sixwordstories | (no subject)

What martini?

[She sits and sips a glass as she reads the paper]

[He looked at her for a moment, his face a careful deadpan]

Apparently a mythical one, that disappeared off to Shangri-La.

Oh, I think Kublai Khan mentioned something about being thirsty on his way through.

[Sip and swirl of her glass and just giving him the sweetest smile in the world]

So long as he didn't track dirt on the carpet.

[He stoops, kissing her cheek, and goes to make another martini. A double, to catch up now that he's behind schedule]

Now the question becomes where did you get a martini, as I didn't hear the shaker. Quite the mystery, Mrs.Charles

What? This old thing? Had it for ages.

[but since he's up and fixing one himself...]

Nicky...be a dear won't you?

[She drained her glass and held it up, waggling it a little]

A regular family heirloom.

[He took the glass, giving her what could just best be called 'a look', and poured it. But, well, he reached over past the shaker, pouring in just a dab of vinegar while he was at it, then handed it back]

This one's got a bit more punch.

[And a normal one for him...]

I intended to hand it down one day but...[mock sigh as he took the glass.

She waited while he poured and then took the glass back with a grin, she sat and sipped.

Her face puckered and nose wrinkled.]

Oh Nick, I think the gin's gone off...it'll all have to go. I better take that so you don't get sick, dear. {swiftly she rose, took his drink and and the shaker and whisked them away...for his own good of course. That'll teach him.]

[He looked crestfallen, like a boy who'd just lost his dog. He followed after her, reaching over her shoulder, trying to snag the glass. Or the shaker.]

I'll dispose of the evidence, dear, don't you worry your pretty little face.

[He'll even try the simple expedient of kissing one cheek to distract attention so he can snag the glass from the far side]

Oh no Nicky, really that's..[and that's as far as she got before her hands were so graciously freed by her husband. Well if he wanted to play that way, fine. He could have the glass, she had the shaker.]

I'll just take care of the rest of this then.

[She poured herself a fresh drink, a double, then deciding she could still taste the vinegar, topped off the glass. She sipped and sighed.]

So Nicky, what shall we do today?

[And all the gin was gone. Fantastic. He sighed again, looking at her martini as one might the last rose of summer]

Hmm? Oh, I was going to get to work on the McLaughlin case. Now, what's this we you're talking about, dear?

[You should know better Nick, you're never going to win with this woman, she just smiled pleasantly and listened.]

We; I believe it's a pronoun used to indicate a group of one or more. Such as 'Yes Nora, we are going to work on the McLaughlin case, I'd love your assistance.' Does that clear it up?

[The last of the glass was drained, not much of a breakfast, maybe she'd try eggs next time.]

[He leaned in, hands on his knees, looking her right in the eyes from short range]

Has anyone ever told you that you'd have made the prettiest teacher in a school? I'd polish apples for you any time.

[And he's very deliberately not answering that last question, dear]

And Abrams asked for Nick Charles, dear. He didn't say 'Charles, bring that gorgeous wife of yours down to a probable mob hit so she can get shot at'.

[He touched the tip of her nose with a finger]

No 'we' today, dear, and that's final.

[One last desperate attempt to stem the Noraist tide, really.]

I'd say you might need some schooling yet.

[She made that face; the determined face, the one that meant it didn't really matter what he said, they both knew she'd end up there anyway.]

Oh, did he? Well I suppose if that's what he said then there's nothing I can do.

[Teeth snapped playfully at that finger before she feigned innocence once more.]

You just run along then Nicky, I'm sure I'll find something to keep me occupied.

[Oh, well, it might have worked this time. Theoretically.]

I'm sure you will, dear. [He kissed her on the cheek, fondly.] I'll be home for dinner, right on time. Come along, Asta.

[Because the amount of clues that dog manages to find is frankly staggering. He exited the room and listened for a second to make sure she wasn't rushing off. Then, with a satisfied nod, he proceeded to the nearest taxi]

Yes, I'd like a car brought around, yes Mrs. Charles. Thank you.

[Nora had no intention of just letting Nick walk off without her, but if he was going to be so charmingly stubborn about things she'd just have to find another way. He wouldn't be sore once she got there, she just knew he was being a fuddy duddy because he thought he had to protect her.

