To Stop a Crook

It was going to be a long nasty night like so many Autumn nights recently.  The rain came down in sheets at times, chilling Buddy to the bone.  But that wasn't going to stop him.  Buddy was on a mission.  He was tough enough to put up with this sort of thing.  "What's a little rain?", he thought.  It was almost 10:00 PM at night as he leaned against the wall outside of Thaxton's Apothecary in his long rain-soaked trench coat and felt-brimmed hat.  Buddy stood under the awning in front of the drugstore, but it wasn't enough to keep him dry.  "Some things are just more important", he thought.  He couldn't afford to let Mugs McCabe get away, and a little rain wasn't going to stop him.  This was a stake out!

Mugs McCabe was a small town crook who had aspirations of being a Wiseguy some day.  He wanted to be someone!  Someone who would give orders instead of always taking orders from "The Boss".  Mugs got his nickname from his poor eyesight.  Looking though his glasses was like looking through the bottom of two beer mugs.  Buddy would have watched Mugs from the protection of his car, but in a small town like Hancock, a gum-shoe detective on a five & dime budget couldn't afford much more than a good pair of walking shoes.  Mugs was staying in a cheap motel across the street; the Flamingo Motel.  It was a typical run-down joint; the kind with a neon sign that never stayed on for long.  The sign flickered sporadically, probably from years of weather and worn out wiring.  Mugs was in room 3.  "He's warm and dry in that seedy motel", Buddy thought, "probably enjoying a bottle of cheap whiskey and a good stogie, planning his next heist."  Buddy thought about the irony that fate always seems to put a dry roof over the bad guy's head.  If anyone could stop Mugs, it would have to be Buddy!

The End

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