Part 1 of 1
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Tonight, Mulligan Smith, PI, discusses the nature of blood relations.
The Skinner Co. Network
213 - Mulligan Smith in Resolution, Part 1 of 1
(upbeat music) - Welcome to Flashpulp, episode 213. Tonight, we present Mulligan Smith in resolution, part one of one. This week's episodes are brought to you by a sunder. 20 years after the American Civil War, former slave Marcus Riggs found himself trapped in a British harbor after the invaders came to enslave all mankind. They came, they conquered, they died. Out of the ashes, new orders struggle to rule the former empires of earth. But the invaders aren't completely beaten, only biting their time. Asunder, written and performed by John Mira, learn more at servingworld.com. (upbeat music) - Flashpulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. Three to 10 minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Tonight, Mulligan Smith, PI, discusses the nature of blood relations. Mulligan Smith in resolution, part one of one. Written by J.R.D. Skinner, art and narration by Popon X, an audio produced by Jessica May. (upbeat music) (upbeat music) - Remember that taxi I was waiting around for last week? When were the corpse in the trunk? Asked Mulligan. Walmart Mike reflected on the question while chewing stoically on his hash brown. Careful to appear as if he hadn't been anticipating the full tale since the incident. - Yeah, I didn't recall. - He replied, after a sip of orange juice. - Well, it was actually two bodies. Mike took another drink. - Yeah, ready in the papers, boy and his girl. Smith nodded and eyed the busy Burger King. He wasn't a fan of their work, but an increasing dislike of McDonald's seemed to be an occupational hazard for his friend, the Walmart greeter, due to overexposure. Usually he'd have sprung for some dannies, but both men were, for the moment at least, on a tight budget. I was hired to find Darren Lennox by his parents. He'd been calling semi-regularly from blocked number, but didn't talk much and often sounded pretty messed up. His mom spent her opening interview weeping and informing me that she was sure he was dead this time. Had some choice names for his off-and-on girlfriend, Delilah, and plenty to say about Darren's crack habit. We had the conversation at their kitchen table, not their crisply laid-out dining room, just their simple chrome-leg male collector and sandwich holder. I got the impression talking over their son's crimes was a common occurrence for the spot. Then there was the kid, Darren's. It was cold, but they'd sent her outside to entertain herself on the backyard's huge play structure. I could see her through the window glass, swinging liscously and staring back at me. Papa Lennox said Lennox Jr. was a rotten apple. Spoke a lot about his responsibilities and kept telling me he was only trying to find him for the betterment of the family. Mulligan took a bite of cold croissant, which... "Annley's a funny thing," said Mike. "Before I straightened up in, I don't know, early '73, maybe? "I knew these two tribes, the lemons and the haywoods. "I used to hang out with Nicki Lemon, "who was a bit of an idiot, "but way more reasonable than the rest of his kin. "I mean, we made a few bucks by dipping on repentantly "into the tales of local convenience stores, "so I guess he wasn't that reasonable. "But the rest of his people were frothy "and full of pissed off. "On Saturday night Clyde Lemon, Nicki's older brother, "had a mean drunk, picks a fight with stubble's haywood, "and accidentally beats the guy to death with a tie-on, "pocking a lot of the pretty key strip club. "It's sober's up Clyde, and he disappears the same evening, "head into pots unspecified. "This leaves Nicki panicked, "as he figures he's the only male of his generation "left to take the bullet that he knows is now old. "Doesn't happen that way. "Sunday morning, when Mr. Goodyear's wife is out buying him "a bunch of stuff for a care package, "a pair of haywoods kicking his apartment door "and put five bullets through his nanny "and seven through his toddler. "Too far, too far. "I couldn't blame the head lemon "when he went ape shit in return. "It was a little much to ambush the school bus though. "By the time those bastards were done "picking through the seats, "they'd killed three haywoods, "and left the other 30 or so kids traumatized for life. "Things really hit the fan after that. "I was keen on maintaining my friendship for more far, "but I heard about it when Clyde and his sisters "were all stabbed to death in a public washroom "at a neighborhood picnic. "Everybody said security was tight at the event, "but I guess the haywoods brought in a pro. "We found nearly a whole generation of lemons "dead in stalls. "The bloody mess drained in the way into the toilet. "I think he was out of town when it happened, "and he stayed that way for a long while. "The oldest generation of lemons and haywoods "died within two days of each other. "Grand and gramp your lemons car exploded on the highway "between the house and the church. "Ruma was that someone had actually bought a landmine, "especially for the occasion, "but I could never figure how