Shoot the Messenger
Smoke drifted lazily from the barrel of the Ladysmith.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Kathryn’s gaze fixed on mine.
I glanced at the body sprawled out beside her and chuckled. “I know. It’s just kind of fun.”
The waitress sidled up to me. “More coffee, sir?”
“Sure, sure,” I replied. “And another serving of those wonderful hashbrowns, if you please, with my compliments to the cook.”
Kathryn smirked. “She didn’t even look at the body. I think they’re a little too accustomed to your routine.”
“Of course they are. If Marj wouldn’t keep sending those damned messengers at breakfast…” I replied.
“Still, you really don’t need to keep shooting them.”
I shrugged. “I don’t like the messages they deliver. The day Marj sends one I like is the day I get out of this business.”
“The business of shooting the messenger.” Kathryn’s delivery was deadpan.
“You know what I mean.” I sounded petulant. I didn’t care.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll ease off. For now.”
Helluva way to start the day.