Ambient Soundscapes - Rainy City Night Detective Office Film Noir Jazz Mix 

Track list added to description!

“Babe please stop commenting on blues playlists about rainy nights, you’re not a 1950’s P.I.” “Beat it toots, these streets ain’t what they used to be.”

"Einstein was right. Time is relative to the observer. When you're looking down the barrel of a gun time slows down, your whole life flashes by, heartbreak and scars. Stay with it, and you can live a lifetime in that split second."

The rain was a bitter cocktail of boredom, misery, and loneliness; it swept through the city's corridors, urging the sleepless to take asylum. I found myself looking down the one way street of another late night. Time was a set of doors; one led to a world where it was too late to go grab a beer, and through the other, too early for the morning paper. I was stuck in a purgatory supervised by the smug-faced clock hanging above my office door. The words Private Investigator were etched into the glass door pane-the name underneath, faded from memory.

Ya know, sometimes we fantasize about living in another time period, but really this is the best time period because we have the ability to relive all the others at a moment's notice.

Working 3rd shift as a security guard, you start to feel like a private eye. Walked on, and under paid. This music keeps me going.

Justice isn’t enough. Claire and Maria deserve more. Calling my childhood hard would be an understatement. To put it simply - shit sucked. Mom died early; had a bad ticker her whole life. Pop didn’t stick around for that part. No brothers, no sisters, just little Herk left to fend for himself. Playing in the streets, getting rowdy, running from his problems. Same shit, different world. It wasn’t until my first real dig with some friends of mine on my 21st birthday that I found some sense of self-worth. I had my share of drinks before I was legal, but the crew I was with at the time made sure to show me a good time. We weren’t really a gang so much as we were a group of deadbeats trying to keep ourselves alive in the face of any trouble we could scrounge up. So on my 21st, we did it big. Any drink and drug under the sun, you name it - I found a way to get it in me. Maybe we shouldn’t have robbed that (liquor store), maybe we should have just passed out and started over. But I guess I wouldn’t be here today if we did, huh? Ha. I blacked out. Woke up in a cell next to one of my crew, handcuffed to a stranger, no clue how I got there. Head still ringing, some officer with dirt on his boots and rust on his gun started yelling at me. He’d been there for a while. I followed him, the whole time him telling me how stupid I was. can’t say I would argue with him, looking back on it. We walked for what felt like a year until he walked me out the back door, free to roam the streets again. I had no idea why anyone would let a punk kid like me out without anything more than a slap on the wrist. I don’t remember much, but I’ll never forget what he said before he turned back inside: “Ol’ Zeek would’ve wanted it this way.” How the fuck did he know Pop? I never found out. But I knew that day who I wanted to be. Fast forward about 10 or 15 years and Herk made himself a Captain. Working cases, chasing the bad guys, you know the story. One day Chief puts me on a real tough one. A classic murder mystery - my favorite. This goon had been chopping up locals of New Valla for too long. But he hadn’t met Herk Bruntus yet. I pull up to the building. Too much smoke to see just about anything. Fire team is there, but perp is still inside, holding up some hostage. Not this time. I ready up and move in. Floors of smoke and ash, I can’t see or hear a thing. The fire screamed louder than any hostage could have. I got to the fifth floor and heard a whimper I would never mistake for anything else - this motherfucker had my Maria. I charge through the room - nothing. Break down the closet door - nothing. I look around and hear her again. I throw my body against a wall on a hunch, and I freeze. He has her, barrel against her head, trigger finger ready to squeeze. The fear in Maria’s eyes haunts me to this day. I raise my gun as he pulls the trigger, and I see my wife’s life leave her eyes in slow motion. He smiles, drops her body, and vanishes into thin air. I run to her body, and I see Claire right behind her - she’s been dead longer than I’ve been in the building. I spent the next decade working on other cases, since the boss man had someone else working my family’s case. It burned me up, but I knew why. Conflict of interest…still gets me to this day. I spent time in secret doing my own work for Claire and Maria off the record. This clown had no dirt on him one way or the other - but I knew I’d never forget that face. Some sort of sorcerer or shapeshifter type. It got to the point where I couldn’t focus on my current cases, and I was letting it all affect my work. The chief knew what was going on. One day he brings me into his office, sits me down, and tells me he’s got to let me go. I knew the risk I was running. My days in the force were over. Or so I thought… New Valla has been running rampant with crime over the last few years. I’ve been in retirement since that day with the Chief - they actually got me set up pretty good - trying to keep my mind busy. I almost always fail. Things have gotten so bad lately that they’ve been asking reformed criminals to help clean up the town. Not sure how I feel about that, but if it means less killers on the loose, I guess I can’t argue too hard. The Chief ended up getting shot on the job. He was a good man. His son took over for him, and recently found himself on my doorstep. I buzzed him up, and we got to talking. Catching up, I’m telling him stories about his old man. He smiled at me, paused, and stared into my soul. “What if I told you we had a lead on your girls’ killer?” I stood up. I’d never thought anyone would learn anything real about this piece of shit. "Here’s the catch. The Council of 8 & 2 have promoted Detective Thane McKannon to Chief Inspector, and allowed him to build his own unit in Center City North.” Fucking McKannon. Not a soul in the NVPD that doesn't know that name. When they took me off the Vanish case, I had only hoped he'd pick it up. "Chief McKannon was at my father's funeral. He asked for a favor, and told me to give you this." The boy handed me a letter, and shut the door behind him. It was sealed with a wax picture of a preyton - I could still smell the smokes and whiskey. The letter said "Herk Bruntus. I've heard you have unfinished business. It's a goddamn shame they retired an investigator with a record like yours. If retirement doesn't suit you well, come see me. I got an open desk in my unit, and a badge with your name on it. P.S. - I have a lead on your killer. Call it my retirement gift to you." I thought for only a second - that bastard took everything from me. "Fuck," I breathed out. I'm in.

