Smoke in the shower

Do plentiful pounding pulses of pure pressurized water perceptively and plausibly promote the pondering process? Personally, I possess a presupposition in the positive. Perhaps that's pretty presumptuous of me. Pardonnez-moi. 

Of course I do my best thinking in the shower. The acoustics are good for it--and it's not like I have to spend a lot of time washing my hair. I've been struggling with the precise ending of my current novel-in-process, Smoke. I've had great writing ideas during the morning shower in the past; this morning held true to form. 

The novel is a detective story/noir mystery marbled with a little humor. It begins (as appropriate to the genre) when a beautiful woman hires a private detective. She smokes so much that it's even money whether she takes a breath that is smoke-free. The protagonist, who is trying to quit smoking, finds himself getting more smoke around her than when he was doing the smoking for himself. A relationship develops as the investigation proceeds. A murder suddenly brings urgency to the investigation. Another mysterious and beautiful woman complicates the investigation...and the conscience of the investigator. He discovers that the police have their minds firmly set as to the identity of the murderer, and won't be persuaded otherwise. The police have the evidence to support their case. The hero labors to solve two crimes while battling powerful players in the world of organized crime, uncooperative cops, break-ins at his home and business, and the distractions presented by a beautiful woman--who may also be a moll for a crime lord. He does all this while trying to run his regular business...a book store. This is his first case. Fortunately, he has a new secretary with a head for business and investigation. When the chips start to fall, each of their lives will depend on quick thinking as well as quick reflexes. 

The precise manner and sequence of those falling chips has been my most recent dilemma. Some of what came to me in the shower today, had previously presented itself among the plethora of possible climactic plot resolutions. I had resisted those earlier thoughts. I think that having worked with these characters for over a year, they had grown on me. I had developed an emotional attachment to them. In spite of my attachment, those characters have to do what they have to do. It will be a darker ending than I had originally anticipated; not the slightly slapstick finale like that common in many theatrical farces presented at the community theater, but a deadly noir ending with the blistering tension broken by the report of hand-held thunder, hot lead smashing into bone, bare knuckles crushing cartilage, and the screams of terrified women--or not. I'll plan it, but it will take on a life of its own in the writing. Maybe that's why I do it. If I know too many details in advance, will be no surprise.