The Chronicles of the Masked Blogger, Part Two

Days passed. Slowly. Sleepless nights. Weekend benders. I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter but I couldn't get the Masked Blogger out of my head. When I wasn't self-medicating I tried to keep myself busy with my own writing projects but the Blogger stayed lodged in my brain like a steel toothpick in a blueberry muffin.

A Couple of months back, I had run up on some hard luck. Horses. Guess you could say I'm a gambling man. Truth is, I've been from Vegas to Atlantic City, up, down and then up again...this time was different, though. Things went from bad to worse one rainy night in April when two tough guys showed up in my storefront window and offered me a "proposition." They walked in, all smiles. Shit, if I hadn't been around the block a few time, I woulda though they were just a couple of good, ol' boys who had gotten lost in the city and needed directions. That is until they bloodied up my face and pulled a knife on me. They wanted to know if I had heard of their employer, Mick. Sure, I told them - everyone knows Mick - they called him Mick "The Nose." That gave them a pause and I thought they ready for round 2 with my face as the punching bag. Instead, they glared and said I had 2 weeks to pay or I may find myself the recipient of an all-expenses paid trip - to the bottom of the East River.

After the goons left, I sat down to think - thought long and hard. The funny part is that it takes an experience like this for a man to take stock of his life. Here I was, a 30-something, washed up P.I., disgraced former detective and amateur writer. Now I was about to go and get myself killed. Shit, if you could separate yourself from it for a moment, it was damn funny.

But I wasn't laughing. I sat at my desk and looked at the empty pages in my typewriter for the next two nighst, listening to the rain showers outside. Two nights later, that's when this dame showed up at my door, saying she need me to help her find someone. Why me, I asked her? Told me she had done some research and that for the price range, heard I was the best. We didn't exchange pleasantries - got right into it. What can you tell me about him, I asked her. Said he was a writer. Interesting I told her, so am I. She couldn't look more disinterested. I asked - what else?

"He wears a mask."