Our Works

Here you’ll find an ensemble of our works from over the years.

Murder at the Black Cat Club

(Author: Candice Pendleton)

I stubbed out my half smoked cigarette in the over flowing ash tray when a shadowy figure appeared through the window of my shitty rented offices down town. It was an unfamiliar and unexpected figure. I should have left hours ago and was only there because I didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment, my gal Dixie, was away visiting her mother up state. I watched the brass handle turn slowly and held my breath. 
    The door swung open to reveal a beautiful broad, honey blonde hair fell in waves, mink fur cape covered her shoulders and lips so red they could stop traffic. 
    ‘Detective Decker?’ she asked softly. 
    ‘Who’s asking?’ 
    ‘I’m Grace Farewell. I..I didn’t know where to go.’ Her bottom lip trembled. 
    ‘What for?’ 
    ‘It’s my brother,’ she stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind her, ‘He’s been murdered.’ Tears sprang to her eyes. 
    I couldn’t bare to see ‘em cry. I stood and offered my handkerchief. As she stepped into the dim light of my desk lamp, I saw the blood stains on her long peach satin dress. 

She continued to explain the situation she’d found herself in. Her and her brother Joe had been at a shin-dig that evening with friends, it had gotten real late and the club was closing. While Grace powdered her nose, her brother was splattered to the ground. She found him there, hence the blood on her dress but no one else remained. 
    ‘Where did this take place, doll?’ 
    ‘Down at the Black Cat Club.’ 
    ‘Timmy ‘The Talons’ place eh?’  
    I knew the joint, it’s got bad rep and a mysterious owner. The Talons appeared four years ago from nowhere, with no known connections to the criminal underground but runs his empire like one. He’s rarely seen and even then, only in shadows. I don’t wanna take the case, I got no choice, I need the money and this dame outta my office. 

I drove her home so she could get out of the evidence and into something less conspicuous. We drove back to the scene with her chatting idly by my side, I needed to check for evidence myself and I wasn’t scared, I was armed with my wits and my Glock. 

We entered through the back door and into the club room. The chandeliers dripped with glass, a single spotlight lit the stage and there was Joe, laying stone on the ground between the bottom of the stairs and the main bar. I cast my peepers round for clues and I saw plenty. On closer inspection of Joe, there were faint scrape marks from his heels and the bullet wound went downwards into his chest. A poster for that evenings special performance displayed a busty babe decorated with a sparkly sapphire necklace. Two drops of blood socked into a chair back, but not in the right position. Grace told me she was in the ladies room, up the stairs, but up there, were also the offices. It was all adding up. 

'And you found him like this? You didn’t touch him?’ 
    ‘Only to check if… he was…alive.’ 
    ‘You wanna know who shot Joe?’ 
    ‘Yeah I wanna know.’ 
    ‘You did toots, you did.’ 
    ‘I would never.’ she protested. 
    ‘You would never what? Never tell the truth, never return to a life of poverty. Damn right you’d never.’ 
    ‘I couldn’t kill him.’ 
    ‘You could and you’d do it again to cover your own satin sleeved ass.’ 
    ‘You got it all wrong.’ 
    ‘Don’t give me that jive, I’m on the beam.’ 
    ‘I don’t know what you think I am, but I’m no murderer.’ 
    ‘I still got you for pulling the trigger. You wanna know why?’ 
    ‘At this point you’re gonna tell me anyway.’ 
    ‘Because before you became a murderer, you were a dirty handed thief.’ 
    ‘Your accusations fly faster than bullets in here.’ 
    ‘Nice deflection but it won’t work. You’re a thief with a heart colder than the rocks you stole.’ 
    ‘That’s not me. I’m not a bad girl.’ 
    ‘You know the truth. I know the truth. Now I’m gonna make sure The Talons knows the truth and he can deal with you.’ 
    ‘You monster.’ 
    ‘The only monster I saw tonight was the one wearing the fur cape and blood red lips.’ 

And that solves the murder at the Black Cat Club, well I wouldn’t want to ruin my lousy record. 

Email: mail@chorleywriters.org.uk