Her name was Melissa Temple. I think of her more than anyone I've ever been with. We were just two kids in high school who thought we knew what love was. One day, I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life and broke up with her for a nice pair of legs that wouldn't open for me. Years later, we were at different colleges and linked up again. We talked about how our lives were, and came to the realization that we would never be. Now, I can't help but think "what if?" I guess that is one of lives great mysteries. From now until the end of my life, she will be in my heart forever.

Everyone else: I'm something of a poet myself. Me: *Just enjoys good music while at work*

"There was no glory in this. I hadn't asked for this crap. Trouble had come to me, in big dark swarms. The good and the just, they were like gold dust in this city. I had no illusions. I was not one of them. I was no hero. Just me and the gun, and the crook. My options had decreased to a singular course." - Max Payne

Hits the spot when you're in the mood.

It looked like rain, so I got up to close the window. That guy on the sidewalk was still playing his sax. He was good, but I had heard enough for one day. When I turned back to my desk, she was already standing in front of it. "Can I help you?", I said. "No, Mr. Starker, I'm here to help you.", she whispered. "You placed a Want Ad for a secretary in today's paper. I'd like to apply for the position." "Cookie, you can have any position you want." I replied, "You're hired as of now. And from now on, call me Mick." "Oh, thank you Mr, uh, Mick." she squealed, "You don't know how happy this makes me." "Sit down, sugar, pour yourself a drink. We've got all night to get to know each other. And you don't know how happy this'll make me!", I said as I removed my tie. That's when the phone rang. That's when it all started to go sideways. Who could've figured that she'd wind up dead, and I'd be sitting in a jail cell talking to you?

To the person reading this, Good Luck! Don't stress, everything will be fine. No matter what difficulty you are facing right now, you can overcome it! You are strong and brave

The comments are even better than the music!😂

This is brilliant. There is so much talent on RU-vid. People doing film noir, sci-fi, horror, neo-noir( including Blade Runner)... Providing us all with a ticket to any time and place we want. Why do these people get peanuts while silly pop-culture crap gets millions?

“Ain’t nothing that can liven up a lonely night like your old buddies, Jack and Daniel. Always familiar, but you spend too much time around them and even things you knew your whole life can seem as foreign as the labels on imported brew. But better company than the drink is a tall glass of water, like the gams moving about onstage. They led up past the dress they’d been poured into, curving about like a fine sculpture. And that voice, by god, like angels singing. Even in this dilapidated minefield of hops and heat, you look deep enough, you’ll find gold. Then again, that’s what I do; find things. Even if they don’t wanna be found.”

I love this! I have the same typewriter Hunter Green. It’s a Olympia SM4 Manual typewriter made in 1959 in Germany. Looks, types like new. Use it almost every day. I have (I Love Lucy) phone too. Like new and works. I just like antique products. I’m 73 so I love the technology of the past. I don’t do facebook, twitter and any other social media things. Also, when. Write a letter,no distractions and my typewriter never crashes. Thanks for the music and sound effects.

