Cobdenia
20-05-2005, 14:46
OoC: This is supposed to be a kind of Sam Spade/Phillip Marlowe gumshoe RP; and perhaps a little bit cheesy. It's 1940's tech, so no laser guns or fighter jets or cigarettes causing cancer etc. Also, try and write in the first person; I know that's rather strange but I want to keep it in the style of Raymond Chandler etc.
As I say, it'll probably be a bit camp, but that's half the fun!
Sign up here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=420113); there are a few places left!
It had been about a week since my last job, and even that had been nothing more exiting than a messy divorce. I put my feet up on my desk, took a cigarette out of my silver case and lit it; as the sweet smoke filled my lungs there was a knock on the frosted glass window that bore the name of my agency 'Wendell Gaine: Private Investigator' and my secretary, Mrs Pearce, popped her head around the door.
"There's a Miss Malinovskaya to see you, Mr Gaine"
"Alright, shew her in"
In strode a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window*. She wore a red day dress with black stocking and just enough makeup to prevent her from looking prim, but not enough to make her look haughty. She was, in a nutshell, what every man desired every woman to look like.
"Take a seat, Miss Malinovskaya."
"Thankyou, Mr Gaine."
Her voice was deep and had a slight accent, but not to much of an accent to point her out as foreign. Probably second generation Cobdenian, I guessed. I took out my case
"Cigarette?"
"Yes, thankyou"?
"And what, may I ask, have you come to see me about?"
She paused
"My brother is the problem, Mr Gaine."
"Go on"
"Well, I don't know what to say, really. Last Thursday a body was found in the harbour. It had my brothers wallet and driving licence on him, and was wearing my brothers clothes. My father identified the body as that of my brother, but..."
"...you don't think it was your brother, correct?"
"Yes, Mr Gaine."
"Call me Wendell"
"Very well Mr...Wendell"
"How did you know it wasn't your brother?"
"He wore his watch on his left wrist, yet my brother was left handed and therefore always wore his watch on the right wrist. He had the watch specially made so the winder was in the right place"
"That's it. It's not much to go on."
"I know but..."
"...but it is enough to make me suspicious."
*this line shamelessy plagiarised from Raymond Chandler's "Farewell My Lovely"
As I say, it'll probably be a bit camp, but that's half the fun!
Sign up here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=420113); there are a few places left!
It had been about a week since my last job, and even that had been nothing more exiting than a messy divorce. I put my feet up on my desk, took a cigarette out of my silver case and lit it; as the sweet smoke filled my lungs there was a knock on the frosted glass window that bore the name of my agency 'Wendell Gaine: Private Investigator' and my secretary, Mrs Pearce, popped her head around the door.
"There's a Miss Malinovskaya to see you, Mr Gaine"
"Alright, shew her in"
In strode a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window*. She wore a red day dress with black stocking and just enough makeup to prevent her from looking prim, but not enough to make her look haughty. She was, in a nutshell, what every man desired every woman to look like.
"Take a seat, Miss Malinovskaya."
"Thankyou, Mr Gaine."
Her voice was deep and had a slight accent, but not to much of an accent to point her out as foreign. Probably second generation Cobdenian, I guessed. I took out my case
"Cigarette?"
"Yes, thankyou"?
"And what, may I ask, have you come to see me about?"
She paused
"My brother is the problem, Mr Gaine."
"Go on"
"Well, I don't know what to say, really. Last Thursday a body was found in the harbour. It had my brothers wallet and driving licence on him, and was wearing my brothers clothes. My father identified the body as that of my brother, but..."
"...you don't think it was your brother, correct?"
"Yes, Mr Gaine."
"Call me Wendell"
"Very well Mr...Wendell"
"How did you know it wasn't your brother?"
"He wore his watch on his left wrist, yet my brother was left handed and therefore always wore his watch on the right wrist. He had the watch specially made so the winder was in the right place"
"That's it. It's not much to go on."
"I know but..."
"...but it is enough to make me suspicious."
*this line shamelessy plagiarised from Raymond Chandler's "Farewell My Lovely"