The Private Eye and the Femme Fatale

Pulp fiction had nothing on him. He was a man’s man. A protagonist of his own making, self-reliant, and self-assured. Marlow kept his wisecracks to the bare minimum when meeting a new client. Dames were not as compliant as they used to be, and they carried their own derringers now. More dangerous than ten years ago. He leaned back in his chair, enjoying a swallow of nicotine from his favorite cigarette. He had heard this woman was stacked. Mrs. What? He reached for his paper. Mrs. Stanton. She sounded stacked, a real femme fatale. A harsh knock came on his outside door. not a woman’s knock, and yet, there she was. “she’s a murderess This mattered not to him now Private eye smitten” Written 4-29-2019 Contest: Pick a title, volume 4 – Haibun Prompt #2: The private eye and the femme fatale Sponsor: Edward Ibeh