After a long day's work, I tried to kick it back and relax with a hot cup of coffee. Sleep won't come so why bother? I stare out the window and saw an alley cat shivering under the rain and nowhere to go. Same goes for everyone else in this city. We all shiver, even the old buildings dripping. It's a cold night all right. But the clock's still ticking and sleep never comes easy.

"When the darkness fell, New York City became something else, any old Sinatra song notwithstanding. Bad things happened in the night, on the streets of that other city. Noir York City." -Max Payne

The sound of rain hitting the concrete was a welcome ambiance on a night like tonight. The bright neon lights of the city created a beautiful haze in the downpour, though, most would not take notice, too absorbed in their schedules and plans. The same lack of attention that made tonight the perfect time for taking out some high caliber trash. He’d been paid half in advance; the other half only being delivered after the job is done. No time like the present, he was already about to make a few pitstops. Nobody knew him anyways. While his work name was notorious, he had made it a point to not leave a trace, not so much as a hair, whenever he was on a job. If he wasn’t as meticulous as he had to be, the most likely outcome would be a few life sentences, and that’s just without the possible penalty of execution... That’s beside the point, he has work to do. Gotta pay the bills, so it’s time to make the donuts. Shifting his hands into the pockets of his lengthy coat, he made long, even strides, determined to get to his pre-scouted spot in a run-down apartment building, which was conveniently positioned linear to his target’s bedroom window. Whoever placed the hit on this man made it clear that there would be no second chances, it had to be quick, clean, a split-second death, and off to the nearby bar like nothing happened in the first place. After he verifies the kill, his second payment will be waiting in that bar, all he has to do is slip the barkeep a small card he was given, get his cash, and get the fuck out of dodge. Easy peasy, clean and simple, right? Wrong. Everything went terribly wrong. The moment he stepped into the building, something felt off. Maybe it was the air, maybe it was the ominous atmosphere, he doesn’t know what caused it to feel that way. His gut told him, maybe this is a job he can come back to another day, with some more planning. But, as all men sometimes do, he overlooked it, shrugged it off like a dirty jacket, and left it at the door. He had no idea how wrong he was for doing that, but he’d soon find out. The 16th floor, 3rd largest window facing the Garmon Tower, right on the balcony; that’s the spot. From this point, aiming downwards by 25 degrees, to the left by 13 degrees, his scope was positioned on the right pillow of the suite belonging to Mr. Garmon Jr. himself, the fat, greedy, human trafficking bastard. Though it isn’t in his usual pattern to feel anger towards his targets, this was a special case. Grimy fucker caused so many parents to lose their young children, so many families to lose their joy and hope for the world, all because he wanted to make a quick buck. It’s vile, disgusting, sickening, to know that he had gotten away with this shit for over 8 years, but it ends today. Today, he pays his debt with his life. Who better to take what he owes than the Debt Collector himself? The only warning he got was the quick shuffle of work boots, before the world went dark, and he couldn’t breathe. For what felt like an eternity, he was carried like a sack of potatoes, before he was unceremoniously dropped, more like a sack of lead, into a wooden chair that felt both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. The burlap sack was ripped from over his head, and he looked up to see the man he was supposed to take out tonight, casually smoking, accompanied by what he assumed were two very money hungry women in his lap, one on each leg. Garmon put out his cigar, leaving the unfinished blunt in the overused and under cleaned ashtray he had, mounted on his desk, large and dark. It was the kind of desk you’d expect some hot shot CEO to have, clearly bought out of an overinflated ego, somehow inflated more than his gut. “So, you thought you would just walk your ass up those stairs, shoot me, and get away like nothing happened? Tell me you aren’t that naïve, because that is a very bad look for someone with a reputation like your’s.” “Shit.”

I didn't know her. Nobody knew her. She disappeared into the rain and took the night with her...trailing sad sax and leftover sighs...

"Look angel, you don't know what it's like - I'm the one out there every day putting his tail on the line. I'm not out of order, you're out of order. The whole stinkin' system is out of order! And you want the truth: you can't handle the truth. Cause when you reach over and put your hand into a pile of goo that was your best friend's face, you'll know what to do. Forget it, toots, it's Chinatown."

There's a time to talk and a time to shut up. Now is the time to be quiet, son. LA Noire

This reminds me of that "Babes and Bullets" episode of _Garfield & Friends._ I liked it. Much brain-refreshing jazz in this video was exactly played in that episode, with the acception of Lou Rawls singing the title of the song. I often would think of chillin in my bedroom window sill, looking outside at the lake watching people fishing, playing frisbee with their dog, barbecuing, just having a good time warming up to the outdoor life of earthly nature, and there's an absolute panoramic view of the city's skyline way in the background. That there is what listening to jazz music is like to me 😌

You’re drinking a nice cold glass of whiskey. Smoking the finest cigar. Reminiscing the past.

