Marlowe sat in the smoky bar, twirling his empty bourbon glass on the table. He wanted another - and badly - but business had been slow of late and he didn't want to add any more to his tab. He sighed. He's have to head home soon- the cat would be getting hungry.
Just as he had started to put on his coat and amble out of the less-than-high-brow establishment, a man walked in. Now, in this particular bar, it was strange enough to see a new face. But a new face wearing tailored suit? That meant trouble.
"I'm looking for a man named Marlowe. Philip Marlowe." the man said. "Was told I could find him here." The man glanced around at the tables, wrinkling his nose at the smell of cheap whiskey and whatever had caused those stains on the back wall.
"Yeah, that's me." Marlowe said after a moment. "What are you doing looking for a man like me in a place like this?"
"I need a PI. I've got a case that needs to be kept on the down low, and I've heard people say that you're the man to talk to if you want something solved fast and quietly." the man said, absentmindedly wiping his hands on the handkerchief he had pulled out of his pocket. As if that would wipe away the grime of this place. Marlowe could swear that he sometimes still felt it seeping out of his pores even after he got out of the shower. You stayed here long enough and the place just became a part of you, ya know?
"What are the details?" Marlowe tried to play off his eagerness at a new job as interest in the facts of the case. Truth be told, he had been longing for something to do. Too much time alone to think was never healthy. Marlowe wanted to be busy, and some extra cash would be good too, he had to admit.
The man joined him at the bar, speaking in hushed tones and casting glances around the place to make sure that no one was paying them too much interest as he outlined his predicament. Turns out his wife had lost some trinket, and now everyone was in some big flap about it. Sounded like it had been stolen, but the house had state-of-the-art security, and none of it had been tripped the night of the supposed theft. Marlowe had dealt with cases like this before. Any time some bozo got their grubby little hands on something shiny that they shouldn't have, it was only a matter of time before they started wanting to show off. Give them a little incentive and saturate the market with rumors of some lesser version of what they'd got and - well - the poor suckers just couldn't help themselves. Everyone wanted to be top dog, and if they had to incriminate themselves to get there, so be it.
"Yeah, I'll take the case. I charge twenty-five dollars a day, plus expenses."
Marlowe lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of bitter smoke. Things were looking up.
Bibliography: Babbitt More Jataka Tales. Story: The Girl Monkey and the String of Pearls
Author's Note: I am in a film class this semester, where we are watching and analyzing film noirs. Philip Marlowe is a character from a popular series of noir books that were later made into movies. I thought that the mystery outlined in the original story of The Girl Monkey and the String of Pearls would work well within a noir setting, so I did- a re-telling of the story (or the exposition to the story) within the world of smoky bars and private eyes.
