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Title: Mac Murdock, P

Mac Murdock, P.I.

By:  Shay


Rating: R for brief, very brief reference to M/M consensual relationship.

Disclaimer:  Not mine.  Characters belong to S.J. Cannell and others.

Comments:  Yes

Summary:  Just a quick look into Murdock's fantasies.





I knew she was trouble, the moment she walked into the joint.


She walked like - okay, so it sounds corney.  But she did.  She walked like

poetry in motion.  Every sway a measure.  Every movement a sonnet.


And those eyes.  Pools of blue that swept a man under like a rip-tide.  She

batted those baby blues at my partner.  I knew he was a goner.


Mac Murdock, PI, at your service.


Yeah, I know.  But the license says Private Investigator.  And, like I

said, she was trouble in size seven heels.


She looked at my partner and smiled.  She liked what she saw, anyone could

see that.  She liked the sun-kissed skin and pale hair; the white teeth

when he smiles, broad shoulders, the whole package.  She fell in love, or

lust, the moment she reached that smile.


Uh-huh.  I don't swing that way, thanks all the same.  But yeah, I could

fall in love - or lust - if I ever looked at my partner way she did.

That's why I don't.  One of the reasons, I guess.  The other being that gun

in his shoulder holster.  Yeah, it kinda spoils the hang of his suit if I

look at it from the right angle.  Of course, I'm not standing at that

angle, most days.


She had a problem.


They usually do.


This one sounded like a doozy.


   @   @   @   @   @    @


"Excuse me, Mr. Smith.  Your man is staring at me."


Hannibal cut his eyes briefly to Murdock, then back to the client.

"Murdock's harmless, Miss Blake.  He doesn't mean anything by it."


Miss Blake frowned uncertainly.  Flicking a last, uneasy glance at the

lanky figure in the corner, she continued explaining to the white-haired

figure just how much trouble she was in.  "They want the land.  I can't get

a fair hearing in court and the sheriff won't - I just didn't know..."


Hannibal didn't like the whine in her voice.  It didn't quite ring true.

Like the suit on her trim figure, it didn't quite fit.  He found himself

wishing Face had gotten back from San Pedro on time.  The young Lieutenant

had a sense for these things.  Hannibal sighed and reached for a cigar.


"I wish you wouldn't."


Hannibal quirked an eyebrow at the woman.  He finished removing the wrapper

as if she hadn't broken the silence.  His blood thrummed, and his senses

went into overdrive.  "Smoke bothers you, Miss Blake?" he asked in his most

deliberate mild tones.


"Uh, no - not exactly.  I...uhm, oh..." the stumbling words did not fit the

professional appearance. 


   @   @   @   @   @    @


It was a signal.  The match flaring into life.  Such a simple signal.  I

guess it sounds corny.  But the simple things work because they are just

that - simple.  Bad guys try to work out complex things, and screw

themselves up.  But leave it to a dame, and a simple signal, every time.


The whee-et of the bullet as it slammed through the window sent us diving

to the floor.  A life time of reactions kept the life I care about still

humming along.  Not that I felt much like humming.  Swearing, yes.

Humming?  Not really.


   @   @   @   @   @    @


"Murdock?  You okay?"


Hannibal lifted his head to check the lanky Captain to his left.  The

harshness of his voice was a direct revelation of his concern.  The other's

slowness in responding was more than disquieting.  The silver white hair

seemed to shimmer with emotion.  "Murdock!"


"Okee-dokee, smokey.  A-oh-kay, Colonel."


"Did you see which way the shot came from?"


"Left side.  Third floor, if you want a guess."


Hannibal lifted his torso off the woman, noticing that she continued to hug

the floor.  Perfume and cigarette smoke swirled through his nostrils.

Standing diminished the odor markedly.  "It's okay, Miss Blake," he said,

flicking the safety off his weapon as he cautiously sighted through the

remains of the window.


No sign of the shooter, he noticed.  Probably just a warning shot.  Maybe.

Hopefully BA had them covered from his vantage spot.


"That does it!  I'm not going to get shot at for just thirty per cent of

the damned reward."  The shrill voice was still echoing as the woman

scuttled out of the hotel room.  The door was too well constructed to bang,

but was obviously what she meant.


"I guess she doesn't want to hire us," Hannibal smiled at the view of the

woman flouncing into the car and driving off, followed by Lynch's goons.


   @   @   @   @   @    @


She changed her mind. Yeah, clients do that when they're shot at.


Not good for business, having the client being used by the bad guys for

target practice.  The nice thing, though, was that most of the baddies are

lousy shots.

The second nice thing was, the afternoon was free again.  Gives me time to

concentrate on keeping my partner from getting bored.  He tends to get into

trouble when that happens.





Mac Murdock, P.I. by Shay