Dancing in the Moonlight

Dancing in the Moonlight

He slid on to the stool farthest from the door and ordered a draft from the bored bartender.

“Tommy?” a voice shouted across the room. “Tommmeeee? Hey buddy, it’s me Carl! Tommmeee! Hey, over here!”

Tom had never been to this particular pub, he didn’t recognize the drunk weaving his unsteady way nearer.

Must be some other Tom, he thought. His name was Thomas Roland McLain and never a Tommy he would be!

Undeterred, the drunk stumbled closer. “Tommmeeee! How’s it going buddy?” Almost falling, the stranger plopped down on the next stool. “Hey man, didn’t you hear me?”

Tom turned his head and looked around, but there wasn’t anyone else behind him.

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken, my name is not Tommy.” he said, trying his best not to breathe in the scotch reeking off the stranger.

“Awwww, Tommy, don’t be like that, it’s me, Carl! We worked that Gainesville job together!”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Take a walk and sober up, I don’t know you and I can assure you we never worked together.” Tom wrinkled his nose again, looked around the room for a likely score and tried to ignore the foolish man.

The drunk leaned closer, almost into Tom’s retreating shoulder. “Awww, Tommy, I’m in trouble and I could use some advice. This last job didn’t go quite as planned, Tommy. I have the loot, but nothing is working out like it should have.”

Loot? Tom’s ears perked a bit. Could this drunken lout be more valuable then he looked? Tom appraised the man closer. A cheap suit, an even cheaper watch on his wrist; nothing about the man suggested a valuable score. Since no one else seemed to be paying the fool, or him, any notice, Tom decided he could listen for a few minutes.

“Okay, Carl?” Tommy relaxed, “Tell me about it.”

Now that Tom appeared to be listening to him, the drunk settled down and his voice got a little quieter. “Well, the heist went exactly as planned! That part was okay; but afterwards, man, afterwards, it all got pretty crazy!”

Theatrically looking around, Carl leaned in and over the next hour explained the robbery that he and his partners had completed.

How afterwards, everything had gone to shit, with two of the partners killing each other in a clumsy shootout after a disagreement about the split of the take.

How there was 114 thousand dollars worth of jewelry in a suitcase tucked away in the closet of a cheap motel just five blocks away. How those same dead partners were beginning to stink of decomposition in that same motel room.

Tom smiled, put his arm around the drunk and helped him stagger towards the door. “Okay Carl, lets go look, maybe I can help you out.”

Outside in the dark alley, Tom's glittering razor danced in the moonlight.

The body carefully hidden in the shadows and the motel room key securely tucked in his pocket, Tom strolled down the street.


500 words