I was born in 2003 and i love this type of jazz thats why i started thinking i was born in the wrong year noir jazz hits different

I love this. Just randomly appeared in my feed, decided to listen. The rain began, and I thought "ok, this is nice" but when the music began I was literally in heaven. So smooth, so relaxing, so enjoyable. Perfect for relaxing in bed and for doing small work. Thank you. 🙌🏼

It really is impossible to resist to monologue to noir music.

"In the span of an inward breath, the door opened. In stepped the dame. Angel Face floated in and looked me up and down. With me towering like Napoleon on a step stool and her at 6'0" in high heels... it was mostly down."

"When the darkness fell, New York City became something else, any old Sinatra song notwithstanding. Bad things happened in the night, on the streets of that other city. Noir York City."

"This city, this stinking city, every downpour, every storm, it reminds me how far we've come, and how far we've fallen. Only thing keeping it together is the men and women at the Precinct. And even they aren't above getting a taste. This job will leave you hollow and doesn't keep you fed. Always gotta watch yourself you never know who's on the take."

Thank you *SO* much. Exactly what I needed in my Jazz playlist for those grey, overcast days.

listening to this while playing shadows of doubt makes you 10% smorter

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents-except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.

Mills came in like an unwanted wind chill in a stuffy room. We would have to suffer his brand of camp but by god, this just might relieve the tension in the air. It didn't. I think I was the one who noticed it first. His normally cheery blue eyes now as gray and dull as a deathbed war vet stranded lonely in hospice with little more than childhood memories and too much sad from too much hate. They say some answers exact a heavy toll. That next hour saw our unit bankrupt. I expect some would have looked for a career change there and then if they had enough to spend on some will to live. Dead silence. Except for yours truly of course. That good friend living at the bottom drawer came a-calling for company and I obliged him proper at my desk with a rocks glass that clinked all the way to Blue Bayou. What? It was going to be a long day so I figured that I better get started. It went down like fire and blood. Awful how fitting that is. I laughed through my first whiskey fit, cleared my throat, poured another then laughed again. No use crying these days. No use at all.

I here for the music, but the comments just made this so must better

This is the best one I have found yet, it isn't just the same song on repeat for an hour.

39:00 has to be one of my favorites

"It was a rainy day. Perfect weather for me as I sat down and took a sip of my whiskey and gazed out the window. I couldnt help but think of her... She was the perfect woman for me, and she knew exactly what I was thinking of. But it just didn't work out for me and her. Soon, we cut ties. Never saw her again. Thats the harsh realities of life, Wyatt. One moment you and a beautiful woman could be dancing and the next moment you two cut off."

"As the jazz curls around me like smoke, I'm reminded of the haze that cloaks my days. Each puff whispers tales of secrets yet to be uncovered, mysteries waiting to be unraveled. Until our paths cross again, I'll be lost in the labyrinth of smoke and stories... "

Paris 1938, a gentle breeze, a soft voice and not a care in the world. Time passes, into darkness, heartbreak and investigating myself more than I care to admit.

Trying to find sleep but it's never around when I need it most. The sound of the rain on the bedroom window, reminds me of other nights in small winter hotels, when I drank Bushmills whiskey, smoked Lucky Strike, unfiltered, whispered to a mature woman and made love in the wee small hours. A life lived in another time and space. The touch of her perfumed hair on my cheek, the soft smooth skin ,that tasted like butter and almonds, The drift of smoke across the darkened bedroom, The warmth of the whiskey in my mouth, Her soft laughter in my ear,her arm across my chest. We thought we had forever, an illusion born of love and pleasure,but we were wrong. Life and reality catches up, the years drift by and you are a different man. What's left are the memories and thoughts on a night like this, when the rain sounds like pebbles on the window pane, and you chase the shadows of sleep.

This is helping me with my new book.

when i heard this song, i feels like meet detective in 80s, thank you so much for this calming song, have a good day.

I'm reading Batman Year One while listening to this. It really suits Jim Gordon's inner monologue

Rain fell in torrents, casting a gloomy veil over the city streets. The neon lights flickered, distorted by the cascading water, as the detective, clad in a worn trench coat, made his way through the deserted alleyways. The dimly lit lampposts created pools of light amidst the darkness, reflecting off the glistening pavement.

