That thump you heard was me, falling off the Pico wagon back after my last posting on the 19th. I mangaged to find my way back, and have written my way 1015 words closer to my goal. If anyone wants to read it, I posted half of it on yesterday's comments because it's too long to put here in its entirety. Here's the second half: ----
A hobbit from TransGlobal - A surreal calmness crept across Esai’s frontal lobe as he tried to make sense of the woman’s answer. He plainly heard the confusion and worry in her voice. That, at least, he understood. And something else. She sounds afraid, he thought. She was a hell of an actress. Esai rubbed his forehead and let her babble. Keep the line open.
Now she was asking him, “Mr. Case, are you’re Ned’s boss?”
I’m his partner.
The involuntary words nearly spoke themselves. He turned away from NP. “No, I’m,” – he stopped. Have you lost your mind, he asked himself. “Karen.” He hesitated, thinking what to say to pass Ned’s test. It’s Hooper. He’s not married.
NP held his phone up. A phone number and address displayed on the screen. Esai recovered his bearings.
“So Karen, you’re married to Ned?”
A soft choke. A snuffle. A whisper. “Please help us.”
Esai leaned closer to NP’s phone, reading the GPS output. “Karen, are you calling from Bowden Road?”
“Yes, I’m at home.”
“Am I supposed to come there?”
“I, oh, no, the detective said I have to leave, I can’t -”
Detective? Esai stood up, frowning, and asked her, “What detective?” He was moving and NP was following him, out of the bedroom, down the hall, through the living room,
“From the police.”
Down the hall, through the living room. “What police?”
She ignored his question, hurrying the words. “But the number, in the book, in the secret room, I think Ned left it for me, to call you -”
They were outside now. Esai jangled the keys impotently at the car door, his hands suddenly useless. NP took them and pushed him aside, sliding into the driver’s seat. Esai ran around the front of the car, yanking the passenger door open, getting in.
“Karen. Listen to me. I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t talk to the police.”
NP was pulling Esai’s gun from the glove compartment, checking the load, dropping it into the cup-holder in the console between them, starting the car, and fishing his phone from his pocket, calling it in. Esai strained to catch her chopped words from the phone’s little speaker over the noise of the car’s motor starting up.
“He went away...roses…digging…room under the…in the room, he’s in the room.”
He’s in the room. Esai wanted to scream at her. “Let me talk to him. Get him.”
“He’s dead, Ned is dead, the police are -”
Esai nearly dropped the phone. Her voice kept talking, and he was saying Karen, Karen, Karen.
Backing out of the driveway, pulling onto the street, NP continued speaking into his own phone, then listening and answering in tight, over-calm words. Reported dead. Woman. No. Wife. Yes. No. Unknown. Local police. Yes. He punched at the car’s GPS, and a female robot voice said twenty minutes.
Then NP smashed his foot on the gas pedal, and the car screeched, speeding to Bowden Road.
no subject
That thump you heard was me, falling off the Pico wagon back after my last posting on the 19th. I mangaged to find my way back, and have written my way 1015 words closer to my goal.
If anyone wants to read it, I posted half of it on yesterday's comments because it's too long to put here in its entirety. Here's the second half:
----
A hobbit from TransGlobal - A surreal calmness crept across Esai’s frontal lobe as he tried to make sense of the woman’s answer. He plainly heard the confusion and worry in her voice. That, at least, he understood. And something else. She sounds afraid, he thought. She was a hell of an actress. Esai rubbed his forehead and let her babble. Keep the line open.
Now she was asking him, “Mr. Case, are you’re Ned’s boss?”
I’m his partner.
The involuntary words nearly spoke themselves. He turned away from NP. “No, I’m,” – he stopped. Have you lost your mind, he asked himself. “Karen.” He hesitated, thinking what to say to pass Ned’s test. It’s Hooper. He’s not married.
NP held his phone up. A phone number and address displayed on the screen. Esai recovered his bearings.
“So Karen, you’re married to Ned?”
A soft choke. A snuffle. A whisper. “Please help us.”
Esai leaned closer to NP’s phone, reading the GPS output. “Karen, are you calling from Bowden Road?”
“Yes, I’m at home.”
“Am I supposed to come there?”
“I, oh, no, the detective said I have to leave, I can’t -”
Detective? Esai stood up, frowning, and asked her, “What detective?” He was moving and NP was following him, out of the bedroom, down the hall, through the living room,
“From the police.”
Down the hall, through the living room. “What police?”
She ignored his question, hurrying the words. “But the number, in the book, in the secret room, I think Ned left it for me, to call you -”
They were outside now. Esai jangled the keys impotently at the car door, his hands suddenly useless. NP took them and pushed him aside, sliding into the driver’s seat. Esai ran around the front of the car, yanking the passenger door open, getting in.
“Karen. Listen to me. I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t talk to the police.”
NP was pulling Esai’s gun from the glove compartment, checking the load, dropping it into the cup-holder in the console between them, starting the car, and fishing his phone from his pocket, calling it in. Esai strained to catch her chopped words from the phone’s little speaker over the noise of the car’s motor starting up.
“He went away...roses…digging…room under the…in the room, he’s in the room.”
He’s in the room. Esai wanted to scream at her. “Let me talk to him. Get him.”
“He’s dead, Ned is dead, the police are -”
Esai nearly dropped the phone. Her voice kept talking, and he was saying Karen, Karen, Karen.
Backing out of the driveway, pulling onto the street, NP continued speaking into his own phone, then listening and answering in tight, over-calm words. Reported dead. Woman. No. Wife. Yes. No. Unknown. Local police. Yes. He punched at the car’s GPS, and a female robot voice said twenty minutes.
Then NP smashed his foot on the gas pedal, and the car screeched, speeding to Bowden Road.