Writing
Nadirah Foxx  

Frisky Friday Flash Fiction

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It’s Friday! The end to another weird week. I think it’s something I’m going to have to get used to. My days just keep getting stranger. How was your week? Fun, I hope.

Have you preordered your copy of Fighting for the Best: the TKO Love Series, Book 3? It’s only 99 cents for a limited time.

He needs to be the best version of himself possible…

But Javier Hernández isn’t sure what is his best. 

He’s only ever known his dark side. A convict father and a gang remind Javier daily. Always in trouble with the law, society defined Javier as a no-good man who would end up in jail or dead. Until a chance run-in opens the door to change.

Harper Winslow understands what it means to give his best. The former Marine served his country proudly. Losing his leg ended his career, but it didn’t end his recklessness. The man has a history with random men, but he hungers to find a special someone who would calm his fears and hold him on those long nights when terror set in.

Two men with one goal—to be a better man.

But can love overcome doubt and fear?

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Deception

Part Six

  

Calvin Reeves

 

Amazing how a shower and a little sleep could renew a man. Clean clothes improved the situation a hell of a lot. It was a tall cup of joe that cleared my thoughts and helped me focus. With the possibility of a serial killer in our midst, there was no time for aimless thoughts—or women like Honey Walker.

I lifted my mug, and then someone jiggled the doorknob. Reaching for my gun was an automatic response. It didn’t help that I kept the weapon on the table like another utensil.

When the door creaked open and Scamp ran across the floor, I cocked the semi-automatic pistol.

“Hey, Scamp! How you doing?” My sister kneeled in front of the tailless animal.

I lowered my firearm. “Marisa, how many times do I have to tell you to call before using your key?”

She rose from the floor and scowled. “I’m your sister. I shouldn’t have to warn you.”

Shaking my head, I said, “It’s a good way to avoid being shot.”

“Cranky much?” She sat across from me. “It’s a little late for coffee, isn’t it?”

I pushed to my feet and carried my cup and plate to the kitchen. “Don’t start, sis. I have a long day and maybe a long night in front of me.”

“I’m still taking Scamp home with me?”

“Please.” I put the dishes in the dishwasher and returned to the table. “Keep him until I come over.”

“Not a problem. Is this case that involved?”

Slipping into my leather jacket, I pocketed my phone. “Yeah. Sadly, it is. Make sure you lock up when you leave.”

Marisa’s brow wrinkled. “Please take care of yourself, Cal. I know how you get with a case.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.” I closed the door behind me and hurried to the stairs. Yes, the building had an elevator, but I needed the exercise. 

As I descended the steps, I thought about the facts about Wright’s murder. Our victim had been inebriated. He also had narcotics in his system. Wright was known as a heavy influencer and partier, so drugs and alcohol weren’t surprising. Our suspect was a neat freak. Maybe OCD. Although the victim’s neck had been slashed, not a drop of blood could be found. Our perp cleaned the area and even posed the body. The one detail tying my case to past ones was the paralytic. It pointed to another possibility. The killer surprised Wright.

But why?

Was the motive murder all along?

Of course it was. Nobody carried a syringe of Quelicin around just for the hell of it. If the murderer had been larger or stronger than Wright, he wouldn’t have needed to paralyze the victim. Then it hit me…

No, it literally hit me.

I ran into something.

“I am so sorry.” A flustered woman—average height, red hair, slim build—peeked over a bag of groceries. Her modest clothing—knee-length skirt, blouse buttoned all the way, cardigan, flat shoes, and glasses—screamed educator or maybe a librarian. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“I should apologize to you.” Being a gentleman, I offered to help her. When she refused, I said, “You know, there is an elevator.”

She gave me a nervous smile. “I know, but I so hate those things. Coming from the East coast, I’ve never experienced an earthquake. It would be my luck to have one happen as soon as I stepped inside an elevator.”

I understood the sentiment. People who hadn’t grown up in California were more scared of the earth rumbling than of tornadoes and hurricanes. If given the choice, I’d take a little shaking any day.

“Well, just take it easy,” I said. The woman puzzled me. There was something oddly familiar about her, but I couldn’t figure it out. “I don’t think I’ve ever noticed you around here.”

“Just moved in yesterday.” She shifted the bag and extended her left hand—no wedding band or noticeable mark. “Mary Jenkins.”

Be polite, I reminded myself.

“Cal Reeves.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Honestly, I didn’t have time for the small talk, but I was curious. “Where did you say you moved from?”

Her dark-rimmed glasses slipped down her nose. “I didn’t.” She nodded toward the stairs. “I should get to my apartment before the ice cream melts.”

“Okay, Ms. Jenkins. See you around.”

She smiled and then climbed the steps.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d met Mary before. Maybe it would come to me on the way to work.

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That’s it for this week! Have a great, safe weekend!

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