Can I like a list twice? Just such great ambiance, and best middle of stimulation and relaxing to keep me going all day. If anyone knows of similar playlists, could you sling them my way?

Just a relaxing night of being the City's best detective. 😎

I actually played this on the background and lit a cigarette while typing my thesis. I don't smoke so I was coughing for 10 minutes. I have weak lungs. Anyway I love detective noir movies.

Listening to this while I sleep. I’m hoping it’ll keep my noir ideas in my head. I’m writing it right now, hoping to eventually post it as a podcast story

Esta música me hace imaginar historias nuevas para mis viejos textos... Me encanta!!! 👏💌👏👍👍

Beat it toots, these streets ain't what they used to be.

The rain hit the concrete hard as if it was a territorial beast trying to keep me away. I lay there with my eyes open in my dark bedroom, might as well lay with my eyes closed there wasnt much of a difference. Normally my mind wanders and my sense heighten when im unable to see a thing but tonight i lay there uncaring like a man who's gave up and has accepted the fate that hes going to die. I look at my alarm clock, the only bit of light fighting to illuminate the dark room, and think "i wish it wasnt time" 10:44 one minute away from the loud annoying surrogate mother waking me up to get ready for school when i refuse to get out of bed. But this wasnt school i was getting ready for this time, this was work, and work was depressing. I beat the clock and turned it off as if i was in competition to see who could race quicker, and pull back the covers. Another long night.

As a listener of mood ambient music on YT for years, this is one of my favourites...

I ask for your prayers and healing vibes as I continue to face health challenges. Thank you for your support.

I'm getting some strong Nick Valentine vibes. 🤖💼🚬🎶

That last case killed me. I sat at my desk, poured a glass of scotch and lit a Marlboro. Then came the knock. A silhouette framed by the hallway light, appeared on the frosted glass of my office door. "Mr. Smith?" came the sultry tones of a woman's voice. The door opened and in she walked, Blonde hair, emerald eyes, red lipstick, in a white dress and legs that went all the way up, This was a dame I'd do time for, she was also the reason this was my last case.

listening while reading maltese falcon is fun

I'm so sad that all the other mixes got removed from the channel because I wanted to tell people who were invested that I am currently playing a Pathfinder Kingmaker game with a group of people and I'm writing these session notes from Iris's (the vampire detective) perspective to hopefully publish online somewhere. She's a kitsune vampire battling her father's genetics for sanity after being told to get off her ass by a kind stranger. My dm and I have yet to work out the details of the backstory and how she ended up where she did in the first place. To those of you who told me to write the book, I'm keeping detailed notes about the session as best I can to make it worth a read.

Relaxing to this after watching Dragnet

Immediately imagine Leslie Nelson dialogue of him talking to himself about his next move.

Great music for when you have alot to think about.

My palm covers almost her entire face, obsessive thoughts filled my head with bad ideas. An overhanging hand rises just above her head as she turns to her other side. Love and the feeling of her defenselessness in front of me only increases my attachment to her. How suddenly a harsh reality takes hold of my mind and I remember that I entered here alone...

The rain was plentiful that night. Couples were walking each other out of restaurants and what have you, holding each other close in the warm sweet-song kind of way. Me? I’m as lonesome as they get. You think a hard-edged fella like me can find a Dame who’d walk up my side of the street? Not a chance, pal. For awhile, I was hopeful. I thought there’d always be the one day, far from now, where I’d find her. That…..that naïve optimism died a long, long time ago. It died from the gun I shot to wound the fleeing serial rapist of my first case, and run over by the mobsters that placed a unsuccessful hit on my head a few years later. This city showed me what our human condition is capable of committing when given the means, and I’m just the lowly detective sweeping up the aftermath…. There’s no life for me. No love. No happiness as though country bumpkins would put it. There’s only gray. Gray and the painfully simplistic….certainty….of the gun attached to the hand of mortality.

