Mammoth Mystery
written by Zero Cool
There he was, sitting in the front row. He loved to watch live shows at night. The man at the piano played “Puttin On The Ritz” while the performers danced on stage. Everything was wonderful. Then something happened. Shots rang out. One of the performers fell on his back. He looked around. All of a sudden he was in a dark alley. He looked in front of him. All he could see was the dark and some fog. He turned around. There in his face was the muzzle of a pistol. He could here the trigger being squeezed.
He awoke with a start. He looked around. He saw the walls of his apartment. He looked over and saw his desk with the phone and typewriter on it. He calmed himself. He wiped the sweat that was on his forehead. He got up and went over to the closet. He put on some new clothes, then he went and sat down in his chair.
Why do these dreams keep haunting me?
He had been a P.I. for twenty years and only a few weeks earlier he had started to get the dreams.
Maybe I should retire he thought to himself.
He didn’t have much to go on. He looked around. The room was very small. And there were only a few things left. He looked over at the hat rack that had his trench coat and hat on it. The cot that he slept in. The desk had the typewriter and phone on it. And in the closet were some clothes and detective equipment. He couldn’t retire. He didn’t have enough money on him. The phone rang. He picked it up.
“Hello,” he said.
“Is this the office of Jack Page?”
“Yes, and this is Page, do you have a case?”
“I’m L.B. Mammoth, president of Mammoth studios”
“Yeah I know how you are Mr. Mammoth, so what can I do for you?”
“I have a case for you, someone has been stealing movie equipment down at studio sixteen, I want you to find out who it is, and no cops”.
“Why not?” Page asked.
“If the cops start snooping around, then the damn reporters will be there too, and you know how bad it can get when the media is publishing bad news about you”
“Okay, studio sixteen you said?”
“Yeah”, L.B. replied.
“Okay, I’ll get started on it.”
He hung up the phone. He got out of his chair and went over to the hat rack. He put on his trench coat and his hat. He went to the closet and got a magnifying glass. He put it in his pocket. He walked out the door.
He walked down the hall and down the stairs. He walked out the front door of the apartment building. It was sunny outside. There were people on the sidewalks and taxis on the street.
I better get a newspaper Page thought.
He walked down the street until he got to another building. He went inside and walked up to the second floor.
He opened the door to a waiting room. At the other end was a room that said “Private” on it. He went over by a bench. He saw a newspaper bin next to the water cooler. He took a copy of The Variety. He sat down on the bench and started to read it. All of a sudden the door at the end of the room opened and out came Farley Wink. The hair that he still had was in a mess.
“This place is a disaster area! Where’s Sawyer at!?” He asked.
“She’s gone, remember,” Page replied.
He opened and closed his hand as talked. “Well where are all those other animals at, um….what were their names?”
“Danny, Tillie, T.W., Cranston, and Francis,” Page replied.
“So where are they then?”
“They’re all actors now.”
“So what are you still doing here?” Wink asked.
“This is the only place I can get a free copy of The Variety.”
“Man, ever since those animals left this place has been going under,” Wink shouted. He walked around the room. He tripped on the rug and fell on his face. Page got up and walked out of the room.
“See ya later Wink,” he said.
He had remembered those days when the animals were still there. He would come in, get a newspaper, talk with the animals for a couple of hours, and then leave. He had to admit that he was happy when they got they’re big break.
He walked down to Mammoth Studios. He went over to the man in the tollbooth.
“Hey buddy, could you open the gates?” he asked.
The gates opened and he walked in. He walked past the animals and the people. He arrived at studio #16. He went inside. It looked like a normal studio. They were making some movie called The ST. Louis Bank Robbery. He watched the performers for a little while and then went on to the owner’s office. Before he got there a large man stopped him.
“You look like a cop. L.B. said no cops.”
“I’m not a cop, I’m a private eye,” Page said.
“No P.I.'s,” he said. “L.B. said no snoops.”
“He hired me.”
“No snoops!”
