Detective Jackson sat inside his office, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk. The light of the lamps lining the streets filtered through the blinds, casting a striking, bar-like pattern of shadows across the room. Rings of light-colored smoke rose from the tip of his cigar as he pondered over the information he'd learned that day. Suddenly there was a knock at the door, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he glanced upwards. Through the frosted glass window at the top of the door he could see the silhouette of a woman's head.
"Come in," he called, and the door opened. There was the clack of high heels against wood as a slim and tall young woman stepped inside, her striking blue eyes darting side to side as she closed the door. She had wavy, shoulder-length brown hair, luscious red lips, and a serious gleam in her eyes. Her trench coat, tied around her waist and reaching just above her knees, showcased her curvy figure quite well. Overall, she was one hell of a dame, Jackson thought.
"Are you Detective Jackson?" she asked. The detective he swung his feet off his desk and assumed a more normal sitting position before answering.
"That I am," he said, leaning forward. Dames only came to his office for one reason, so he didn't bother spending time on small talk. "Do you need something, miss?" The woman's eyes darted around once more.
"Can you show me your badge to prove your identity?" she said in hushed tones, frowning. "I've already met two guys who claimed to be you while trying to find this place." With such fine looks, Jackson wasn't surprised. People would say anything to get close to a dame like that. However, not him; he was all business. He reached into the pocket of his trench coat and removed his badge, holding it up for her to see.
"There you go," he said, smiling. "Evidence that I am, indeed, the one and only Detective Jackson. So, what can I do for you, miss?" The woman smiled seductively at him and stepped towards the desk, undoing the top button of her coat and reaching inside. Then she suddenly whipped out a gun from within the trench coat and aimed it at him
"Die," she whispered, firing a shot at him. Jackson was still holding the badge up when she shot the gun, the bullet piercing his torso. He yelled in pain and hunched over, holding his wound as blood dripped between his fingers. The woman smiled smugly as she returned the gun to her coat.
"You men are all the same. One pretty girl and you're senseless." Snickering, she turned and walked to the door. However, there was a loud bang and she suddenly froze, her eyes growing wide as she looked down.
A large crimson stain was blossoming around her chest, and it was only then that the pain registered in her mind. She let out a yell as she collapsed, clutching the wound. Behind her, Jackson trembled weakly as he leaned his elbows on the desk, clutching his own gun with both hands. Smoke rose from the end of its barrel.
"If I'm going down, so are you," he muttered, smirking slightly. He then coughed up blood and fell forward, the gun slipping from his hands and sliding off the desk. The woman looked at him scornfully, a trickle of blood falling from the corner of her blood-red lips.
"You bastard," she muttered weakly, and then her consciousness faded, as did her life.
