Dauntless

 

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CHAPTER ONE: PROLOGUE

Part One: Private Investigator

Automatic gunfire rang out across the empty, dark streets of Chicago. No one dared come to the window to see what was happening because no one wanted to get sucked into the underbelly of the city. When bullets whizzed and slashed through the air, the lights that shone out of the apartment building windows turned off one by one, as if to say, “No one’s home, there’s no one here to witness your war.” The residents all crouched down behind the rims of their window sills, behind the mild protection of brick walls and darkness, waiting for the danger to pass them by.

It was raining that summer night, and through the damp darkness and fog a silhouette came running. With bullets chasing after him, and gaining at unfathomable speeds, one would almost find this gentleman’s running escape leisurely, comically slow, when it should have been frantic by any other person’s estimate. As he rounded a corner on his right hand side slowly, his face cloaked in shadow, he pulled his fedora down over his arched eyebrows a touch. In this hectic scene, a smile traced one corner of his mouth, teasing at a dimple on that side. Although the surrounding residents pretended like nothing was happening, like they were sleeping, in order to avoid this blustery scene of impending death, he thrived on it. He sought it out. He had made this his career. But he did it successfully because he kept himself concealed and unknown, and those that he investigated never saw his face, only a wisp of his echoing presence dashing away, taunting his pursuers. You’ll never catch me, his receding blur teased.

He could hear the big, bumbling, riotous men stumbling and crashing down the sidewalk, tracing his steps. But he knew there was no way they’d catch him now. He had ducked down a damp and dripping alley; before the three arguing and bickering galoots could even come near where he currently was, he’d be long gone. They were disorganized, flustered, and not one of them could decide who the leader should be in this manhunt. His pursuers shouted after him, an array of insults mixed with harsh commands to stop or he’d be sorry. The bullets flew from their handguns chaotically in the dark with no intended targets, the men knocking over garbage cans and cursing under their breath, and Jay smiled coyly to himself. He walked on as if it was a Sunday afternoon along the boardwalk, as his fingers clamped down on the item tucked neatly under his jacket.

Of course he had slipped away, unnoticed. For as long as he could remember, or for as far back as he dared remember, he had spent his life going along unnoticed, and as he grew older, he transformed this quirky skill into a business: thievery. What a strange way to build a business, he thought as the brick walls that towered into the night passed him by. Jay was so reputable that he could pickpocket a man he was speaking to directly. As he’d shake a man’s hand, look him straight in the eye as his other hand would reach into his jacket pocket and pluck out his watch. This skill did not go unnoticed by organizations that thrived on surreptitiousness, and soon he was hired as a private investigator. Who better than the man who could, figuratively speaking, make himself disappear? No one, Jay mused to himself, the echoes of his footsteps falling flat in the stagnant puddles that adorned the alleyway like stepping stones.

He let his simper become larger now, as the gunfire and shouting became more faint, he took a left out of the alley and quickened his pace, leather shoes splashing in the shallow pools of water that formed in the cracks of the sidewalk. From the opposite direction, he noticed some pedestrians approaching, and he glanced at his wristwatch, which projected the illusion that he was late to something important. Which, in a way, he was. Now that he had successfully procured evidence of Big Bernie’s chain of speakeasies all across the south side of town by way of a hearty, and lengthy, receipt book, for the police chief, he now had another order of business, but for an entirely different client.

He approached the curb and swung open the door of his beloved Superior Touring Coach, waxed a brilliant aquamarine that glowed like a star under the street lights, he fell into the driver’s side of the bench seat and slammed the door behind him. The sounds of the night, falling rain, footsteps, the noise of bumbling idiots, all were silenced as he was now contained within his rolling office, as he lovingly put it. He opened one side of his double-breasted, grey jacket, he took out the receipt book, neatly held shut with a leather strap, and threw it into the seat next to him. In amusement he shoot his head because he could still hear, barely audible now, the three burley men coming after him, and he laughed silently, his lips pressed to a thin curving line, as his automobile roared to life and stiffly flew down the cobblestone road, cutting through the thick droplets of fog.

Jay was in his element. Dark, dreary, dangerous. He loved this part of himself, this part of his life, and deep down, he wished the suspense, adrenaline, and adventure would never end. He settled into his seat, placing his feet on the peddles, he stared sternly out to the road that vanished to a single point in the distance. This lifestyle, he thought wistfully, it kept things interesting, and it kept him from landing on that place, that desolate island in his mind, he dared never go again. Casually he gripped the steering wheel, he set his inner compass to bring him to the front door of the The Rose, the cover business for an underground bar. His next job called out to him over the rain and fog.

