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azombiewritesTitle: A Murder Hunt
- Sequel to ‘A Murder Mystery’
Rating: PG Bad Language
Fandom: The Magnificent Seven
Category: Four Corners Detectives AU
Main Characters: Ezra and JD
Disclaimers: The guys are owned by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, and The Mirisch Corp.
Notes: The April 2005 Challenge (the Mystery Challenge) - offered by Jesfrealo. Write a story where a mystery plays a key role in the story. Have one or any combination of the guys be the detective(s). It can be funny or serious and in any open universe. Extra points if you make an unusual pair of the guys work together to figure out the mystery (so not Chris and Vin or Buck and JD...). Have fun!!
Summary: Detectives Standish and Dunne hunt for a killer
Spoilers: None
Author's note: A BIG thank you and a bear hug to the person who nominated this story for a 2008 & 2009 MoM award!
Warning: Josiah Sanchez is the bad guy in this story!
Part Three
Ezra Standish forced an expression – something between a grimace and a smile –onto his face when another passerby smiled and waved a greeting at him. Everything his mother had taught him, told him to ignore the passerby but he chose to ignore his mother instead by waving back. It was another thing about this town and the people who lived in it. Every one said something in a way of a greeting: ‘good morning’, ‘nice day, isn’t it’, ‘hello’, ‘how ya doing’, and the townsfolk considered it extremely rude if you didn't return their greeting in a polite and cheerful manner. He wouldn’t even be surprised if there was an instruction handbook on how to greet people in Four Corners. Standish wasn’t always cooperative though when it came to returning their greetings in the ‘polite and cheerful’ manner they expected – where he came from, it wasn’t rude to ignore your own mother. His expression morphed into a full grimace of embarrassment when Dunne hit the car’s horn and waved back at the man.
“That’s Charlie Henderson.” Dunne informed Standish when his boss gave no indication that he had recognized Henderson. “We arrested him last month for Indecent Exposure. Kept flashing his dick in the halls of the ‘relax before you die’ home.” When he saw the look on Standish’s face out of the corner of his eye, he quickly amended his words. “I mean the Four Corners Retirement Village.”
“Sorry . . . I didn’t recognize him with his pants on.”
“Remember the complaints we got from the old ladies,” Dunne was smiling. “They weren’t too happy about us stopping their daily entertainment.”
“I remember a particularly nasty letter from one Ingrid Hydecker.” Standish gripped the car’s door handle when Dunne had to break suddenly.
A middle-aged couple had run onto the road, not caring that a car was about to drive through the space they were now occupying. If Dunne didn’t have his eyes on the road, the couple would soon be attempting to push up daisies in a hospital ward. The ignorant couple smiled, waved and said, “Nice day, isn’t it?”
After the near accident, Standish wasn’t in the mood for nice – he gave them the finger. Dunne on the other hand yelled, “Sure is,” through the car window then accelerated once the way was clear again.
“Ingrid’s a sweet old lady,” Dunne said.
“Ingrid Hydecker threatened to cut off my balls and pin them to the notice board in the recreation room of Four Corners Retirement Village.”
“Yeah,” Dunne sighed. “You got to admire her, she’s got balls.”
“You don’t think there’s something wrong with a ninety-four year old woman wanting to cut off a law enforcement officer’s balls.”
“No, she wouldn’t have gone through with it anyway, Ezra,” Dunne smiled at his boss. “She couldn’t hold the cutters . . . arthritis in her hands.”
“JD,” Standish shifted his body sideways so he could look at Dunne, “you were born in Four Corners, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby . . . numerous times?”
Dunne stole a glance back at his boss and said, “No, why?”
“Abducted by aliens when you were a child?”
“Ezra! What the hell are you talking about?”
Standish shrugged. “Nothing.”
Dunne took a sharp right and stopped the car in front of an old house. He ignored the muttered curses that were coming from Standish and said, “This is it.”
“Yeah.”
