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Bloody Trouble by Peggy Borel (1st Place Winner: BWG Flash Fiction Contest)
"When I saw the blood on my hands, I knew I was in trouble." Harold Peters shivered. "But I didn't kill her."
"That's what they all say." Dale Becks slapped handcuffs on the man, then turned to Officer Little. "Transport this guy downtown? I'll come in and book him after forensics arrives."
Little shrugged, then maneuvered the perp toward the door. "You owe me, Becks."
Peters trembled. "I was here to tutor Leanne…reading, like every Wednesday. I wouldn't hurt her." He pulled back, frantically searching the room. "Where's my bag?"
The officer pushed him toward the entrance again. "There's no bag."
"My wallet's in it." Peters babbled all the way out of the apartment complex.
Becks looked down at Leanne. Blood pooled under her slit neck, a knife lay beside her. Even dead, the prostitute's beauty entranced. He knew her body well; had tasted her naked skin many times. This week, though, he had stayed away.
The forensic team finally arrived, and after reviewing the details, Becks slipped into his patrol car. Five minutes later, he parked on a deserted side road, then retrieved Peters' bag from the floorboards. A grin spread across his face. He had followed the tutor for months while planning the perfect murder and setup.
He searched for and found the man's wallet. He took out a receipt from C&C Grocery, a small business with no security cameras. As usual, Peters paid cash for his purchases that morning. He lit the paper in the ashtray and watched the date and time char beyond recognition. Peters would need that receipt to prove his alibi. Damn! He hated tampering with evidence.
Chuckles turned to outright laughter. Creating live murder scenes was much more fun than playing them on video games! Peggy Borel © 2007 |