The large man drew back his fist. Before he could swing Page pulled out his .357 Magnum and stuck it in the man’s face. The man had a look of surprise on his face. He slowly lowered his fist.
“Now get outta my way,” Page said.
The man moved to the side. Page walked to the owner’s office.
He opened the door. There sat a medium sized man in a pinstripe suit. He was talking on the phone. He looked at Page with some confusion. He talked for a couple more minutes and then hung up the phone.
“What can I do for you?” He asked.
“I’m a P.I. that L.B. hired to find the stolen movie equipment, name’s Jack Page.”
“Oh yah, L.B. said that he hired you.”
“Then why did that guy out there try to smash my face in?”
“He wasn’t told, so what do you need to know?”
Page shrugged a little. “Not much, just a few small things, like what was stolen?”
“Four movie cameras, eighteen scripts, and about a dozen rolls of film”, he said.
“Anyone see the robbery?” Page asked.
“Nope, this studio closes at eight, if we have to do any night scenes we do them in city.”
“You know anyone that might have done this?” Page asked.
“Not really, but I bet its those pinheads at Spencer films.”
Page smiled when the man said that. He was probably right. Spencer films was one of the film companies that Mammoth studios competed against. Ever since Danny and the other animals got jobs as professional actors Spencer films was struggling to stay in business. The president of Spencer films once walked right into L.B.’s office and punched him out. Of course L.B. got more money because of that. Spencer films started making cheap rip offs of Mammoth movies.
“I only need to know one more thing”, Page said. “Where are the places that the items were stolen from?”
“They were all in the back room,” the owner said.
“Thanks, that’s all I needed to know.” Page turned around and walked out.
Outside the man that he met earlier was leaning against a wall. When Page walked by he gave a short grunt. Page walked past the workers and actors. He walked to the back room. He opened the door.
Inside there were a few people looking at pieces of paper on clipboards. One of them shook his head.
“Man, how we gonna pay for all this?” he said.
Page walked over to the man. “Hi, my name is Jack Page, I’m a Private eye, I’ve been hired to find the burglars.”
The man looked up from his clipboard. “Really, I hope you can get the stuff back, we’re runnin out of money to pay for all this,” he said.
“Was anyone still in here when the burglaries happened?” Page asked.
“Haven’t you talked to the boss? If you have you know that know one stays here after eight,” he said.
“I know, I know, but sometimes these bosses miss little things like this.”
“Well, no I can’t remember anyone here last night, you know you should talk to the security guard.”
“Who’s he?” Page asked.
“His name’s Mark, he’s a large, muscular man, stands outside the boss’s door”
Page had a look of shock on his face. The man he had pulled the gun on. Oh man. That guy wouldn’t talk to him now. Why had he been so foolish? He sighed. He definitely needed to retire. Oh well, he would give it a shot. “Thanks”, he said. He walked out the door.
He walked pass the workers and actors. He walked back over to the man in front of the office.
“Hey, you the security guard?” Page asked.
The man gave a grunt. “Yeah”, he said.
“Listen, I’m sorry about what I did, okay?”
The man looked over at him. He held out his hand. “Sorry about me getting so mad at you, boss just told me L.B. hired you”, he said.
Page took his hand and shook it. “Hey, do you mind if I ask you a question?’ Page asked.
“Sure,” he replied.
“Was anyone here last night after the studio was closed?”
“Nope, I turned this place inside out and then I went home,” he said.
“Okay that’s all I needed to know, sorry again.”
“That’s okay,” he said.
Page turned around and put his hands in his trench coat pockets. He walked away.
He walked down the paths inside Mammoth Studios. He looked around. He saw Tillie over at a studio. It looked like she was talking and having fun, so he didn’t bother her. He walked on. He went through the gates.
He looked outside. Down the street was Farley Wink’s office. There were diners and stores and restaurants as far as the eye could see. There was a movie that was on a theater. He had wanted to see it for a long time. The Mask with Cranston Goat. He went down to the theater and bought the seventy-five cent ticket. He went in.
