Perilously Fun Fiction: A Bundle by Pauline Baird Jones

Author:Pauline Baird Jones [Jones, Pauline Baird]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781942583127
Publisher: Pauline Baird Jones
Published: 2015-11-05T08:00:00+00:00

* * *

“Well, that tears it,” Fern said. “They’ve found whatever it was Artie wanted to move and brought in the cops. Any guess how long it will be before they find the money?”

“They didn’t go into the house,” Donald muttered. He scratched his crotch as he considered the situation. “Might still be able to pull it off.”

“Why don’t we walk past, see what they’re doing?” Fern was tired of sitting in the car. Even under the shade of the old oak and the windows down, the temperature was way past uncomfortable. She could feel Donald thinking, and the effort sent the temperature in the car up a few more degrees.

“Just wait a minute, Fern, they ain’t been gone that long.”

Fine. She’d tried to be nice. Now it was time to get nasty.

“I want to get out of this car, Donald,” Fern said with pointed calm. “I’m not as young as I used to be. And I won’t be getting any older if I don’t get some air.”

“All right, all right. You can take a stroll...but take it slow! Careful-like. Don’t want to draw no attention to us.”

Right. Like the biddies peeking out from behind their lace curtains hadn’t seen them sitting here for the last couple of hours. Donald might be cunning about killing, but he was clueless about the suburbs.

Fern opened the door and had one foot out when the water erupted in the yard next to them. Only a narrow sidewalk and low white fence separated them, so she got a face full of water. She slammed the door closed, just as Donald grabbed her arm.

“What?”

“Listen” he hissed, pulling the map into position again.

She didn’t want to listen. She wanted to get out. The water had cooled her off until it evaporated, leaving her hotter than before. And now she was shut in the hot map tent again, where even the sultry air couldn’t get at them. Then she heard it, too, and forgot about being hot. The distant sound of sirens. Lots of them. And the passing of each sweaty second brought them steadily closer.

“New Orleans has lots of crime, Donald,” Fern pointed out. “I’d be surprised if we didn’t hear sirens.”

“Getting an itch, Fern.”

Fern’s eyes widened.

“Maybe we ought to get out of here...”

“Good idea.”

Donald shoved at the map, the folds resisting as Fern fumbled for the ignition where the keys dangled.

“Take it slow!” Donald’s hand clamped over hers, his expression anxious, sweaty. “Easy. Casual-like.”

Before he finished speaking, two police cars, their lights flashing but without the warning sirens, turned the corner, coming at them from two different directions.

“Donald!”

“We’ll go down fighting, Fern!” he cried, groping for the Uzi he’d stashed under the seat, even as the map tangled around his head.

As her heart accelerated to dangerous levels for her age, weight, and physical condition, the cars bounced across the rough road surface, coming closer...closer...closer...while in the distance the wail of more sirens got steadily nearer.

“I think I’m having a heart attack, Fern,” Donald moaned, clutching his chest.

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