Promotion Sale Writing
Nadirah Foxx  

Frisky Friday Flashy Fiction

B9AC0FEC-8F09-4DA1-9488-A04C670C10B1.png

Happy Friday! How have you been?

Last week was an unavoidable oopsie on my behalf. I had so much piled up on my plate, and by Thursday evening I was too tired to write another thing. My apologies!

This weekend brings Father’s Day along with Amazon Prime Days!

6189E04D-D544-4EA1-9FE3-B640525422BF.png

I have a freebie deal…

B5AF3144-5025-450A-A6EB-416E57484BDB.png

And two countdown deals (99 cents each):

8C622B36-51A5-4F21-85CB-34E4F17E412D.png

24423CE1-D1D5-43CD-B6D7-B7B042AF4598.png

Now, on to what you’ve been waiting for…

FA6CDE3C-BE5B-4D1C-B5B7-726213DE6362.png

Deception

Part Fifteen

Calvin Reeves

A week later, we didn’t have any further leads on the serial killer. No more bodies turned up, either. Maybe my first thoughts were wrong, but I’d never been wrong before. Not that I was conceited or anything. I simply had a track record to uphold.

I was also striking out with Mary. We’d gone on four dates since that ice cream social—for lack of a better description. Normally, it took one date before I ended up in the sack with a woman. Mary was living up to that Polly Purebred status. She did nothing more than kiss. If that was the word for it. She gave me a peck when I picked her up, and a second one when I dropped her off. Kissing Mary was like high-fivin’ one of the fellas. Maybe that was why I wasn’t making any progress. Comparing her to one of the guys was less than romantic.

But why did I care?

Why did it matter?

On one hand, I hadn’t solved the mystery of Mary. There was something peculiar about her. She wouldn’t let me get close. After our second night out, I brought her back to my apartment. Figured a drink or two might loosen her up. Wrong…

When I sat beside Mary, she quickly slid to the far end of the sofa.“What are you doing, Cal?”

“Just trying to get to know you better.” I tried to pass her the glass of Bourbon. “Have a sip.”

She held out her palms and shook her head. “I don’t drink hard liquor.”

“Okay. Forget the drinks.” I set the glasses on the coffee table and moved closer. When I attempted to touch the back of her neck, Mary jumped to her feet. “What the fuck!”

“I’m sorry.” Not facing me, she said, “Look, it’s not you. This is my issue.”

“We’ve had two dates, and you’re already kicking me to the curb?”

“N-no. I just need to go slow. Before I moved here, I had a disastrous relationship. The guy was totally possessive. He couldn’t keep his hands off me. The only thing he wanted was to get me into bed.”

So I played it cool. I made a pot of coffee, and we spent the night talking. Color me stupid! Mary called me the following day.

“Hey, Cal.”

“Hello, Mary.”

“I understand if you don’t want to speak to me or ever see me again. But I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“About?”

“The way I acted last night. You were just being nice, and I blew everything about of proportion.”

We talked for a while, and then I had to meet with Connie about another case. To my shock, we had two more dates, but they ended the same way.

Just when I was ready to give up, Mary showed up at quitting time. She had a smile plastered on her face and a picnic basket in her hand.

“What’s this?” I asked. 

Honestly, I was ready to go home. It had been a long day. Shit kept hitting the fan. The captain reamed my ass for the lack of progress with the Morley Wright case. It didn’t help that a reporter forced her way to my office and demanded an update about Wright. My plan for the evening centered on an extended sit down with my good buddy Jack Daniels or his friend Don Julio. Not dealing with some whacked-out female who didn’t know whether she wanted a relationship.

“Dinner. I made it myself.” She set the wicker container on my desk. “It’s my way of apologizing.”

It was some apology. Fried chicken, potato salad, green beans, rolls, and peach cobbler. Mary said she prepared everything, but I could have sworn the salad tasted like Albertson’s. I was fairly certain there was a shop in town making the same peach cobbler Mary served.

Needless to say, my curiosity piqued. And not in a good way.

As soon as we finished our meal, I made up an excuse to stay later.

Mary pouted for a moment before jumping to her feet and repacking the basket. “Well, don’t let me keep you. I understand how important your work is.” She stopped with a container in her hand. “Are you the detective investigating the murder of that producer? What was his name?”

“Morley Wright.”

“Yes! Any closer to finding his killer?”

“No.” I studied Mary for a moment. Not once had we spoken about my work. Why was she asking about him? 

She sighed. “That’s too bad. Hopefully, that was an isolated incident. Knowing that a murderer could strike again…” Mary shuddered. “It makes me really uncomfortable.”

“Understood, but I don’t think you need to worry. Our building is very secure.”

She smiled and finished packing up. “Good to know.”

“Would you like me to walk you out?”

“No, no. I’m good. Plus, you’ll probably look out for me.” She pointed to the window behind my desk.

Damn, straight.

I watched Mary get into her gray compact and drive off. Then I ran the license plate.

B1A7A791-EA08-4A81-906A-20B30A29ECFF.png

Leave A Comment