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Tonight, Mulligan Smith, PI, finds himself out in the cold.
The Skinner Co. Network
127 - Mulligan Smith and The Bystander, Part 1 of 1
[Music] Welcome to FlashPulp episode 127. Tonight, we present Mulligan Smith and the Bystander, part one of one. This week's episodes are brought to you by the FlashPulp Facebook page. As the movie freaks once said, [Music] Find it at http colon slash slash bit.ly slash cbkyv2 or search for FlashPulp in Facebook. [Music] Sunday is gloomy, my hours are stumbled at. Give it the shadows I live with are stumbled at. [Music] [Music] FlashPulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. Three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings. Tonight, Mulligan Smith, PI, finds himself out in the cold. Mulligan Smith and the Bystander, part one of one. Written by J.I.D. Skinner. Art and narration by Opoponax and audio produced by Jessica May. [Music] Regardless of the dusting of snow, a small crowd had come to gather outside 240 maple. Most of them having been drawn in by the blinking red bubble lights of the four police cruisers parked along the road. Mulligan, his hoodie zip, tight against the chill, watched as the KOCC reporter rapped her story. Once the cameraman had barked out a quick confirmation that the transmission had completed, and even as the onlooker's retinas were still a glow with the directional lights after image, the one-man crew and the correspondent hopped into the bright blue news van and gunned the still idling engine. The PI had used his rubber-necking of the brief broadcast as an opportunity to eavesdrop on the whispered conversations that shot amongst the bystanders. But his time had been largely spent listening to the spouting of an old man whose hat would have better served a KOCC. The pseudo-Russian had gone on at length, in a stage whisper obviously intended for more than just his wife, that if there were this many police on hand, they certainly must have the flasher in custody. Despite the bumper-to-bumper parking, Smith had his doubts. With his excuse for silence gone, he struck up a conversation with a wispy-haired 50-something, whose face was lost deep in her massive parka. "Funny what some people will do," he said. "Yeah, I guess so," she replied in a thick Wisconsin accent. "Must be a real perverted type." Hmm, usually I'd agree, but I'm not so sure this time. Mulliken took a step closer as he spoke. Generally, a pervert can make dude just jumping out of the bushes at a park, or trawling bus stops. By the time they get around to breaking and entering, it's not just a share of brief view of their pride. "Oh," replied the perka, "then what happened here?" My guess is that the culprit is seeking attention. They probably don't get much of it in their regular existence. "That's not what the news lady said, and everything I've read in the papers has made the flasher out to be a gourice in a gas mask. A little beauty with some sort of weird fetish." Yeah, well, these stories have a way of taking on a life of their own. And legends spring up. Have you ever heard of the mad gasser of Matoon? Ugh. The mad gasser might have been a person running around Virginia and Illinois in the 30s and 40s. See, supposedly there was this fellow with a spray gun. The old type that looks like a bicycle pump with a can stuck to one side and a nozzle at the far end. And he'd creep about in people's bushes until they were sitting around at home watching TV or whatever. Then he'd use the sprayer to try and gas them through cracked windows, or even nail holes. Gas? Anyone die or no? Nope, a few folks got sick though. Are you saying you think she used something on her victims, and that's why she wears the mask? The woman seemed pleased with the idea. No. The mask is just so she doesn't get caught. What I'm saying is that the police chief in Matoon actually ended up declaring the whole thing a hoax, likely just the product of hysteria, and maybe some chemical releases from a nearby factory. Smith shrugged. I don't know what the reality was, but, as I mentioned, these things tend to collect their own mythology. Maybe claiming you were awoken in the middle of the night by a supple nude 20-year-old makes for an easier confession than the reality of having the bejesus scared out of you by a stout mother of four whose children are all college age. The woman's eyes grew large, but Mulligan went on. Truth be told, I'm actually working for the first victim. Seems he feels his original description of the assailant may not have been the most helpful thing in the world, but he's got too much pride to go back to the police for a second round of red-faced recounting. Why does he still care? The ex-Wisconsin I had asked. Her voice now squeak. It's never happened to the same person twice, has it? Well, never mind that, if this were a crime committed by a man, the outcry would be triple what it is. The basics are that, my client, despite the fact that the increasing media coverage is handling this, almost like a case of pranksterism, spends most nights waking up in a sweat, and now has to get out of bed to check his door locks a dozen times in evening. I do understand a bit of where you're coming from, though. A guy with that much money rarely has a kind word for the help, and if he'd been more honest in the first place, his pride wouldn't be in such a bind. How'd you know? Well, first off, I'd actually bothered to look into who'd tempt in the house when, and if, each victim's main cleaning lady was unavailable. He wanted to be stern with her. He knew he should be. He'd damned himself for smirking. He were the only coincidence. If your employers had paid you more heed while you were busy dusting their shelves, they could have recognized you themselves. But then, my suspicion is that, if those men had been less inattentive while you were tidying, you wouldn't have felt the need to make your nocturnal visits. He thought the woman would break down crying at the news, but she seemed increasingly happy just to be noticed. He decided to actually allow the interview when the KOCC lady called later. It was the least he could do after getting the aging mother fired, and he suspected she'd enjoy the spin he'd give her saga. He let out a short laugh before continuing. Anyhow, it didn't help that you were pretty easy to spot in the background of the last incident's news footage. Those boots are pretty tall, and your coat's pretty long, but if people were paying a little more attention, it's definitely noticeable that you're not wearing any pants. Flashpulp is presented by http colon slash slash Skinner dot FM. 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