The Tuxedo Man

By Andy Lind

Yeah, I was there the day The Tuxedo Man died. We were at the same bar together. He was there to impress some girl. I was there to drink. She asked me for help. He got mad when he found out she was talking to me. He threw down some dough, stormed out of the bar, and made his way to the bridge. I followed him to see where he was going. As he was leaning over and throwing up into the water, he fell. Maybe I pushed him, maybe I didn’t. Even if I did, nobody will ever know.

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Andy Lind enjoys sharing his love of noir and hard-boiled mysteries. He writes to keep the genre alive.

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