Spring 2013: Story 1 Rough Draft

Mr. Bristles was not the sort of man you might expect to be a mob boss. He had the impressive height, stick straight posture, and heavy red moustache often associated with running such an operation, but he had the sort of build a housewife could lift with one hand and a stark case of rosacea. Mr. Bristles had ruled the streets of Davis City for ten years, and any who hit rock bottom knew they could be wiped off the map by a sweep of his hand. He lived in the area of town where the entire city did their laundering, an area that could only be reached from outside or through a narrow alley on the edge of the restaurant district.

Heading up the personal cleanup crew of the entire city was not the most glamorous lifestyle, but Mr. Bristles was content. Since he only had to do a citywide sweep once every four days or so, he had a lot of time to spend at home with his business partner, Dustin.

During his days off, Mr. Bristles had plenty of time for idle reflection. He’d started out as a typical middle child- clean and fresh and new, and hardly discernable from any of his peers. But eventually, he’d ventured out on his own and ended up being one of the first citizens of Davis City when Adam Davis became mayor. In those early days, most of the city was in cardboard boxes at rock bottom, and Mr. Bristles and Dustin had been constantly busy keeping things in order. It was not long after Adam Davis became mayor that he recognized a certain level of promise in Matt Davis and put him in charge of the new police force. For the first several weeks, Mr. Bristles had been forced to deploy his brawniest men to clean up after the rookie badge bearer’s mistakes, but eventually the city settled into the quiet routine that held true until Olivia Davis hit the scene to stir up trouble.

Olivia Davis was very good at her job. Like many young reporters, she was constantly working to expand her audience, and had a number of effective tactics and that aimed to drive a public wedge between the mayor’s wife and the chief of police. Many of these tactics involved manipulating city folk until they came crashing down to rock bottom where Mrs. Davis would recruit Mr. Bristles to race to compete with the police for jurisdiction.

Those were good days for Mr. Bristles. It seemed like every day that Mrs. Davis visited with a new problem only Mr. Bristles could fix. It was a strange sort of affair. Mr. Bristles knew he was being used, but he didn’t mind. He got to spend most of the time with just her, though he usually could only satisfy her with the help of Dustin. Her hands made it worth it. They felt better than anyone else’s in the city. Firm and direct, but soft and relaxed in a way that only comes from experience. And these frequent excursions, usually to the restaurant district, were always additional to what typically ended up being twice weekly tours of the city.

Davis City had been very well designed. Mr. Bristles spent most his time in the lower city, which mostly consisted of the happening dining and business sectors and the most expensive residential district in town, paved in shining stone and decorated with tasteful patches of turf. The upper city, with its middle class living, and hotel district was usually of little concern to Mr. Bristles. He usually delegated its upkeep, but stopped by to do a sweep on occasion.

It was on one of these occasions that Mr. Bristles found himself leaning against a wall just outside of the residential district where Matt Davis lived, waiting for Mrs. Davis to return with Dustin, that he found out how successful Olivia Davis had been in diminishing the former’s position in the eyes of his lady. The chief of police was entertaining a guest from out of town, and the two were speaking in hushed voices, seemingly unaware that the crafty mob boss could hear.

“I could just give you a copy,” Rob Price insisted.

“I don’t know.” Matt Davis seemed unsure.

“Come on,” Rob said.

“If she finds it, she’ll kill me…”

“She won’t. We’ll just put it in a folder called ‘Old Paperwork’ or something.”

Matt stared at the files in Rob’s hand, and hesitantly shrugged. “Okay. I guess.”

And with that, Rob Price thrust them at Matt Davis’s accountant. It was still being copied when Mrs. Davis returned with Dustin and the three of them continued on their way.

Mr. Bristles spent days thinking about the exchange he’d witnessed. He hadn’t imagined that the police chief had fallen so low that the mayor’s wife would wish him dead, and the knowledge plagued him. Should he tell her what he’d seen? He didn’t wish to upset her, but he couldn’t let the secret stand. By the time Mrs. Davis came back for the next city sweep, Mr. Bristles had come to a decision.

Matt Davis had to die.

By simply killing him, Mr. Bristles realized, he could do his favorite lady a service and shield her from the enraging contents of those mysterious files. So on his next visit to the upper city, Mr. Bristles swept over to Olivia Davis’s best friend and body guard, Theodore, who he knew had a personal grudge against the Matt Davis after an incident of police brutality that ended in the loss of one of his eyes. The officer in question received no other consequence than a short reprimand for the injustice. Mr. Bristles had tried a number of times to recruit the usually jolly fellow, but he and Olivia Davis remained inseparable. But perhaps a common enemy might be just what he needed to convince Theodore to get his hands dirty.

