A Cold One: Middle

No one from the real, fictional or alternate universes is present in here. At least, not to my knowledge. If they are, Hello.

LET THEM TALK

Callo looked around.

He went to the bar, placed his lamp there and said, in his low rumbling voice, “Mooney, you haven’t paid rent for 3 months. Show us some of those psychic powers I have heard about. This lamp runs out in 2 hours. Solve this by then.”

Mooney had no choice. Mooney was a conman. He may claim otherwise but Callo knew him like the fourth blister on his left hand.

Mooney realized this was an easy way to pay. Besides, he was clear of any guilt.

An investigation outpost of sorts was set up at the bar. Callo sat behind it with a flintlock. Nasty gun it was. Mooney sat before it.

The suspects were seated at the back. All in one line. The beautiful Sol Niel, cunning Colm Rankin, vulpine Edwing van Borren, clumsy Gregory, calm Mauray and the very dead Jo Acetone.

Mooney decided that now was a good time to think.

Sol Niel used to be married to Acetone. A long time back. She was a glorified drunk, an okay singer and a permanent damsel-in-distress. Acetone hadn’t given her a single penny. Now, with the fight scandal, he was getting a lot more money. She was getting none of it. She had motive.

Colm Rankin was as crooked as they come. He once sold a sleeping llama to a very disgruntled trader from Razagh. The llama wasn’t very happy. The Razaghian was. Rankin had a bad habit of betting more than he could win. He was routinely beaten up by Acetone. Rankin still owed East Baltimore boss, Ted Ted. He could use Acetone’s money. He had motive.

Edwig van Borren was a newcomer. He was here only because of Jo Acetone. He was going to get double the money now. In his business, that was the motherlode.  Pretty strong motive.

Gregory was a Llama. Llama don’t kill people. Not his style.

Mauray was a cook at the tavern. The only one in fact. He was a student too. Studying psychometry or something. Seemed like a good kid. He had enough money to live here.

He couldn’t suspect Callo. He couldn’t afford to. If Callo had killed Acetone, they were all going to end up dead.

This is what he thought. This is what he said.

“Mauray, make dinner.”

Mauray dutifully followed. Callo just grunted. Nobody spoke.

Then, Niel got up. “Oh boy, all this tension and excitement is getting to me. I really, need a drink.” Niel walked up to the bar. She stopped abruptly.

“Balt, can you get me some water. Please. I can’t see well.”

Mooney ignored her. He had no time for her tricks. Callo, however, realized. He lurched forward to hold her. He missed.

Sol Niel came crashing down to the floor. She hit the ground. Her cherry red lips were moist with a white froth. Her eyes had lost colour.

She had lost her life.