March 29: A different kind of sport – “Dial M for Mozzarella.“
Famous detective Steve Shovel, cousin of Sam Spade, was on another case. Steve was deep, deep, undercover doing surveillance work from a dingy hotel room that reeked of Buffalo-chicken pizza and cheap Bourbon. His job was to gather information that would help solve the mystery of the missing Maltese Seagull, a statuette worth millions on the black market.
Steve saw plenty under the glow of the street lights from the fourth-floor window of his seedy hotel room on the beach in Kitty Devil Nags Head. He saw things that required a good stiff drink to remember, and some things that required a good stiff drink to forget.
But Steve was a professional, he was married to the window, he would crack the case or the case would crack him. Even through the rain from a strong Nor’ easter he recorded the constant circus he observed outside on film, in notes on paper or chiseled the images into the deep corners of his nightmares.
Although Steve was cold and lonely in the dark room, he found companionship from the bottle. He would take a swig and chuckle to himself thinking that at least this room was better than having to avoid errant arrows shot across the room during his last assignment.
Until next post be safe, be kind, and stay tuned for the next adventure of Steve Shovel.
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