The Poker Murders

The King

                Blake got out along with Mort. "Why didn't you took the statement of the neighbour... whatever his name is?" 

   "Let's go to 115 B.E. first," Blake said, stopping a cabby and getting in.

They soon reached 115 B.E. and Mort was still trapped into his own mind. They trudged up the stairs and perceived Camilla, sitting like a sphinx, awaiting for them impatiently. She got up on her athletic feet and came to them. 

   "Ahh! Camilla! I would need your help." Blake exclaimed, smilingly, squatting down and caressing the beige-coated German Shepherd. 

   "What do you mean? You said that you'll tell me the answers when we'll reach here!" Mort asked, puzzle-faced.

   "Be patient dear companion," Blake said, getting up and tapping Mort's shoulder, "Yesterday.  we were losers and today.  we will be winners."

   "I need to be clear!" Mort said, not satisfied.

   "No need to!" Blake said, "Today is a happy occasion. And for this occasion all of us are free."

   "Free? What do you mean?"

   "Well, we're all free. Happy with your freedom." Blake replied back.

...

Both of them did nothing at all. Mort was at his armchair, reading his usual newspaper and now playing the crossword. Blake was lying comfortably like a mummy on the sofa, his eyes closed, drowned into his thoughts, feelings and imaginations.

Abruptly, the clock chimed midnight and Blake's eyes opened immediately. 

   "We'll end this game up." Blake simply said, opening the drawer of his desk and getting out a gun.

   "You've got a bloody gun!?" Mort said, completely blown out with wonderment, "Since the beginning?" Mort began to gulp his saliva, gliding down his throat.

   "As I said dear companion, we'll end this bloody game up." Blake coked the gun as he said these words.  

Blake drew out something else from the drawer, cameras and walkie-talkies. He hunched down again in front of Camilla and proudly installed the devices in her collar. 

   "Let's go!" Blake announced.

...

On the way, Mort was bewildered, "Where are you going along with Camilla, placing these bloody devices with her!?"

Blake stopped and eyed Mort in his eyes undeviatingly then slid up the piece of paper he saw under the bed. He exposed it in the streetlight:

The King has invited his hated foe at the Throne. 79201

   "What does that mean?" Mort questioned.

   "Look, the King of Hearts was present next to her and he wants me to be his revenge," Blake answered.

   "But where are you going?" asked Mort. 

   "To the Theodore Threatre," Blake said.

They reached the theatre and perceived that it was opened in the dark. Blake unleashed Camilla and she went in. Blake could see the imaged in the camera and guided her where she needed. 

Finally, she reached the hall and snooped clandestinely. Blake could see a someone sitting opposite sided and a sort of projection on the background. Blake told Camilla to sit on one of the seats and she performed the instructions well.

   "How did she know what to do?" interrogated a puzzled Mort.

   "You know, I learnt a little about her life. She was a dog soldier before." Blake said, "Let's go in now."

Both of them went in and reached the centre, each and every step echoing through the stony silent. 

   "Here you come my dear foe." the man spoke in an evil voice. He got up and walked down the stage, the projection hitting his face. When he came near Blake and Mort, his face revealed. He had a diamond-shaped face and dark-haired. He was craggy-looking and dark-eyed. He wore an upper-class red suit. 

   "Colby Colton, a soldier who fought for Falklands War. You chose to stab instead of shooting to hide your identity as you know that I'm too strong to discover it." Blake said, "Now why are you unveiling yourself?"

   Colby Colton scoffed and said, "The angel-hearted always has a price, but, the evil-hearted will always rise."

   "What do you mean?" Blake asked.

Colby Colton scoffed once more, "You know I'm a sucker of pain and you a socket of brain."

He leaned forward and sang, "Old King Cole Was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, And he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three! And every fiddler, he had a fine fiddle, And a very fine fiddle had he. "Twee tweedle dee, tweedle dee," went the fiddlers. Oh, there's none so rare As can compare With King Cole and his fiddlers three."

The projection projected the word, King at the background as he said these words.

Blake slipped out his gun and pointed it at Colton Colby's head. 

   "Oh! Shellshocked!" exclaimed Colton Colby unafraid, "Go on! Pull the trigger and become a murderer."

   "No, I won't kill you," Blake said.  

   "You know it's a fail-safe," Colton added, smirking, "The smirk brings bad luck."

   "You know another soldier is present here now?" Blake stated.

   "Who, where? Tell me!" he cried, the words reverberated.

   "Well, you were wrong though it's good luck," Blake announced.

   "Huh, good luck! Just pull the trigger if you have the gut." Colby mocked, "Hates to love and loves to hate." 

   "Ok... 1... 2... 3... and go!" Blake said, Camilla, pouncing on him and biting him, growling and barking as he did. 

   "But she'll bite him till death!' Mort mentioned.

   "Let her enjoy it." Blake simply said, watching the projecting images. There were loads of words that Colby Colton used during the murder, "King, Who's Next, Who? 79201..."

   "Ok, let him Camil," Blake told. Camilla let him go, backing herself, still growling.

   "So that was the plan, eh?" Colton got up, effortfully, gazing a wicked look at Blake and Mort.

Blake cautiously pointed the gun again on Colton's forehead.

   "You can't kill me, because we are all monsters inside. Killing me would like pulling legs off me. Hates to love and loves to hate. Deep down! Fail-safe!" Colton said smirking evilly. 

Just then the projection glitched and a big bold blood-red, "Q" appeared.  

...