November 3, 2013

Demonic Investigator - A Plea for Help (NaNoWriMo update #1)

[Posted by Ted H]

Holy Christ, I've been writing again! It's NaNoWriMo 2013 and you know what that means? It means I'll have updates galore for at least the remainder of this year and probably through the winter if all goes well!

This years novel I'll be aiming for the 50K mark with is titled "Demonic Investigator" which is a spin off title for a short story I wrote way back and never posted (probably never will)

As I wrote the early goings of this novel, a lot of the early investigation requires the reader not know about a certain short story I posted on this site once upon a time...so if you could go ahead and forget that certain story before reading the (eventual) update, that be great...anyway, cheers! I got writing to do...

Current status of my 2013 NaNoWriMo: 3,613 / 50,000 (46,387 words to go!)
Current pace has me writing my 50,000th word on: November 30th

Keep pace with or join me!

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[Demonic Investigator - A Plea for Help]

            James sat in the back corner of the dimly lit cell and watched the officer approach the doors. He recognized the face but paid no mind to him. "James Blake," a heavier officer wearing a uniform said as he waddled over "You're free to go." He grunted as he fished out his keys from his belt, a roll of fat from over his belt holding them down so they never jangled when he walked, James caught himself marveling at the lack of that particular cliché while everything else meshed so perfectly in this bullpen; the lighting, the cell, its contents, the perpetually drunk old black degenerate named Walter on the opposite side of the cell, and the constant and lingering smell of urine and depravity that made this particular cold piece of taxpayer funded joint a cozy home away from home for people like Walter.
            "Blake!" the fat officer shouted "Out!" he unlocked the door and slid it open. James hesitated, but ultimately stood and made for the exit. No doubt there were loan sharks and at least three other unsavory characters waiting somewhere for him when he got out, the thought of spending a little more time with Walter seemed favorable, at least until more  pressing issues presented themselves for everyone who had James on their hit list. The other officer waited patiently as James walked right by and made for the exit, he kept up as he followed but never talked as James eventually made it to the streets. This guy wanted James' attention, but there was a more important task at the moment.
            The officer followed him into a gas station. "Pack of Salem," James said to the clerk behind the counter "And has anyone replaced the filter on that century old coffee machine?" The clerk looked at him with his lips pressed. "I just got here, sir, I..." he said meekly. James sighed. "Just the cigarettes then." The clerk scanned a pack and James grabbed them and made for the door. "This cop here will cover for me," he said as he left.
            While the officer paid, James walked over to the sidewalk outside and searched his pocket for his lighter. By time James finally lit and took his first drag, the officer was right behind him again. James let off a long string of smoke before finally turning to face him. No use putting off the inevitable anymore.
            "What do you want, John?" he asked.
            "Got a minute?"
            "Maybe. Make it fast, I've got a busy day of smoking, drinking and sitting in jail ahead of me."
            "I need your help."
            "Monday Night Football? I forgot who the Giants are playing, but that team'll crush."
            "I don't even...no. I just need you to listen."
            "Fair enough."
            James had barely talked to, much less seen John since they were in college together. Even back then their encounters were rare. Last James checked, John had graduated and enrolled as a police officer or something. Apparently he made detective. James had gone down a less noble path in life, but apparently John didn't seem to mind.
            "Last night a man was murdered in a back alley in Chicago," John began "A week prior a woman was murdered in the same fashion." He paused briefly before continuing "We believe it's become a serial murder situation. The lead detective has nothing to go on unless someone else gets killed and we need to catch this guy."
            "Are you asking for my help?" James asked.
            John paused again before nodding. "Yes, I am."
            "That's...no, I'm no cop."
            "I'm asking as a personal favor. I know you've done this before."
            "This is completely different than what I pulled in college and you know it."
            "I know for a fact that no one is gonna catch this guy before he kills a dozen more people, James. You though? You're the smartest guy I've ever known!"
            "I don't catch criminals. That's not my job."
            "Dammit James, this fucker killed my sister!"
            James stayed silent as he looked back at John.
            "They won't let me take point on this because it's personal," John continued "They told me to take some time off but I just can't. We've got no lead on this guy and he just killed again. Their solution will be to throw more people at the case but it won't make any use. I don't know what else to do. Either this guy will keep killing, or by time we finally track him down he'll have found a way to disappear, and I can't have that."
            Before John had been carrying that typical cop demeanor but now he was visibly broken. His breathing was becoming more labored and tears were forming in the corners of his eyes. James knew of a few people who could pull off a fake mood shift like that, but John was never that good. This was genuine. Someone killed his sister and he was willing to do everything in his power to make it right. This wasn't a professional request, this was John asking the only person he could think of for help.
            James took a long drag from his cigarette and blew straight into the air. There was no doubt in his mind over what to do. Besides, he could use a vacation to Chicago, even if it did involve looking for a serial killer. "Fine, I'll do it."
            "Seriously? Thank you."
            "Just don't cry or anything," James said as he continued smoking. "But this ain't free."
            "Name it," John said without any hesitation.
            "I got some debts..."
            "Paid," John said once again with zero hesitation.
            "...On the job expenses?"
            "On me."
            James began to wonder how much John would be willing to offer, but there was only one other thing James would want. "A date with your other sister," he said with a smile, hoping John didn't need any clarification as to which of his two sisters was implied.
            "Just catch the fucker," John said.
            "Well than," James said as he flicked his spent cigarette butt away "Let's get to Chicago."

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