After about two hours he came out. He had never laughed so hard. He loved watching Fran and Cranston dancing in that place called the CoCo Bongo Club. He was still giggling when he came out. He had never expected Cranston to be a comedy star. But one think was for sure; he was good at it.
When that comes out on video, I’m gonna get it.
Then he remembered the case. Well, I better get to work on that case.
He looked at the sky. It was already nighttime. Hmmm, maybe I can work on it in the morning. He went to his apartment.
He walked up the stairs and unlocked the door to his apartment. He put his coat up in the closet and went over to his desk. He sat down and typed everything he had found out on the typewriter. There wasn’t very much, so he finished quick. When he got done he turned off the light and went to bed.
Mark walked through the studio. It was nine o’clock at night. He was making sure the studio was locked up before he was relived by another guard. He locked the back room and he locked the manager’s office. Sometimes the boss was careless. A man walked into the studio.
“Hey Mark, time for you to leave,” the man said.
Mark turned around. “Just a minute John, I’ll be done in a minute.” He locked up the file cabinet in his office and left. “Have a good one, John”, he said.
“Oh I’m sure really going to love this”, John replied. Mark smiled. John didn’t want to take this job, but when he was in the unemployment line it was the only job that was available.
Mark walked out of the studio and down the path. There were still some studios opened, but most of them were closed. There were a few workers outside. The paths at this time of night were dark. Mark walked past studio fifteen. He looked around. Some people were carrying cameras. Mark walked past studio fourteen. He heard something coming from inside the studio. He turned around. He looked at studio fourteen. According to L.B.’s papers that theater was suppose to close the same time studio sixteen did. He looked in. He saw someone at a desk scavenging through papers. He couldn’t see who it was because it dark inside the studio. He walked in.
“Hey,” he said. The person stopped going through the papers. “Turn around”, Mark said.
The person didn’t. The person raised his fingers and snapped.
“Turn around”, Mark repeated. Then he felt something hard hit him on the head. He spun around. Everything went black.
Page walked down the sidewalk. He was going to L.B.’s office. He figured there was something that L.B. had forgotten to tell him. He passed people and animals that were on their way to work. He stopped. He signaled for a cab. A cab stopped and Page got in.
“Were to”, the cab driver asked.
“To L.B.’s main building,” Page said.
The cab driver took off. In a few minutes the cab stopped in front of the main building. Page got out and paid the cab driver. He looked up at the huge skyscraper. He walked in the revolving door. He went over to the lady at the front desk.
“Could you please direct me to Mr. Mammoth’s office?” he asked.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.
“No, I’m a Private Dick that L.B. hired,” Page replied.
“Oh, yes, he told me about you, just a minute.”
She picked up the headset of a phone and spun the dial. She talked for a minute and then hung up.
“Mr. Mammoth’s office is on the thirtieth floor Mr. Page”, she said.
Page nodded and went to the elevator. The doors opened. There was a man standing at the side of the elevator. He was dressed in a bellboy uniform.
“What floor, sir?” He asked.
“Thirtieth please.”
The bellboy pulled a lever and the elevator started to move. It went up. Page tried to make small talk with the bellboy but he just stood there saying nothing. The bellboy pulled the lever another way and the elevator stopped. The doors opened. Page thanked the bellboy and walked into the large hallway. He looked around. The floor had to look of light marble. There were several rooms on both sides of the hall. There was one room at the end of the hall that had a large door. Page walked down to it. He read the sign on the door.
L.B. Mammoth: President
Page knocked on the door. A man that Page didn’t recognize opened the door. Page walked in.
L.B. was sitting at his desk. Page looked around the room. It was very large. At both sides of the room were red couches. L.B.’s desk was at the end of the room. The wall behind L.B.’s desk was one large glass window. Page walked over to L.B.
He pulled up a seat and sat face to face with L.B..
“So, Mr. Page, what do you have to tell me?”