Thank you for putting your amazing work out into the world. You have made a lot of people very happy including me

I’ve been tracking the same maniac for over a year now. I’ve been close so many times, but every time he manages to slip away. The murders have only gotten more sporadic. It felt like trying to shoot a wasp with an arrow in the middle of a hurricane. What’s important to know is everyone gets caught. He’ll make a mistake soon, I can feel it. Lets just hope he doesn’t kill anymore people until then. Stepping out of my office, I walk down the stairs to the street outside. I light a cigar and start making my way over to the pub a few blocks down. New York is peaceful at night, if you can manage to forget about all the criminal running around. Dark clouds ominously gather overhead and bright flashes of white streak through the air. Then, a great rumble that sounded like pots falling down a flight of stairs echoed between the buildings. If you were to ask me, I’d say the earth itself shook. I should get inside as soon as I can. I reached Henry’s Pub just as it started to downpour. The man behind the bar looks up as he was cleaning a glass. “Your regular, Mr. Hanson?” “Yes, please.” The man grabbed two shot glasses and filled them to the top with vodka, then made a whiskey old fashioned and put the three drinks in front of me. “Thank you. Ah just one second.” The man looks puzzled and slightly terrified. “How do you know my name?” Not even the radio dared to play any music. The pub went completely silent. “You know, some maniacs like to put themselves right in the center of attention. That way, they can see if the detectives have anything. Everyone talks if they’re drunk enough, right?” The man took a step back. “It’s crazy how you look just like the man i’m looking for.” The jukebox kicks back on, and I turn to see a man with a tommy gun walk out from around the corner. The man behind the bar smiles. “Come on Mr. Hansen. You didn’t think it would really be that easy did you? How stupid do you think I am? Now, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna give me your gun, and then forget everything happened. I don’t wanna kill you just yet. I like our little chases.” “You’re a freak, Jonny Fitzroy.” “Oooh so harsh Mr. Hansen. Now put your gun on the counter, or my buddy will have to fill you with more holes than you can count.” Reluctantly, I pull out my pistol and set it down on the counter. “Good. Now turn around and forget.” I turn and face the man with the tommy gun. Only then did I notice it was unloaded. Before I could turn around again, I was shot in the back of the leg. I fall to the ground in pain. “You fuckin’ moron. You might be the worst detective i’ve seen.” He hops over the counter and kneels over me. “Lets help you forget huh?” He smacks me with the pistol, and everything goes dark.

39:01 Wait a minute… I know where this song comes from. This is from PC version Jimmy Neutron vs. Jimmy Negatron. I use to play that game all the time as a kid and it had this very song! Just opened a locked memory lol

For some reason this makes me imagine a detective in some sort of scifi/fantasy setting like. Detective: 'As the rain poured down on the city, it washed away yesterday's mistakes like the world's cheapest holy water.' Woman: Enters. "Hey, I need some help finding something." Detective: 'A dame came in, saying she needed help finding something she'd lost. The day was slow, so I figured I should give her a hand.' Woman: "I... where's that voice coming from?" Detective: 'What the broad didn't know was, I had been cursed by some voodoo whatchamacallit. I don't know, I'm not the magic type. But the point is, the only way I could communicate anymore was through telepathic monologues, with smooth jazz playing in the background.' Woman: "I think I'm going to find someone else." Detective: 'I couldn't blame the lady. It was hard for us abnormal folk in the big city, but some people just wanna hold onto a little slice of normal. As I sipped on my coffee, I wondered if I could ever be like that again. Or if I'd be able to ever think without vividly detaling every single thing. Perhaps someday, but-'

INSTANT Sub for this video. Came up in my recommendations and I'm BEYOND glad that it did.

"The past is a gaping hole. You try to run from it, but the more you run, the deeper, more terrible it grows behind you, its edges yawning at your heels. Your only chance is to turn around and face it. But it's like looking down into the grave of your love, or kissing the mouth of a gun, a bullet trembling in its dark nest, ready to blow your head off."

beautiful, exactly what I was looking for ! thanks

The rain pattering and the thunder erupt from the window, which i see in all, likewise the streets of New York. The dark city illuminated by the street lights has a dark shadow of undoings behind it.

As a criminology student, YES 😂

Beautiful music, that creates truly romantic detective atmosphere! Thank you!

When the lonely sax starts playing, everyone turns into Mickey Spillane.

Perry Mason vibes

Another week working down at the docks giving my pay just to get gas to work. my cousin says he’s got someone he wants me to meet, and they might have a better job for me. Anything’s better than being back in the slammer

I haven't seen a case like this in 20 years. This was a crime not of passion but of anger. The person made sure he wasn't going to talk. His tongue was cut off, throat widely slit, eyeballs carefully removed, and an axe to his head and chest. Blood splatters all over the unsettling yellow walls, and the antique furnitures broken. The buzzing of the lights and the static of the radio was the only thing that kept me from going insane.

