It was so hot. So damn hot. She couldn't believe that her air conditioner was STILL broken. Freakin' cheap landlord. What a pit this place was. She couldn't wait until she'd saved up enough to move somewhere decent, a place like she used to have before her boyfriend skipped town with her best friend and most of her worldly possessions, not to mention all of the money in their joint account.
But she hadn't managed that yet, so for now she was stuck here in this dump. A third-floor walk-up without a working air conditioner in the middle of a July heat wave that was breaking every record on the book. 104 degrees in Manhattan, a real day to remember. She peeled herself off the couch and headed for the kitchen for another glass of iced tea. Maybe this time she'd try pouring the damn drink right over her head, maybe that would cool her off for a few minutes.
She took a long swig from the glass and headed back to the couch. She was right in the middle of a really good book, one of those mysteries that just suck you in and don't let you go until you've turned over the last page. Good thing too, because it was too hot to do much else. She was finally getting to the climax of the book, about to find out who in fact had killed the host of a popular cooking show right in the middle of a live taping. The clues were pointing towards a member of the audience with a grudge against the well-known chef, but her money was on the writer who'd been slighted one too many times.
She was so engrossed in her book that she almost didn't hear the doorbell ring. She put the book down again and peeled herself off the couch with an aggravated sigh.
The doorbell rang again.
Okay, okay, I'm coming, keep your shirt on. You better not be a door to door salesman. I mean it, that would really piss me off right now.
She unlocked the front door, thinking as she did that she probably should have checked the peephole first.
She opened the door and gasped as if she'd seen a ghost. You! But, but, but, but you're dead! You died! I saw you die! What the hell?
Before she could utter another word a shot rang out. Her last thought as she died was that she'd never know who killed the tv chef...
18 comments:
A mystery while reading a mystery. Clever Robin and I had to chuckle over her last thought.
I guess she got her just desserts. :)
Phew! Now that was a twist, I was still waiting for her to pour the damn drink over her head..
Nicely written.
This is why I make the Tour Manager get the door...
It's moments like these you definitely need a butler! Entertaining!
Enjoyed that, and you handled it perfectly. You must do more of these. My favourite writing form.
Loved the touch in the last line.
very gripping...
I love her voice that is light and doesn't foreshadow the ending!
clever... oh i enjoyed that!!!!
wow Robin!! What an excellent piece of fiction! I didn't know you knew how to write fiction! And write it so WEll! I love when there is humor even in a murder mystery, and that last line cracked me up! great job!
The ending was truly a surprise. Just as she was guessing the ending of the book, I was guessing the ending of this story (given that the prompt was "ghost""). I was wrong. Are ghosts licenced to carry firearms?
absolutely great story - "peeled herself off the couch" - felt that - OW! --- and such a spinny ending with that humour thrown in for good measure!!!
This is absolutely wonderful writing. I was wishing for more!
tv chef?? haha didn't see that coming :)
What a fun twist!
that was very cleverly written....enjoyed it...
Will I never know who killed the girl reading the mystery?
Thanks for this fun.
Karen
The ending made me laugh!
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