“That I don’t know my butt from a hole in the ground, owner of the studio thinks somebody at Spencer films did it, the items that were stolen were four movie cameras, eighteen scripts, and a dozen rolls of film, and the studio closes at eight. Nobody was there to see when it happened or who did it.”
“Good good, now can you tell me something I don’t know?”
“Your wife’s having an affair with Flanigan.”
“What!?”
“Just joking.”
“I bet you think you’re a real riot Page, well guess what, your not. I pay you, you find this guy, that’s it. You don’t like me, I don’t like you, let’s just leave it at that, okay?”
Page smiled. “Fine with me, just came down here to see if anything new has happened.”
“Yeah, the security guard that works at studio sixteen was found laying in front of studio fourteen last night”.
“He dead?”
“Nope, but he’s in the hospital, got a concussion.”
“Wow, I just talked to the guy yesterday, anything else?"
“You’re the damn investigator, you find out.”
“I see someone forgot to take their happy pills this morning.”
“Sue me Page.”
“Okay.”
L.B. gave him a dirty look. Page smiled. He got up and left. He walked down the hall. He stopped at the elevator. It opened. Page walked into it.
“First floor please,” he said to the bellboy.
The bellboy pushed the lever down and they started to go down. Page didn’t think there was any use in trying to make small talk with the bellboy again. The bellboy pulled the lever up to the middle. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Page got out and waved to the lady at the front desk as left. He went outside.
He got a cab and went out of Mammoth Studios.
“Pull over here”, he said to the cab driver.
The cab driver stopped and Page got out. He paid the driver. The cab left and Page walked into a small store. He went over to the counter.
“I need a pack of Pall Mall”, he said. The cat at the counter got him the pack of cigarettes.
“Thanks”, he said. He paid the tabby and went outside. He took out his lighter and lit a cigarette. He started to smoke. The hospital wasn’t very far from here. He decided to go over and see Mark and try to figure out what happened. He started to walk down the sidewalk.
He was soon in front of the hospital. He walked inside. There was a nurse at the front desk looking at a piece of paper. Page went over to her.
“Excuse me, I’d like to know if my friend is here, his name is Mark, he’s a muscular man, came in with a concussion.”
“Yes, there was man that came in with a concussion, his name was Mark,” she said.
“Could you tell me which room he’s in?” Page asked.
“He’s on the second floor, room 107,” she said.
Page walked over to the stairs. He started walking up them. As he walked he planned out what he was going to do after he was done seeing Mark. He decided that he would go down to Spencer films and investigate. He was on the second floor. He walked down the hall until he got to room 107. He opened the door quietly.
He went inside. There were two beds. One of them was empty. The other had Mark in it. He was awake with a bandage on his head. Page walked over to him. Mark turned his head and looked at him.
“Well, Well, if it isn’t the Private Eye,” he said.
“Hey Mark, what’s new?”
“Nothing, except that I have a bumped on my head the size of New York City,” he replied. He gave out a little chuckle. He sat up in his bed.
“So I heard, sorry about the head,” Page said.
He shrugged. “Wasn’t your fault, so don’t be sorry.”
“What happened last night?” Page asked.
“I was going home last night, I heard something in studio fourteen, looked in, someone goin through papers. That studio was suppose to be closed. I told him to turn around. The next thing I know I’m here.”
“Did you recognize the person?”
“Nope, it was to dark.”
“Studio fourteen you said?”
“Yeah, let me guess, your gonna go investigate.”
“Yep.”
“Well, good luck, and if you catch this guy could you please bring him here so I can whack him like he whacked me?”
Page shook his head. “Reap what you sew,” he said.
He waved to Mark and walked out.
Man, who in the world could’ve done that?
He walked down the stairs. He went out the doors.
He walked down the sidewalk. Spencer films wasn’t very far from here. He decided to pick up a copy of The Variety at Farley Wink’s and then go to Spencer. He walked down the sidewalk until he got to the office building. He opened the door and went inside.