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CHAPTER TWO: SPYING ON CHARLOTTE

A cool breeze snuck in through a window, opened a crack, and it caressed Charlotte’s face like a refreshing swath of silk. She tilted her head back, she laughed in delight, her ruby lips parting as she french kissed the sky. In a moment of contentment, she snapped her attention back to her best friend, Lillie. She lay a hand on her shoulder, leaned in close to her ear and said, “I’ve run out of wine. Come with me to fetch some more.”

Lillie’s eyes brightened as she agreed. The ladies linked arms and walked away from those with whom they were fraternizing, without a single word of explanation or apology. Charlotte didn’t care. She was out on the town with her best friend having some drinks; each night presented new people, so she didn’t make a serious attempt to get to know any of them. All she knew was that the ladies were lovely, the men paid her attention, and somehow her drinks and cigarettes were always free of charge. Best of all, though, was the fact that she was away from her husband and his strict clutches. Charlotte loved to think of it as a bird flying up and away from it’s master to the unlimited sky. That feeling she revered -stretching her wings, muscles aching but what a wonderful feeling- was second to none.

Still in the most exciting and wonderful days of youth, Charlotte had gotten married too young, at the urging of her mother. You’ll become an old maid, she had said, quite seriously. You need to get married now before no one will want you. And while you’ve got yourself a good man. By society’s standards, she had snagged herself one of the best men in Chicago: intelligent, fiercely loyal, hard working, and rich. After three years of marriage, the wealth was the only thing Charlotte really enjoyed about Teddy anymore. Had she known before she said ‘I do’ that he was violent, jealous, controlling, and manipulative, she would have thought twice about her mother’s urging to marry into his family. Little did her mother know how Teddy had gotten rich. All she had known was that Charlotte was ‘marrying up’.

Charlotte was swept up in what ‘freedom’ meant. In this day and age, freedom was changing and morphing into something entirely different, which didn’t sit well with some people who preferred tradition to progress. According to Teddy, a woman needed to obey her husband’s every beck and call, because, as he explained on a regular basis, ‘The bible says that a wife needs to submit to her husband, and that the husband is the head of his wife, as Christ is to the church. You don’t want to upset the Lord by running off and transgressing against me, now do you, Sweetheart?’ No, of course not, she would answer to his face, but while his back was turned she’d collapse in on herself. Really, did God want her to live under lock and key, as a slave? However, she thought the Lord himself would forgive her for doing what she thought was right, and acting on what freedom meant to her. She shook her head gently to clear the dust that the memory produced; it clogged her mind and weighed down on her soul, and as she looked over at her stunning friend, who smiled to her as they rushed across the room, the memory faded.

She stumbled up to the bar, raised her chalice up to the stunned bartender, smiled, and winked through the curvature of the glass at him. “My friend and I have found our glasses empty,” she said, her mouth turning down into a pout. Lillie’s followed suit. Charlotte continued, “Could you be so kind, my dear, as to refill them for us?”

Paralyzed by her radiating sexuality and by Lillie’s breath-taking beauty, the man on the other side of the counter could only spew out a murmur as a response. He tried to get a firm grasp of his words, but he couldn’t. His mouth had turned to putty in front of such sexy ladies, their hair done up in sparkling ribbons, and their shimmering dresses barely held on by the shoulder straps, he finally peeped out, face tensed, “What kind, Ma’am?”

“Call me, Charlotte,” she said coolly, and sat the glass down with a clink. Lillie sat her’s next to it, and propped up her chin in her hands by balancing her elbows on the counter. She leaned over seductively while Lillie looked the bartender straight in the eyes. Although his eyes instantly veered down towards the sinking neckline of her dress. Charlotte glanced over at her and started to giggle. As she winked at the nervous man behind the counter, she answered in a breathy whoosh, “Blush.”

The man, visibly perspiring now, reached under the counter, pulled out a vintage bottle of his best rose wine, and with a shaking hand, filled each of their glasses to the brim. If there was one thing Charlotte loved to do when she was away from her husband, it was to flirt with, entrap, snare, and intimidate men. It gave her such a thrill, such a sense of control. “Thank you, darling,” she said as she whisked her glass off the wooden surface once more, and brought it up to her lips. Eyes ever locked on his, she whispered, “How can I ever repay you?”