Two years ago, the owner had gained council approval to convert the old family home into four apartments. The owner/landlord – a Mr. Krinkly – lived in one of the ground floor apartments. Sanchez had rented the apartment directly above him. At the time Sanchez was living there, the other two apartments were vacant. Now that he was gone, all three were vacant. Local gossip said the home was haunted by the spirit of the man who had originally built the building – seems he didn’t like the idea of someone ruining what he had built with his own blood, sweat and tears.
No one wanted to admit the real reason for the apartments being vacant was that the owner was a complete and total asshole.
“You want to split up . . . I’ll go round the back and you take the front?” Dunne asked.
“No, we stay together.” Standish got out of the car, shut the door and leaned back against it. His eyes took in the surrounding area, looking for any sign of Sanchez. A group of young girls playing hop scotch on the footpath to his right stopped and stepped to the side to allow an elderly woman with purple hair to pass them. He knew without a doubt, that wouldn’t have happened in the city, children there had no respect for their elders. His eyes narrowed as the woman came closer. If she says hello, I’ll . . .
The elderly woman said, “Good morning,” as she walked toward him.
Her metal walking frame, scraping along the cement between each difficult step, didn’t deter Standish from his unpleasant greeting; he still wasn’t in the mood. “Good morning, hello, nice day isn’t it, how ya doing?”
Of course, being an inhabitant of Four Corners, the old woman didn’t blink. “Yes, it’s a beautiful day and I’m doing fine.”
“Morning, Mrs. Siddom,” Dunne said as he came around to join Standish.
“Morning, JD.” Mrs. Siddom smiled at JD and continued on her way.
“You know,” Standish waited until Mrs. Siddom was out of hearing range before continuing and he knew, judging by her age, that it would only be a matter of seconds, “I would like to meet a person living in this town that doesn’t say hello.”
“It only takes a few seconds to be polite, Ezra.”
Standish looked at Dunne and saw the expression on the younger man’s face. It was one of sadness and pity. “Let’s go, JD.”
Dunne nodded and followed his boss up the path towards the apartment building, his eyes and ears attuned to what was going on around him. They climbed the stairs and before either of them could knock, the door opened, revealing a balding man in his fifties holding an overflowing sandwich.
“For fuck’s sake, what the hell do you people want now?”
“We need to talk to you about Josiah Sanchez, Mr. Krinkly.” Standish tried to smile at the man but he couldn’t quite manage it.
“What the fuck do you want to talk about him for? He’s in jail, got nothin’ to do with me anymore.” Krinkly took a bite out of his sandwich. Something that was yellow in color fell from the nasty looking concoction, ran down his chin, and dripped onto the beer stained wife-beater he was wearing.
“Could we do this inside, please?”
“No, not till you tell me what the fuck this is about.” Spittle and food flew from his mouth, some of it hitting Standish in the face.
After wiping what he didn’t want to think about from his face, Standish said, “he’s escaped and he’s already killed two people. You might be the third.”
“The fuck . . . what would he want to kill me for? I didn’t do anything except give the man an apartment to rent.”
“He called you fourteen times while he was in jail,” Standish reminded him. “We want to know why.”
“He wanted to know what I’d done with his fucking dog,” Krinkly took another bite before continuing. “It got left on it’s own after you arrested that damn killer. Damn thing howled for two days straight.”
After figuring out what Krinkly had said through a mouth full of food, Dunne leaned forward and rested his left arm against the doorframe; he was inches from Krinkly’s face. “Did you leave a dog alone in an apartment for two days, Mr. Krinkly?”
“Wasn’t my fucking dog!”
“We can arrest you for animal cruelty, Mr. Krinkly.” Dunne was smiling now but it wasn’t pleasant. He was an animal lover and anyone who hurt or neglected an animal was scum – pure and simple . . . scum.
“The fuck you can.”
“The fuck I can.” Dunne retorted.
Standish raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You want me to wait in the car, Detective Dunne?”
“I know how you guys fucking work.” Krinkly threw his sandwich away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of yellow slime across his cheek. “Good cop, bad cop . . . it’s a fucking joke!”
