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Authors: Ray Clift

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BOOK: She Walks the Line
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They realised the truth of the statement when Suzie disrobed and stood naked, urging them to sing with her the US national anthem. They looked inside the freezer and saw row upon row of frozen shoes and knew it was useless to interview her.

The ambulance came and took her away while she smiled and waved at the police officers, who gazed own at the body, a man they recognised as Mark Marshall, recently released from the federal prison. They assumed a lot and saw a lot but were stuck for a motive as the owner, obviously a martial arts expert, judging from all the belts found in the flat, had broken his neck. He had certainly been an intruder and the case was closed.

‘Stiff shit for him,' said the CSI man named Johnathon.

And Stan the detective agreed, hoping, after gaping at the well built naked woman, that his erection would soon subside.

They were not aware that she had lured Marshall there with a form of entrapment after he stalked her. It was payback time after all the hurts she had suffered but first she had to put on a
convincing act of having dementia. The time would come later for her to pretend to be better for release

Nine months later

Suzie was on her walk back to the flat reflecting on the demise of Mark Marshall. She spoke to a spirit who claimed to be her double. For the sake of simplicity she called the spirit Number Two. However, Suzie was not in total agreement with the advice offered by Number Two. When the intruder broke in nine months ago, however, it was the only plan available and she always had confidence in Plan A.

Suzie received some advice which she acted on regarding Mark Marshall. It was in-the-moment speech with the intruder.

‘Number One calling. I hear footsteps outside.'

‘Yes, Number One, this is Number Two speaking. Listen for the sound of broken glass right now.'

‘Number One calling. I hear it right now. He's here.'

‘Watch out, Number One. He's wearing a balaclava. Go into attack mode
now
.'

‘Number One calling. What do I do again?'

‘Jesus Christ, Number One, kick him in the balls. When he falls, rabbit chop his neck, OK.'

‘Number One calling. It's done. What now, Number Two?'

‘Break his bloody neck. You're trained do it. Now, Number One.'

‘I heard the click. It's done, Number Two. What now?'

‘Number One to Number Two: I run next door and go into my gaga act like we agreed. They'll call the cops. Is that right, Number Two?'

Number Two did not answer.

‘Number One calling again. Yes, it's done. I hear the sirens coming, Number Two.'

‘OK. Your last message was broken. When the cops come, make sure your boots are in the fridge and don't forget, Number One, to put on the tape of the national anthem and drop your robe. You're to be naked, remember, and get the cops to sing along with you. Conduct the choir with the tongs. That will nail it. You'll go to a funny farm but only for nine months. It'll all have blown over by then and you'll be able to go back home. Got that OK, Number One?'

‘Yes, Number Two. Should I talk to you in the home?'

‘Number Two calling. Not actually recommended, with all the trick cyclists poking and prodding. OK, Number One?'

Suzie took the advice and thought about a lot in the home until she was released.

‘Number Two, this is Number One calling after a nine-month break. I have some reservations about all of this, actually. I think I'm coming unglued. What do you think, Number Two?'

‘Number One, that's bullshit and you know it. Let's go home and have a drink. You're out and in the clear. Stop worrying.'

Suzie set two glasses of white wine out. Number Two's glass had not been raised.

‘Number Two, please respond. You haven't drunk yours.'

There was total silence.

Suzie woke up during the night and saw that Number Two's glass was still untouched. She knew then what she had to do. She dialled the number of a therapist she knew. He was James Morris, the retired federal consultant, who was a friend of Martin.

‘James, I need help,' and then, as an afterthought, she dialled Johnno's number.

Detective Stan Harris sat in the cheaper coffee shop close to the station because he was scraping every dollar together since his pretty model wife, the Golden Goddess, had left. When she was
naked she stood like a marble statue, even a blue heron, while he humped away without much love. It was always the knee trembler because she hated getting her hair in a mess by lying down. He figured she was after more gold than he could supply so he let her go.

The naked figure of Suzie Smith standing there nine months ago with the dead intruder and singing the national anthem urging them to sing along and conducting with two barbecue tongs was not only funny but sexy. He felt the rising in his loins whenever he thought about her. But she'd been sent to the funny farm.

‘Hey, Stan, it's me, Johnno.'

‘How's the new job, Johnno?'

Johnno came over and pulled out his wallet, which bulged with money. ‘Good. Lots more money. Private is the way to go.'

Stan remembered the last job at the flat before Johnno left and also the great body of the fifty-five-year-old naked Suzie once again. She was haunting his dreams.

‘Hey, Stan, remember Suzie Smith who killed the intruder in her flat?'

‘How could I forget? Naked and all of us singing the national anthem. In the funny farm.' Stan wondered how strange it was when he was just thinking about the gorgeous woman and his erection was still rising under the table, hopefully out of sight of nosey Johnno.

‘Nup, she's out. I forgot to tell you before. She rabbit punched him. She kicked him in the nuts and the rabbit punch followed afterwards.'

Stan sat up with a question. ‘So how did you catch up with her, Johnno?'

‘Bloody hell, Stan, she was sitting on a stool in Two Dogs bar and I hear a voice. “Hi, Johnno,” she says. “Still breaking necks, Suzie?” I says. “Only my Dad and Martin called me Suzie, God rest
them,” she says. “How's the dementia?” I says. “What dementia?” she says.'

Stan thought for a while and then the penny dropped. And he stroked his chin beard and started to giggle about how clever she had been. ‘Well, I call that justice, mate. How often do we see that now? Christ, what a woman. So she planned it all. I remember there were reports of a man stalking her.'

‘There's more. She's back on stage back on her country and western gigs. In fact, she gave me two tickets for Saturday.'

‘Shit, can you get me one?'

‘Piss off, Stan.'

The author can be contacted at
[email protected]
. He is also on Facebook and has a blog –
http://www.raysbooks.blogspot.com

BOOK: She Walks the Line
10.9Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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