The human body, demurring to death, is never pretty.
Rigor Mortis had long ago set in and receded.
The buxom bane of my existence, hitched up her slacks, crouched next to the putrefying
body and whispered in my ear.
And startling finds of science, allied with beautiful tools to spawn a plethora of pleasures
as I suck the very pith of such sweet reveries.
Then you appear to make these splendors meager by compare.
Woman, stop with the exclamations of lust over the stench of death.
It's unseemly.
I stood and stretched out the kinks, heading outside to light my stogie.
Six months ago, Carla Daning sauntered into my life.
All tits, temperament, and testicular torture.
And she's been an invective spewing shackle around my tackle ever since.
Also, I have reason to believe that is not the name she was given at birth.
A few months before we found the girl, Carla started following me around night and day,
and I had no idea why.
Suddenly she was there.
Wherever I happened to be, buzzing around overhead like a bloated fly at a picnic.
Hey, you.
We done here?
I'm gonna get a cow bell for around your neck so you can't sneak up on me like that.
Morneau, I'm gonna suggest that you go back to the unsmiling detective, cause your happy
detective face has a real serial killer vibe.
And I'm gonna suggest you let me do the questioning from now on.
Why?
I think I did a pretty good job.
Carla pulled out her notepad, flipped it open, and proudly showed me her notes.
I grabbed a notepad from her.
Let's see.
You jotted down the fact that her husband is probably a premature ejaculator.
And what's this?
Sally wears false eyelashes.
Yeah.
Establishes her tendency to be disingenuous.
Next time, and every time thereafter, I do the talking.
You were so busy flirting with her, I thought I should jump in.
What?
Oh, give me a break.
You've got a God-given set of pipes that make you sound like Sam Elliott with a two-pack
a day habit doing a sexy pirate impression, and you blatantly exploit it at every opportunity.
Really?
52?
I wouldn't have thought you were day over 40, Miss Sally.
Please, you tell us more about how Stanley spackled the bedroom with his liquid love.
The Dex Morneau series by Jeni Decker.
Narrated by Greg Crites and Jeni Decker.
Music by Blue Dot Sessions.