“That was littering, Mr. Krinkly.” Dunne leaned even closer to the man.
“In my own fucking house, I’m allowed to do what I want.” Krinkly started poking his right forefinger against Dunne’s chest. “I can piss and shit in the kitchen sink if I wanted to.”
“Mr. Krinkly . . .”
Standish was amazed that Dunne, had so far, kept his cool. If it had been him, he would have put Krinkly on the floor already.
“You are aware . . . that you are now assaulting a police officer.” Dunne warned him.
Krinkly continued to stab Dunne in the chest with his dirty finger. “Listen hear, you fucking dip-shit--”
Dunne grabbed the finger and pushed it back until it was near breaking point and in an eerily calm voice said, “you were saying, Mr. Krinkly.”
“Hey!” Krinkly fell to his knees and turned a pair of watering eyes toward Standish. “You can’t let him do this.”
Standish stepped back and crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m ready to cheer him on.”
“Fucking assholes . . . ow! Shit! Alright, alright.”
“Are you going to co-operate with us now?” Dunne asked him.
“Fuck yes . . . just let go of my damn finger.”
Dunne let go and wiped his hand against his trousers. “I sure hope you don’t use that finger to pick your nose or anything else like that.”
Krinkly pushed himself back up and sneered at Dunne. “Just wiped my ass five minutes before you got here . . . didn’t wash my hands afterwards.”
Dunne grimaced in disgust.
“So,” Standish clapped his hands then rubbed them together. “About Josiah Sanchez, what did he want?”
“I told you,” Krinkly stuck his sore finger in his mouth and sucked on it for a few seconds before removing it. “Wanted to know where his dog was.”
“And where is it?”
“I got sick of the thing making all that noise so I called the pound to come and get it.”
“Anything else he wanted?” Standish asked.
“No.”
“Each of the fourteen calls was about his dog?”
“Fuck yes; do I have to keep telling you?”
“Yes, you do,” Standish said.
Dunne could swear that he smelt something nasty coming from the man in front him so he stepped back. It wasn’t until he felt something squish beneath his shoe that he realized he had stood on the sandwich that Krinkly had thrown away. He began to wipe his shoe on the welcome mat. “Did you tell him what you did with the dog?”
“Told him the fucking dog pound took it.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t too happy about that,” Dunne said.
“Course he didn’t like it, dog pounds tend to put the fucking animals out of their misery, why do you think I called them in the first fucking place.”
“I certainly hope you didn’t tell him that.” Standish frowned at Krinkly.
“You think I’m fucking stupid?”
“Yes.”
Krinkly glared at Standish.
“What else did he want?” Dunne asked the man before he said anything to Standish.
“Nothin’. Just kept asking about his stupid, fucking dog.”
“He didn’t ask you to leave the dog with anyone?”
“No.”
“Didn’t tell you that someone was going to pick up the dog for him?” Dunne continued.
“No . . . for Christ’s sake, do you have to keep asking me stupid questions about that damn stupid dog. I got better things to do than stand here talking to you two idiots.”
“What type of dog is it?”
“Fuck . . . what?” Krinkly lifted his left hip and farted.
“The breed of the dog, Mr. Krinkly.” Dunne added quickly to hide his embarrassment.
“It’s an American Bulldog.”
“What’s the dog’s name?” Standish asked.
“Darling . . . can you fucking believe it. The asshole named his dog, Darling.”
Dunne was nodding. “There was a character named Darling in the Black Adder television show. Sure hope his dog was a girl ‘cause the character on the show was a guy.”
Krinkly was dumbfounded. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Dunne coughed into his hand and said, “Did he tell you anything . . . anything that might help us find him?”
“Fuck no.” When the two men standing in front of him didn’t say anything else he asked, “Can I go? I got a woman in the bedroom, and I’m sure she’s running cold by now.”
Dunne pointed at the mess that was once a sandwich and said, “You do know you could choke to death if you engage in sexual intercourse with a mouth full of . . .” Dunne tried to laugh. “I mean . . . much like talking with your mouth full . . . you know.”
