Warning: This post may contain mature content.
The rain came down in sheets over the city of Chicago. Jack sat leaned back in his desk chair. He could hear his secretary, Jenn moving around outside the office door. She poked her blonde head inside.
“Mr. O’Callahan? I’m going to be heading home soon,” she stated.
“Alright, see you tomorrow,” nodded Jack. She withdrew her head and closed the door. He heard her gathering her things, opening the door and leaving. He stood and walked to the window that looked out across the city. It had been a month since that call from the mysterious person. The voice was still trapped in his ears. Who was she? How did she know that I was investigating the death of Mr. Grove? He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He tucked it between his lips and flicked open his lighter. He puffed on the cigarette thoughtfully. There was a knock at the door.
“Come in!” called Jack. He turned around expecting to see Jenn. But instead of his blonde secretary he saw a middle-aged man with slicked back salt and pepper hair. He had a square jaw, a hooked nose, and thin lips. He was wearing a fine, tailored suit and in his right hand was a black leather briefcase “Umm, Hello. Can I help you?”
“Yes, you are Jack O’Callahan, the detective right?” said the man.
“I’m Jack O’Callahan, Private Investigator, and who might you be?” questioned the detective.
“I’m Dixon Malone. I’m on the city council,” explained the man. Jack blinked, taken aback for a moment.
“So, Mister Malone, what can I do for you?” asked Jack. The man shifted back and forth nervously. Jack held out a cigarette. The man looked at it for a moment and took it in trembling fingers.
“Thanks.” He placed it between his lips. Jack flicked open his lighter and held it out for the man. The man puffed on it and coughed as he inhaled. Jack smiled.
“Please have a seat Mister Malone,” said Jack motioning to the chair in front of his desk. The man sat in the chair sputtering. Jack moved to sit in his chair. He looked at the man.
“So, what can I do for you?” he asked. Mr. Malone looked down at his shoes.
“I n-need you to find someone,” he muttered.
“Is someone missing?” questioned Jack.
“N-no,” stammered Mr. Malone.
“Then why are you looking for someone?”
“I’m being blackmailed,” revealed the man. Jack leaned forward.
“Let me guess. You want me to find out who is doing the blackmail.”
“Yes,” relented Mr Malone. Jack leaned back in his chair.
“How are you being blackmailed? Pictures? Information?”
“Uhh… p-pictures,” murmured the man. He fidgeted in his seat.
“What kind of pictures?” questioned Jack. The man lifted the briefcase and flipped open the latches, he paused.
“Mr. O’Callahan, Before I show you these, You have to swear that this information will not see the light of day.” Jack raised his eyebrows, intrigued.
“Alderman Malone, Even though it is in my job description it states that I uncover information, I swear on my license that what ever you have in that briefcase it will not leave this office,” assured the detective. His words seemed to calm the alderman. Mr. Malone reached into the briefcase and pulled out a small chrome flash drive. He set it on the desk. Jack picked it up and looked at it.
“The pictures are on here?” he asked. The man simply nodded. Jack took a drag on his cigarette. “Do you have any idea who might be blackmailing you?”
“No.”
“When did this first start?” The man took a drag off of his cigarette. He choked on the smoke. Jack cracked a slim smile.
“Sorry,” he choked, “I’m not used to the real thing.”
“They aren’t for everyone,” said Jack, “So when did these letters start arriving?”
“About a year back.”
“What where the demands? Did they ask for money?” asked the detective.
“Uh, no.” Jack looked at the alderman, brow furrowed.
“Then what did they demand?”
“As long as I followed their instructions and pushed for whatever they told me to, those pictures would not be leaked.”
“Do you have any of the letters?” asked Jack. The alderman nodded, reached into the briefcase and handed Jack an envelope. The paper was smooth in his hands. Ah, people just don’t send letters anymore, thought the detective. He slipped his finger inside and opened the flap. He pulled out the enclosed paper and unfolded it. It was typed in a font reminiscent of a 20th Century Typewriter.
Dear Alderman Malone,
I have another request for you to follow. You will be receiving a trade proposal from DG International within the next couple of days. I expect you to sign off on it without question. Should you fail to comply I assure you that the information that we hold will be spread all across InfoNet. Then your wife will leave you; your children will look at you like a freak. But above all else, everything you have worked so hard to gain in your life will lost.
Sincerely,
H.W.
As Jack read the letter, he heard the icy voice from the mysterious phone call. He looked at the close, and the letters that took the place, “H.W.” Could this be the same person, he thought. He set the letter down on the table.
“It is an interesting story you have hear Mr. Malone,” said Jack.
“Will you take my case?” asked the man.
“Yeah, I’ll take it, But it’s going to cost you,” stated Jack.
“Would ten-thousand be enough?” asked Mr. Malone. It was Jack turn to cough on the smoke.
“That would be more than enough,” sputtered Jack. Mr. Malone pulled a check book out of the briefcase, scratched down the amount and handed it to Jack. The man stamped out his cigarette in the ashtray before standing. Jack stood with him.
“Thank you so much. I cannot express my thanks,” said the alderman.
“Yeah no problem. If you get anymore of those letters, give me a call.” Jack pulled a piece of scrap paper from his desk and scratched down his CommNet address. The man took it.
“I’ll be sure too,” said the man. He nodded and left. Jack sat back down in his chair. He picked up the letter. He could not shake the feeling that the initials “H.W.,” were some how linked to that mysterious phone call. Time began to fly as his thoughts began to surround him.
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So, Due to life getting in the way, I might have to miss a few weeks for this story arc. I will try to post each new issue every Wednesday. I apologize in advance
Check back in next week for the next issue of The Jack O'Callahan Mysteries!
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Picture Source: https://c1.staticflickr.com/9/8506/8392325540_7e958cd9c2_z.jpg
A great horror writer [H.P. Lovecraft] once said, "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." I agree.
