|A rough night
||[21 Dec 2005|11:45pm]
Where: The Police Station
When: Very early morning
Characters involved: Anyone
Closed to: No one
"So boys this is the place...eh...?"
Vantine said boisterously as she stumbled into the police station alongside her two police escorts. It was brutally obvious she was half tipsy from a night of booze and by conventional moral standards half dressed. The already slinky bronze gown she wore was torn drastically making a slit from her hip down revealing garters and all. It was also plain to see she'd been through a hell of a rough night. The clock outside the station now chimed at half past 4.
"Listen honey...I had no part of this. I was just a girl who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong fella' who I thought wasn't so wrong. Now is there anything wrong with that?"
She said with a drunken giggle and a hiccough.
The next thing she knew she was taken into a dark office of sorts and thrown off into a chair.
"Someone will be back in a minute ma'm. I wouldn't try anything funny if I was ya...especially if I was ya." She heard a tired officer say as he fled the room,slamming the door behind him.
It was there she finally dropped her head to the desk in front of her and began to cry erratically.
|Reporting An Occurance
||[07 Oct 2005|07:35pm]
Where: The Police Station
Characters involved: James Callen and Gordon Richardson
Closed to: Anyone not in the Police Station
It had been a funny sort of day and Gordon was a little on nerves as he walked into the police station gripping his camera as if it was precious. In a way it was to him. He had always found solace in his camera and taking photographs. Since the first time he had seen a camera he wanted nothing more than to be a photographer and he was. He took photographs for the local newspaper which was how he knew to go to the man he had entered the station to see.
He walked up to the front desk where a rather chubby officer sat reading the newspaper and sipping from a cup of coffee. Gordon brushed his hair back as best he could and cleared his throat to bring the officers attention to him. The chubby man looked up from the paper in an annoyed sort of manner. The station was quiet this time of night which was one of the reasons the officer chose to work the hours he did. He was always annoyed though when someone felt they had to go into the station late at night and report something. He would liked it better if they all stayed at home or better yet went out to a speakeasy and stayed out of his hair. But this man was there already and obligation took hold. "Can I help you?" he asked in a gruff voice.
"I need to speak to Detective James Callen," Gordon said. His voice was hushed as if it was a secret he was telling. "It has to be Detective Callen though. I won't speak to anyone else. I have something very important to tell him."
The chubby man sighed and stood. "Follow me," he said escorting the tall lanky man to an interrogation room before leaving him and fetching the detective.
Gordon tapped his fingers on the wooden table that sat in front of him. He only put his camera down for a quick moment as he adjusted his tie and vest before grabbing the camera up again as if some one was going to rush in and steal it at any moment.
He had met the detective once before but would have been surprised if the man remembered him. It was at least two years ago when Gordon was taking photos of a murder scene. The young detective was leading the case and had ended up using some of Gordon's photos when the crime scene photographer's were not satisfactory. It wasn't that the man was the only person Gordon could talk to but he was the only one Gordon could remember enough to go to.
He looked at his camera again thinking back on what had happened. He had to tell someone and who would understand better than a detective of James Callen's caliber.
||[04 Oct 2005|11:23pm]
Where: Joey's Speakeasy
When: Late Evening
Characters involved: Anyone enjoying the atmosphere of the speakeasy.
Closed To: Cops or any one who is trying to close down the speakeasy.
The dim light of the smokey room was a comfort to the man who sat in the corner watching the people who filled the room mill around. He sat there like an omniscient being watching his subjects go about their daily lives. It was his usual position on these nights. Since the day they put in place the whole idea of Prohibition Joseph Cipriani had been using it to his best advantage.
Joey Angel, as he was called by the neighbourhood and those who respected him, was the propriator of the dimmed club he over saw. The Speakeasy was full of lively people who were dancing, drinking, watching the young brunette on the stage, and having the time of their lives. The fact that people made life styles like this illegal was one of the best things to happen to the city. People were drinking more, partying more, dancing more, and spending money more. That was the part that Joey was interested in.
He sat in silence smoking a cigarette and sipping on a glass of the bathtub gin he sold. A young man came up to Joey somewhat timidly. The boy whispered something to Joey and after receiving a nod from the dark haired man he slinked away and Joey went back to his solitude.
Most of the people in the club didn't know who he was nor that he was the owner of the illegal business they enjoyed. But not many things Joey did in his life time were allowd by law. He sipped his drink again as the brunette finished one song and went straight into another causing more of the inhabitants to raise from the tables and join in on the dancing in the center of the room.