Standish choked on a breath.
Krinkly slammed the door closed.
Standish finally found his voice and yelled through the door. “If Sanchez stops by, be sure to let us know.”
Both men smiled at Krinkly’s reply of, “Fuck you and your dip-shit little friend,” then turned away from the door and started back towards the car.
“I should let you take control more often, JD.” Standish slapped him on the back. “I am so proud of you right now.”
“I should have put the fucking asshole out of his misery.”
Standish frowned at Dunne. “Mr. Krinkly isn’t a local is he?”
“Sometimes, Ezra, your powers of observation leave me baffled.”
“A simple deduction, my dear Watson.”
“You having one of your mood swings again, Ezra? ‘Cause I have to tell you, you seem to be on a high at the moment.”
“JD . . . I’m baffled.”
Detective Dunne rolled his eyes as he walked around to the driver’s side of the car. “You think Sanchez wants his dog back, that he’s hanging around because of . . . Darling?” Dunne was about to add that they should get someone to watch the place, just in case Sanchez showed up looking for his dog but the look on his partner’s face stopped him. He followed Standish’s gaze and his eyes widened in shock.
What he saw, parked across the street, was Josiah Sanchez sitting behind the wheel of Potter’s Jeep Wrangler. The escapee actually had the nerve to smile and wave at them.
With weapons drawn, Standish and Dunne moved as one towards the Jeep.
Sanchez honked the car horn and took off with a roar of the engine and a squeal of the tires, leaving two black lines on the road behind him.
Standish was about to fire his gun, when one of the young girls who had been playing hopscotch, ran onto the road, directly into his and JD’s line of fire.
“Fuck! What is it with the people of this damn town?” The little girl – who would later tell her mother that a big bad man with a gun yelled at her – promptly burst into tears. If he had the time he would have consoled her.
“I know I’m going to regret this, but . . . JD, you drive and I’ll call it in.”
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Master Fan Fiction List
- Sequel to ‘A Murder Mystery’
Rating: PG Bad Language
Fandom: The Magnificent Seven
Category: Four Corners Detectives AU
Main Characters: Ezra and JD
Disclaimers: The guys are owned by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, and The Mirisch Corp.
Notes: The April 2005 Challenge (the Mystery Challenge) - offered by Jesfrealo. Write a story where a mystery plays a key role in the story. Have one or any combination of the guys be the detective(s). It can be funny or serious and in any open universe. Extra points if you make an unusual pair of the guys work together to figure out the mystery (so not Chris and Vin or Buck and JD...). Have fun!!
Summary: Detectives Standish and Dunne hunt for a killer
Spoilers: None
Author's note: A BIG thank you and a bear hug to the person who nominated this story for a 2008 & 2009 MoM award!
Warning: Josiah Sanchez is the bad guy in this story!
Part Three
Ezra Standish forced an expression – something between a grimace and a smile –onto his face when another passerby smiled and waved a greeting at him. Everything his mother had taught him, told him to ignore the passerby but he chose to ignore his mother instead by waving back. It was another thing about this town and the people who lived in it. Every one said something in a way of a greeting: ‘good morning’, ‘nice day, isn’t it’, ‘hello’, ‘how ya doing’, and the townsfolk considered it extremely rude if you didn't return their greeting in a polite and cheerful manner. He wouldn’t even be surprised if there was an instruction handbook on how to greet people in Four Corners. Standish wasn’t always cooperative though when it came to returning their greetings in the ‘polite and cheerful’ manner they expected – where he came from, it wasn’t rude to ignore your own mother. His expression morphed into a full grimace of embarrassment when Dunne hit the car’s horn and waved back at the man.
“That’s Charlie Henderson.” Dunne informed Standish when his boss gave no indication that he had recognized Henderson. “We arrested him last month for Indecent Exposure. Kept flashing his dick in the halls of the ‘relax before you die’ home.” When he saw the look on Standish’s face out of the corner of his eye, he quickly amended his words. “I mean the Four Corners Retirement Village.”
