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"Seems my get up and go must have got up and went," sang Steven Tyler through the ruptured speakers of my old Ford Tempo as I cruised north up Van Nuys blvd toward my run down office off of Kittridge. It was 5:15 Tuesday morning and I hadn't slept in days. I was grateful that the traffic lights were against me and I had to stop at every single intersection. It kept me alert and that is exactly what I needed to be if I wanted to keep breathing. The street was deserted. I took a deep breath. I had momentary pause and relief from my fear. You see, several people were out to kill me and each of these nice fellows had what seemed to be an army of pawns and thugs at their service... or disposal... and apparently these captains of industry had called in all their troops. I saw something I shouldn't have seen. I knew too much. I was a liability and I had to be taken care of. I was now a target for murder.
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Murder Mystery Plays by Eric and Nora Sharp
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I am a private investigator. I am licensed by the State of California. I can - but I don't - carry a firearm. I investigate but leave the apprehension of the no good nicks to those charged to protect and serve. Me? I snoop. I spy, I go undercover and ask lots of questions and build a case so the lawyers and cops can do their thing.
I investigate persons and organizations suspected in engaging in unethical and possibly - alleged - illegal activities. Being right at the center of a murder mystery investigation was something new for me. My clients are often paranoid businessmen, suspicious wives, and victims of scam artists, and con-men. Edgar Allen Poe was right when he said that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses" Most of my clients are in an extreme state of stress and duress by the time they contact me. Their lives have been turned upside down by the behavior of another. That isn't to say that I don't get a lot of kooks. I do. Roughly half of my clients are just plain crazy. I believe everyone has some amount of obsessive compulsiveness. Its a mad mad mad world and its only normal to be a little insane. Sanity is overrated anyway as far as I am concerned.
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(Murder Mystery Story Continued) Tyler was now advising me to "Walk this way" on a KLOS double shot Tuesday and I had to chuckle since walking was often preferable than puttering and sputtering in my old Ford. Contrary to what you might have heard, my gig is not quite as glamorous as it seems. Not a lot of bucks in my business either, at least for a smalltime operator like me. Oh, I do better than many P Eyes, but my salary is still small and my mortgage is way high. I guess thats so for everyone these days. There have been many opportunities over the years for me to take a little extra but in my work I see what greed does to a person.
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It was mid May but it was breezy and downright cold for this time of year, especially with the wind coming in through my recently shattered rear window. I considered myself particularly fortunate that the shooter hadn't been aiming at my tires. Calculating the odds that I was able to shake the late model Audi that was following and shooting at me, I made the sound decision that should I survive the next 24 hours I was going to buy several Super Mega lottery tickets. I had never been so lucky in all my life. Probably should drive straight to Vegas , said the voice (of reason?) inside my skull. Murder Mystery Party Frequently Asked Questions
I crossed Victory Blvd and drove passed the pawn shops and the bail bonds storefronts. Joe Perry's guitar work scratched my cerebral cortex like nails on a chalkboard and I involuntarily played air guitar using my seatbelt as an imaginary fretboard. In fear for my life but still rocking out - adrenaline is a funny thing.
Murder Mystery Parties In Your Home
I passed the El Pollo Loco on my right. I realized I was famished. I passed my right turn at Kittridge and proceeded north crossing Vanowen. I pulled into a Hamburger Joint drive through. Only then did I realize my stupidity. I couldn't go to my office. The Audi had started trailing me on Beverly Glen, south of the Blvd. They knew exactly where I was going when they got behind me. They were probably waiting for me at this exact moment in the parking lot of my building. I Pulled up to the speaker.
"Welcome to the Hamburger Joint. would you like to try one of our super value meals today?"
I was suddenly giddy. Not getting shot while outrunning an expensive sports car will do that to you. Give me a 3 pound mayo burger with extra lard, giganto fries and bucket of Coke, said my head. My mouth said "I'd like the number three." I didn't even look to see what the number three was. I drove around to the window wondering where the hell I could go to be safe.
I knew I had to ditch the car before the sun came up which would be in about fifteen minutes. But what was I going to do, hot-wire a car? Not likely. Of course I knew how to do it - it just wasn't my style.
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The following is a work of fiction. It is a snippet from an untitled first draft of a murder mystery we are writing. Enjoy.
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