JAOctGoHoNo 2012
Sep. 10th, 2012 10:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_shrubberyWorking title: Hello, My Lovely.
She had the figure of a goddess, and I consider myself something of an expert on that matter. Men would flock to her like sheep and she knew it well. Her trench-coat was black and clung to her body in all the right places. and the scarf she had flung around her hair was silken and had obviously been expensive. The dark glass of her spectacles further accentuated the bloody red of her lips. Her hands were expertly manicured, or so I guessed, because like any woman who consults a private detective, she wore gloves. In this case, she was not just consulting any private detective, she was consulting the best. Me.
‘You are Sam Brandon?’ she said.
I was, at least for the moment. As someone else once put it, that which we call a rose, by any other name would smell just as sweet.
‘Sit down,’ I said.
She opened the belt of her trench-coat just enough to allow her to sit down, revealing that the frock below was just as black as her coat.
‘Let me guess,’ I said as she had sat down. ‘You are here because of your husband.’
‘I am not married,’ she said with more steel in the voice than I had expected.
‘Your fiancé then?’ I asked. ‘Or a lady friend?’
She gave a little gasp, which told me she was not as worldly as she would have me believe.
‘Trust me, there is little I have not yet seen,’ I said. ‘And I seldom judge people.’
‘It – it is nothing like that,’ she said. ‘Mr Brandon, I need your help.’
Of course she did. They all did.
‘I have received a letter,’ she said.
So she was being blackmailed for some indiscretion or other, and thought the world would end. It would not; it never did. But she was far too young to understand that.
‘A letter?’ I said, trying to sound genial.
‘A letter,’ she sighed. ‘From beyond the grave.’
She finally took off the sunglasses and now it was my turn to gasp. She was not Julia’s exact image, but she came pretty close. The slant of her eyes was the same, as was their rich brown colour. She had the long eyelashes alright, and the aquiline nose. Her eyebrows were perhaps not quite as perfect as Julia’s, but then Julia had had the advantage of the best beauticians of her time. The high forehead was definitely Julia’s, though, and so, now that I looked properly, was the wide mouth, which Julia had always hated. She pushed back the scarf and I could see that the hair was even the same colour, that dark auburn I had always admired. This was definitely a nice touch, I had to admit.
She had the figure of a goddess, and I consider myself something of an expert on that matter. Men would flock to her like sheep and she knew it well. Her trench-coat was black and clung to her body in all the right places. and the scarf she had flung around her hair was silken and had obviously been expensive. The dark glass of her spectacles further accentuated the bloody red of her lips. Her hands were expertly manicured, or so I guessed, because like any woman who consults a private detective, she wore gloves. In this case, she was not just consulting any private detective, she was consulting the best. Me.
‘You are Sam Brandon?’ she said.
I was, at least for the moment. As someone else once put it, that which we call a rose, by any other name would smell just as sweet.
‘Sit down,’ I said.
She opened the belt of her trench-coat just enough to allow her to sit down, revealing that the frock below was just as black as her coat.
‘Let me guess,’ I said as she had sat down. ‘You are here because of your husband.’
‘I am not married,’ she said with more steel in the voice than I had expected.
‘Your fiancé then?’ I asked. ‘Or a lady friend?’
She gave a little gasp, which told me she was not as worldly as she would have me believe.
‘Trust me, there is little I have not yet seen,’ I said. ‘And I seldom judge people.’
‘It – it is nothing like that,’ she said. ‘Mr Brandon, I need your help.’
Of course she did. They all did.
‘I have received a letter,’ she said.
So she was being blackmailed for some indiscretion or other, and thought the world would end. It would not; it never did. But she was far too young to understand that.
‘A letter?’ I said, trying to sound genial.
‘A letter,’ she sighed. ‘From beyond the grave.’
She finally took off the sunglasses and now it was my turn to gasp. She was not Julia’s exact image, but she came pretty close. The slant of her eyes was the same, as was their rich brown colour. She had the long eyelashes alright, and the aquiline nose. Her eyebrows were perhaps not quite as perfect as Julia’s, but then Julia had had the advantage of the best beauticians of her time. The high forehead was definitely Julia’s, though, and so, now that I looked properly, was the wide mouth, which Julia had always hated. She pushed back the scarf and I could see that the hair was even the same colour, that dark auburn I had always admired. This was definitely a nice touch, I had to admit.
