It is a work in progress Check back often for updates.... who knows maybe I'll even take down what I got and start all over.

The most difficult part of this story is giving Midnight some history. The timing takes place before the memory loss and the bad aim but is being written now. He was originally created as a one time character with no beginning. But I like the character therefor I need some sort of origin. If you're a real big fan (humor me) then you may enjoy this because I may end up ditching this story and just continue doing short stories just like the first one.

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My name is Maxwell Knight. I'm a private eye. I live in the City. I was once a cop who proved to be too good for his job. I solved a case that nobody wanted solved. I proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the actor Stiles North had betrayed the country and murdered two men. But the people loved him and the Press made him out to be a hero and I was made out to be a villain, a nobody cop looking to make his career. The Press was right, it would have made my career, but they cared more about readers and the readers wanted to see me go down the toilet. Which is just about where I ended up.

Now I reside on main st. between 8th and 9th in the corner of a back alley in a place I now call home. You see when people want to see me, they usually don't want to be seen. And I don't want to be too easily found. So my customers come to main then duck down the alley to the far back right corner where there's a door.

This door then leads to my office and my office is my home. I get a real terrible creek in the neck sleeping on my chair with my feet on the desk. And it ain't a pretty site either..... Not me, the office. I got empty "take out" boxes all over the place, files and folders of all the cases I hope I'm gonna get and no money.

North's lawyers got him off without a hitch and between the lawyers and the press I was lucky to keep what I did and still manage to get my office.

I've got only three possessions I really care about, my grand-daddy's 1940's Fedora, my father's trench coat, and of course, my gun. My 1943 P549 REMINGTON RAND M1911A1 45, I got it for my 10th birthday, and it still works too. And it's a good thing considering they took my other gun when they took my badge.

I've already figured I couldn't do anything against North legally, So I'd just have to start from the bottom and work my way up until I became popular enough to outweigh North's influence, and then I would once again expose North and take my revenge.

Not a perfect plan, and not a very good plot, but it is a plan, but it's not the plot. North would have to wait for another story. You see this is merely the prelude to the beginning of one of the best mystery misadventures you will ever read. And besides I got a call from a woman who says her husband made a nuclear bomb for McBride, a Mafia leader who's identity is so secret that even his own Mafia doesn't know who he is, and a man with a bomb takes priority over some traitor, at least I think it does.

And this is the beginning to my first case as a private eye.....

Midnight Private Eye

I locked up the office and exited my little corner of the world to meet the woman who called me. Her name was Cheryl. Or was it Cher? I really couldn't remember. I was to meet her at her house at 802 Boulevard or was it 505 Montgomery. Ok, that's it I walked straight into an office supply store and bought a pen and pad of paper and then I wrote down the two names and addresses. I would have to check both because I just really couldn't remember.

Now that I spent the last of my money I would have to hurry and walk to 505 Montgomery. I only had an hour to get there or I could miss her and lose the case. It was about 10 blocks away which isn't that far but if I was wrong I will have to walk 50 blocks south from Montgomery. Making it a total of 60 blocks. And in this traffic I just may make it in time. I weaved in out of the crowd and the endless stream of cars. It was currently 5:00pm and a fog was beginning to set. The drizzle didn't affect me much with the fedora covering my head. I got to Montgomery street about 5:10pm. I could barely make out the numbers on the houses. At about 5:15pm I found 505 Montgomery, and as I walked up the steps to the door a knot appeared in my stomach.

I was nervous. I knocked on the door. A man answered. I asked, "Is there a Cher ... or Cheryl here?"

"No," said the man.

"Drat. Well thank you for your time. Good-bye."

And as I turned to go the man said, "Come agin'"... huh ... come again? He wasn't the most normal person but ... nah. I shook it off thinking nothing of it.

I hurried thru the crowd and raced to 802 Boulevard. It was 6:01pm when I arrived. "It's only a minute over what could I have missed," I thought to myself. And as I neared the door I was just about to knock when I heard a gunshot inside ... looks like I missed a lot ... Drat! "CHER!uhh ... CHERYL!" I yelled. I threw myself into the door just as the door opened. Which meant I basically hit nothing and fell straight down inside the door face down. Someone stepped on my back and ran out the door. As I stood up I heard something in the living room.

The house was large and filled with many antiques. Mirrors, vases, "classic" furniture, and the like. Behind the sofa there was a woman lying there bleeding. I rushed to her side, just in time to hear her say, "You're late....." then she died. Great not only do I get here late but now I get a guilt trip ... That's when I noticed the note in her hand with my name on it. I took it and put it in my pocket.

