Tracer Bullet and the Smoke of Libville. Epilogue: The Message Under The Door

Continued from Episode 9 – HERE

Two weeks later, the evening slouched in wearing the same cheap suit as the night before. Tracer Bullet stood in his office, blinds half-closed, watching fog slither in from the river. The neon lights at the Nickle Joint on the corner glowed like votive candles burning down to stubs.

The air was thick, as if someone had wrung out an old raincoat and left the damp clinging to the walls.

Suddenly, a faint rustle stirred behind him. He wheeled around, hand darting to his shoulder holster, and caught a flicker of movement through the frosted glass of the office door. A smear of shadow lashed across the pane, highlighting the backwards letters—TRACER BULLET – PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR.

He yanked the door open in time to see… nothing. Whoever it was had been faster than Bishop Fatty at a buffet.

Crossing to the windows, he peered down at the damp street. Lamplight pooled in oily puddles. A shadowy figure slipped past the neon glow, coat flapping like a bat’s wing, and vanished into the alley’s hungry dark.

Turning back slowly, his gaze landed on the manila envelope now lying in the center of the floor. No name. No return address. It stared up at him like a steel trap waiting for his fingers.

Inside was a single grainy photo that looked as though it had been taken in low light from a distance.

Patsy Meeks.

She was in close conversation with a cassock-toting cleric wearing a red sash, a pectoral cross, and a grin sharp enough to clip a cigar in half.

The photo was time-stamped three days ago.

Tracer studied the background. There was something familiar a mottled shape here, an angle there, a doorway… the Via Rusticucci. Rome.

On the back, a message was scrawled in a hand he didn’t like remembering. His jaw clenched as he read it.

“There might be a new Pope, but the real power runs deep. Not everyone is smiling in the Eternal City. Fr T better watch his six.”

He struck a match and lit a cigarette. The flare threw long shadows across the clutter of old files and empty bourbon bottles.

“I looks like I’m not done with Libville after all,” he muttered, reaching for his fedora and trench coat.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Tracer Bullet will return in: The Red Biretta Conspiracy.