Good Old Nancy

The city lights glimmered like stars against the twilight horizon; like specks of beauty in a world of hopeless shadows. Heaven's tears dripped past the cracks of the window, splattering raindrops onto the blood stained pavement below. I crept back from the elegance and calm of the glass framed night in a shudder. If I let myself admire the view any longer I might have become an optimist. There's no need for that here, I muttered before shifting my attention to the garbage bin of an apartment I called home.

Fluorescent light flickered on and off in a constant scattering of shadows and mice. The only lightbulb that lit this closet of a room hung haphazardly from the ceiling like a descending spider. Speaking of which, the grandmother of a spider still wove her web on the east side of the space. Not that I would ever need that side as the smell of mold and rodent remains was birthed there, but practically a forth of this place was covered in the spider's silky knitting hobby. Called her Nancy the first day I moved in and she hasn't left yet. Give it a month and I'd find a way to make good old grandma Nancy pay rent. That is, if I can afford to stay another month.

A sigh escaped my tired lungs as I buttoned up the weatherworn trench coat wrapped around me. Thirty-three dollars wasn't gonna be enough to stay for another month and payment was coming due tomorrow night. The street might be more pleasant than this place, but pride begs to differ. I shrugged. Maybe a walk could get my mind off things, I thought, dusting off my fedora. Of course a family of moths fluttered out as I reclaimed the hat. One of the moths flew straight into Nancy's web.

"Midnight snack for the old lady," I said. "The next one you gotta pay for, ya hear?" I pointed at the spider. Don't think she thought I was serious. The door swung open with a horrid creak bound to wake up Jesse next door. Poor fellow had to get up in a hour or so to get to the factory on time. At least he had a fiancé he could marry in a week and then he'd be out of this dump. Lucky devil managed to fall in love with one of the richest ladies in the city and found himself not really caring about the money after all. She must be something real special to say yes to a man from the South Bend.

My steps pressed on loose boards that squeaked like mice when they get trapped. Passed by 637, Tommy Young's room. The only cop brave enough to spend his nights in Ricky Trick's territory. Ricky's got the whole neighborhood under his greasy thumb. Knew when to bride and when to scare off folks. Some think Tommy to be a part of the Trick Gang, but anyone who ever talks to him knows there ain't no chance of that. Kindest man to carry a gun since Commissioner Johnson and that's saying something.

The stairs ahead of me were still stained with pasta bits from when Mary was nearly stabbed by some robber new to his occupation. She sent her dinner flying at him and he fell down every last stair. Knocked unconscious for the ambulance to take care of. A smirk dared to appear through my controlled complexion, no one has tired to mess with Mary in weeks because of that.

Seven flights of stairs latter, I made my way past the old lobby with all it's furniture covered in torn up white sheets. Looked more like a crime scene than a place anybody would lounge in, and that was before they decommissioned it. Maybe a few roaches still hung around under those rotting chairs.

I left the building and shoved my hands deeper into the abyss of my pockets. My ruddy old shoes had a hole in them apparently. The bloody rain water chilled my toes and made what remained of my socks squish with every step. The stain from last month's drive by finally started to fade from the sidewalk. To replace it was a burn mark from when some fool let a tire burn to stay warm. The scent of melty rubber came to mind just by thinking about it.

Shaking my head, I focused on the lamp outside of Terry's bakery that buzzed with electricity and twenty some moths. One of them lovingly clung to the light until his sizzled corpse popped like a balloon. Hmmm, maybe Nancy would like some fried takeout? Ah, takeout. My stomach whined like a puppy, telling me yet again about how little a package of oatmeal for dinner could satisfy. Too bad all the restaurants were closed nearly four hours ago. Not that I could afford more than an appetizer with my thirty-three dollars.

Another sigh left me. Guess a walk didn't do me much good other than soaking me to the bone. Shivering as if just aware of how frigged the night was, I decided to finish my trudging march around the block. Retracing my way back to my room, I reached for the handle to my door.

Did I leave the door ajar? No, I don't think so. The light still flickered, just as I had left it. I pushed the door open as quietly and slowly as I could. Luckily no one was in sight. Nothing seemed moved or changed. I closed the door behind me and triple checked that it was locked. Scanning the room again, There was an envelope on my desk. My name was written in fancy handwriting and I tore it open. Inside was a stack of bills and a letter. The words took some time to get through the cursive, but it looked to say:

"Saw what you did for Mrs. Nancy. The poor anxious wreck can eat dinner again thanks to you, figured you might be able to help me with finding out what happened to my son-in-law. Paid partly in advanced so that I know you'd be interested. Call me in the morning.

312-546-9210

Sincerely, A. Lynn."

I nearly dropped the letter. I had the money I need to pay my dues and a new case all in one night. Couldn't remember ever helping a Mrs. Nancy. Last I remember I didn't know a Nancy. Well, none except...

I gazed at the east side of my room. The webs were still there, but the old spider wasn't in sight. Her snack was gone too. Shaking my head, I gave myself the luxury of a chuckle letting my gaze fall on the city shimmering outside my cracked window. Seems like good old Nancy found a way to pay rent after all.