I picked up the phone to call the police when another shot rang out blasting the phone to smithereens..."What the??!!!??!" Looking up I saw a cop. A kid really. Must be a rookie.

"Freeze!" He yelled as pulled the trigger again.

Fortunately for myself, he was a really bad shot. "You know, when you say freeze, and I don't move, you're supposed to stop shooting," I replied to the gun shot.

"I said Freeze!" He yelled again taking another shot, this time I jumped back behind the sofa landing on the woman ... Ewww ... Could I say, "SET UP?" And now that I got her blood on me too I doubt this was going to look good. I heard him coming up behind me, but this time I was ready.

I had pulled my Remmy out and spun around just in time to shoot the gun out of his hands. His eyes widened. I came back up faster than he could react giving him a good left hook. I then grabbed him and put my gun in his nose. "Who sent you?" I asked. He didn't answer. Another gun shot and he was dead too. I didn't shoot him. Then who ... ?

"It's funny how people die around you, Max. Isn't it?" came a voice from the hall.

I looked up only to see a short, fat, balding man, the chief of police (gun still smoking) and a couple of officers standing behind him. "I always knew the police had a few bad eggs, Chief. But you??"

"Everyone has a price, Max. Except for you. You should've taken the pay off to leave North alone....." The Chief then lit up a cigar and continued, "Kill him."

I didn't waste any time jumping out the window that just happened to be behind me. I didn't realize that the elevation of the ground was so far down on that side of the house. I landed in something..... Something smooshy, and stinky ... Oh no ... A garbage dumpster. Then as I stood up I heard a familiar beeping noise.... the kind on a garbage truck ... uh oh.

I started climbing out but the police started shooting so I quickly ducked back in. This was not going to be fun.

I felt the dumpster go up in the air and heard a voice yell, "Someone stop that truck!"

I landed in some more stinky smooshy stuff, and a few seconds later the truck took off. I heard a few voices yelling for the truck to stop, but the driver just kept going. I was just grateful he had not compacted the trash. I climbed to the top just in time to hear the sirens on two police cars. To my surprise the truck sped up instead of slowing down. This just keeps getting more and more interesting. I finally climbed up and out of the back and as I stood on top, I looked back at the cop cars. I saw them swerve in and out of traffic trying to catch us. We were on a bridge crossing the Central River. My trench coat flapped in the wind, I pulled out my Remington and fired two shots causing the front right tire of both cars to blow. At the speed they were going, they failed to keep control, crashing into several cars.

I then put my gun back in its holster, then made my way to the front of the truck. I could see in the passenger side mirror that the window was down so grabbed the top of the truck, jumped and swung inside the window feet first landing in the passenger seat. The truck driver, not looking the least bit surprised turned to me and said, "Thanks for taking care of the cops."

I turned to him and replied, "Thanks for not compacting the trash."

He just smiled and said, "No problem."

I kind of just sat there for a bit wondering just what kind of "Garbage Man" this was? I could tell he was a big man even though he was sitting. Standing he might be 6'5" maybe even close to 7'. He had a crooked nose and a deep brow.

"Are you really a garbage man?" I asked.

"That depends. Are you a cop?" the man asked me.

"Used to be. The cops and I aren't exactly on good terms right now," I replied. How could he ask me that? I was just shooting at them a while ago.

"My name's Larry. The cops don't like me none, either."

"So tell me, Larry. Why are you on the run?" I asked the big man.

"I drive," Larry replied.

"Yes, I can see that, so why are you ... driving away from the police?" I rephrased my question.

"No seriously," he said, "I drive. I hop into any car at any time and I drive. The cops don't like that too well."

"Okay ... " I raised an eyebrow at this, but my day was bizarre enough already, I didn't want to bother asking any more. I saw a paper on the floor of the truck and took a quick look at it. It read, "Cheryl Meiner Prepares Cities Biggest Policeman Ball," then continued somewhere down the page, "She lived at 802 Boulevard." Hey wait a sec! I still have the note with my name on it. I took the note out of my pocket. On it was a list of names, most of which I knew. They were cops, but what would they have to do with a bomb her husband might be building? And why on earth would the police kill her in cold blood?

After driving across Central City Larry finally said, "I think we lost them."

"You can drop me off at the next corner," I pointed ahead not really caring where I got out. At this time the police probably had my place under surveillance, so I couldn't go home.