Taken aback, the man gulped, his eyes became as round as the full moon that stood in the sky that night, searching in his repertoire of polite things to say to wealthy women such as themselves and coming up empty. The two women before him laughed, their glasses promptly emptied and replaced on the bar. Lillie leaned forward even more, her face becoming softer momentarily, concern evident in her eyes, and she whispered so only he could hear, “Maybe you can tell us later.”

With that, Lillie and Charlotte, the best of friends, turned their back to him in unison and sauntered off to get lost in the party.

As they approached the center of the room, Lillie grabbed Charlotte’s arm. “Charlotte,” Lillie said quickly, leaning closer to her friend as they walked into the crowd. “There he goes, let’s follow him.”

Charlotte’s eyes followed where Lillie’s finger pointed, and they landed on a man Lillie had had her eyes on all night. She was struck by him because he seemed to be alone and hadn’t spoken to anyone else the entire evening. He strolled quietly to the front door, nodded to the doorman, opened it with one hand, and stepped outside, his long coat swept back in the wind, while reaching into his jacket pocket for a tin of cigarettes.

“He must need fresh air,” Lillie blurted out, excitedly. “Let’s go and follow him, Charlotte, can we, please?”

Charlotte looked into her friend’s eyes, and the two giggled girlishly. Such a kind, gentle and innocent person Lillie was, yet a little naïve, too. But that’s why she loved Lillie, her personality and demeanor were almost polar opposites of her own, yet they had a lot in common. Their longing to let loose and have fun, to be treated like queens by every man they met, was top among them.

“You sound like a puppy in heat,” Charlotte whispered back to her in a witty quip. Sarcastically, she teased, “What would your husband think?”

“Knowing him, he might want a ménage à trois!”

Charlotte’s hand rose instinctively to cover her mouth, to suppress a laugh so the wine in her mouth wouldn’t be spit across the room. Lillie joined in the merriment, and together, arms still linked, they made their way to the door, after the lone man.

The doorman stood in front of the door so no one could pass without him noticing. His eyes were dart and unmoving, but his arm elevated to block to the women from leaving. “Password,” is all he said.

Charlotte placed her fingers lightly on his lapel. “Allen, it’s us. You know us.”

Although Allen’s eyes didn’t move, Lillie saw the corner of his mouth move up in a half smile and she nudged Charlotte with her elbow. He dropped his arm and let them through.

In the dense black of night, he saw the two lovely girls enter the darkness from the beam of light that formed when the door opened, letting them escape into the fresh air. Although there were two, he only had his eyes on one. She of the glowing blonde hair, ivory skin, and the wonderful smile that lit up the room like a million fireworks. He knew all about her, too much about her, in truth, but he knew this much for certain: he shouldn’t be in love with her, but he was. He felt for her an attraction he had felt for no other human being he had ever met. Along with this longing, however, with a fatality. She was married, and not only that, but to a big crime boss.

She was married to the guy who had hired him for this job.

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CHAPTER THREE: SPEAKEASY

On a dreary Tuesday morning at the beginning of April 1925, a man walked down the street, head down, hands shoved deep in his pockets, a ridiculous tune stuck in his head. Deep in thought, he was confused, which was very much not like him, and very unbecoming. And somewhat disturbing, his mind added as he walked. The night before, he’d agreed to a job that today he rather regretted. He had consistently been involved in crime, but never like this. His past in crime was all petty and scattered through his life sparsely, scarcely even noticed, even by him. A stolen wallet here, a lifted pocket watch here, sometimes he even lifted a scarf just because he could. He found it fun to steal things out from under the noses of the elite. Nevertheless, this job weighed heavy on his heart. If the police chief ever found out, he’d be done for. And if this mob boss ever found out about his ties to the fuzz, he was doubly done for; he’d be fitted for cement shoes and he’d be sleeping with the fishes in no time.

Forever a chance-taker at heart, he risked it. Something inside him made him take the job. Confidence, maybe, but more likely he was just a bit cocky, a bit full of himself, but mostly sure of himself. Confidence is what drove him to success. He hadn’t been caught yet; why would he let his guard down long enough to be caught now, especially when his own death sentence was on the line? No way, he was too alert, too good for that. Still, something didn’t feel right about it. Too late now, he thought as he walked towards a hardware store on South Dearborn Street, a trolly rumbling past in front of him on the cross street. In any event, it was about time he cut his teeth on this specific type of job and jump right in.