This is my kind of music I can swing it ☕️🎷🎺📻🖊️📝

In life you don’t get the luxury of knowing when a chapter ends. I woke up to the same grey morning, to the sounds of an angry city that would get even angrier by noon. I woke up, while Hilda still slept, and the sound of her breathing was the cold splash of water that brought sober wisdom. She breathed like a happy person while she slept. I’d never noticed it before. It was such a small thing, but it was enough to finally convince me that I was no good for her. Or, at least I was no good for her so long as I came packaged with the choices I continued to make. I packed my things and left that morning. She never heard me go. It’s been years, and she’s never once tried to contact me. That’s how it should be. I often think of her, fool that I am. I think of what she might have done that morning upon finding me gone. I like to imagine she smiled. I like to imagine she breathed easy.

The life of a gumshoe is one of stakeouts, manhunts, and back alley fights. But tonight, it's a life of quiet strategy and slow paperwork. As I assess the facts of my case and discern what the next move is. I should be asleep, gathering evidence is actually pretty hard at night. I need my sleep for the morning. But as you pursue creatures of the night, so you become them.

Be seeing you, darlin'.

when a person tells you who they are, believe them. The only person who you can fix is yourself

The dark evening rain poured down like weak coffee from a burned-out pitcher in a dank diner. I was tailing the tall, long-legged dame her husband had shelled out $5,000 in cash for me to follow. Five Large is way more than my normal up-front fee, and the whole thing smelled fishier than the pier. But that kind of green was hard to turn down, especially when the rent's due and your stomach's growling like a pit bull in your neighbor's yard. "Five thousand dollars is in this envelope Detective. Find out where my wife is going, and who she's going to." The husband looked like Frankenstein's hunchback lab assistant, but about 3 feet taller. He didn't so much speak, as guttered out the sentence. The ogre-man chucked an envelope and a picture of his bride onto my desk, and lumbered out of my office. How the hell did an ugly mug like that score a wife so hot she could singe your eyelids by looking at her? If he's slinging Franklins like that so easily, maybe I didn't want to know. Knowledge is power, but ignorance is bliss. I should've chucked the money right back at him... I'd been tailing the dame on foot for what felt like hours in the black storm. The lady never heard of Uber? Or a cab? She'd taken a peek behind a few times during this slow pursuit. I was pretty sure she hadn't made me, but it was hard to tell in this damned monsoon. The storm hadn't done much to calm this lion's den of a city. I could blend in with the crowd if I needed to. Finally I caught a lucky break. The wife stopped at an intersection next to an alley. Maybe this was where Wifey was meeting her supposed new Lovey-Dovey. I got my camera ready. Smartphone cameras were useless in this weather, and I needed to be sure I had clear pictures for Quasimodo. She waited there, while I leaned against the shop window. Suddenly, Wifey shot a quick glance my way, then turned to walk into the alleyway. Had she spotted me? Impossible. Too much foot traffic from the drones going to and fro, their lives about as dull as an old pencil, like my own. Dammit. I couldn't lose her now; lest I incur the wrath of the Cave Troll that had laid down the Gs for me to keep my peepers on her. I made a quick jog towards the alley and turned the corner. Wifey was standing there, next to a large dumpster, staring me right in the eyes. Even in this dark, cold downpour, I knew this was fact. I'd botched the job. Quasimodo the Hubby wasn't going to like this one bit. The wife kept staring, but it was an odd look. It wasn't fear or anger. Something else. Too bad I didn't get the chance to ask her why the hell she was staring at me like that... I almost didn't hear the shot. The storm muffled it like a pillow smothering a man's last breaths. No flash either. The wife dropped like a bag of bricks. I started sprinting like a blind rabbit towards her. The shooter pegged her right in the neck. Hell of a shot. Shooting the head doesn't guarantee a kill, and whoever pulled the trigger wanted this woman dead quicker than instant noodles. As I held her head, she glared me right in the eyes and gurgled something. It sounded like "Tim," but between the thundering storm and this beauty choking to death on her own blood, it was hard to make out. And then she was gone. Dammit. I didn't sign up for this. The sirens rang out almost instantly, and almost out of a fog, there were the boys in blue. No way they heard the gunshot, and certainly no chance they saw what happened. Someone had tipped them off. Was this some kind of setup? Did Quasimodo off his own wife, and use me as the fall guy? If so, there was certainly no functioning brain in that ogre skull of his. I wasn't carrying, and hopefully forensics would prove it wasn't me. Maybe Mr. New Love? Could be. I pondered these questions while I took a nice, First-Class ride to the nearest police station with a nice, First-Class broken nose the local coppers decided to gift to me. Should've chucked the money right back...

