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Maxwell's Silver Bullet (3)

“Nice Beretta,” I said, conversationally.

He whirled around and disappeared through the French doors, taking the light with him. His heavy footsteps crossed the deck and he hit the boardwalk running. I couldn’t let him get away with breaking and entering so I started across the office to go after him before common sense kicked in. The body I tripped over might have had something to do with it too.


“Tell me again Charlie,” Jeff’s voice was patient but the strain was beginning to show around his eyes. He had warm chocolate brown eyes and a thick head of hair that was a shade lighter. It was messy because he’d been running his hand through it off an on for the last half hour.

“Come on Jeff, I’ve told you six times already!” I couldn’t help the whiney tone that crept into my voice. It was almost two in the morning after all, and there was a dead body in my office! Well, okay, the body was gone now, but the outline still remained damn it. My carpet would never be the same.

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