BubbleBeard picked up his newspaper and rested his feet on the living room table, ready to sit back and relax after a long day of running about. It had been an interesting day to say the least, he'd made a few deals happen that he was almost positive were going to fall through. Treating himself to his favorite whiskey, he opened the newspaper and nearly spat out the sip he'd just taken. Laughter overtook him as he read the headline; "Murder most bubbly." He already knew what the contents of the article would say, but as there were no police barging into his loft, he knew that the title was just irony at its best. Shaking his head and still chuckling, he proceeded to read the article.

               Last weekend at an all exclusive golf club in Miami, Doctor Sir E. Brum was found dead in the bathroom, shortly after he'd just been announced the prime candidate for the Southern tier Doctor of the year. Not much has been released to the press thus far, but detectives on the scene did verify that the death was not of natural cause, and foul play is suspected. Traces of Cyanide were found in the victims stomach, believed to have been slipped into his champagne at dinner... Continued on B4

BubbleBeard burst into another fit of maniacal laughter before settling down. It had been all too easy really. Lighting up a cigar and pouring himself another glass of whiskey, BubbleBeard sipped and puffed away as he recalled that night in Florida.

The hit had been placed a few weeks prior to the event, and BubbleBeard gladly signed up for it. Not only did it give him an excuse to go visit his niece in Florida, but he had always wanted to see if he was good enough to pull off something like this. The location was a high end golf resort, and they were having a function to name off the Southern Tiers Doctor of the Year Award, so there was sure to be a lot of people around, and a lot of security. After mailing Charlie to let him know he'd be out of town for a few days on a job, BubbleBeard packed a few suits and boarded a plane to Miami.

The flight itself went well enough, as he knew it would. There was no reason for it not to, for he had left his gun at home and only brought with him a few pairs of clothes and a pair of sunglasses. He knew a guy in Miami who would be able to get him the other supplies he was going to need, there was no point in trying to smuggle them all past security. Stepping off of the plane and into a taxi, BubbleBeard took a look around and smiled to himself. He'd lived in Miami once, and swore to himself that he'd retire there. The smell of citrus in the air, the sunshine still bright even though it was getting later in the day, and the sound of happiness as children ran about.

(To be continued...)