Twilight signaled the end of a working day
Longshoremen went home, or to a bar for a drink.
The harbor fell silent to a buoy bell's clang.
Waves lapped the docks with a seesaw song.
Cargo ships moaned from its hawser moorings
With masts swaying in a moonlight's grace.
An eerie atmosphere for those not accustomed to such things
A whisk of laughter - faint but unmistaken
Wafted through an alley about a stone's throw away.
An old bar frequented by a local flavor
Shadows of patrons flitted through a dirty window
Imbued by tobacco and grease light smoke.
A woodworm door with iron-wrought hinges,
Bloodstained and pockmarked from knives and axes.
The Pelican's Gullet is not for the faint of heart.
A hooded figure flitted through the shadows
Stopping in front of the Gullet and glanced about
He slipped through the door with a whisk.
The drunks and whores paid no attention
As the phantom slithered into a room hidden.
A bearded man with greasy fingers and mean eyes
motioned for the phantom to sit down and be quiet.
They listened for anyone who may have followed
And eavesdrop on the two confidants.
Vestputin took a slug off a tankard and nodded.
Beer dribbled down his beard onto his chest.
"Well, what do you have for me? It had better be
something this time. For what I'm paying,
you'd better have some information. I'm starting to
lose my patience with you guys."
The phantom looked nervously about.
He could use a drink. He pulled out some clippings
from a newspaper, and shoved it across the table to Vestputin.
"This Citizen Muir seems to be connected.
I've got guys who've seen him with an organizer.
A guy named Killian who's causing trouble.
He's been rabble rousing the illegals. Their using
the missing grain to target the Senator."
Vesputin looked at the headlines then pocketed
the newspapers in his jacket. "What about the grain? "
He asked, perturbed. "That's what I'm paying you for.
Is this Killian responsible for the theft? And if so where
is it? I've got people who need to know. There is an
urgency to this situation. Are you trying to tell me
with all the dirtbags in this town, and all the money I'm
spreading around, that nobody has a clue where
can this grain be found? That's unacceptable." he said
Pointing a dirty finger in the phantom's face.
The phantom shook his head, "I've been hearing
a lot about this man. He's got money. Either somebody
is financing this guy or he stole the grain and smuggled it
out somehow and somewhere. One way or another,
I'm sure he's behind this theft. I just can't prove it,
at least not yet. I've got people who are on the inside.
We're watching him day and night. This guy can't make
a move without being in our sight."
Vesputin pulled out a purse full of coin.
"I want to know more about Citizen Muir and this Killian.
I want to know who's financing this man and what is their
ends. More importantly, why are they targeting the Senator?
Do you understand? "
The phantom nodded and pocketed the purse.
He cracked open the door, looked around, and
disappeared into the shadows of the bar and
out the front door and into the dark.
Vesputin pulled the papers from his pocket.
He muttered Killian's name and finished the tankard.
Tuesday, March 30, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: fiction,story,suspense