Still more notes for a novel in 1940s noir

by John MacBeath Watkins

A ricochet zinged off the rock we hid behind.

"They mean business, doll," I said.

"By asking for your help, I've put you in danger," she said in that husky voice that drove me wild.

"Don't worry, babe," I said, firing back -- Bam! Bam! Bam!. "I won't let them take you alive."

"You told me your uncle was a humanitarian," I whispered, "but it looks more like he's a cannibal."

"Well, dear," she said,  "if a vegetarian eats vegetables..."

"You're a dick, aren't you?"

 "That's right, I'm a dick, a shamus, a private eye," I responded. :"In polite society, which I never meet, they call me a detective."

"That's not the kind of dick I was calling you."

The crime was monstrous, so I added Mothra to my list of suspects

:"My gun is quick," Jack Hammer said.

"Next time, try thinking about baseball while we do it," she replied.

"Farewell, my lovely," I said, my voice choking with emotion.

"It's just a dental appointment," she replied. "you'll be done in half an hour, and I'll buy you some ice cream as a reward."

"You can't pin that on me!" he shouted.

"Want to bet?" I reached out to thrust the sharp point through his jacket over the heart. The pin was pink with black type, and said "world's greatest grandad."

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