It was early -too early- suspiciously early. As he drew in a deep breath, he tried not to regret every detail of the morning, and wasn’t succeeding; he bit the inside of his cheek as his stomach turned. This isn’t like you, he scolded himself. What is your problem? It was something in the air, some cloud that followed him around, something that was carried in off the breeze of Lake Michigan. Whatever it was, he had to shake it off, and fast, before Killer Teddy regretted hiring him for such an important, and personal, job.

He came to a swift halt and found himself standing in front of Bartolini’s Hardware. He finally lifted his head from its depressed position, he looked up, squinting against the heavily overcast skies, took in a deep breath, and put on a figurative mask of confidence. Show time.

A tall, glass door stood in front of him, on which hung a ‘closed’ sign. He lifted his hand and rapped on the glass door three times in rapid succession. As he wiped the slate of his mind clean, he, for the first time, found the root of all his decisions: danger and money. There were plenty of both behind that glass door, and his trademark sly smile slithered across his face, his striking, doe-like eyes relaxing, his cheeks become less tense. He ran his tongue across his teeth, in the way only a dignified, masculine man could do without looking awkward, and held his gaze steadily forward, and waited for someone to answer his knock.

He became impatient quickly when no one came immediately to answer the door. He shifted his weight before finally noticing someone emerging from the darkness within the store. Raising an eyebrow tentatively, he studied the man as he approached. The man, on the other side of the door, began to clumsily unlock the it with an oversized, overloaded metal keyring. Jay had never seen this man before, and red flags flew up. And so did his guard.

Old, beat down, yet cheerful, the elderly, hunched over man in the white collared shirt and red suspenders smiled easily up at Jay, who was certainly a foot taller than him, through his thick glasses as he swung the door open. In a ragged croak, the old man asked, “Harry?”

He had learned at a young age to not judge a book by its cover, and thus Jay forcefully made his way over the threshold, roughly shouldering past the man, his hand floating near his hip in case fire power were required, and answered in a low, accusing tone, “Who wants to know?”

“I’ll take it you’re Harry,” the old man said, still smiling. He shuffled around Jay like a street sweeper and closed the door with a gentle rattle. “Dammit! I done lost the key to lock this joint up proper.” Holding the keyring unnaturally close to his face, which was littered with what looked like hundreds of shining gold and silver keys, he carefully dug for the correct key. Jay’s shoulders relaxed. This tiny man was not a threat. Almost laughing at himself, he turned around from the dimness to face the man.

“Would you like help?” he offered, in a kinder tone than he had used when he barged into the store.

“Oop! I just found it.” Triumphantly, he lifted up the key between his forefinger and thumb and showed Jay. Jay nodded emphatically. The old man then brought it down near the lock and, with a pure lack of motor coordination, jangled the keys around until the one key finally slid into the lock, fastening the door shut with a click. Jay cringed.

The old man walked past Jay again, shuffling deeper into the store and into the dark. The old man looked back briefly and swung his hand in a large circular motion, begging Jay to follow him. Jay shrugged to himself and followed.

“I apologize, sir, but may I ask who you might be?” Jay inquired in as polite a way as he could possibly conjure up.

“My name is William,” the grey man offered. “But the guys call me Old Bill. So, that is what you can call me, too.” Old Bill turned around again to smile at Jay, which Jay found to be mild and welcoming.

Jay wet his lips, smiled softly, and replied, “I’m sorry I was so rude out there, Old Bill.”

“Nonsense!” An arm flew up in the air again, waving off the apology.

Cheered by this, Jay validated Old Bill’s initial assumption. “I am Harry, yes. I am here to see…”

“Theodore,” Old Bill interrupted jovially. He stopped abruptly, turned to Jay, and put one finger up in the air. Startled, Jay took a step back, and bumped into a shelf full of glass jars filled with screws, bolts and nuts, sounding off quite a round of commotion. “The owner’s son, ay, so he is. Why do you think I came upstairs to fetch you, young man?”

Good question, Jay thought inwardly, but outwardly said lightly, “Of course.”

Old Bill reached forward, grasped on to something, and a slight clang radiated through the dim and eerily quiet place. Out of thin air, he pulled open a door, flashed an wink at Jay, and disappeared down into the blackness.

“Where are you going? Isn’t Teddy…?”

“He is down these stairs, where the real money is made.”

How could he have been so stupid? Of course this place was a blind pig! Carefully he felt his way down the first step, his hands searched for a railing and his foot twitched about trying to find the invisible first stair, he tread them quickly, as the old man’s steps echoed fainter with each passing second. For an old man, he sure is quick and agile! he thought as he caught up with Old Bill near the bottom of the case.

