Hey guys,
Here’s the next installment in the “One Swift Blow” series, following a new character.
Malcolm Woods. A mysterious, scarred man who commands the respect of many.
As always I love to hear any thoughts you may have on the piece.
Cheers,
Jevan Thompson
Market quarter was the busiest place in Trinity Island.
Anyone who had anything to buy or sell could be found in the thick twisting streets that made up the quarter. It was originally a housing estate, full of apartment buildings for about half a mile square. More and more people moved over to the area and those people happened to be traders who were new to town. Most of the Immigrants of Trinity Island lived in this half a mile square patch of brickwork and people.
Walkways hung from roof to roof, from floor to floor. The inhabitants of Market street had built their own system of roads and routes, some made from wood, barely held together with nails and screws. Some of the busiest ones were made from metal, complete with railings and safety platforms. It was almost like a jungle, the brickwork buildings were the trees and the mass of walkways were the branches. Cables hung all over, like great vines.
Bright lights and signs were dotted around everywhere, the quarter was almost like one giant advertisement. An advertisement that said,
“Anything you want, you can get it here.”
The quarter was basically a small city, with people everywhere, all the time. Day and night held no sway over the inhabitants of Market street. Business and desire ruled them.
Fortunately, the rain from earlier had finally settled into a light drizzle, meaning Malcolm wasn’t stood staking the bar out getting completely drenched. He’d been stood on the walkway for about thirty minutes, keeping his eyes on the apartment opposite.
“Hey there honey, how you doin’?” A girl asked him, flashing a smile at him. He looked her over quickly, seeing her cheap raincoat and expensive makeup straight away.
“Not tonight, I’m workin’.” He replied back gruffly, angling his body to make it clear that he was finished talking. His gravelly voice and body language had served its purpose as the woman sighed and carried on walking down the busy walkway, muttering under her breath. That was the only problem with the location, it was right next to one of the Market’s’ busiest whorehouses. She must of not realised who he was.
Usually when people saw him, they recognised him instantly. The man with the scarred neck usually gave it away, not many people walking around with them sort of scars who lived to show them off. People either looked away, or tipped their hats to him.
Fancy them picking a meet right next to Little Annie’s…
Malcolm took out his cigarette case and put one of his pre-rolled cigarettes to his lips. He hunched over, clicking his fingers gently. A small flame appeared on his thumb, which he used to light his smoke. Putting the case back into his inside jacket pocket, he inhaled deeply, breathing the addictive smoke deep into his lungs.
Can’t be much longer. They should have been here already.
He stood watching the people go by for about fifteen minutes, turning another woman away in the process. He was about to pull out another cigarette out of boredom, when a distinctive figure caught his eye.
A beautiful woman, he could tell that from twenty meters straight away. She wore a bright red coat with a red hat, angled on a tilt so that it nearly covered one of her eyes. She had a black, fishnet veil that hung over her hat, with a black choker necklace tightly wrapped around her neck.
Damnation, she’s gorgeous.
She seemed to turn the heads of every man that she passed, all of them momentarily forgetting about everything but her. Other women looked after her with jealous eyes, or swatted their partners for their wandering gaze.
Malcolm straightened his jacket and tie, and strode towards the bar.
Blues was a busy place, even in the weeknights. They always had a live band playing, who seemed to know exactly what the crowd wanted to hear. They’d play fast, lively numbers when the people wanted to dance and be merry, sorrowful ballads to balance them out, and provocative swing music for when folk’s blood was up.
The bar was quite large for being above ground, they’d taken out all of the original dividers that separated the floor of the apartment building into rooms, turning it into one massive room. There were two serving bars, one near the entrance, one near the back. The staff all wandered about in blue shirts, the more experienced wearing blue so dark, they looked like tar.
It was well lit, with sections near the band in the middle that had been darkened slightly to enhance the mood. There were people all around, some dancing, some drinking, some their just to talk and laugh. Malcolm however, was there for a different purpose entirely.
He was there to meet with Scarlette.
He had walked into the bar, the smell of cigarette smoke thick in the air and the lively music of the band filling his ears. The contrast between the dull, repetitive sound of rain on the walkway and the music and chatter of the bar was so great, he stopped for a moment, taking in the noise of people living in. He moved to the serving counter near the entrance met with the usual sorts of greetings that crowds gave him.
“Evening Mal.”
“Malcolm.” Another said raising his glass.
“Mr. Woods, good to see you! How’ve you been?” A white suited man said with a smile.
“I’m good Dean, how’s yourself?” Malcolm replied, his lips autonomously speaking the words.
And so it went as he moved to the bar, people spoke to him and he spoke back, trading “hello’s” and “how are you’s” until he finally made his way to the counter. A blue shirted waiter came over to him instantly, like a bullet, he flew across the back of the bar towards him.
