Thursday, February 21, 2019

Take a Bite Outta Crime Part 6 by Dellani Oakes

They settled once more in Maggie's office. The police officers took their statements, comparing notes with one another as to what had happened, trying to get a fix on the thread of the story.
"It's obvious that whoever you surprised at the fish market thinks you know something or have something," Officer Scott said. "You're sure you didn't pick up something, just looking, distracted?"
"I swear, nothing," Kirk replied tiredly. "I only wish I had, I'd gladly choke the bastard with it."
"Darling,...." Drea murmured, patting his hand.
"Sorry. I'm usually the most docile of men. This whole thing has my blood up, that's all. Why are we being persecuted? And who the hell wanted to kill poor, old Jay? He was a nice man, a good merchant, his fish were always top notch.... Dammit, I wish I'd known the fellow better. It hardly seems fitting to sit in the office of the Wal-Mart, commending a man's—fish."
"You'd be delighted to be remembered for your food, my dear," Drea pointed out.
"That's different. I take the raw product and create edible art. Until I do something with it, a fish is just a hunk of stinking meat." He shrugged, wishing he had a cigarette. He hadn't smoked in years, but suddenly the idea had some appeal.
When their interview was complete, Drea and Kirk went back to their hotel room, locking the door securely behind them. Neither of them wanted to see a soul for the rest of the day. In fact, Kirk would have been delighted to avoid the rest of humanity forever. He took a long, hot shower, dressing in the new clothing his wife had bought for him.
"I can't remember a time I've been so angry," Drea said "I feel violated! What did you stumble upon, my dear?" she asked, yet again.
"I wish I knew, sweetheart. Poor Jay."
"It's his daughter I feel sorry for. We must call on her tomorrow and extend our sympathies."
"Of course. You're right," he agreed.
"Margo called while you were bathing. The police finished gathering evidence from the shop. Nothing was taken, amazingly enough. It was just smeared all over with fish guts. How could anyone get in and do something like that?"
"More to the point, why?" He countered.
"They got the cleaning crew in to take care of it. We should be back in business by the day after tomorrow."
"Just in time for the Michaels – Ferguson wedding," he sighed resignedly.
"Lucky us. Fortunately, the kitchen wasn't disturbed. Just the front part of the shop."
"I hope we haven't the lingering odor of halibut to drive our customers away."
"We can get through this, Kirk. We've been through worse."
"So you keep reminding me, Drea. But really, this is getting ridiculous."
"You know what I need? A shower, dinner and a nap."
He made a grand gesture, pointing her toward the bathroom. "Your bath awaits, my lady." Kissing her hands, he led her to the bathroom.
"Well, it isn't a castle in Marseilles, nor yet a Roman bath, but it will have to suffice."
"Humble caterers can't afford the best suite, my love. Were I not of humble origins, I would treat you like the queen you are."
Giggling, Drea strutted past him, dragging her finger along his jaw. "Of course you would, peasant. Draw my bath, churl." She put on a haughty, imperious accent.
"Aye, my lady," he replied in a rasping, coarse accent. He bowed, groveling, as he scurried to the bathtub.
"Then you can join me," she said with a smirk.
"Oh, aye, my lady!" He responded happily in the same voice. "Anything my lady wishes!"
They were woken at dusk by tapping on the door. Kirk grabbed his underwear and a bathrobe. Drea pulled the blankets up around her chin as she waited for him to check the peephole.
"It's Margo." He opened the door.
"Oh, what a day! I'll smell like fish the rest of my life!" She swished in, her long coat a swirl of white around her. Kirk couldn't help thinking she looked like she was covered in whipped cream. The coat patterned after an old fashioned duster, her turtle neck and leather pants also the starkest white.
"Nonsense. It washes out," Kirk said, closing the door behind her.
"Did they police find anything?"
"No, but that irritating reporter from Channel 9 is sniffing around. I hope she gets a nostril full of fish guts."
"Which one? They're all annoying," Drea laughed from the bed.
"That Shelly person with the fake tits and the big hair." She made gestures in front of her chest and waved her hands around her head to emphasize her words.
Drea sniffed acidly. She and Margo were far better built than the artificial reporter—all of their curves real. Kirk excused himself to dress in the bathroom. Drea, who had known Margo for years, wasn't the least bit modest dressing in front of her friend.
"Having a good nap?" Margo flopped on the bed.
"You might say that," Drea replied with a knowing smile.
"Bother sleep," Kirk came out of the bathroom with his jeans and no shirt. "It's highly overrated."
"Some would say the same thing about your food." Margo blew him a saucy kiss.
© 2019 Dellani Oakes

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