Suckers - Jack Kilborn [43]
John turned his attention back to Roberta the zombie living bacon wife.
“Dearest? Did you say something?”
“I said,” I said, “We should let Mr. McGlade go. I’m not hungry right now.”
Nut job was buying it. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling against her tasty ribs.
“But you need to eat, honey. You’re getting thinner and thinner.”
“Tack a couple of tomatoes to my chest. I’ll look a lot better.”
Bert began to laugh. A chilling laugh that chilled me. He spun, pointing the cleaver at my nose.
“You idiot! Do you think I’m that stupid?”
“Yes.”
“What good husband doesn’t know the sound of my wife’s own voice?”
“You, I was hoping.”
“Enough of this tomfoolery! This ends now!”
He launched himself at me, screaming and drooling insanely, his probably very sharp cleaver raised for the killing blow.
Then Lieutenant Jackie Daniels shot him in the head.
“You’re an idiot, McGlade,” Jackie said, using the cleaver to cut away the ropes.
Carl was dead on the floor. He was finally with his wife. Because she was dead on the floor too. Jack had made me sit there until the Crime Scene Unit arrived, taking pictures and gathering evidence. They cut the bodies down before they freed me.
“So how did you know I was here?” I asked.
Jack wore a short skirt and heels that probably cost a fortune but still looked kind of slutty, just how I liked them.
“Norma Cauldridge,” she said.
“Who?”
“George Cauldridge’s wife.”
“Who?”
“She called me, wanted me to arrest you for trying to poison her. I asked where you were, and she said probably here. After we nabbed those necrophiliacs at the cemetery last night, I needed to find you anyway to get your statement. Lucky I heard your girlish screams which gave me probable cause to bust in here without a warrant.”
I wasn’t listening, because it sounded like a boring infodump.
“Can I give you my statement tomorrow?” I asked. “I gotta take a monster dump. I had some hot dogs earlier that are going to look better coming out than going in.”
Jackie leaned in close. I braced myself for the kiss. It didn’t come.
“Did you give Norma a bottle full of your urine and tell her it was apple juice?”
“Maybe. Did she drink any?”
“She said the second glass went down rough. She’s going to sue you, McGlade.”
“She can take a number. Seriously. I’ve got one of those number things. I swiped it from the deli.” I grinned. “You can come over later, and watch me cut the cheese. You know you want to.”
“I’d rather gouge out my own eyes with forks.”
“Don’t be coy. This could be a way to pay back what you owe me.”
She cocked her hips, hot and sexy. “Excuse me? I just saved your ass, McGlade.”
“Are you kidding? This is front page news. You’ll probably get a promotion. There’s no need to thank me. It’s all part of the service I perform.”
“I really think I hate you.”
“Really, Jackie?” I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
She nodded. “Yeah, really. Be in my office tomorrow morning for your statement. And try to stay of trouble until then.”
I stood up, stretched, and gave her one of my famous Harry McGlade smiles.
“I’ll try. But trouble is my business.” I winked. “And business is good.”
An Andrew Mayhem Thriller by Jeff Strand
Hi. Andrew Mayhem here. I’m about to share a tale with you, and I do so with the best of intentions: shameless promotion. Because I truly want you to buy my books, and I figured that including this dorky little bonus story with your purchase might persuade you to empty your wallet and/or purse for the longer stuff.
The challenge with this kind of promotional effort, of course, is that I had to figure out which story I wanted to tell. It had to be something engaging, but yet not too engaging, because Harry McGlade gets whiny when you upstage him.
Then Roger, my best friend and handy sidekick, suggested that I share the tale of how he and I met for the first time. And even though Roger is scheduled to meet a ghastly death in book #37, I thought that sounded like a great idea!
So let’s turn back the clocks to when I was but a wee lad of age thirteen,