He climbed up the stairs and opened the door to the waiting room. He went over to the newspaper bin and took a copy. He looked over at Wink’s office. He decided to go visit him. He opened the door. Wink was asleep on his desk. By his arm was a small bottle of rum. Page shook his head. He went over to Wink. He reeked of rum. Page took the bottle and threw it on the floor. Wink shot up. He looked around. He saw Page standing in front of the desk.
“Jeez, can’t you read, the door says private on it you know.”
“Danny let himself in here and look where he’s at know.”
Wink gave him a kind of mean look. “I don’t think your going to get that lucky kid, now will you leave me alone?”
“Wink, you smell like a big bottle of liquor.”
“Yeah, ever since those animals left and got jobs as professional actors, I can’t get any employees, so I decided to drink to take the pain away.”
Page just stared at him. “You know I did that once and you know what it got me, not very much, at least I’m not homeless”, he said.
He left and closed the door behind him. He walked out of the wait room. He put the paper in his back jeans pocket and walked down the stairs.
Page walked down the street to Spencer films. Unlike Mammoth Studios, Spencer films didn’t have a gate. They didn’t have very many studios ether. Page walked into the place. He went over to the president’s office. The president’s office was in a trailer off to the side. He opened the door and went inside. There at a desk sat a man in a tacky three-piece suit. He looked up at Page. He stood up and extended his hand. Page shook his hand.
“How may I help you sir?” the man asked.
“I’m from the movie equipment supply company called 'Movie Magic', I would like to know if you have recently received any movie equipment?” Page asked.
“Yes, we have recently received some movie equipment,” the man replied.
“May I take a look at it?” Page asked.
“Certainly.”
The man and Page walked out of the trailer and to a small studio. They walked in. The man directed Page to a closet. The man took a key out and unlocked the door.
Inside the closet were all the missing items. Page looked at the man. “May I ask were you got these items sir?”
“We don’t know ourselves, they were an anonymous donation.”
“Perfect.”
“Excuse me sir but didn’t you say that you worked for a movie equipment company?”
Page looked at the equipment again. “I did say that, but its not the truth. I’m really a Private Eye that L.B. hired. He was being robbed of his movie equipment. These are the items that were stolen.”
“Sorry, but I found these in my office yesterday when I came here,” the man said.
“Well, I’ve found the items, but I haven’t found the burglars, I better start looking for them now.”
“Good luck, and tell that pin head L.B. that his movies suck,” the man said.
Page smiled. “I bet you enjoyed it when you punched him, didn’t you?” Page said.
The man turned around a put his hands together like he was going to pray. “It was bliss.”
Page smiled, shook his head, and left.
Sometimes Page wanted to punch L.B.. Oh sure he loved his movies, but it was L.B. by himself that ticked. At one point in time L.B. had his own personal team of detectives and Page was the best investigator on the team. But L.B. dropped the team because he thought it was a waste of money. The penny pincher.
Page walked down the street. He saw a trolley going down the street. He sat on the back bumper of it and took it home. He got off when he saw the apartment building. He went over to the building and opened the door. He walked up the stairs. He unlocked the door to his apartment and went inside.
He took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack. He sat down in his chair. He typed what he had learned that day and leaned back in his chair. He put his head back and closed his eyes. He went to sleep.
He stood in a dark tunnel. The fog surrounded him. He didn’t know where he was. He looked down at himself. He was wearing a tuxedo. He turned around. He saw the muzzle of a pistol in his face. He could hear the trigger being squeezed. He grabbed the arm of the person who was holding the gun. He pushed the gun into the air. Shots went off into the air. He punched the person in the stomach. The person grabbed his stomach. He grabbed the gun. He threw it down the tunnel. He took the person’s arm and flipped him over himself. He grabbed the mask the person was wearing. He tore it away.
His eyes opened slowly. He looked around. He saw his apartment. He leaned back and sighed. He didn’t see who it was. His phone rang. He sat up and answered it.
“Jack Page, Investigator, how may I help you?”