that would work. "The eldest haywoods were accounted for 10 years later "when a plea-boggling hog farmer included them "in his checklist of bodies he'd been asked "to feed to the pigs. "The only people who walked away happy "with the professionals would've been paid. "Warmart Mike rubbed the fried potato crumbs "off his fingers before concluding. "I guess my point is, as soon as family's involved, "business sense goes out the window, "and people will do anything for the stupidest of reasons. "The PI, who'd also finished his breakfast, "lifted his soda and found nothing but ice. "Yeah," he said. "Family is exactly what tripped me. "When I went to visit his girlfriend's relations, "they all told me he was scum, "won nothing to do with him. "It was the mom mostly riling them. "Even how much they seemed to hate him, "I figured they couldn't be close enough to him "to know the details I wanted. "My second visit, though, backed it way up. "Talk to her sister, alone instead." She was calmer. Apparently, not long previous to his disappearance, he'd said he was going clean. I'd listened to the same from his parents, but they'd been quick to add that they'd heard it a thousand times already, usually when he was attempting to borrow money for another rock. The next day, while wandering around, I'd met this kid who'd known Lennox, and he'd said that Darren was dealing on corners previously, but it stopped. Well, I'm thinking he's maybe got some old debts, and is lying low. I met guys who think going clean is some kind of get out of jail free card, as far as they're outstanding tabs go. But improved morals don't often impress crack dealers who are down a half grand. The schoolboy tells me he'd seen Darren and his lady not long before, and that they were stuffed into a taxi by an aggressive third party. The cab he surfaced, but his car didn't. He said he'd be giving the boot by a tree of hijackers, but I suspect it was really just one who happened to know the other two. Forgetting the status of his empty cup, Mulligan attempted to sip at his beverage and receive nothing but gurgling in response. He continued, at that point, I'm figuring I'm dealing with a simple drug-related murder. That seemed to pan out when I came across the vehicle and questioned sitting in your store's parking lot. Cops took one look at Darren's record. I guess they assumed the same as well. It nagged at me though. I only fully realized how much time the girl had spent at Grandpa Lennox's house when I went back after the discovery. It's tough to see the reasoning behind a chronic failure, but I think Darren and Delilah knew they were poisoned and didn't want to mess up the child. They also must have known that if they were gonna get clean, they had to do it on their own. I think they had, actually. I pulled some strings for a favor and found a nice little nest egg in their bank account. Nothing huge, but exactly one nice little nest egg bigger than I have ever seen addicts be able to maintain. I'd met again with my clients to let them know. As I'd already waved my fees over the phone, but I figured I could give them some comfort if they knew their son had been working hard to make things right. We're talking and I'm staring at the window again at the girl. She's climbing, totally oblivious to me, and she's at the apex of this plastic treehouse thing. While waiting 'til Father Lennox has done telling me how it all might be for the best, I'm thinking that the equipment probably provides better shelter than my apartment. It hits me. If I had to guess, and I do, at least until a trial, Darren and his sweetheart were leaving the city. They were taking the girl. They were clean, yeah, but I've known a few junkies in the past, as I'm sure you have too. It's easier to stay sober if you don't have close friends making bad suggestions. Their families probably didn't seem like great support systems, and they likely thought they'd be further ahead, just starting new. I don't mention my epiphany, of course, but I do let them know about the nest egg that I leave. The description the cabbie provided matched any thug I've ever heard of, unshaven and angry. What I'd realized, though, was that it was also a pretty good match for what Lennox Sr. might look like if he'd been losing sleep over no longer regularly seeing the little girl he'd had so much part in raising up until that point. Hell, he'd probably expected to steer off to college. Perhaps he saw her as a chance to fix the errors he'd made the first go around. The uniform sounded pretty grumpy that they hadn't thought of it themselves, but the taxi man found the photo of that particular passenger, all too familiar. It was Walmart Mike's turn to nod, and for a time, the pair sat silently on their formed plastic benches. Their gazes turned towards the tray upon which they had piled their discarded food containers. Finally, Mulligan stood to carry the crumpled papers and cardboard boxes to the trash. With a shrug of his shoulders, he watched the remnants slide into the murky depths of the bin. 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. ♪♪ ♪ Some day it blew me, my hours are stumbled ♪ ♪ Here is the shadows I live with are stumbled ♪ [MUSIC PLAYING]