The darkness began to be eaten away by an orange, potent light, and noise pierced the dull quiet hum of the upstairs portion of the building. When his foot finally hit the wooden planks of the floor, a lively scene greeted him. Tables were scattered about the floor, and each was filled with laughing people visiting with one another. Cigarette smoke hazed the room and liquor bottles and glasses littered each table and a nearby bar. So, that was it, Killer Teddy made his money selling illegal alcohol. The notion clicked in his head, and Jay now realized that the hardware store was a front to keep the police away. Even more reason for Jay to keep his clean and dirty worlds as far apart as they could go… no one wants a guy at the bar with ties to the police. No one.

Jay snapped out of his daze and his eyes focused with intense interest around small pieces of the hazy room, trying to locate Old Bill. Up ahead, on the other side of the room, his eyes locked on their target. The old man turned around and waved at Jay, and as Jay brought his hand up to return the wave, he saw that Old Bill was standing next to a tall, muscular, tanned from forehead to ankles, athletic looking man.

That man could only be Teddy.

Old Bill was still waving, so Jay made his way into the saloon, whisked his hat from his head revealing a light brown mess of hair, as he weaved in and out of the patrons. He tried not to smile as he wondered to himself if these were today’s patrons, or those who were still partying from last night’s uproarious, riotous get-together.

“Harry! So good of you to come!” Teddy’s bright eyes and large grin greeted him as he stuck out his hand. Jay took it and shook it with fierce camaraderie. “We didn’t leave you waiting outside for too long, did we?”

“No, not at all,” Jay answered, as he reached inside of his suit jacket and pulled out his silver tin of cigarettes. “It was a pleasure being met by such a fine gentleman as Old Bill.” He took one out for himself, and he held the tin up to Teddy. “Would you like one?”

“Why, thank you,” Teddy said with a nod, and picked one finely rolled cigarette out of the case and curtly pressed it between his lips. He lit it up quickly and sucked the smoke into his lungs as he looked around in a grandiose sweeping gesture. “Nice joint, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely, it is charming.” Jay struck a match and lit his own cigarette by cupping his free hand around it so the flame held steady. While Teddy was still looking upon his juice joint in admiration, Jay studied him briefly. He didn’t appear to be armed, and he did seem genuinely eager to see him. I suppose he’s keen to get me to work, he scoffed to himself as he breathed in the warm smoke.

“It’s so well known with the locals, I have no idea how the police haven’t gotten wind of it yet.” A loud, deep, belly laugh emanated from the tall, fit man, as Teddy tilted his head back with great cheer. Jay laughed along with him.

“I bet you haul in a lot of clams with this place,” Jay mentioned, making friendly conversation. Teddy looked at him and smiled.

“You better believe it,” he huffed, the smile never leaving his face. “We do occasionally have to knock some heads and take a sap for a ride, but other than that, things run pretty smoothly.” As he admired his speakeasy a minute longer, Teddy’s smile began to fade from his face, and worry began to roll and twist it up into a contorted look of anger. His cigarette placed between his lips, smoke billowing off and racing to the ceiling, he looked at Jay, his eyes suddenly tired. “I guess we better get down to business, huh?”

Jay maintained his smile expertly and said, “I suppose you’re right.”

They walked through some swinging doors off to the side, behind the lengthy bar. Teddy said flatly, “Follow me.”

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CHAPTER FOUR: THE DEAL

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CHAPTER FIVE: TRAILING HER

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CHAPTER SIX: BUSINESS

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CHAPTER SEVEN: BURNING

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CHAPTER EIGHT: OBSESSION

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CHAPTER NINE: TAINTED LOVE

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CHAPTER TEN: SINFUL

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: HIT ON ALL SIXES

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CHAPTER TWELVE: DOUBLECROSS

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN: HELLO, THERE... JAY

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN: WHOLE AGAIN

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN: GET HOT! GET HOT!

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN: SOCKDOLLAGER

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: FLOAT ON

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: BLOW THIS JOINT

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CHAPTER NINETEEN: ON THE ROAD

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CHAPTER TWENTY: LILLIE

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: REPAIR MAN

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: THE PLEASURE

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: KNOCK IT OVER

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: THE CHASE

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: EARLY

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: I KNOW WHO YOU ARE

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: BLOOD BATH

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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: DON'T LEAVE ME

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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: SWIRLING PATHS

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CHAPTER THIRTY: BUSTER BROWN

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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: YOUR MEMORY

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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: GETTING TO KNOW YOU

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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: FILTHY

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: WESTWARD

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: REALITY

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: EPILOGUE

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~

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