“You’re the one working on the robbery at Mammoth studios?” the person asked.
“Yes, that’s me, my I ask you how you know about my investigation?”
“Listen, I know who the burglars are, all I can tell you right now is that I’m a playwright that works at studio sixteen.”
Page noticed that the person had a Scottish accent.
“I’ll meet you in an hour, here’s my address.” Page jotted down the address.
“Hey Mr. Whoever, do you have a clock there, could you please tell me the time?” Page asked.
“It’s six o’clock, you bloody got that?” the person said.
The person hung up the phone. Page hung up his phone. He looked out his window. It was raining. He got up, put his trench coat on, went to the closet and got his umbrella. He got the piece of paper with the address and put it in his pocket. He walked out of his apartment and locked the door.
He walked down the stairs and out the door. He opened up his umbrella. He walked down the street. He looked around. There were cabs and trolleys going down the street. All of them had their lights on. He walked past Farley Wink’s. He looked down the alley that was between Farley Wink’s and another building. He saw Danny and Sawyer dancing. They were a great team, he gave them that. It was pretty neat to watch them dance. When they were finished Page put down his umbrella and clapped. Danny and Sawyer looked down the alley. They saw him. They let go of each other. Sawyer started to blush. Danny took a bow.
Sawyer looked at him. “What are you doin here Page?”
“I’m about to meet a guy that says he knows something that might help me with my case, looks like you guys are just having fun, reliving that day in this alley?”
Danny looked at him and smiled. “Yep.”
“You guys make a good team, I’ll give you that.”
He took out a Pall Mall and lit it. He started to smoke. Danny looked at him funny. He took the cigarette out of his mouth.
“Do you want me to put it out?” he asked.
“It’s okay,” Danny said.
Page took the cigarette and put it out. “Sorry about that, when I’m nervous I smoke.”
Sawyer looked at him. “Why are you nervous?” she asked.
“I’m meeting with a guy that might kill me, well I got to go, I got to meet this guy.”
He waved as he walked away.
He walked down the street. He walked over to a small store. He looked inside. There was a clock on the wall. It said six forty-five. He walked down the street to an apartment. He opened the door. He went over to a staircase and started to climb it. He got up to the third floor. He walked down the hall.
He got to the room that he had jotted down. He was about to knock on the door when he heard the same Scottish accent he had heard on the phone.
“No, please don’t, please don’t”, it screamed. Then Page heard a few gunshots.
He tried to get the door open but it was locked. He stood back and kicked the door in. He ran in. On the floor laid a dead Scottish terrier. Page noticed that a window was opened. He looked out the window. There was a person running down the stairs that were on the side of the building. Page crawled out of the window and ran down the stairs.
The person had gotten to the end of the stairs and had released the ladder. The person climbed down it. Page soon arrived at the end and started to climb down too. The person ran through the rain and night. Page ran behind the person. The person was wearing a black dress with a black hood and had a pink scarf around her neck. The person ran down the street with Page close behind. The person ran into a large building. Page followed.
He looked around. They had run into a library. There were hundreds of books. There were no lights on. Page couldn’t find the person. Then he heard a small noise from his right. He turned to his right. The person was on a spiral staircase. Gunshots were fired at him. He jumped to his left. The person ran up the staircase. Page pulled his .357 Magnum and ran up the staircase.
There was a large window at the end of the second floor. He looked around. He walked past some bookshelves. He couldn’t see anyone. Lightning flashed. He started to go down the other way looking for the person. He walked down a path between two bookshelves. Just then he saw something move. He looked out into the main path. The person was running towards the window. Page aimed his pistol and fired. The bullet hit the person in the shoulder. The person fell to the ground. Page ran over to the person. He took the gun out of the person’s hand. He turned the person over. He recognized her. Darla Dimple.
She was breathing hard. Page aimed his gun at her. He picked her up by the collar. Darla started to blurt out different words.
“I, I, I’mmm not the robb-er,” she said.
