Part 3 of 3
Read the full text, as well as the show notes, at http://flashpulp.com
Tonight, Mulligan Smith, PI, ends an uncomfortable case with an awkward conversation.
The Skinner Co. Network
FP221 - Mulligan Smith in The Pinch, Part 3 of 3
[music] Welcome to FlashPulp, episode 221. This evening, we present Mulligan Smith in The Pinch, Part 3 of 3. This week's episodes are brought to you by Jimmy and the Black Wind. Hi, I'm Big Anclavitch. And I'm Rish Outfield, we're your hosts for the Dune-Steve Audio Fiction magazine. On the Dune-Steve, we read science fiction, fantasy, and horror stories. If you've never listened to the Dune-Steve, you don't know what you're missing. After the story, there's witty banter and discussion from the hosts. The best part about the discussion is that it's at the end, so it's easy just to skip it. Right, so come check out the Dune-Steve Audio Fiction magazine. Find us at www.dunesteep.com. That's D-U-N-E-S-T-E-E-F. [music] FlashPulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in modern age. Three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Tonight, Maligan Smith, PI, ends an uncomfortable case with an awkward conversation. Maligan Smith in the Pinch, part three of three. Written by Jaredie Skinner, art and narration by Opoponax, and audio produced by Jessica May. [music] Smith had returned to his client's house, on the west side of Capital City, to find a black sedan parked on the paved lawn. Although Maligan expected a carefully generic vehicle, he hadn't anticipated a sudden thunderstorm, and slowed traffic had cost him the opportunity to intercept the stranger before they'd entered the home. Killing the Turssel's engine, he hopped a puddle and vaulted the short row of steps which led onto the porch. He didn't bother knocking. "My apologies," said Maligan, as he slung back his damp hood. The givens had gathered on the leather couch in their living room, and McCrum, the driver of the Ford and police detective who'd first taken Jared's account, was sitting alongside in a lazy boy. Stewart and Susan appeared to be drinking scotch over ice as their stiff-limb sun sat silently between them. Smith didn't know the cop personally, but he took out as a reassuring sign that the man was at the cusp of his chair, and leaning hard across the tightly arranged coffee table, instead of resting comfortably with a glass in his hand. "Alright," said Maligan. "You folks look pretty settled, so let's just cut to the chase. I'd like to play a little something for you if I may." "You've probably already seen it, but I figure it's best if we all refresh ourselves." "Missed givens," you said you had it on your PVR? Without responding, the woman dipped her hand into a wooden box filled with plastic slabs and selected the proper remote from the half-dozen competitors. The emblem of Capitol City's leading local news organization flashed across the screen. Susan was forced into a second excavation to adjust the volume to an audible level. A female reporter was delivering the piece's overview as a slightly out-of-focus camera watched a group of teenagers later outside of Acadia High School. The student body is shocked, and many parents are outraged, as word of the allegations has spread. The image became that of Miss Lacey, its graininess betraying the fact that it was likely snatched from a social network profile. Arrested last night upon arriving at her home from a trip to unknown locations, Rebecca Lacey, 35, stands accused of having molested a local teen. Although the woman refuses to meet with the press, the boy's lawyer provided the following statement. A moustachioid man seated at a desk back by bookshelves came on screen. Three days ago, on Friday, Mike's client was led into the back seat of the car owned by Miss Lacey, where she proceeded to perform oral sex on a minor hem. The view moved to a blonde reporter, microphone in hand, positioned before the high school, but Smith punched the TV's power button. Funny thing to get a lawyer for a criminal case. Have you got a call from above yet? Can't imagine the government fell handling your cases terribly excited about your statement, he said. "Well, it was also unusual to hire a private investigator," said Susan, "were thorough, people." "Uh-huh. It's too bad you and Stu weren't so thorough in your parenting." Sorry, it's sweet of Officer McCrum to have given you the benefit of the doubt this long, but he mentioned an odd detail to me earlier, and since I'm probably going to have to fight for my payday, I'm a bit touchy. In truth, the pair had not conferred, but Mulligan had no interest in making an enemy. He was glad to discover the bull had a solid poker face. Smith moved close to the low table, so that he dominated Jared's view. The PI paid no attention to the droplets which rolled from his hoodie and splattered a variety of nature scenes across a fan of National Geographic magazines. "So, which is it then?" he asked. "The youth slumped, as the lawman began to rifle through his notebook in search of a half-remembered detail." "I'm going to be honest," said Mulligan. "I'm hard-pressed to think of a person I dislike more than you, and you've only been working at it for fifteen years. There are a lot of kids that don't get an opportunity to be believed. A lot of kids who never get a chance to say anything." McCrum's eyes widened, then shuttered into slits, which pleased Smith, who was rapidly running out of material to stall with. "Was it the parking lot, or was it the track?" asked the fleshed officer. "I, I got, I got confused." "It was the parking lot," said Jared. "It was the parking lot," Smith interrupted. "Only once I let slip to your dance date that your story didn't make sense." As she was returning after convincing her dad to let her back out with the car, what was she doing at the rear of the building by the track? "You know what? Save whatever idiotic excuse you're about to make. When I discovered you were selling Coke to your classmates, my life became considerably easier. Also, your chums became considerably more conversational." Talk wasn't what I needed, though. Given the air of paranoia you've created, I couldn't go and friend a bunch of them online, so I did the next best thing. I blackmailed them for access to their cell phone pictures. Nearly 7,000 photos of overly made up teenage girls making duck-lipped faces. Malcolm reached into the interior of his sweater and retrieved a trio of printouts. Over the left shoulder of the powder in red, you'll notice a familiar wild-eyed partier. Then here, the same merrymaker, left of the peace sign. Save the best for last, though. The final image showed Jared's crazed smile up close, and his bleeding nose was plainly visible. "I guess," said Smith, "is that she caught you coming back from the bathroom with a blizzard on your face, and she took you outside to talk. You panicked and told her you'd cried junk-tutcher if she said anything. The next day she took off to ponder her moral dilemma with her crippled mother. Maybe you couldn't find her and it freaked you out. Maybe you're a pansy, but whatever the case, you pushed the red button and ended that poor woman's career." It was never going to work out, though. McCrum was always going to notice the problems once her story was known. The boy said nothing. "Black male won't stand in court," said Stewart, pushing back the pictures. "The drug test will do just fine, though," replied Maligan. McCrum nodded. "Even if you argue that you were snorting at some other time, it's going to be a tough case to make on behalf of a cokehead with a bad memory." "You're bluffing," said Jared. "Even if I had done it, which I didn't, everyone knows cocaine is out of your system in length, the first 24 hours." The policeman's carefully maintained neutrality dropped into a frown. Actually, a hair test is good for quite a lot longer. It's more expensive, but I think I can convince the boys to spring for it. Susan pointed an accusing finger at Maligan. "You bastard! Why would you do this?" I've done you a favor, though I know you'll deny it. Frankly, I thought you should hear everything before the press does at your doorstep. At least then you might feel like you got some use from my fees, which I plan on collecting in full. And I'm very thorough. Flashpulp is presented by Flashpulp.com and is released under the Canadian Creative Commons Attribution Non-commercial 2.5 License. Text and audio commentaries can be sent to Skinner@skinner.fm or the voicemail line at 206-338-2792. But be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast. We'd also like to thank the Free Sound Project, found at freesound.org. For a full listing of effects used during the show, as well as credits for the users who provided them, please check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com. And thanks to you for listening. If you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. [Music]