Hugh had a long day. As he sat back in his chair - that same damn creaky chair - he sighed deeply. Looking around the hotel room he had rented for the night, he pulled a box of cigarettes out of his coat pocket. He put one of the cigarettes in his mouth and reached back into his pocket, fingering around for his lighter. "Looking for somethin', hun?" Hugh leaned back further in the chair until his head was upside down. He looked at the figure in his hotel room doorway. He smiled, and took the lighter from her gentle, soft hands. "Y'know, Dianne... One of these days, I'm gon' miss you."

Feels like stepping through an Acme hole.

I’ve been deep in this detective work since like, yesterday, yet I’ve got nothing, I’ve searched every link, barcode and url, but the answers still elude me, guess I just gotta keep waiting and looking

He came in from the pouring rain, shaking like a scared dog. I offered him a seat and as soon as he sat, he broke down in tears. I poured him a stiff drink and told to tell me what's wrong. He said he thinks his wife is cheating on him and that his kids may not be his. He needed to know once and for all if it was true or not, and that's why he was here today. He showed me a picture of her and as soon as I saw it I knew this was going to be a tough case. He showed me a picture of my girlfriend and our kid.

Very very nice ambience and music

i like this chanel is my favorite chanel for jazz thank for this music

Been lookin for a list like this years for years. Thank you! 😊🚬

Her name was Ariel Roses. What a name. We used to work at the Eastern Point; finest club in rhe city. Coy glances and longing stares eventually turned into a young love. Then the war started and I was drafted. Couldn’t bear saying goodbye. I left a boy and came back a man. But when I got back she had moved on with some schmo named Vince from the college uptown. Left me with a dusty empty home and a broken heart.

March 8th, I sit alone in my office drinking another coffee, trying to stay awake, wrapping my head around this case and feeling a familiar sting reminding me of the past. The case was similar to a dame, I knew who disappeared into the night. she was German looking as dangerous as your normal Femme Fatale could look. I had every fiber of my feeling, saying danger, but my interest was drawn regardless of what my heart was telling me. Nastassja, she said her name was Nastassja. Enough reminsing of the past... I got a case to solve. *drinks the rest of his coffee, spilling some on his white button-down shirt, hearing a knock at his door...:

What couldn't I do without love? I ask myself over and over while staring at the almost flawless living woman ive ever come upon, she's something of a sweet dream, a distant lullaby your mother would sing to put your watery eye'd self to sleep. She's everything i wanted yet couldn't achieve.. a glistening gem in the dark. Everyone around me seems dull and flat compared to her. Maybe i can't even see them anymore, but i don't mind. I watch you, see where you go, how you stand, what you like.. i dont have to be near you, just the sight of you is enough to blow me away, to pull my gaze towards you and quickly release when you glance back at me. Although my love for you is merely reality and only a long marinated thought inside my head that just won't leave.. I can't stop myself from leaking it out, only you can make it stop, make the love i so don't need come to an end.

Nice

Bart Thompson, age 68. Everyone loved the old butcher. The marks on the side of his head matched those of a shotgun, and all he took was two hits before he died. This was the only body found. Life’s not fair to begin with, but it’s even less fair when you have a murderer running loose in the city. Lighting my cigar, I looked over the facts; before Bart there had been seven deaths from this unidentified killer and probably many more in the future. They all seemed to follow a line, starting from the edges of town and slowly creeping closer to the big city. If I didn’t do something - and FAST - everyone would suffer.

It was a city of dreams. So I was told when I moved here, I thought a lot about whether it was worth it, but lost in a city drying up from crime, pain and violence, I completely forgot about the main thing, I forgot about the very promise that I once made to my father Lawrence, lying on wet asphalt, under drops of icy rain in his own blood, my father He asked me not to leave this city, he asked me to look after it and at least try to do something. My father was a detective, a very good detective, although sometimes when he came home I thought he would go crazy with this job, I knew that he loves his job and does it for real. I tried to keep my word and followed in the footsteps of my wayward father, but I couldn't dad, I can't anymore, I've been looking for someone who did this to you for 10 years, but everything is useless, a bunch of clues but not one logical coincidence, tears sweat blood all this fell on the evidence in your case, I I hated myself and at the same time admired how hard I was fighting against it

very nice

”It was a typical rainy night in the city when she walked into my office. A fox in a red dress, with legs that went on for miles and a face that could make a man forget his own name. She had a job for me, and I knew right away that it was going to be a doozy.” The Weird Adventures of Rufus C. Rollins PI

Ross: hi shuichi saihara. I'm so glad to see you and thank you for coming to national trail mix day. Can I get you something to drink and eat?💙