“Sorry . . . I didn’t recognize him with his pants on.”
“Remember the complaints we got from the old ladies,” Dunne was smiling. “They weren’t too happy about us stopping their daily entertainment.”
“I remember a particularly nasty letter from one Ingrid Hydecker.” Standish gripped the car’s door handle when Dunne had to break suddenly.
A middle-aged couple had run onto the road, not caring that a car was about to drive through the space they were now occupying. If Dunne didn’t have his eyes on the road, the couple would soon be attempting to push up daisies in a hospital ward. The ignorant couple smiled, waved and said, “Nice day, isn’t it?”
After the near accident, Standish wasn’t in the mood for nice – he gave them the finger. Dunne on the other hand yelled, “Sure is,” through the car window then accelerated once the way was clear again.
“Ingrid’s a sweet old lady,” Dunne said.
“Ingrid Hydecker threatened to cut off my balls and pin them to the notice board in the recreation room of Four Corners Retirement Village.”
“Yeah,” Dunne sighed. “You got to admire her, she’s got balls.”
“You don’t think there’s something wrong with a ninety-four year old woman wanting to cut off a law enforcement officer’s balls.”
“No, she wouldn’t have gone through with it anyway, Ezra,” Dunne smiled at his boss. “She couldn’t hold the cutters . . . arthritis in her hands.”
“JD,” Standish shifted his body sideways so he could look at Dunne, “you were born in Four Corners, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby . . . numerous times?”
Dunne stole a glance back at his boss and said, “No, why?”
“Abducted by aliens when you were a child?”
“Ezra! What the hell are you talking about?”
Standish shrugged. “Nothing.”
Dunne took a sharp right and stopped the car in front of an old house. He ignored the muttered curses that were coming from Standish and said, “This is it.”
“Yeah.”
Two years ago, the owner had gained council approval to convert the old family home into four apartments. The owner/landlord – a Mr. Krinkly – lived in one of the ground floor apartments. Sanchez had rented the apartment directly above him. At the time Sanchez was living there, the other two apartments were vacant. Now that he was gone, all three were vacant. Local gossip said the home was haunted by the spirit of the man who had originally built the building – seems he didn’t like the idea of someone ruining what he had built with his own blood, sweat and tears.
No one wanted to admit the real reason for the apartments being vacant was that the owner was a complete and total asshole.
“You want to split up . . . I’ll go round the back and you take the front?” Dunne asked.
“No, we stay together.” Standish got out of the car, shut the door and leaned back against it. His eyes took in the surrounding area, looking for any sign of Sanchez. A group of young girls playing hop scotch on the footpath to his right stopped and stepped to the side to allow an elderly woman with purple hair to pass them. He knew without a doubt, that wouldn’t have happened in the city, children there had no respect for their elders. His eyes narrowed as the woman came closer. If she says hello, I’ll . . .
The elderly woman said, “Good morning,” as she walked toward him.
Her metal walking frame, scraping along the cement between each difficult step, didn’t deter Standish from his unpleasant greeting; he still wasn’t in the mood. “Good morning, hello, nice day isn’t it, how ya doing?”
Of course, being an inhabitant of Four Corners, the old woman didn’t blink. “Yes, it’s a beautiful day and I’m doing fine.”
“Morning, Mrs. Siddom,” Dunne said as he came around to join Standish.
“Morning, JD.” Mrs. Siddom smiled at JD and continued on her way.
“You know,” Standish waited until Mrs. Siddom was out of hearing range before continuing and he knew, judging by her age, that it would only be a matter of seconds, “I would like to meet a person living in this town that doesn’t say hello.”
“It only takes a few seconds to be polite, Ezra.”
Standish looked at Dunne and saw the expression on the younger man’s face. It was one of sadness and pity. “Let’s go, JD.”