Nora gathered her gloves and purse, wrapped up in a fur lined coat and hurried down to the lobby in time to watch Nick step out the front doors of the building. Nora gestured for the doorman to bring her car to the curb, and once Nick was driving off in a taxi and slid into her own.]

See that taxi? I want you to follow it like a whiskey chaser.

[He arrived at the scene a few minutes later, Asta running in excited rings around him for a few moments as he stepped from the cab. He endured the usual greetings from the cops, rubber-necking ne'er do wells - most of them old acquaintances, and Abrams, getting right to work. It was a quiet scene, now, the body removed, the press gone.]

Well, Asta, we've got the place to ourselves, don't we?

[The dog barked, immediately making himself comfortable on a chair]

Oh, so you're taking this one off, I see.

[And with that he began the process of detection, looking for that little piece that didn't fit]

Park over there, I'll walk from here.

[Nora paid the driver and hurried out of the car, just catching Nick pass through the small crowd and head inside the building. She just had to get in there, but how?

She was wondering this as she saw two policeman head around the back of the building.]

Ah ha! Bringing up the rear.

[Nora strolled around behind the building and charmed her way past the pair of flat foots.]

No no, I assure you it's quite alright. I'm Mrs. Charles, Mrs. Nick Charles? He's expecting me.

[And with no more question than that she was allowed inside.]

[He whistled to himself as he worked, searching the place from top to bottom. The police usually missed something, in all fairness because most murder cases they encountered weren't very mysterious at all. You got used to the suspect being in the room, holding the weapon, saying that the other shouldn't have said what they did, or done what they had.]

[And then he heard footsteps. He flicked off the lights, gesturing at Asta to stay silent. With the cops leaving, now would be the time for someone to sneak in to make sure no evidence was left behind. He crouched in the darkness, drawing his snub-nosed .38, and waited until the right moment...]

Stick 'em up or I blow you full of holes!

[She tried to be quiet, she did. But it was dark and heels were not the best things to go traipsing around a dark storage room in. So she hissed when she caught her shin on a low shelf, and cut short a cry when the other shelf she grabbed onto for support came lose and sent her to the floor.

She heard Nick and struggled to her feet indignantly.]

No you won't! There's a strict clause about it in my will, if you kill me you don't get one red cent.

[He sighed, partly in exasperation, partly in relief.]

I knew there'd be a catch.

[He helped her up, favouring her with a smile]

You know, some nights I dream about the day where you'll actually listen to something I tell you, dear. That's the day I invest in lottery tickets.

[He looked around, tsking theatrically]

And you've made an awful mess, dear, an awful mess.

[Including revealing what had been behind the shelf. He stoops, taking a pen out of a pocket to lift up an automatic.]

Well, well. What do we have here? Darling, remind me to kiss all your little sore spots better for this.

[He helped her to her feet, she angrily brushed dust from her dress]

Darling, if you'd tell me something that made sense then I'd listen perfectly well.

[She looked around, with the light on the place was more of a shambles than she'd thought. Not ransacked just cluttered floor to ceiling in shelves.]

I'm not one to not take credit where it is do, but I don't think even I can claim all this.

[Her eyes found the handgun and went wide and round]

You can start with getting me a drink, we can work on the kisses later. Can we please leave now Nicky?

Not losing that nerve of yours on me now, are you, sugar?

[He didn't smile when he said it however. He was thinking. He wrapped the gun in a handkerchief]

It's alright, Nora, we don't have anything to worry about. This wasn't a mob-related crime at all, just made to look like one. Someone's trying to play the police and me for a patsy.

[Oh she gave him a look for that. But she wasn't exactly pleased with the situation now, because that meant the game had changed.]

Nick, someone wanted this to look like a mob crime. If you tell people you know it's something else that makes you a target.

I know I encourage you to do these things, but I'm not quite ready to be a widow just yet.

[The smile returned]

And give up my only advantage? My dear, the killer doesn't know that I know - and now I can lay a delightful little trap down the line.

[He took her arm, steering her towards the exit]

Now come along, my dear, somewhere there's a gin with my name on it.

[He leaned in, whispering]

And don't tell anybody, but he's bringing along a few friends for the both of us.