Jan 2021
The following is an account of
expenses in connection
with the Underwood investigation.
Expense account item #1:
$24, cab fare to your office.
Case of Jane Underwood,
Seattle, not seen
the last eight days.
Insurance policy on
her: $10 million.
I took the case.
I cocked my hat
low over my eyes,
cigarette behind the ear.
Expense account item #2:
$322.74, airfare to Seattle.
I interviewed the family,
the friends, the husband -
they all had alibis -
& also the man
she was seeing on the sly.
Expense account item #3:
$33.08, two packs of cigarettes,
a pack of gum, and a beer
at the neighborhood bar
where I watched Jake Wilson -
the Other Man in the picture.
Expense account item #4:
$29.90, cab fare from the hospital
where Wilson just gave it up.
I found him folded under
a neon sign by a cheap hotel.
I didn't see where the shots came from.
Someone wants Underwood
the stay missing, very missing.
Expense account item #5:
$120, a new coat, the old one
has bullet holes. More close calls.
Digging around, I learn
Wilson was knee deep
in counterfeiting Franklins.
Crowbar to the basement door
of the house he was renting
under a different name,
I found the missing woman,
cuffed to a radiator, mostly fine.
She found out about the funny money,
threatened to go to the cops
unless Wilson cut her in.
She was over her head.
But then - so was I -
who shot Wilson?
Expense account item #6:
$75, marriage license, King County.
Jane Underwood and I are
running away together
with the bad hundreds.
Time to end one of these
stories the easy way.
Tired of Hartford,
tired of heart's noir,
consider me retired.
But then, holding her hand
driving to Los Angeles,
her purse falls open
& the gun that killed Wilson
falls into the footwell.
It was all a setup. It always is.
Her hand gets cold, tight,
real tight. The ride
is about to get... difficult.
If only she knew, if only she knew
how many times I'd seen this
twist, how many women,
how many guns, how many
Wilsons had fallen to the ground
under how many cheap
blinking blue broken neon signs.
expenses in connection
with the Underwood investigation.
Expense account item #1:
$24, cab fare to your office.
Case of Jane Underwood,
Seattle, not seen
the last eight days.
Insurance policy on
her: $10 million.
I took the case.
I cocked my hat
low over my eyes,
cigarette behind the ear.
Expense account item #2:
$322.74, airfare to Seattle.
I interviewed the family,
the friends, the husband -
they all had alibis -
& also the man
she was seeing on the sly.
Expense account item #3:
$33.08, two packs of cigarettes,
a pack of gum, and a beer
at the neighborhood bar
where I watched Jake Wilson -
the Other Man in the picture.
Expense account item #4:
$29.90, cab fare from the hospital
where Wilson just gave it up.
I found him folded under
a neon sign by a cheap hotel.
I didn't see where the shots came from.
Someone wants Underwood
the stay missing, very missing.
Expense account item #5:
$120, a new coat, the old one
has bullet holes. More close calls.
Digging around, I learn
Wilson was knee deep
in counterfeiting Franklins.
Crowbar to the basement door
of the house he was renting
under a different name,
I found the missing woman,
cuffed to a radiator, mostly fine.
She found out about the funny money,
threatened to go to the cops
unless Wilson cut her in.
She was over her head.
But then - so was I -
who shot Wilson?
Expense account item #6:
$75, marriage license, King County.
Jane Underwood and I are
running away together
with the bad hundreds.
Time to end one of these
stories the easy way.
Tired of Hartford,
tired of heart's noir,
consider me retired.
But then, holding her hand
driving to Los Angeles,
her purse falls open
& the gun that killed Wilson
falls into the footwell.
It was all a setup. It always is.
Her hand gets cold, tight,
real tight. The ride
is about to get... difficult.
If only she knew, if only she knew
how many times I'd seen this
twist, how many women,
how many guns, how many
Wilsons had fallen to the ground
under how many cheap
blinking blue broken neon signs.
a love letter to the old radio show "Yours Truly, Johnny Dollar," about an insurance investigator who always gets caught up in the noir world of betrayal, ******, femme fatales. He keeps a running tally of his expenses as he goes.
