The Little Book

Nighthawks

New York, at night, 11 o'clock. There was a deathly hush in the street. Everything was closed, the stores and shops, except one diner in the middle of a small neighborhood. The atmosphere was quiet, only the barman was breaking the silence. He was washing his glasses. The sound of the water touching the dishes was very borring. Detective Lance had been looking at him for thirty minutes and the barman was very embarrassed. He finally asked:

'Is there a problem sir?'

Not at all, you do your job, you're just the only interesting guy in this room while you just are doing the dishes. I don't know what I'm doing here anymore.

'No, I'm sorry Bob, can you serve me another drink please.'

'Sure, always without alcohol?'

'Yes thanks, my wife will kill me if I smell alcohol when I come back'

If only I had one. Well it's more because I'm on duty but my target is not a murderer. To have seen Johnny Smith all the week, I confirm that there is nothing nasty about this egocentric billionaire. He's just a notorious womanizer. I have nothing left to do here. I still have to finish this report, so borring.

Two weeks before, a young woman had been found dead in the river next door. She had not drowned because she had a bullet in her head. It was a murder. An investigation was underway and some time later another body was found. A young woman, again, but this time she was found by a street sweeper in the garbage. A real nightmare, the scene looked like a horror movie. The body was decomposing and a horrible smell was coming out. A bullet was found in her head just like the other girl. It was therefore obvious that the murders were related.

At the top of the list of suspects was Johnny Smith. He had always been with young women, women who generally had no attachment like family. He had been seen with one of the victims just before her death. So Lance had been assigned to watch Johnny for a week but during this week of surveillance, Smith actually spent his evenings with women who were always different but they all left delighted and alive.

This woman with Smith is so pretty. Her red dress suits her perfectly and highlights her shapes. Her long curly hair falls on her shoulders in such a delicate way... she looks like a goddess. He's a very lucky guy, every day with another beautiful woman. All because he is a rich man. Arh... it's so unfair!

Now it was the woman he looked at for many minutes so she got embarrassed too and he finally looked away and plunged his eyes into his glass of sparkling water.

Time was passing, it was getting really late. That's when Bob said he was going to close the diner. So they had to hurry up and finish their drinks. The inspector finished his drink in one gulp, left a tip for Bob on the counter, got up and headed for the exit. He came into his black car and - to do his work well to the end - waited in it, until Smith would go too. It's what Smith did just after. He kissed the girl and left her a small package of money. He paid Bob too and left. Lance started the car to go, he was looking forward to going home, it had been a long day.

Suddenly, he heard a scream. He immediately recognised the voice of the charming woman from the diner. What the hell is going on? Lance rushed from his car, ran as fast as he could to the diner.

'Delta Charlie 52 to Central. Code 99. Possible 207 in progress. Immediate back-up required.'

Once there, he saw Bob holding the woman, one hand over his mouth to stop her from screaming and the other holding a kitchen knife under her neck. She was crying and struggling to get out of his grip.

'Police ! Don't move! Put your weapon down!'

Bob let the girl go, she fell and he dropped the knife. He raised his hands but a smile appeared on his lips and the woman dropped a hiccup. He had no time to ask questions.

'I think it will be you who will put your gun down, detective.'

He felt a pressure on his head. A gun was held in his temple. He turned his head, slowly, and saw him. The man who had known who he was all along, the man who had made him lose so much time, the man he thought was innocent, Johnny Smith. He dropped his gun and raised his hands at the same moment that Bob lowered his hands. What were the police doing? The gun still pointed at his temple, Johnny said:

'You had to get involved, detective. You could just leave but no you had to disturb us. I appreciated you, really, you were so cute following me everywhere and trying to be discreet. But now, you weren't making it easy. What am I gonna do with you? I'm going to make sure that this time we don't find your body like the other girls. These last times my employees were incompetent. Two bodies in two weeks' he sniffed, 'you will not be the only body without life tonight.'

'You don't have to do that, Smith. We can...'

He didn't have time to finish his sentence when a great noise of broken glass was heard. Bob fell to the ground covered in blood. Behind him, the young woman, wheezing and trembling, was holding the part of the broken glass bottle in her hand.

Lance took advantage of the situation, turned around, disarmed Smith and pointed the gun at his assailant.

'Who is in a bad posture now, mister Smith? Turn around, hands behind your back.' He put the handcuffs on him and, holding the assassin well, turned to the woman still trembling 'Thank you madam?'

'Cutter, Carrie Cutter.' She nodded her head and gave him a little smile.

Detective Lance turned back to Smith: 'The reinforcements will arrive, so don't be stupid and keep calm.'

The distant sounds of sirens returned in the night. The police quickly entered the room and took control of the situation. They put Smith in the car. The ambulance arrived and took care of Bob. Carrie was also taken care of. Lance approached her. He looked at her, her eyes were empty of emotion as if his soul had left his body. He found himself hoping that only his presence would comfort her.

'How are you Miss Cutter?'

'Like someone who escaped death.' She smiled faintly

'Yes sorry, stupid question.' He smiled too

There was a silence.

'Is he dead? The barman.'

'No don't worry, but he will stay in hospital then in prison for a while'

Carrie breathed a sigh of relief. He turned around to leave.

'Thank you detective Lance.'

He stopped, turned around again and said: 'I just do my duty madam.' She smiled, a smile completely out of touch with reality and beautiful. Lance took the time to engrave this wonderful image in his head and left for good. He would never forget this lady.

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Hi everybody, this is my second story inspired by the famous painting Nighthawks by Edward Hopper. like the first story, comment if you want a suite of this story and maybe I will write it.

I also want to thank another friend who wrote this story with me. Thank you Joumana !