Cigarette smoke curled around Veronica’s right wrist like a translucent gray handcuff. She uncrossed her black-stockinged legs, stood up, and dropped ash into the blood that pooled around Allen’s head.
Allen had lifted a locket from Veronica’s boss, Dolores, and though he didn’t know it at the time, the locket was worth more than his crooked little fingers had ever fondled. That’s the catch with these lousy pickpockets: they never know who, or what they’re dealing with. And now his life was reduced to a bloody ashtray.
She wiped her switchblade clean on Allen’s shirt, and like a spider pulling in its prey, slid the blade into his pants pocket, and removed the locket fastened to a gold chain. She then pulled a vial of kerosene out of her black handbag and emptied it onto the rug, splashing a healthy dose onto Allen’s face. A dropped lit match touched off a wonderful blaze. Veronica sighed as if she wanted more of a fight from him and climbed out onto the metal fire escape.
Dolores’ 1962 apple green Cadillac crawled to a stop as Veronica emerged from her shadowy corner. A handful of young partygoers passed by, uninterested and consumed by their own trip. Above, flames danced on the closed window, smoke oozed through the cracks, and swallowed a neon pink bar sign. Veronica hopped into the car, flashed a vulpine smile at Dolores sitting behind the wheel, and shoved a pistol into her neck.
“Take me straight to the mayor’s house. Now.”
Dolores started driving and said, “That locket belongs to me Veronica, this is no way to play the game. I brought you in on the deal, don’t make me regret it.”
Veronica replied, “Fuck off and keep driving Dolores.”
Dolores’ man, Zeke, hid on the floor of the backseat, coiled like a serpent.
Veronica let her guard down as they approached Driving Park Blvd. Zeke felt the stillness in the air, reached over the seat and ripped the gun from Veronica’s weakened grip; Dolores made a sharp turn into the parking lot of the YMCA, turned the lights off, and parked in the back corner. As Zeke strangled Veronica to death with a wired garrote, Dolores rifled through her bag and confirmed possession of the photo negative nestled inside of the locket. She nodded to Zeke.
He dragged Veronica’s limp body out of the car toward the edge of the gorge. One of Veronica’s black high heels caught on a lilac bush and her stocking ripped open on a branch as he pulled her further into the darkness. In one swift motion, Zeke heaved Veronica over the side of the 200-foot high gorge, and into the Genesee River.
Like a specter, the man named Zeke evaporated into the city night.
Dolores checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror, lit a cigarette, and drove off thinking that it was time to get out of this vicious game. She had liked Veronica, she really did. But Dolores would be goddamned if anybody ever tried to pull a move on her like that.
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This story packs a big punch in just a few words. Excellent work.
Thanks CJ, much appreciated!