Snippet Sunday – Hard-Boiled/Noir WIP – October 4, 2015

Snippet Sunday is a Facebook group for writers I’ve been privileged enough to have been accepted into.

From the group guidelines; “Welcome to Snippet Sunday, where writers come together to share a few sentences of their current project–whether it’s a recently released novel, a WIP (work in progress), or an older manuscript that’s being revived. Intended to hook readers, gather feedback and build an author’s fan base, Snippet Sunday is the FB group that does all three.”

We’re picking up pretty much where we left off last week– Jake and Sheriff Jones are having a discussion outside of Marisa’s abandoned house. They’ve moved down the street to where their cars are parked. Sheriff Jones takes one more run at getting the full story out of Jake.

The last bit of last week’s snippet featured Jake telling the sheriff to either arrest him or let him go. We begin with the sheriff’s retort;

“Arrest you? For what? Entering? You said somebody else busted in that door. I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I believe everybody, Jake.”

“Until they give you a reason not to.”

“We understand each other then.”

I nodded as he opened his cruiser’s door and leaned in to use the radio. He called in for a deputy to sit watch in front of the house until a forensic team got there.

“I meant what I said about Jed,” he said when he was done with the radio . “He’s not the kind of man you want to be consorting with.”

I opened my own car door.

“You think he’s going to hire me and gun for me at the same time?” I asked. “Why on God’s green earth would he do that?”

“You mean besides you beating his ass in the middle of Main Street and sleeping with his wife?”

“He had that beating coming.”

“Lots of folks would agree with you on that.”

“What’s this guy’s story? Everyone around here seems down on him. Or afraid of him.”

The sheriff dropped into the bucket seat behind the wheel. He put his hat on the dashboard.

“Ask around, Jake,” he said. “You’re a detective. Do your thing.”

“Off the clock, of course,” I replied. “Or do I have your blessing to work that angle?”

“I’m giving you some free advice here, son,” he said. “How you go about using it, well, that’s up to you.”

I wasn’t sure he was old enough to call me, “son”. I took a closer look at Sheriff Jones in the cone of light given off by the dome light inside the cruiser, spotting lines and creases in his face I hadn’t noticed back by the house. Maybe he was old enough.

We had a little stare-down. The sheriff quickly lost interest in it.

“One more thing, Jake,” he said as I made to get into the Olds.

I stopped and turned my head.

“Your weapon.”

“I’ll clear it and stick it in the glove compartment,” I said, climbing into the car. “I  hope I won’t need it.”

“I’ll be praying for you,”  he said. He waved a farewell in my general direction.

I returned the salute, then drove out of the cul-de-sac.

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