Deadly Maybe by Phillip Mottaz

Author:Phillip Mottaz [Mottaz, Phillip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781737238485
Publisher: Phillip Mottaz

7

So we had two murder suspects inside the victim’s house, lounging about, going through his collection of inauthentic memorabilia with a lady cop. All looks up and up to me. Ship fucking shape. Just my heart pounding my chest like normal.

The three of us, we hustled through the house to take a peek out the window, towards the front yard. Before we got a look, I could hear some sound ringing around in my brain, looking for placement. The proper police force was there, alright — two cars! The sound was their coms squawking. As dinky as they might have been, it really only takes one cop to turn your life to shit.

I wondered how they followed us here, so I said, “How the fuck’d they follow us here?”

Birdie said, “They didn’t. Or, I don’t think they did. See?” She motioned to the container of biscuits and coffee in each copper’s hand. Again, my experiences are my own and not everyone’s, but I’ve never seen a cop in hot pursuit whilst carrying a Danish. Pastries do not read as ‘hurry.’

Still, didn’t change the fact that they were cops and they were fucking in the vicinity, in front of the fucking house we’d invaded.

A noise erupted from the obnoxious foyer, only a few steps from us. It could have been the waterfall plumbing, or Fisher’s collection of rare, yet-unseen prised parakeets had gotten loose, but it sounded more like someone manipulating the doorway.

“Back door again then,” I said.

“I’ll stay here, and keep them occupied,” said Birdie. The old gal had stuck her neck out already by bringing us here instead of tossing us in the can. Why the fuck would she do it again? And where else were we to go.

I spoke these things aloud, in so many words, and she responded with, “You’re on the right path, I think. Just get out, keep moving and look for more evidence.”

“What fucking evidence?” said Our Kid, and I had to agree.

“I don’t know. But Wise might know. Get Wise. Just move.” Then she headed toward the twatty foyer.

My brother and I legged it back through the dining room, back to the mud room hallway. It was there, at the back door, when it hit me that Birdie still had not removed the cuffs. I mean, I knew I was still handcuffed to fourteen stone of idiot sibling, but fuck me I must have been getting used to the idea.

We opened the door just as voices came from behind us. We did not wait around for introductions.

The cramped backyard offered very little in terms of hiding places, or even of yard. Fisher’s house took up most of his land; the fucking door could barely swing open, but we managed. The fence proved challenging, but eventually we made it to the other side.

That was the good news. The less good news was that we’d practically landed back on the main street. Back in the open.

I said, “How the fuck did someone not see this fucker get killed? The town’s the size of a tea cup.

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