I wrote this post about a story where I had a first chapter written.
I had hoped this to be a chapter a month (or less) write with a final word count for a first draft somewhere between 60-80 thousand words.
At that point it'll be time to start working on structure and plot holes etc.
Right now, it's about getting it written.
Chapters are likely to be longer, 2-3k words and unless they are hitting 4-5k I'm unlikely to split them up.
If you commented on that first chapter and indicated you liked it, I've tagged you here. Let me know if you want that changed going forward. And if you want to be tagged in for future chapters, let me know.
Thanks
Stuart
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Chapter 4b - 770 words
After two hours we'd gone through all the Albarn folks I knew. We'd started with names. Some of them had been in my head for bear on ten years, from before I decided to join the LAPD. In truth, they were a reason I had joined. Some of the names went on the yellow lawyers pad Dan was using for notes, and then got a line straight through them for being in prison. The dead ones got a double line.
'When did Double Time get killed?' I asked.
'Who is Double Time?' Rob asked.
Dan tapped the pad at the name he'd just put two lines through. 'Fabian Arbanzo.' He looked up at me. 'You know how he got his nick name?'
'How?' I knew what I'd been told, and by whom. I knew there were a couple of variants on the explanation. It'd be interesting to hear what Dan had been told.
'You know he did a stretch in Mule Creek, this is before it was a Special Needs Yard, judge who sent him down gave him sixty months before parole could be looked at. The recommendation for the sentence was thirty. Albarn told Fabian he got double time because the judge was playing hard ball on getting kickbacks.’
‘No shit,’ Rob muttered.
‘Huh, I always assumed it was that damn mouth organ he carried round. D’you ever here him play it? Sounded like a hornet on speed.’
‘You must have spent some time around him to hear him playing. Was that before you joined up?’ Dan asked.
The question was casual, too casual. Two hours of talking names, and where they were known from, and what I knew about where they were, or had been last I’d heard of them, and I’d almost forgotten this was Internal Affairs. I remembered again now. ‘You came to me for this information. If you read my jacket you know how and why I was close enough to hear Double Time play his mouth organ.’
Rob said, ‘Hey, we read your jacket. We know you did that undercover thing. Dan didn’t mean anything by it, did you Dan?’
Dan shook his head. ‘No. Didn’t mean nothing.’ He smiled. ‘A combination of being hungry and falling into the normal part of being IA. Why don’t we break for lunch? I fancy fried chicken. Let’s do Howlin’ Rays. You like Rays chicken?’
I shrugged. ‘Depends who’s made the sauces. Sometimes they’re a bit on the mild side.’
‘Well, let’s go find out,’ Dan said. ‘A treat from I.A. for helping us today. When we get back we’ll go through the pictures and see if we can figure out who you saw the other day.’ He stood. ‘I’ll go put this in my desk.’
‘You wait here,’ Rob said. ‘I’ll take the cups to the break room.’ He scooped up the tray of coffee and biscuits that had been on the table for us when we came in.
I stood and stretched, easing out the kinks of sitting for a few hours combined with the underlying stress of being with Internal Affairs, the nagging worry that they do have you in the cross-hairs and this is all some long game before they slap the cuffs on and take you to processing. Rob had left the door open and I looked out over the office. A few people were walking about but the same quiet I’d observed when we came in persisted. Dan was standing at a cubicle over by the window. I guessed having a view out onto the street was a mark of seniority. He was looking round the office, then he looked down at his desk, no, he looked at his hands, like he was holding his phone. I do the same when I’m trying to focus the camera on something and I wondered why Dan was taking a photo of the names we’d discussed.
Rob appeared at the door. ‘Ready to go?’
‘Sure. Now we’ve spoken about it, I am kinda hungry.’ We headed out without waiting for Dan to come and flank me as we headed to the elevator. Maybe they did trust me. But they were still I.A. ‘How long have you been in here?’ I asked Rob.
‘With I.A. four years. Before that I was up in Bakersfield. Started there as a beat cop.’ He glanced over his shoulder at me. ‘And I’ve heard all the Bakersfield jokes, and yes I’ve watched the old show.’
‘They made a show about cops in Bakersfield?’ I asked.
‘That’s about as funny as the show ever managed. Hey, Dan, you ready now?’
Chapter Break
Link to collected chapters HERE
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words by stuartcturnbull pic by igorelick on Pixabay