The Mystery Danger Serials: Dead Man Running

Rose Jones, the Dynamite Gal

Rose Jones, the Dynamite Gal...

     ...stood at the top of the stairs, that troublesome red lipstick scorching a scar across the sky.

     This was the first time I had seen her, really seen her, since that night on Sawtooth Drive. That had been two months ago. It was shocking how much had changed in two months.

     To be honest, I guess it all changed quicker than that. The damsel in distress had disappeared the moment she embraced her new destiny. The moment she put a bullet in the Suit, she ceased being that fragile flower.

     Now she looked down on me with those dazzling blue-green eyes. The tears that once streaked her face had dried up long ago. In their place was confidence, determination, authority. This new life hadn't just changed her. It had set her free. She was on fire. She burned with pride, pleasure, and purpose.

     She was radiant, a knockout.

     She was also the most dangerous person in the city.

     "Hiya Lincoln." She smiled as I stepped cautiously into view. "Whatcha doin' down there?"

     Her smile was intoxicating. I had to keep my wits about me. Make no mistake, this woman was trouble, with a capital T.

     "Digging holes... Why, you need something?" I called up dryly. It was a poor attempt to push aside the way those firecracker lips set my head spinning.

     She saw right through it. It was as if she could sense my truer thoughts. For a split second, I wondered if she could actually control how brightly those lips shined.

     "Well, don't dig too far! You don't want to dig a hole you can't climb out of." She almost giggled; her voice was as smooth as melted butter. It would have been easy to miss the subtle warning. "Who's that down there with you?"

     "Nobody here except me." I lied.

     She saw through this one also. Her face grew colder. The buttery voice turned to stone.

     "Now Lincoln, no need for that. You know better." Those red lips tore open again. Her smile was back. "Hello, down there. Come on out."

     Jim eased into view just behind me.

     I watched as the satisfaction fanned her flames. She hadn't known Jim was here at all. She was playing a hunch, and she had been right.

     Damn, she was good.

     "Hello, Officer...?" she paused.

     "Detective!" Jim spat.

     It occurred to me that Jim had never known Rose Jones before that night on Sawtooth Drive. The only image he had of her was of the crazed woman who had shot the Suit and was now responsible for blowing up half the city. It was clear that her feminine wiles had little to no effect on him. All he saw was a killer.

     I wondered which of us saw her more clearly.

     "Nice to meet you Officer Detective." She laughed. "Is there a Mrs. Detective?"

     Jim wasn't amused.

     "Easy partner." I mumbled.

     "He's right Officer. You wouldn't want to make a widow out of Mrs. Detective, now would you?" Her tone was light, mocking. Was she playing with him? She knew she had us like fish in a barrel. That was it; we were fish. She was baiting him.

     And, he bit...

     "Lady, I don't take too kindly to threats!" Jim blustered, rushing up the stairs.

     A Smith and Wesson revolver met him at the top.

     "And I don't take too kindly to trespassers and thieves!" She hissed.

     Hook, line, and sinker.

     "Now hold on a minute! Everybody take it easy!" I said through gritted teeth. "I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot here."

     Nobody moved.

     "Rose," I said her name calmly. "This is my partner, Jim."

     She softened ever so slightly. Her only movement was a slight relaxing of a single deadly finger.

"Jim, meet Rose Jones, the Dynamite Gal..."