It was half past midnight when I rolled up to the seediest dive on the wharf. The ocean air sent a prickly feeling up my back—the kind you get when danger lurks behind every door.
Inside, I grilled a barfly for information, but she just turned her back and gave me the cold shoulder. That dame was no lady—and it bugged me.
Suddenly, I heard a noise in the back room. I burst through the door just in time to put the bite on some yellow coward trying to escape.
For the next chapter in the thrilling adventures of Benson Hedges, Private Eye, visit sender-inner Heather’s Flickr photoset!