“Good evening Mr. Woods. How are we tonight?” The bartender said with a professional smile.
“I’m good thank you, can I get a whiskey please?” Malcolm said reaching into his jacket for his wallet. The bartender went away, pouring the drink in a record time. He came back over and shook his head slightly upon seeing his wallet.
“It’s okay Mr. Woods, the lady over there in the red dress has bought this one.” He said gesturing over to a booth in the corner of the club. Scarlett looked over, her hat still lowered over one eye, a sly provocative smile on her lips. Damnation, she’s like an angel. No, angels are innocent, this one’s a Devil. But that made her all the more attractive.
I’m going to have to be careful with this one.
He walked over to the booth, removing his hat and smoothing back his slicked hair. As he strode over, he saw a familiar figure dancing with a pretty woman on the dance floor. The man had short, sharp, greying hair with the telltale wrinkles of old age on his brow. A thick greying moustache hung on his top lip, just below his nose, giving him a wizened, but worn appearance. He was smiling fondly at the woman and laughing a joyful laugh.
The lady had long dark hair, and looked, for lack of a better word, happy. Now, there are many people who are happy, lots of people in fact. But there are very few people in the world whose happiness flows out into their appearance. She did not have the straightest nose, her smile was crooked and her face didn’t have a perfect complexion, but the lady was beautiful. All of these faults with her appearance were rendered non-existent by the warmth that radiated from her. She was glowing and it was perfection in itself.
He was awestruck with the sight of the happy couple, nearly breaking his step to continue looking at them for a little longer. They both turned to him, amidst the organised chaos of the dance floor and smiled.
That made him break his pace to a standstill.
“Malcolm.” They said together, “Why don’t you let us help you?” He stood still, numb at what he was seeing. Then, with a flourish, another dancing couple swept in front of his vision, obscuring them. As soon as they passed, laughing and dancing, the two behind them had vanished. No greying haired man, no glowing woman. Just, other folks dancing.
They ain’t real Mal, they ain’t real.
He shook his head slightly and carried on to the table, taking another sip of his drink in an effort to clear his mind. He sat down next to the beautiful woman and attempted a smile.
“You alright? You look like someone stole your sweets!” She said jokingly.
Damnation, even the way she talks is seductive. She’s got a voice like liquid gold. He twisted his face into an awkward smile.
“Nah, just thought I seen someone I knew.”
Great response Mal, now she thinks you’re coo-coo and stupid. He sniffed. She nodded to him and cocked her head to one side with a wink. “Well, I should start by introducing myself, my name’s-”
“Scarlett.” He interrupted. “I know, I’ve heard a ‘lotta ‘bout you.” She flashed him the devilish smile again, sending his heart fluttering in his chest.
“Well it appears I’m a disadvantage then. All I know is that you work for Winslow. By the looks of it everyone knows you except me.” She took her time on the last few words, rolling them around in her mouth before letting them escape from her luscious lips.
“I’m Malcolm. Malcolm Woods.”
“Well Mr. Woods, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine Ma’am.” A silence hung in the air for a few moments, like an unwelcome guest who had outstayed his welcome.
“Well, Mr. Woods. I believe you know why I’m here, why we’re meeting?”
“You wanna know where Winslow stands on Dent’s murder.” She blinked twice, then immediately relaxed back into her smiling persona.
“You get right to the point, don’t you?”
“I ain’t much of a talker.”
She laughed then winked at him, so casually. “I think you’re doing a fine job.” He took another sip of his whiskey.
“Well, as you know, Dent was a talented who worked for Arthur. Arthur Constantine. Now, Dent was a very useful man to have around, he was a Seer. ” She explained.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Now Dent was a long time associate of Arthur’s, which means he was devastated to hear about his death.”
He nodded in response.
“So, by all means we could talk, laugh and share each other’s company, but I think that now we’re on the same page, I should ask you a very honest and direct question.” She said, still flashing that dazzling smile.
“Shoot.” Malcolm said.
“Did Winslow have any part in Dent’s death?”
Malcolm took another sip of his whiskey and sat it down gently. Just before he replied, he saw something out of the corner of his eyes.
The couple. The grey haired man and the glowing lady.
They smiled at him gently, but whether it was a trick of the light, or a mystery to never be unraveled, he blinked and they were gone.
They ain’t real Mal.
He shook his head slightly and returned his lost gaze to Scarlette.
“You wanna know if Winslow had anything to do with Dent?”
She nodded slowly.
“He didn’t.” She looked at him with a piercing gaze, as if she was trying to see right through him. Her beautiful, blue eyes were so firm, they looked like they could melt steel. She continued to stare into him for a few seconds.
