The Plot Thickens

Dooley Settles In

He once had the beauty of Adonis, but

no more; a string of bad whores, age, 

and a diet of rot gut had taken their toll.

As Dooley unpacked, put his skivvies

in the bottom drawer of the bureau, he

glanced around his seedy Talent hotel

Room. It smelled stale, like mildew, but

Dooley liked its proximity to Tex’s

Tavern, where a suspect in a Portland

Robbery named Berle Marks--once

an up and coming academician--was said
to be spending all of his stolen money.

Before turning to thieving in the Southwest,

where he put his sticky fingers to test by

knocking over a dozen stores in Taos and

Santa Fe, Marks taught film studies at
Oberlin, with an emphasis on noir classics--
"Life imitating Art," Dooley said knowingly.

Yesterday, when a car stolen from a 

downtown Portland lot showed in Talent,  
"armed and dangerous" was the cops' argot.

Dooley foresaw a winnowing teleplay, Act 3.  

He put his Smith & Wesson beside his pillow 
and poured himself a tall double bourbon.

TS