John Malloy (17) the Blackmailed Beauty

John Malloy (17)
Blackmailed Beauty

 (John Comes Out of the Closet)

John Malloy was hiding  in the closet, filming the masochistic Detective Withers as Mona did her sadist routine on him. John had a sneeze attack and alerted Detective Wither he was not alone
**
      I saw a naked Bill Withers, rod in hand,  lumbering toward my closet hideaway.

     I plastered myself against the wall next to the doorway and waited. The door violently flews open, smacking against the wall with a loud thud.

       Withers flubbed the dub when he made the mistake of poking his gun hand in the doorway first. I came down hard on his wrist with the butt of my .32.

      The doll-dizzy copper  screamed out his  agony  as his pistol hit the wood floor.

     Before he had a chance to recover from the sudden pain, I launched myself out the door way.

     He was still howling and holding the injured wrist when I connected my fist to his left jaw with a enthusiastic right cross.

      When the big man hit the floor face down, it sounded like a felled oak tree in a phone booth.

       I jumped on his back, crooked my elbow around his thick neck and put a sleeper hold on him.

     "What can I do, John?" Mona asked anxiously from over my left shoulder.
  
    "Get your chanty-girl duds covered  and get ready to beat feet, quick!" I said, as Withers started to thrash around in panic.  The tubby flatfoot bucked like  bronco.

     Finally, I could feel the fight leaving his carcass as he sailed off to dreamland. I waited a few seconds to make sure he wasn't faking before I eased off the pressure.

     When I climbed off his  frame I spied Mona pulling on her skimpy bottoms, then reaching for the trenchcoat she got here in.

     "Make sure you don't leave any clues behind!" I told her. "I'll just get his heater, then bag the recorder and camera!"

      As she got her trenchcoat  on, I sprinted into the closet and rammed the Bell & Howell in the bag .  I then my ran out and crawled under the bed, pulling out the wire recorder and shoved it into the bag.

       Just in case Sleeping Beauty came to before we could scram, I picked up his police special and put it in the poke.

     I dashed out of the closet to see Mona standing by the door with her trenchcoat wrapped around her hot bod.  The cloth belt was cinched down around her belly.

      I ran over to where Withers' threads were draped over the back of a wooden chair and rifled his pockets until I found his key ring. I palmed it and joined Mona at the door.

     She peered at me kinda quizzically.

     "His heap is blocking your buggy, and I don't want him fallowing, "I explained as she opened the front door.

     I followed Mona outside and took a quick gander back at Withers napping on the carpet. He was still out to lunch and looking like a beached white whale!

      I sprinted over to his rig, sliding  behind the wheel of the older Dodge and stepped on the starter button. The six volt starter slowly moaned until the engine caught. I backed up and parked the heap next to cabin number ten and headed for my wheels.

     Mona was just about to climb into her M.G. convertible when I called out, "Meet me at the Pit Stop, kid!....We gotta talk!"

      She looked confused, but nodded. Then she crawled  in the sports car and cranked it over. We made our big getaway, having  narrowly avoided a major disaster, spoiling  my swell plan.

     I was still nursing my first beer waiting for Mona, parked in the same booth in the back with nothing behind me other than the toilets and the pool table. I like it here because I don't have to watch my back.
 
      The barstools were covered in male keisters in the cop bar when Mona came waltzing in, still wearing her gray trench coat.

    "Can you show me some I.D., Miss?" said a pot-bellied barkeep.

     "Why, certainly!" Mona responded, loosening the belt. She then opened the trenchcoat wide to the whistles, hoots and obvious approval of the house.

     "Any questions?" she smiled, wrapping herself up again.

      The barkeep dropped the beer glass he'd been polishing  and responded, "No, MA'AM!
…Whadda ya have?"

     "A gin fizz, please…..
in the back booth where that handsome gentleman is sitting."

       As she gyrated her hips on the way back to me, one of the patrons at the bar groused, "Lucky STIFF!"

      Mona sat down looking concerned."What was so urgent you needed to talk to me right away?"

        I took s deep breath. "Withers knows you set him up for something," I tell her.  "He doesn't know he's on film, but he's not that dumb. He knows he was being watched. And he knows you're a part of it. You need to do a vanishing act until this mess blows over. You're in real danger, kid…Now I am too since you called out my first name."

      "I'm so sorry, John!" she almost balled. "I just wasn't thinking!"

     "Water under the bridge!" I sighed. "If I hadn't sneezed, we wouldn't be in danger……  Withers knows a private dick was snooping around. He now knows my first name. It's just a matter of time before he puts two snd two together and tracks me down."

       "I can stay at Scotty's house for awhile," Mona assured me.  "But what about you?"

     "Don't worry about me, dollface. I've got the luck of the Irish working for me. But we gotta split this scene!  I only chose this place because it's the only joint we both know. Withers probably won't show anytime soon since I stole his car keys…..but you never know!"

     "Excuse me, pretty (hic) lady," I heard from my left.

     I looked up to see the same little drunk from the other night in a rumpled tuxedo, weaving around in the isle as he tried to keep standing. He tipped his top hat and bowed to Mona, almost falling over.

     "He's all yours," I told her. I got up and threw a couple of bills on the table. "I'll call you at Bowers when I make a move!"

      The little guy looked up to me, all bleary-eyed and slurred, "You, SIR….. are (hic) cramping my STYLE!"