Putting It Out There

Okay, I didn't win the first week and I doubt I will win the second week, but I am putting it out there and it is a great exercise. I am going to paste below my first entry. I like it and I definitely got to put more time into it than the one I submitted today. Unfortunately next week will be a time crunched as this weekend was. So here it is:

Murder on the North Saskatchewan - Chapter 2
Emmy’s purse tumbled from her hands to the pavement. She reached frantically for the pepper spray but when she brought her hands up the slim tube she held was her hand cream.
“I’d help you get that, but I can’t. My back and all, but you already know that.” A grin glowed out from his stubbled chin.
Some detective she was, Emmy thought, first case and the suspect had her pegged and cornered. If Jack could see her now he'd be furious.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Play dumb, she figured, keeping her eyes on Gombrick as she knelt and gathered her scattered belongings.
“Well, Ms. Budge,” He chuckled, “You’ve been following me around a lot for someone who doesn’t.”
“I, uh, really, uh…” She trailed off. There was no way to salvage this. She had her purse; best thing to do now was get away. After all, she was standing there with a possible murderer.
“Look, I’m obviously not very good. Why don’t I…” The sound of heated voices cut her off. Emmy glanced back towards the boat launch. She saw a flash of sequins before her keys were snatched, the van door opened and she was thrust in. A rough hand covered her mouth and muffled her surprised scream as Gombrick stumbled in behind her and quickly closed the van door.
“Shhhh! Stay down. Quit struggling, I’m not gonna to hurt you – let’s just hope they didn’t see the interior light.” Emmy stopped struggling and glared up at the surprisingly strong invalid. “I’m gonna roll down the window so we can hear. Will you stay quiet if I let you go?” She weighed her options and slowly nodded. Gombrick let her go and reached across the driver’s seat to roll the window down. The conversation was worth the discomfort.
From the flash of sequins, Emmy guessed the woman was the well-endowed blonde she’d seen sobbing over Fulton’s corpse. The brassy woman was more upset over the state of her singing career than Fulton being dead. Trisha (identified by the unknown man) and Fulton had exchanged special favours that were supposed to guarantee Trisha’s rise to stardom. Nothing had been written down, and there was only Fulton’s word that Trisha was to sing at key events throughout the city that fall. The piercing tones emitted by the blonde told Emmy she was a soprano, and a little on the sharp side. As Trisha got more upset the initially calming tones of the man became less comforting and more threatening. Emmy gave a start as a loud thud hit the side of the van right next to the slightly open window. Gombrick’s rough hand on her back stopped her from jumping up but Emmy peeked up to see the stranger’s large hands wrapped around Trisha’s neck. Trisha’s shrieking was choked off and Emmy listened close to the threatening tones that echoed in through the window.
“Listen, Trisha, your ill-fated singing career is the least of our worries. If you hadn’t decided to go play hanky-panky with that bartender instead of watching the fireworks with everybody else you never would’ve found the body. You better pray the cops don’t connect you to me.” The voice was like steel, cold, sharp, and deadly. “You have no idea what’s at stake here. You just keep your mouth shut except to sing and that’ll keep me and Ixion Construction out of the investigation. Fulton’s new brewery needs to get built. There’s more than beer involved and you know it.” The strong hands gave a final shake and dropped the sequined babe to the pavement.
Emmy heard footsteps moving away from the van and heard the moans of the singer who struggled to stand. Gombrick’s rough hand held Emmy down as she tried to stretch up to get a better look at the pair. She caught a brief look as the tall man got into a sporty red car. Trisha stumbled towards the open passenger door. They roared out of the parking lot and after the sound of the car died off Gombrick let her sit up.
“Hey! What’s the big idea? I could’ve got a better look if you’d let me!”
“Yeah, and he would’ve seen you too. You want him to know we were listening in?” Emmy brushed herself off and slumped in the passenger seat. Gombrick sat in the driver’s seat and started the van.
“Hey! This is my car. You know, for someone with a broken back you sure are spry.” Emmy dug in her purse for her cell phone. If she could get a call off to Jack she might get out of this. “I think maybe I should be turning you in – Hey!” Gombrick snatched the phone from her mid-dial.
“Listen lady; call your boss after we’re done. You want a few more days of billable hours anyhow. Meanwhile, I’m going to tell you an interesting story about beer and payola and then you’re going to work for me.” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed out of the river valley towards downtown.
“Work for you?! You’re crazy. Why would you need me?” Despite her protests, Emmy had to admit she was intrigued. Gombrick seemed to be a lot more than a shuffling insurance scammer and he obviously knew more about the players in Fulton’s murder. The detective in her, however fledgling, was tempted.
“Because they already know me. Who’s going to suspect a soccer mom in a mini-van? Thought my injury would be good cover, but too many people saw me tonight. I need a new face. That’s you.” The van headed North up 97th street. Soon they’d cross the Yellowhead.
“This is ridiculous. I’m not your new face. Trust me. Where are you taking me?” Emmy eyed her cell phone, still clutched in Gombrick’s meaty hand.
“Well, little lady, we’re going to go check out the building site for that new microbrewery.” He laughed and winked at her. “You thirsty?”