Thursday, January 26, 2012

Heat and Liquor


It had now been 12 hours since the body of Dennis Meyer had been discovered. Flora was lying on her back in her room listening to the whir and clink the furnace made while it pumped out heat. Everything was quiet. She heard the phone ring downstairs and her mother go and pick it up. Then muffled voices, her mother was probably talking to another sympathetic neighbour. Then her thoughts were interrupted; "Flora, phone for you." Her mother called. She rose from her bed puzzled and went to the phone.
"Hello?"
"Flora?"
"Yes, who's this?"
"It's Officer Stephens, I was wondering if I could get you to come in to answer some more questions", the tone was cordial.
"Why?"
"Just procedure, follow up, you understand."
"Ok." she said, and hung up.
20 minutes later after having convinced her mother that she was fine and would be back soon, she was waiting in a chair outside Officer Stephens' office. "Why hello sweet heart, thank you for stoping by again today" said Officer Stephens as he opened the door and found her slouched in the chair outside. She shrugged and said nothing, walking past him into his office.

She sat down in the chair facing his desk and he sat down behind his desk. The room was hot and stuffy, Flora didn't like it. They looked at each other for a good while before Officer Stephens said; "Now just to follow up what we spoke about earlier, I'm curious about why you assumed murder when I was asking you about your brother." Flora said nothing, Officer Stephens continued, "Is there something you're not telling us? Because we must do everything we can to make sure your brother is laid to rest in piece if there is." He said fixing her with a serious stare. Flora snivelled in anger and indignation, standing up abruptly and fighting back tears she screamed; "My brother was a fantastic boy and nothing anybody thinks will change that, I did what I could to protect him and nobody can blame me for that, NOBODY!"
Officer Stephens was silenced with his shock and Flora ran out.

Martin Meyer had stopped at the liquor store. He had bought a 40 of Jack Daniels. He had it in a paper bag and was about one third of his was through it. It was beginning to dull the pain, he was still walking but he couldn't feel the blisters anymore and the wind barely bothered him, in fact he couldn't really feel anything at all. He liked this feeling, the feeling of nothing.

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