That Time I Kinda Killed a Guy (Val Fremden Strikes Again Book 1) by Margaret Lashley

Author:Margaret Lashley [Lashley, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zazzy Ideas, Inc.
Published: 2023-10-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

“And that’s when I opened the box and found the guy hiding inside,” I said to Finkerman. I swallowed hard, not wanting my next words to spill out. They did anyway.

“I ... panicked!” I wrung my hands. “Before I even realized what I was doing, I hit the guy between the eyes with a hammer! I didn’t mean to. It was ... a ... a ... reflex action!”

Finkerman studied me, his expression more curious than judgmental. “Where’d you get the hammer?”

I stopped wringing my hands and stared at him.

That’s your only question about all of this?

“From a shelf in the storeroom,” I said. “Why?”

He pursed his lips. “You’re telling me you had the presence of mind to go grab the hammer off the shelf before this man overtook you?”

I shook my head. “No. I already had the hammer in my hand when I went out in the alley and opened the box.”

Finkerman nodded and rubbed his freckled chin. “So, you knew the man was in the box. And you brought the hammer with you as protection? To defend yourself?”

“Not exactly.” I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my back. Was it this stuffy little room we were locked in, or was it the fires of hell heating up to fry my guilty ass?

“No,” I said. “I didn’t know the guy was hiding in the box.”

Finkerman frowned. “I don’t get it, Fremden. What were you doing with a hammer in your hand?”

I cringed. “I was trying to kill a roach with it. In the storeroom at the back of the shop.”

“I see.” Finkerman’s brow furrowed. Then, all of a sudden, his expression took on a sly look, as if some dim-wattage light bulb had gone off inside his pathetic noggin. “Tell me. Did said roach at any time begin to fly?”

“Huh?” I grunted. “Well, yeah. It flew right at me. But what’s that got to—”

“Aha!” Finkerman’s pasty face lit up. “That’s it!”

I blanched. “What are you talking about?”

“Trapped alone in a room with a flying cockroach? Come on, Fremden. That’s the very definition of temporary insanity! Anybody who lives in Florida knows that.”

A tiny spark of hope flickered inside me. “So, you think I could plead—”

“You were acting on impulse, brought on by hysteria,” Finkerman said, nodding to himself. His gleaming, beady eyes met mine. “It’s elementary, Fremden.”

“What is?”

“You were out of your mind with primal fear, that’s what! You naturally grabbed the nearest thing you could find to defend yourself. Right?”

“Right.” I grimaced. “Except ...”

Finkerman frowned. “Except what?”

“The hammer they found in the box with the dead guy wasn’t the one I hit him with.”

Finkerman grinned. “Even better! You never handled the murder weapon!”

I cringed. “That’s not exactly right, either.”

“Geez, Fremden. Don’t tell me you picked this other hammer up!”

I shook my head. “No. Even worse. You see, the hammer they found in the box is mine. It has my initials on it.”

Finkerman’s face fell like an anvil off a cliff. “Aww, crap. You brought the murder weapon with you to your workplace?” He shook his head.

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