Deadly Drafts - CH 28

CROCUS FERTILIZER

"He…He saw you?" His fingers popped against the armrest. Even with the power gone, with winter blowing unabated through the house, the Admiral couldn't fight the burning lava coursing through his body. His breath tumbled from his chest in great balls of cotton.

"Arthur, yes."

"He saw you."

"He called…he called, 'Bernard,' after me."

The Admiral bolted to the .22 leaning in the darkness. Its cold barrel soothed his burning skin. Nestled home to his shoulder, he swung the weapon at the oaf filling his office doorway. He felt his heartbeat slow. His breath grew shallow. Ready for the shot.

"Bernard, you fucking—"

"Please no." Bernard shrunk back, arms over his face. His body convulsed with sniffles and cries. "It wasn't my fault, I swear."

"Nothing is ever Bernard's fault."

"They showed up early. Please."

"The reporter bitch I almost expected, but my own…" the Admiral caught his breath. Flashers twinkled his vision. "You know if I shot you now, if I were rip your simple heart to confetti with a bullet? No one would even remember you existed."

Bernard backed from the room. Shaking, he knocked against the narrow hall. Framed pictures rattled with his every step. The Admiral stalked after him, gun zeroed to the oaf's heart.

Great pearly tears rolled down from under Bernard's hands. "Please, Se—"

"Shut up. I'm your last connection to the world. Without me, you're crocus fertilizer. We already have three graves dug for them in the woods. What's another? No one will ever find your body."

Bernard reached into his coat.

The Admiral's finger flexed against the trigger. "Don't you—"

"No! I got something good on the way out. Something good."

The Admiral nodded. "Slowly."

A crumpled manila flowered from Bernard's fist. "I took it from the short one."

The Admiral swiped the envelope, turned it in his hands. "That bitch." He inhaled the cold air. The chill scrubbed at his insides, eased away the rage. The gun fell to his side, and he leaned full weight to its butt. "That bitch reporter double-crossed us. We may have to add a post-script to the story. If she starts putting it together."

Bernard fell to his knees. "I can't."

"What?"

"That poor librarian woman. I can't...do it again."

"Get up, you oaf." The Admiral prodded Bernard with the barrel of his .22. "That was the worst you had to do. And I'll remind you it didn't seem so bad when you had all that money."

"But…"

"But nothing. This will go much better with you, but I can do it alone if I need." With one final jab to Bernard's gut, the Admiral turned and marched back into his office. "You did a good thing, getting this envelope back for me. Now get up, imbecile. We have work to do. We've crested the final hill of our little plot, dear Bernard. And now we race to the end." 

 

Chapter Twenty-Nine