Confession

(Linda)

Trent’s decided to go all noble and chivalrous on me. Hell, why do men have to DO that at the worst possible time?

He’s out of hospital, and he’s barely looking after himself, and he’s determined to continue with the case. My case. The one that nearly turned him into dead. I tried yelling at him, I tried arguing, I tried telling him he’s a bloody idiot. But he just shrugged and said he was going to keep investigating. Stubborn little shit.

****

(Trent)

Thank God, I’m out of the house. And better yet, Linda is off tormenting Mike, or something. She’s a nice chick in some ways, Linda – and a pain-in-the-arse psycho chick in others. I think maybe I liked her better when she was moping. Now she’s bustling around ‘helping’ me and she’s got sex on the mind despite a distinct lack of hormones, and … god. Remember what I said about not letting her near your trousers? Well, it’s hard to run away with a broken shoulder. You know?

I haven’t yet worked up the courage to go back to the jail – too many nasty memories. So I decide on following up the other loose end. Lazarus and Geordie. I’m about to grab my car keys from their nail when the reach makes my shoulder stab painfully and it occurs to me that driving was probably on the list of things that I shouldn’t be doing that I didn’t listen to. I call a cab, grab a beer, and wait.

****

I clamber carefully out of the cab, chucking a $20 note back to the driver.

“Thanks for being gentle, mate,” I say, and shut the door.

I glance over at Mike’s place. A second-storey window’s broken. Kids, probably. I’ve never understood the fascination with breaking stuff – stealing I get, but random destruction’s beyond me. I think about going to check it out, but I couldn’t be bothered right now. My shoulder’s starting to ache, and I just want a cup of coffee to wash down a painkiller or two.

The front door of Lazarus and Geordie’s place opens, and Geordie trots out toward the mailbox. He’s dressed in a short bathrobe and, as far as I can tell, nothing else.

“GEORDIE!” I yell, waving gingerly.

He looks up and peers at me carefully, then grins.

“Trent, baby!” he yells, “what are you doing in that ridiculous sling? It makes you look pale, dearie – positively wan!”

I walk across the road to him and get air-kissed.

“Oh, my god, what have they done to you?” he asks, taking in the bandages. “Come on, you need a nice cup of coffee – you head in, I’ll just grab the mail and follow. And make yourself comfy, you hear?” he bellows the last bit after me.

God, can you imagine Geordie doing anything covert? Ever?

I head for the lounge chairs, pausing to take a couple of huge pills out of their foil. Horse-pills, my father used to call them when they were this size. I sit down, and despite my best intentions, start to relax as Geordie comes in, dumps the mail on the counter and starts to fuss around me. He brings me a pillow, asks me ten times if I’m comfortable enough, and finally decides that what I really need is coffee.

“Here you are, dearie!” he grins as he hands me the mug, “I put in lots of milk to cool it down and,” he winks, “I irished it up a little for you! Best medicine in the world!”

I take a cautious sip to wet my throat, and nearly choke anyway. Cripes, Geordie wasn’t joking about irishing it up – there’s enough bourbon in here to kill any pain. I swallow the pills and wash them down with the alcoholic coffee, and then remember the warnings about codeine and alcohol consumption. Ah well, it’s not like I was planning to drive home anyhow.

A little later, a warm glow has spread through my body, and as long as I don’t move, I feel good. I’ve got a bourbon and coke sitting in front of me, slowly getting weaker as the icecubes melt. Geordie’s downing bourbon straight, and if he wasn’t at home I’d be worried about the mechanics of getting him there. This much alcohol might just relax him enough that he’ll spill some information.

“Mike is going nuts,” I explain to Geordie, “Poor man is stuck in a cell with only his guilt and a vengeful ghost haunting his arse. Oh, and getting shot at when he ventures out, of course. Geordie, if there’s anything you know that might help Mike out – or might help me help Linda leave this world for the next – would you tell me? Please?”

“Oh, poor little Mikey!” Geordie says and downs another bourbon. He’s onto his fifth, now, and starting to look a little shaky. “Poor little Mikey deserves everything he gets! Killing Linda like that – and he hasn’t even ponied up our share of the cash, has he? Poor little Linda, I liked that girl… ha, if she was really poor she’d still be alive, wouldn’t she, Mikey-baby would never have barbecued her arse… oh, such a nice arse, too!”

Luckily, I can’t say a thing, I’m frozen with horror.

“Such a juicy arse – all tender, and beautiful with a plum sauce!” Geordie croons, looking off into the distance. “I miss her!”

He covers his face and starts to sob.

The arseholes ate Linda!

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9 Comments

  1. Oh

    My

    God

    I wasn’t expecting that.

    So glad I have caught up Nomes. I have missed the story for a while.

    • MWAH.

      I’m glad you’re enjoying it, luv.

      They’re bastards, aren’t they?

  2. Plum sauce wouldn’t have been my first choice for that dish but I imagine they found it tasty enough! 😛

    • LOL – that’s my Jayne. Present her with a cannibalism scenario and she criticises the sauce! 😀

  3. Your stories are quick and I like that. this one, gets me wanting to know more

    Mark

  4. Actually,thinking about it the skin would crackle like pig wouldn’t it, so apple sauce would be more appropriate n’est pas?

    • There are many, many things that I will research for my fiction.

      Somehow, “cannibalism recipes” and “what sauce goes with the OTHER white meat” are google searches I can. not. bring. myself to run 😀

  5. Holy crap! I was not expecting that ending. lolz
    Well done – this was a very nimbly written story – had me pretty much cracking up all the way through.

    • Hey Tonya – welcome! 🙂

      I’m glad you’ve enjoyed Deadish so far (there are 1 or 2 more episodes to come). It’s been great fun to write – I never realised how much fun a vengeful ghost could have…


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