And so it was that Mr. Bristles found himself leaning on a wall in Olivia Davis’s part of town, staring down to meet Theodore’s one shiny, black eye. Though rather short and soft in the middle, Theodore was not a man to rub the wrong way. He had thick, hairy arms and legs that Olivia Davis and those like her found irresistible, and made men from unsavory parts of town wary. The level expression on his face was a constant feature that made him difficult to read, and with one of those big, round eyes missing, every aspect of conversation felt like chess moves to Mr. Bristles.

After staring each other down for a while, Mr. Bristles asked how Theodore was doing.

He was doing quite well, and expressed appreciation for the inquiry before returning the courtesy.

Pleasantries exchanged, Mr. Bristles made more small talk before alluding to his proposition.

Theodore seemed mildly interested in what a mob boss would suggest they had in common, but he was mild about most things that had nothing to do with Olivia Davis.

Olivia Davis. That was it, Mr. Bristles realized, and his moustache twitched in a smile. He asked how she was doing.

Theodore replied that she was just swimming.

Good. That was good. Mr. Bristles mentioned that it seemed a shame that they didn’t work together at all considering how close their ladies were.

Though his face didn’t change, something in his posture suggested that Theodore was mildly amused at the idea of the city’s top mob boss taking work legitimate enough for him to be interested.

Mr. Bristles feigned indignation at the idea of trying to draw the righteous Theodore off the straight and narrow.

The look of amusement changed to a suspicious curiosity.

Mr. Bristles asked the one-eyed man what he thought of Matt Davis, and almost wished he could high-five someone when he saw a brief flash of anger. He had Theodore now, and he knew it. He paused long enough for it to be clear that Olivia Davis’s body guard had nothing to say before relating the dirty exchange the police chief had thought was a secret. And he fell silent again to let his quarry mull the story over.

Mr. Bristles imagined that he could read the thoughts on Theodore’s round, hairy face. Rob Price? He’s not even from Davis City. What business did he have dealing with the police chief? What were they planning that would warrant capital punishment? What were in those files? He asked Mr. Bristles if he was sure of what he’d seen.

Of course he was.

Theodore asked what Mr. Bristles expected to do about it.

He told him. Though they did not know what the files were, the crime was obviously severe. How safe was the city if the police chief was playing dirty? What about the balance between the cops and Mr. Bristles’ crew? Even those aligned with the rule of the street could recognize that the rule of law had its place. And with the top dog of the lawmen playing dirty, it was up to the last true protector and the honest criminal to make it right. If the death penalty is what Matt Davis was expecting, then that’s what he’d get.

Theodore seemed to find this logic sound, but looked like he needed just a little bit more to go on.

So to seal the deal, Mr. Bristles made a passing remark about how the story of getting Matt Davis out of the way would bring Olivia Davis to a high point in her reporting career and eliminate the competition for the favor of the mayor and his wife.

He still didn’t seem entirely happy with the plan, but that was never Mr. Bristles’ expectation. His victory lay in the blank look of grim determination on Theodore’s face, which somehow brought slightly more attention to the scar that used to house his missing eye.

Mr. Bristles took the trip back down the stairs to the lower city and spent the next few weeks getting familiar with Matt Davis’s daily movements. He knew there had to be a time when the police chief was vulnerable and alone. Nobody is always safe.

Matt Davis was no exception. Much of his day was consisted of doing paperwork, and running drills with the police, but he spent a suspicious amount of time consulting his accountant. This routine was interrupted by trips to the red light district on a regular basis. Mr. Bristles would watch him move in various rhythms, occasionally saying, “That’s right, Lily,” or “Take that, Scott Miller,” until his energy was spent. At that point, he would go down to the furnace room to sweat off the exercise before cleaning himself up.

There. That was the weak point in his day.

He shared his findings with Theodore, and asked if the latter had found any other times when the police chief was vulnerable.

There weren’t, and that settled it.

They spent an hour fine-tuning their plan. It had to go smoothly on the first go, or they might never get another chance. It wasn’t difficult for a mob boss and his big, one-eyed ally to convince the fellow who controlled the temperature in the furnace room to ignore any requests for an adjustment. With that done, the rest was a waiting game.

Matt Davis didn’t go to the red light district that day.

Or the next.

