The Female of the Species

Her ruby lips are pushed out in a sullen pout, the spoilt girl told she can’t have candy. A woman you’d die for. A woman you’d kill for.

“If you’re counting on me getting sentimental, you’re going to be disappointed, sugar,” I tell her. She tosses her head and laughs.

I swallow hard and carry on, say what I’ve got to say. “Too many men have died because of you; some good, some bad. It’s hard to tell which is which in this town. A lot of men been hurt too.” I rub my shoulder; the bullet wound still sore. “But you wouldn’t bat one of them pretty lashes if a thousand men died so long as you got what you wanted in the end.”

She yawns theatrically and stares disinterestedly into the corner. Ever the actress.

“But not in this story, dollface. Those looks of yours won’t be worth a tin dime when they let you out.”

She glances at the door. I take out my .45 and rest it on my knee. “Don’t try it, sugar. I’d hate to put holes in that lovely dress. Just sit tight; we’re nearly done.”

She leans back and slowly crosses her long legs. She looks into my eyes and smiles. Her hand closes round the glass ashtray, sends it spinning through the air. It glances off my temple then I’m levelling my gun as she makes for the door, my finger tightening on the trigger.

The door bursts open and the room fills with police. The cuffs go on. She turns, eyes flashing.  “I never should have married you, a lowdown private eye.”

She is led out of the door and down the stairs. “We all make mistakes, sweetheart,” I say as she disappears from my life.