by Diana Hockley
Enjoy this never before published flash fiction mystery.
Gerald didn’t make a sound when I stabbed him, but Nella squealed like she’d sat naked on a lobster claw, yelling for the cops as she picked up the knife. Her fingerprints were all over it. The contract was the only proof I was there; it’d take awhile before she talked her way out of an arrest. I snatched up the paper, stuffed it in my shirt pocket and bolted for the fire escape.
Cop cars screeched to a halt in front of the building, sirens wailing, as I reached the street. They would have my description in no time. How to disguise myself?
I looked around. A homeless bloke slumped against the brick wall in the alley caught my attention. I clobbered him, swapped clothes and threw him in the dumpster for the garbage compactor to munch in the morning. I turned to run and tripped over a shoelace. As I bent over to tie it, the paper fell out of my shirt.
It was the tea lady’s list.
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