Daivey Morris – Unfinished (open for comments)

Given parameters (from NYCMidnight.com) to write a 2,500 story in one week. I managed to leave to the final hour before the deadline to write any substantial portion of the story. Truthfully my computer was not even connected to a screen until 11.25pm and the deadline midnight.

Genre: Crime Caper

Subject: A retirement party

Character: An obstetrician


Title: Daivey Morris

Synopsis: Daivey Morris is an obstetrician who sees a painting at his retirement party that will fit nicely with his personal art collection. The challenge is that Moira (the hostess of the party) is an art aficionado who is not interested in selling the piece to him.


Daivey Morris is an obstetrician, and dedicated to more than the success of his patients. His greater interest, and far more lucrative, is Art forgery and thievery. As a doctor in Florida and as a descendant of Spanish Grandparents (fleeing Franco) and Cuban Parents (fleeing Castro), his semi-annual trips to Ibiza were never questioned by his colleagues, and his lavish lifestyle assumed to be inherited. The truth is Daivey Morris specializes in fakery.

It is now Thursday evening,  yes the evening of Daivey’s retirement party.  This is what most people are thinking,…that Daivey is a “brilliant” doctor who has earned his stripes, while “young for retirement” – well then, good for him and who again are his personal financial investors? Questions have been raised in hushed voices. How has Davey made such an extravagant lifestyle, given he comes from two generations of refugees? Perhaps they were that kind of family with silent money in the Channel or Cayman Islands, or possibly Switzerland?  Who could know these days.

Daivey’s internal monologue would surprise (even shock) his circle of colleagues (poor Daivey has no friends it seems, only acquaintances at best). His mind is permanently in a smirk, and holding the notion “I’ve outfoxed them all.” There are reasons he lacks intimacy in his life.  The heavy drinking for one. The tendency towards throwing insults thinly veiled as sarcasm, among other reasons. Bright nonetheless, and trusted by his fertile, birthing clientele. If only they could see that smirk permanently resting on Daivey’s mind.


Daivey grasps the outstretched hands, shaking with the firm grip of his own hands.  He politely kisses the cheeks of many women, charming a few with a wink and smile. This type of character is expected and actually not worthy. The narcism in this character believes he is outshining his peers, yet alas – they can see how bright his shine exhausts even himself, and no wonder given that he has chosen to retire now, before years or decades begin to chip at his youthful face. Interesting how often youth is mistaken for attractive.

Moira is across the room, speaking with two others. He watches her knowing she pretends to only just notice his gaze. Predictably, she strolls over to Daivey and they begin to chat.

– How lucky you are to retire, and while still so young she says.

– How curious Moira, you think this comes from luck he replied.

– How else Dr. Morris?

They bore one another. Yet as the only two in the room under the age of 65 they continue, almost as a sibling rivalry to see who will bow out first. The exchange of people weaving in and out of their fleeting exchanges goes barely noticed, except to those in the room who mistake this as a form of chemistry or attraction. Little do they know that predators don’t experience attraction, their adrenaline is pursuit and winning the conquest. A bizarre species of the human race which still baffles scientists, including anthropologists. How do these types continue in society, and for what purpose? So let’s continue Daivey’s retirement party, and you dear reader should know, that Daivey and Moira do not (yet) know that they are made of the same cloth.  Which is full of fakery and cheat.

After they realized that they could not easily exhaust one another, the two began to walk room to room. The layout of Moira’s apartment is quite vast and each room a dedicated theme. Daivey gasped in appreciation at the Modigliani resting above the fireplace. He immediately sized its value and thought how suitable it is that he should have it. Knowing that Moira would be away for the coming weekend (he is a keen listener), he begins to calculate how he can entrap her, to entrap Modigliani, so that he could then cart this beauty to the next trip to Ibiza and sell, sell, oh bloody the love of life and all that is good, sell for more fortune. He balances have been running low, and shit – his last pseudonym cover was quickly being raised and the Feds close on his tale. 

Moira leaves the room. He sees how others could examine her and claim exquisiteness. His preferences is this other beauty, so timeliness. Although in the conversation earlier she refused to sell (or even barter) this Modigliani to him, he begins to hatch a plan.



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