Catharsis of the Bogue

Well folks it is here, fiction Saturday and actually the Finale of Jackson Malone.  I just didn’t want to fill it with a bunch of useless fluff to go another week.  There is more news at the bottom of the post.  Have a good read.

If you haven’t read part 1 yet,

Or even Part 2,

Or even Part 3,

Let alone Part 4,

Or even Part 5,  the following will make next to no sense.  Now that you are caught up, On with the Show!

When We Left Our Story Last Time:

“Sergeant Stebbins.” A tired voice answered when the line connected.  “What can I do for you?”  “Hi Art.  It’s Jack.  How are you?” I replied, relieved that a friend had answered.  “Hey Jack.” He replied.  “Everybody is looking for you.  They heard you were out by that warehouse where that guy got shot yesterday.  That have something to do with you?”  “Sort of.” I said.

“I

Continue reading Fiction Saturday 2! Jackson Malone Finale! Part 6

If you haven’t read part 1 yet,

Or even Part 2,

Or even Part 3,

Let alone Part 4,  the following will make next to no sense.  Now that you are caught up, On with the Show!

When we left our Story last time:

Nelson Moran was still dead.

The next day came too quickly.  I was back in my office when I called one of my old friends in the police department.  It seemed that the insurance people had finished with that they needed and the crime scene cleaners were there now.  The police presence was finished.  The house was back on the market.   The competition should be underway tonight.  I was going down there to find out the truth.  Or die trying.

And now for today’s installment of “Jackson Malone”

I arrived at the warehouse on 1st and 32nd just after dark, dressed as a homeless person.  There were several homeless

Continue reading Fiction Saturday 2! Jackson Malone part 5

If you haven’t read part 1 yet,

Or even Part 2,

Or even Part 3,  this will make next to no sense.

When we left our Story last time:

I turned left and entered a small living room that was dominated by a huge bay window.  This window took up most of the north wall.  I walked over to the window and looked out.  This was a perfect view of the warehouse across the street.  An arsonist may have liked this view as his handiwork burned.  But I was not on that case.  This room had been lived in, the carpet worn thin in several spots, but it was relatively clean.  Not exactly brimming over with clues.

And now for Part 4:

I walked towards a doorway in the east wall to find a small kitchen that smelled of rancid bacon.  This room had a small table with 2 chairs and the portable TV that the officer

Continue reading Fiction Saturday 2! Jackson Malone Part 4

If you haven’t read part 1 yet,

Or even Part 2, this will make next to no sense.

When we left our Story last time:

… I would have thought him asleep if not for the pool of blood he was lying in.  I turned him over and saw the ragged holes in his chest.  Placed just the way they had taught us to shoot at the Academy.  I vaguely remembered someone rushing me with a knife.  Had I shot him?  I may have.

I smelled my fingers.  Cordite.  The smell of burnt gunpowder was in the air. I had recently fired my gun that was now missing.  I looked down at my clothes.  My uniform was unrecognizable.  It was torn to shreds and all emblems had been ripped off.  No one could ever know me as a cop.

And we join the story, already in progress…

I could hear sirens wailing in

Continue reading Fiction Saturday 2! Jackson Malone part 3

If you haven’t read part 1 yet, this will make next to no sense.

When we left our story last time:

As I got to the entrance to the alleyway and ducked the yellow crime scene tape, the scents of feces and urine joined the smoke.  Rotting garbage made its appearance, further assaulting my nose as I entered.  The sun was high over head, if filtered by high clouds, and it was easy to see the stained concrete and the graffiti on the walls; as well as the door to the warehouse, jimmied open.  It was on my right about thirty yards ahead of me.

And now to today’s installment:

I started towards the door,  hearing only the sounds of traffic and my shoe leather scraping on the worn concrete.  As I passed the dumpster something stirred loudly.  I instinctively spun, my .38 finding its way into my hand

Continue reading Fiction Saturday 2! Jackson Malone part 2