The day after that, Mr. Bristles went on one of his citywide sweeps with the mayor’s wife and Dustin, but he was feeling too edgy to fully enjoy the feeling of her fingers on his handle. She didn’t seem to notice, and the whole affair ended as it always did- with the two used men leaning on the wall in their home to catch their breath. Mr. Bristles was glad that Matt Davis didn’t go to the red light district that day.

It was four days after Mr. Bristles and Theodore set their plan in motion that their target made his way into the trap. The former employed the help of a comically round cab driver to stealthily convey him through the restaurant and business districts so that he could wait just outside the furnace room. Matt Davis didn’t seem to notice Mr. Bristles leaning on the wall when he staggered in to sweat off his latest vigorous activity.

Good.

Mr. Bristles watched as the man- the criminal- who’d wronged his beloved sat down and close his eyes. He looked so tired.

The mob boss made short work of jamming the furnace room door shut. The police chief still didn’t seem to notice.

After about ten minutes, Matt Davis got up to check the temperature. Finding it unusually high, he went to try to have it changed, but soon realized that he would get no response to his request.

Then came the best part- the part when the prey recognized the predator for the first time. Matt Davis tried the door. Tired, hot, and thirsty, he couldn’t budge it. And there it was. That flash of fear that crosses a man’s face when it dawns on him for the first time that he is in mortal danger.

He pounded on the door. Nothing.

He yelled. No help came.

He tried again to cool down the room, but could not get the temperature under his control.

He continued like that for twenty minutes before his voice gave out, and another forty before leaning on the wall and slowly sliding down it to the floor, all the while staring at Mr. Bristles’ red moustache through the window in the door. His skin was red and dripping with sweat, and his dark hair clung to his head in a wet mess. After a few more minutes, his bloodshot eyes slowly closed and he slumped to the floor.

Mr. Bristles stayed put. He watched Matt Davis’s chest rise and fall. It was quiet and peaceful the way its rhythmic motion slowly smoothed out to a calm stillness. The hot dry air had just finished evaporating the sweat off of the body when the mayor’s wife showed up. Mr. Bristles smiled at her, ready to show her his gift.

Upon seeing him blocking the furnace room door, the mob boss’s lady gasped. “Oh my god,” she said and dragged Mr. Bristles away from the door before opening it and rushing inside.

What? Where were the thanks?

Mr. Bristles watched from where she’d left him as the mayor’s wife held Matt Davis and wept. He tried to explain it. The files. He was a criminal. He was supposed to be running a police force, but he was the dirtiest man in town. He’d done her and the whole city a favor by getting rid of him.

But his lady didn’t seem to hear him. She didn’t even look at him.

Women. They were all impossible.

With the cab long gone and with his lady in hysterics, Mr. Bristles had no way to get out of there. He wanted to let Theodore know they’d succeeded.

But he didn’t get a chance to tell Theodore because as soon as he and Olivia Davis got near the scene, Adam Davis sent her away. Nothing was making sense anymore. The mayor and his wife were crying over Matt Davis and the police was howling in shocked despair.

Where had he gone wrong? Why wouldn’t anyone listen to him? What about those incriminating files?

It was only about ten minutes before unfamiliar men in uniform arrived at the scene. The feds showed up awfully quickly for having to come from halfway across the state. One of the men sat down with the mayor and his wife and started asking questions.

Lost in thought, Mr. Bristles ignored the interview until the agent asked how the mayor’s wife had found the body.

She gasped for air a few times, and Adam Davis squeezed one of her beautiful hands. “I was just going to freshen up a little,” she whimpered and pointed a finger shakily at Mr. Bristles, “and I saw that blocking the door.”

That? Who was she calling “that?” After all he’d done for her. All of the little favors. All of the city sweeps. After all of the work he’d put in to rid the city of dirt and scum. After all the time they’d shared. He was just “that?”

He would never have a chance to ask her why, make her understand, to make sense of it himself, because he was snatched away by hands covered in purple latex gloves and dragged away. Frozen in the shock of his lady’s betrayal, he didn’t fight back.

*****

Notes:
I'd really appreciate feedback on this one. What are your initial reactions? What do you think this story is about? There are a number of places that I think need to be fleshed out a bit. Which parts would you like to see expanded? Should Mrs. Davis have a first name? What were you still puzzled about at the end of your first read-through? Second (if applicable)? Is there too much of a tone shift from light/cheery to creepy at the end? Too little? Just right? Ideas for a title? Other thoughts?

Thanks!