“I know I don’t have any reason for you to trust me, but here’s a little something to think about. If Winslow had access to this Talented killer, who could carve his way through seven men without breaking a sweat, do you think he’d use it to kill Dent?” He let that sink in for a bit.
“If it was me and I had those sorta resources, I’d cut the crap and kill Arthur.”
Her eyes widened a bit. He realised what he’d said and clumsily tried to backtrack.
“Obviously I don’t wanna kill Arthur, I’ve no reason to. What I’m sayin’ is, if that…If I…”
Her eyes settled back into beautiful, calm pools of deep blue and she smiled.
“Say no more Mr. Woods, I believe you.”
“That easy huh?” He asked. She laughed again.
“That easy.”
He took another drink of whiskey and let out a nervous laugh.
“Thought it was gonna take a bit more than that to putcha mind at rest.”
“I believe you. Arthur didn’t necessarily think it was the case, but he thought he’d do Winslow the courtesy of checking. After all, they’re both in the same business.”
He nodded, smoothing his hair back. They let a silence drift into the booth, but it was a different kind of silence to the one that had appeared earlier. It was an acceptable silence, one that was like an old friend settling down with them. The band ended their song soon after the silence between them had descended. They bowed, the crowd of dancing people clapping and whistling their approval. He could see the couple stood still, smiling at him again. This time he turned his head to his drink and took another sip.
They ain’t real Mal.
He met Scarlette’s eyes and she raised the corner of her mouth in a cheeky grin. “So what do we do now?” He asked.
“Well Mr.Woods-”
“Call me Malcolm.”
“Well Malcolm, I thought this was going to take longer, so I’m free for a bit longer. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
Damnation, this girl is always smiling.
“What do you wanna know?”
“I want to know what Malcolm does for a living.” Her eyes twinkling.
“Well, I work for Winslow-”
“What do you do?”
“I’m head of security.”
“Security? Very impressive, how long have you been doing it?”
“I’ve been working with Winslow for about eleven years now.”
“Wow! Long time indeed! I’ve only been working with Arthur for a few months.” She took another sip of her drink.
“I figured, otherwise me and you would have met before and I would have definitely remembered.”
She laughed and took a sip of her drink, the first time he’d seen her do it since their conversation started.
“I thought you said you weren’t much of a talker?”
He laughed a nervous laugh again, taking another drink of whiskey.
“Is that how you got your scar?”
“Which Scar?” He said with a sly grin.
She laughed again, her voice as beautiful as a bird’s song.
“Yeah, I got a coupla years back. Shame cause I always wanted to be a singer.” He said, a sarcastic sadness colouring his tone.
She chuckled again and cocked her head thoughtfully.
“So, do you have any family near hear? Any folks close by?” She asked.
“Nah. My parents used to live close but.. Erm..”
“They moved?”
“No, they…erm..they died.”
Her eyes softened again. ”I’m sorry to hear that.”
He looked around for something to change the conversation with, but he saw the couple again in the queue of people at the rear serving counter. Smiling sadly at him. He was struggling to keep himself together.
Why?! Why are they coming tonight? I haven’t seen them for months now and they pick today of all days to show up?!
“So what are you drinking Malcolm?” She said, granting him the mercy of a change in topic.
“It’s whiskey…erm…Dunland whiskey…”
He could see them again, just on the fields of his vision. He clenched his jaw, trying to ignore them staring at him from across the room, but he could still feel them looking, sending shivers up his spine. He noticed he was fidgeting with his glass, turning it around in his hands. He stopped and met her gaze.
I need to get out.
“Well Scarlette, it’s been a pleasure, but I’m afraid I’m gonna have to leave. I’ve got your next drink, we’ll have to talk again sometime.” He moved to stand up from the booth.
“You leaving? So soon? You haven’t finished your drink yet!” She questioned, a hint of annoyance seeping into her voice.
He downed the rest of his whiskey in a single gulp and nodded to her.
“So sorry Ma’am-”
“Scarlette, call me Scarlett.”
“Sorry Scarlett, but there’s some things I’ve got to take care of, some things I’d forgotten about. I’ll see ya soon.” With that final sentence, he left her at the booth, disappointment written all over her face.
Damn. Damn. DAMN.
He strode over to the bar purposely, slamming a twenty dollar note on the counter. “The girl in the red dress, her next drink’s on me.”
“Oh that’s no problem Mr. Woods, both of you are going to be drinking with compliments of the house tonight.” The waiter said, smiling his professional smile again.
“Her next drink, is on me.” He said with a vicious snarl, fire in his eyes.
The entire time he walked out of the bar, he could feel the eyes that were watching him, following his every step. The haunting couple and the beautiful woman sat alone in the booth.
Teller of Some Tales 