Opening Passages I

 Herewith, the opening passages of sundry works in process, in no particular order.

Muffler Man and the Great Telepresent Bank Heist

    by Michael F. Flynn

When they finally let Darymple out of jail, he decided to go straight. 

It was a simple choice.  The Tangerine Bar and Grill sat directly across Fox Avenue from the main entrance of the Southampton County lock-up.  

Darymple paused at the curbstone and brushed the sleeves of the rumpled, dull grey suit that the county imagined to be a Fashion Statement.  Then he studied the buildings across the street: a grocery store, a dry cleaner, a beauty shop.  A bank occupied the corner at Ninth Street, and Darymple contemplated its location so near the county prison.  Bravado?  A taunt?

Darymple shrugged.  He made one last effort to straighten the jacket -- the textile firm had discovered the secret of Permanent Unpress -- and then crossed Fox Avenue to the bar.  

Inside, Algernon Anderson was sitting at the bar nursing a bourbon and water.  He turned when Darymple entered and beamed as if he had just discovered a long-lost relative.  “Ted!” he said.  “Long time, no see.”  

Darymple gave him a weary look.  “Three years, two months, seven days.“  

Al made a motion over his drink.  “Otto, another bourbon for my friend here.”  He looked at Darymple.  “You have any cash on you?”  

“I just got out of the joint, Al.  They give you fifty bucks when you leave.  They think that gives you a New Start in Life.  How did you know to wait here?”  

Al waved a hand.  “You get out today, right?  Where you gonna go first?  Are you going to go grocery shopping?  No.  The beauty salon?  No.  The dry cleaners....”  He studied the suit carefully, then waved a hand.  “Naah, I figure first thing you’re gonna need is a drink, so am I right?”  Al smiled and dared Darymple to find a flaw in his reasoning.  As if to support him, Otto came and placed the bourbon in front of Darymple.  Then he carefully walked to the far end of the bar and became interested in the scenery outside.  

“There’s a bank on the corner,” Darymple pointed out, just so Al wouldn’t think he was too clever.  “I mighta gone there.  You know, like for old times’ sake.”  

Al brushed that off, too.  “You’re a planner, Ted.  You don’t do things like that off the cuff.  Too much can go wrong.  Besides, I couldn’t wait for you there.  Hang around a bank too long not doing anything in particular, and the guards might remember your face, which it could be real embarrassing in our line of work.”  

Darymple gave up.  “All right.  All right.  You figured I’d come here, so you figured you’d come and wait for me.  So, the next question is why?”  

Al looked surprised.  “Why?  For a job, of course.”  

Darymple looked at him.  “A job?”  

“That’s what I said.”  

“Al, do me a favor and lean forward just a little bit.  That’s right.  Now look out the window over there.  What do you see?”  

“The county jail.”  

“Right.  I just got out, so I'm not hiring right now. Sorry."

 "Naah. It's me got a job for you."

"You want to sit here and plan a job while looking out the window at the local lock-up?”  

“Naw, of course not.”  

“Well, then...”  

“Otto’s got a back room which it doesn’t have no windows.  Well, maybe a small one way up high on one wall, but it looks out over that alley, so you can’t see the -- ”  

“Al?  Maybe you also forgot that I just got out.  I already know what it looks like inside, so I don’t need to go back to refresh my memory...”  

“See, it’s like riding a bicycle.”  

Darymple paused and looked at Anderson.  “A bicycle.”  

“Sure.  You fall off, the best thing is you get right back on and take another ride.”  

“You mean the best thing for me is to get back inside?”  

Anderson gave him a funny look.  “No.  Whatever gave you that idea?”  

“You did.”  

“No, I didn’t.  I was gonna suggest a job -- ”  

“So I could take a fall, like off a bicycle -- ”  

“No, I meant doing a job is like riding a bicycle and going in stir is like falling off.”  

Darymple thought about that.  “Why didn’t you say so?”  

“I did say so.  I don’t know where you get these ideas, Ted.  I really don’t.”  

Darymple sighed again.  He remembered that he sighed a lot around Al.  “Okay, Al.  Tell me about the job.  Then I can tell you no, and we can get on to other things.”  

“Don’t be silly.  What you gonna do, sell brushes door to door?  That’s not you.”  Al handed both drinks to Darymple and led him toward the back of the bar.  There were two doors there, marked ‘Men’ and ‘Women,’ only under each sign was an arrow pointing to the other door.  Al nodded to them as they went by.  “I bet Otto gets a lot of ‘em that way.”  

“Otto is a priceless comedian,” 

 “Look, the best thing about my idea is we don’t get caught.”  He opened the door for the back room.  Darymple looked at him before going in.  

“That’s what you said the last time.  You and that holographic projector.”  

Al spread his hands.  “How was I to know it was upside down?  This time it’s a cinch we don’t get caught.”  

The back room was stacked high with liquor cartons.  A bare bulb hung from a cord from the ceiling.  There was a felt-topped card table underneath.  Darymple handed Al his drink and pulled out one of the folding chairs.  He slumped into it.  “Okay.  I’ll bite.  Why won’t we get caught?”  

Al grinned.  “Because we won’t be there!”  

Darymple said nothing.  He only sat there looking at Al.  Al continued grinning.  Darymple continued looking.  After a while, Al placed his bourbon on a coaster, folded his arms and leaned on the table.  “Tell me, Ted.  Have you ever heard of telepresence?”  
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(c) 2022. Michael F Flynn