Scarecrow by Keith Lee Johnson

Author:Keith Lee Johnson [Johnson, Keith Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Women's Fiction, Contemporary Women, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Crime, Murder, Serial Killers, Contemporary Fiction, Detective, Thrillers
Amazon: B004U2UH9S
Publisher: Dare To Imagine Publishing
Published: 2011-03-26T04:00:00+00:00

T

he killers had eaten dinner at Ruth’s Chris Steak House. After dinner, they decided to see a two-hour film that started at 11 PM, and now they were only two miles from the hotel. Foxy’s Get Off, was blasting in the car’s sound system. They were having a marvelous time taking turns singing verses of the popular 70s tune when a police cruiser flashed its red and blue lights and sounded the siren. Frank Howard had just passed a sign that read: Speed Limit 30-mph. He immediately looked at the speedometer and realized he was going 35 in a 30-mph zone. He looked in his rearview and cursed to himself.

“What are we gonna do?” Lena asked calmly.

“Nothin’,” Frank answered. “They don’t know nothin’, believe me. The bastards don’t have nothin’ to do so they sit around looking for people to bust for speeding. The sonofabitches!”

Frank pulled over and stopped, constantly looking in his driver’s side mirror as the cop ran the plates on the car they had rented. He could see the cop looking down, like he was looking at the computer screen in his cruiser.

“Look at this motherfucker,” Frank began again, “sitting in the goddamned car. Why doesn’t he write the fuckin’ ticket, which I won’t be paying, and let us go on our merry way?”

“Let’s kick his ass,” Nancy said, who was sitting in the backseat.

“Let’s just be cool,” Lena countered. “This kinda shit pisses me off too. But . . . we gotta let this go. We’ve got bigger fish to fry in Arlington, remember?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, “Let’s remember our objectives. The SOB isn’t worth the risk. Let’s just cooperate with the bastard and get on back to the hotel and take care of some serious business in the bedroom.”

“I’m up for that, lover,” Lena cooed.

“Me too,” Nancy added. “But I’m gonna ask this bastard a few questions first.”

The cop opened his door, got out of the cruiser, and walked to the driver’s side of the car—ticket pad in hand.

Frank hit the power button when he saw the officer get out of his vehicle. The window hummed as it reclined.

The cop leaned forward and said, “License and registration.”

Frank reached for his wallet and was pulling it out of his pocket when Nancy retracted her window, leaned out, and said, “Why the fuck did you pull us over?”

The cop smelled liquor on her breath and frowned. “Ma’am, I suggest you keep your mouth shut before I run you in.”

“For what?” Nancy yelled. “For asking a legitimate question?”

“No, for interfering with police business,” the cop said through clenched teeth. “Now shut-your-fucking-mouth.”

“Please excuse my friend, officer,” Lena said. She leaned over so he could see her and forced an uncomfortable smile, attempting to defuse the situation before it blew up in their faces. “She’s had a little too much to drink, you understand, I’m sure.”

“Well, if she doesn’t shut her hole,” the cop began with rancor, “she’ll be spending the weekend in county with the rest of the drunks.”

“What the fuck for?” Nancy asked again, completely coherent.

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