Who Killed Mrs. Crew (8 – END)


The fish caught my bait. Poor old Inspector. Is he a halibut, by any chance? Or a squealing fox? A squealing fox on the end of my rod. The hard old rod. Ready and poised. I put the glass of water down and follow the two figures out of the door, and then follow them down the road, which is slick and wet, and my shoes don’t have much grip, so I slide, but still I follow, down the alleyway, past the dance studio where little girls feet are slapping the floor, past the Italian restaurant where pizzas are flapping, and down, down to the river, not near to the market, but close to the water.

There they are, my big friend and the little inspector, and I wonder what details, what tidbits, my big friend is tickling into Mr. Rodney’s ear, I wonder how many times he can say I know who killed Mrs. Crew, I wonder if he is saying it now, and I draw closer, and closer, so close that I can smell the smell of the big friend, and I can smell Mr. Rodney’s sweat, and I can almost tell what it is, and then I can, as I take that one step closer, it smells like fear, excitement and fear, like someone on a roller coaster, like someone drawing close to a killer, perhaps too close, close to the red, hot boiling sun, the red, hot boiling sun of my fist.


This man is not who I thought he was. My kidneys are hurting. His face is too gnarled. His hands are too big. The empty spot in the bed beside me.

Your killer, says the man, is closer than you think, and there I am, beating myself up inside. He’s the killer. He’s stood right in front of me, but I stand silent and study his face. It’s not the same face. His mouth is not gaping at me, his hands are too large, his hair is too short, his chest is too wide.

Your killer, he says, is very close, and he leans into my ear, and I lift it up to him, and his breath is hot, and sickly, it smells like vomit, and it makes my ear tingle, and he says, Your killer, is so very close.

So very close.


3 thoughts on “Who Killed Mrs. Crew (8 – END)

  1. Nooooooo!

    Nice story. You made particularly good use of uncomfortable, sensory descriptions. I read this all the way from part 1 to 8 in one sitting. Hopefully that will feel like a big compliment! šŸ™‚ Also, I feel bad for the police officer. But I guess it was still kind of an open ended as a story, so who’s to say exactly what happened?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks very much Pooky, I’ve just read over this again and I am stunned at some of the inconsistencies in the stories. I think I’m going to go over this piece again and make some big changes. It’s always fun to read your old writing šŸ™‚

      I’m glad you enjoyed the story though! And I’m glad that you’re back at my blog, too. I’m going to read your book of flash fiction on the train today, I’ll let you know how it goes. Then I’m going to try and upload something…it’s been too long.

      Thanks for the inspiration mate!


  2. Heh. It’s the best/worst when you look over your old writing. I love those moments when you’re like, ‘Wow, I forgot about this sweet plot twist,’ or ‘Oh man, this joke is so hilarious why aren’t I famous?’ But they’re always coupled with moments like, ‘This definitely doesn’t add up’ and ‘Oh no, how many people have I let read this oh god it’s in such a bad state I’ll never show my writing to anybody ever again.’ Writing is never really done – isn’t that what people say? It’s just a lot of rewriting, and returning at a later date to find that you want to change all of the syntax…

    At any rate, I definitely did enjoy WKMC, Harry! It was an engaging, fun read. Yeah, every now and then you pop into my head and i return to your blog to see if you’ve done anything new. Luckily, even when you haven’t been active, there’s plenty of material sitting around that I haven’t checked out yet. šŸ™‚

    Oh really? That’s so nice of you. Wow. (I’m actually still feeling nervous about it.) I hope you enjoy it buddy.

    Good luck with the uploading šŸ™‚


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