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Dwight Frye

 
Hanne Berg's picture

Rear Window [11]

Dwight Frye sat at his desk stirring sugar into the tea filled bone china cup on his desk. He liked to be at work early. Next to the cup sat a plate with several biscuits. He picked one and snapped it in half, pausing to brush a crumb from his neatly pressed grey waistcoat. He sipped the tea and surveyed his office. All was fine, everything was in order, not a file, folder or pile of documents out of place.

Hanne Berg's picture

Rear Window [7]

Exuding his aire of administrative efficiency, Dwight opened the four folders on the desk in front of Hanne.

Hanne Berg's picture

Rear Window [6]

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Hanne was back at the window In truth she had been there most of the afternoon. As the sun drifted into late afternoon and on into evening, and as Hanne’s cup of tea was now clay cold,

Hanne Berg's picture

Rear Window [5]

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Not his face !! “

Dwight looked up from his initial appraisal of the boy and cast a puzzled glance.

Hmm?”

Hanne Berg's picture

Rear Window [2]

The phone the table had actually rang four times before Hanne snapped out of her thoughts and finally answered it.

"Hallo ?"  She enquired and instantly recognised the high camp voice at the other end.

" Miss Berg, Miss Berg, Miss Berg ! I heared you were returning to work and I just couldn't resist giving you a little  'welcome back' tinkle..  How are you, dearie? "

" Fat Eric... "  Hanne smiled to herself, " It seems one cannot sneeze without you saying 'gesundheit' for me. I am fine, thank you for asking. And you ?"

Hanne Berg's picture

Rear Window

 

Hanne climbed the last stair and crossed the second floor landing. She paused a moment as her hand rested on the door handle. 

The familiar brass plate in front of her smelled of Brass Cleaner and shone brightly even in the darkened stairwell. The dark letters embossed into the metal spelled out " The Ranyhyn Company" clearly.

Hanne Berg's picture

Of duct tape, bridges and gravity.... all in a day's work

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Hanne Berg drove her interceptor south,she eased her foot off the accelerator pedal, after all there was no rush. 

Joe Spivey's picture

Well, It's kinda like an onion... y'know?

It started with that punch.

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by Dr. Radut