“What?” Page said looking curiously at her.
“He, h, hired me”, she said.
“Who did? Who hired you?” Page asked.
“He, he, he said he could get me back into movies,, she said.
“Who is he!?” Page demanded.
“His name is……
L.B. was asleep with his wife in bed. Just then the telephone rang. It woke him up.
“Who in the world…?”
He turned on the light that sat on the end table. He picked up the telephone.
“Who is it?”, he said in a mean tone of voice.
“It’s me, Page.”
“Page!? What in the world are you doing calling at this time of the night?”
“Sorry, but I thought you might find it interesting to hear that I caught one of the robbers.”
“Well, who is it?”
Page did his impersonation of L.B.. “Simple, it’s Dimple.”
“Don’t mock me Page.”
“But listen to this, Dimple isn’t the boss. It’s someone else. I going to arrest him in the morning.”
“Well, who is it?” L.B. asked.
Page whispered the name into the phone.
"What!?”
It was nine o’clock in the morning. Everyone was already working in the studios. The filming and the props and the actors. In one studio was L.B.’s best movie director. His name was Flanigan. He got out his megaphone and started to direct.
“Lights, Camerrrrra, Acction!”
They were making a movie called As Good as it Gets. Page looked inside. He pulled out his Magnum and walked across the studio. A few people saw Page holding the gun and backed up. He walked straight towards a movie camera. He stopped behind it. Flanigan was sitting in his chair watching the actors perform, looking for mistakes. Then he heard someone yell “Cut!” Everything stopped.
Flanigan looked around to see who had yelled. Page came out from behind the camera. He aimed the pistol at Flanigan.
“Freeze, this is a citizen’s arrest, I’m charging you with the ordering of burglary and murder, you have the right to remain silent.”
Flanigan got up from the director chair. Then out of nowhere a pistol was in his hand. He aimed it at Page.
“I’ve been expecting you Mr. Page,” he said.
“Yeah, I bet you have”, Page replied. Everyone moved back. They were circling, keeping their guns aimed at each other.
“Well, I guess I’m going to get outta here”, he said.
“One thing I don’t get Flanigan, why steal from L.B.?”
“To get back at him! All those years of being his slave, oh, sure I get paid, but out of all those years not one simple thank you!” he said. “See you in hell, Mr. Page.”
He fired his gun. Page jumped out of the way. He fired his gun. The bullet drilled Flanigan in the kneecap. He fell to the ground in front of Page. Page ran over to him. Flanigan raised the pistol and fired again. The bullet went between Page’s legs. Page kept running. He kicked the pistol out of Flanigan’s hand. Page kicked him in the face. Flanigan became unconscious. Page took out a pair of handcuffs and put them on Flanigan. He picked up Flanigan and left the studio.
He walked down the street. Some of the people and animals looked at him funny. He walked down to the LAPD. He walked into the police station. There was a cop sitting at the front desk. Behind him were people in uniforms running around. The cop looked at him oddly. Page took Flanigan off his shoulder and laid him on the floor.
"Sir, my name is Jack Page, I’m a private investigator, and this man is a criminal that has been leading a robbery of Mammoth Studios and ordered a murder of a Mammoth playwright”, he said.
The cop got up from his desk and looked at Flanigan.
“Well, sir, I’m going to need some evidence that this man is a criminal”, the cop said.
“Go down to studio ten at Mammoth Studios and ask the people there, he blurted out his whole plot there and pulled a gun on me.”
“Very well, I’ll send a cop to gather the information, meanwhile I’ll put him in temporary custody.” He took Flanigan to a cell that was in the station.
The case was closed. The information was retrieved by the LAPD. Flanigan and Darla Dimple were put on trial and sentenced to forty years in prison each. Jack Page received three thousand dollars from L.B. for the case.
The End
Note: This story has no connections to any other stories that are presented on this website. The way the characters were treated in this story only and no other. The Variety is a newspaper that is published and sold in Hollywood. Pall Mall is a real brand of cigarettes.