Dunne nodded and followed his boss up the path towards the apartment building, his eyes and ears attuned to what was going on around him. They climbed the stairs and before either of them could knock, the door opened, revealing a balding man in his fifties holding an overflowing sandwich.
“For fuck’s sake, what the hell do you people want now?”
“We need to talk to you about Josiah Sanchez, Mr. Krinkly.” Standish tried to smile at the man but he couldn’t quite manage it.
“What the fuck do you want to talk about him for? He’s in jail, got nothin’ to do with me anymore.” Krinkly took a bite out of his sandwich. Something that was yellow in color fell from the nasty looking concoction, ran down his chin, and dripped onto the beer stained wife-beater he was wearing.
“Could we do this inside, please?”
“No, not till you tell me what the fuck this is about.” Spittle and food flew from his mouth, some of it hitting Standish in the face.
After wiping what he didn’t want to think about from his face, Standish said, “he’s escaped and he’s already killed two people. You might be the third.”
“The fuck . . . what would he want to kill me for? I didn’t do anything except give the man an apartment to rent.”
“He called you fourteen times while he was in jail,” Standish reminded him. “We want to know why.”
“He wanted to know what I’d done with his fucking dog,” Krinkly took another bite before continuing. “It got left on it’s own after you arrested that damn killer. Damn thing howled for two days straight.”
After figuring out what Krinkly had said through a mouth full of food, Dunne leaned forward and rested his left arm against the doorframe; he was inches from Krinkly’s face. “Did you leave a dog alone in an apartment for two days, Mr. Krinkly?”
“Wasn’t my fucking dog!”
“We can arrest you for animal cruelty, Mr. Krinkly.” Dunne was smiling now but it wasn’t pleasant. He was an animal lover and anyone who hurt or neglected an animal was scum – pure and simple . . . scum.
“The fuck you can.”
“The fuck I can.” Dunne retorted.
Standish raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You want me to wait in the car, Detective Dunne?”
“I know how you guys fucking work.” Krinkly threw his sandwich away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of yellow slime across his cheek. “Good cop, bad cop . . . it’s a fucking joke!”
“That was littering, Mr. Krinkly.” Dunne leaned even closer to the man.
“In my own fucking house, I’m allowed to do what I want.” Krinkly started poking his right forefinger against Dunne’s chest. “I can piss and shit in the kitchen sink if I wanted to.”
“Mr. Krinkly . . .”
Standish was amazed that Dunne, had so far, kept his cool. If it had been him, he would have put Krinkly on the floor already.
“You are aware . . . that you are now assaulting a police officer.” Dunne warned him.
Krinkly continued to stab Dunne in the chest with his dirty finger. “Listen hear, you fucking dip-shit--”
Dunne grabbed the finger and pushed it back until it was near breaking point and in an eerily calm voice said, “you were saying, Mr. Krinkly.”
“Hey!” Krinkly fell to his knees and turned a pair of watering eyes toward Standish. “You can’t let him do this.”
Standish stepped back and crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m ready to cheer him on.”
“Fucking assholes . . . ow! Shit! Alright, alright.”
“Are you going to co-operate with us now?” Dunne asked him.
“Fuck yes . . . just let go of my damn finger.”
Dunne let go and wiped his hand against his trousers. “I sure hope you don’t use that finger to pick your nose or anything else like that.”
Krinkly pushed himself back up and sneered at Dunne. “Just wiped my ass five minutes before you got here . . . didn’t wash my hands afterwards.”
Dunne grimaced in disgust.
“So,” Standish clapped his hands then rubbed them together. “About Josiah Sanchez, what did he want?”
“I told you,” Krinkly stuck his sore finger in his mouth and sucked on it for a few seconds before removing it. “Wanted to know where his dog was.”
“And where is it?”
“I got sick of the thing making all that noise so I called the pound to come and get it.”
“Anything else he wanted?” Standish asked.
“No.”
“Each of the fourteen calls was about his dog?”
“Fuck yes; do I have to keep telling you?”
“Yes, you do,” Standish said.
