry bout that cya later, next thing, I saw red and struck out at the heart that had broken mine, I wanted to hurt him but his death was an accident. I just lashed out. You can't understand that can you, Can You! She screamed at last.

“I don't buy it, it doesn't fit at all. This is all a cover for someone” I accused her to test my theory.

When looming undetected, the sixth husband spoke upright.

“You are right officer, she was covering for my doing. I broke that worm out of honour and accept any punishment” His voice rolling as thunder.

Considering it for a moment, Mendacity was a cheating liar after all. And leaving it to a shrug I took my stool. It seemed my nameless lieutenant had disappeared. So going for my second ... SNAP …. Flash...

CUT.

Author's Note

Point out the errors of grammar please, and let me know if the ending works too.

Reviews

[mark slade]

i thought the story was really good. the ending especially worked out nice.

[Raven Starhawk]

I suck at pointing out grammar mistakes unless they are painfully obvious. Usually if the story is well enough composed I do not notice such a thing. I like this little bit you have pulled together. It works so well.