Dunne could swear that he smelt something nasty coming from the man in front him so he stepped back. It wasn’t until he felt something squish beneath his shoe that he realized he had stood on the sandwich that Krinkly had thrown away. He began to wipe his shoe on the welcome mat. “Did you tell him what you did with the dog?”
“Told him the fucking dog pound took it.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t too happy about that,” Dunne said.
“Course he didn’t like it, dog pounds tend to put the fucking animals out of their misery, why do you think I called them in the first fucking place.”
“I certainly hope you didn’t tell him that.” Standish frowned at Krinkly.
“You think I’m fucking stupid?”
“Yes.”
Krinkly glared at Standish.
“What else did he want?” Dunne asked the man before he said anything to Standish.
“Nothin’. Just kept asking about his stupid, fucking dog.”
“He didn’t ask you to leave the dog with anyone?”
“No.”
“Didn’t tell you that someone was going to pick up the dog for him?” Dunne continued.
“No . . . for Christ’s sake, do you have to keep asking me stupid questions about that damn stupid dog. I got better things to do than stand here talking to you two idiots.”
“What type of dog is it?”
“Fuck . . . what?” Krinkly lifted his left hip and farted.
“The breed of the dog, Mr. Krinkly.” Dunne added quickly to hide his embarrassment.
“It’s an American Bulldog.”
“What’s the dog’s name?” Standish asked.
“Darling . . . can you fucking believe it. The asshole named his dog, Darling.”
Dunne was nodding. “There was a character named Darling in the Black Adder television show. Sure hope his dog was a girl ‘cause the character on the show was a guy.”
Krinkly was dumbfounded. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Dunne coughed into his hand and said, “Did he tell you anything . . . anything that might help us find him?”
“Fuck no.” When the two men standing in front of him didn’t say anything else he asked, “Can I go? I got a woman in the bedroom, and I’m sure she’s running cold by now.”
Dunne pointed at the mess that was once a sandwich and said, “You do know you could choke to death if you engage in sexual intercourse with a mouth full of . . .” Dunne tried to laugh. “I mean . . . much like talking with your mouth full . . . you know.”
Standish choked on a breath.
Krinkly slammed the door closed.
Standish finally found his voice and yelled through the door. “If Sanchez stops by, be sure to let us know.”
Both men smiled at Krinkly’s reply of, “Fuck you and your dip-shit little friend,” then turned away from the door and started back towards the car.
“I should let you take control more often, JD.” Standish slapped him on the back. “I am so proud of you right now.”
“I should have put the fucking asshole out of his misery.”
Standish frowned at Dunne. “Mr. Krinkly isn’t a local is he?”
“Sometimes, Ezra, your powers of observation leave me baffled.”
“A simple deduction, my dear Watson.”
“You having one of your mood swings again, Ezra? ‘Cause I have to tell you, you seem to be on a high at the moment.”
“JD . . . I’m baffled.”
Detective Dunne rolled his eyes as he walked around to the driver’s side of the car. “You think Sanchez wants his dog back, that he’s hanging around because of . . . Darling?” Dunne was about to add that they should get someone to watch the place, just in case Sanchez showed up looking for his dog but the look on his partner’s face stopped him. He followed Standish’s gaze and his eyes widened in shock.
What he saw, parked across the street, was Josiah Sanchez sitting behind the wheel of Potter’s Jeep Wrangler. The escapee actually had the nerve to smile and wave at them.
With weapons drawn, Standish and Dunne moved as one towards the Jeep.
Sanchez honked the car horn and took off with a roar of the engine and a squeal of the tires, leaving two black lines on the road behind him.
Standish was about to fire his gun, when one of the young girls who had been playing hopscotch, ran onto the road, directly into his and JD’s line of fire.
“Fuck! What is it with the people of this damn town?” The little girl – who would later tell her mother that a big bad man with a gun yelled at her – promptly burst into tears. If he had the time he would have consoled her.
“I know I’m going to regret this, but . . . JD, you drive and I’ll call it in.”
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Master Fan Fiction List