Hello
Friends,
My
latest collection of mystery short stories under the title MURDER WITH
FRIENDS (Stalking With Friends, I lost My Wife! Twisted Games, Hooked,
and The Psychic Detective), are based on popular word games, and released today on
Amazon.
Click on SYNOPSIS AND SCROLL down and click STALKING WITH
FRIENDS.
OR
YOU CAN READ THE STORY BELOW
READ
IT FOR FREE. If you enjoy the story—you will, I promise—spread the word and
then ONE click will bring you to Amazon. MURDER WITH FRIENDS is
only $1.99. A very good deal and lots of fun reading!
Pass
the freebee to your friends.
Thanks.
Fred
Stalking with
Friends
His letters
were perfect M-U-R-D-E, the R already on the board. A sinister laugh. JUSTME
added the letters on his android phone and waited for his opponent to react to
his 39 points, putting him ahead by 72. Not happy for sure. JUSTME had won
every game with this opponent the entire three months. A wide grin.
Time lapsed.
Was JASMINE too busy to play? It was nine in the evening. Maybe she was
streaming a movie? JUSTME assumed his opponent was a woman by her game name. He
had other guesses about her: probably self-employed because she was always
available, single, lived in his Eastern Time zone. He knew nothing else about
her except she was sort of laid back, wasn’t aggressive, and never commented on
a game, like “You picked some great words,” or, “Hey, let me win once in a
while.”
JUSTME wasn’t
about to let her win—or anyone else, for that matter—if he could help it. He
needed to win, be king of Friends, and anyone who beat him, beware …
JASMINE was
safe—for now. Never beat JUSTME or just
wait, which come to think of
it, was another great Friends’ name.
Pinged. She’s
back. “Nice word and 39 points. You are certainly the best I ever played with.”
And she wants
to chat? He felt a surge.
JASMINE
continued. “We’ve been playing a while, seem to have a connection.”
Oh yeah.
“Definitely,” he wrote.
“You must be a
guy. I mean, over the past few months you’ve used many macho words. And now
MURDER. Wow.”
“I’m a guy,”
JUSTME punched in. Maybe he should have made her beg to find out. “You sound
like a woman, with so many feminine words. And your board name, JASMINE.”
“You are good.
You law enforcement? A detective?”
Huh?
Definitely not, but he couldn’t tell her what he did for a living—if you called
it a living. “Sales, I travel around the country.
“Ever get to
Gatlinburg?”
Christ, was
this an invitation? “Just so happens I’ll be there next
week.” He could be anywhere, anytime. He wanted a photo of JASMINE. Hell, she
could be old or fat or just plain ugly—
“Because I
think we have a connection. Wouldn’t mind playing with you in the same room.
That didn’t come out right.”
It did to
JUSTME. Playing Friends in person, and then—
“That was
inappropriate, sorry,” she wrote.
“No, I
understood,” JUSTME typed quickly. “Say, can you text me a photo? And I’ll text
one back. You know, so we can recognize each other in—where again? Oh right,
Gatlinburg.”
“You’re too
funny, JUSTME. Sure, give me your e-mail address or text so I can send a
selfie. Here’s my text number.”
JUSTME
squirmed. What was he thinking? He didn’t like giving out anything personal,
but he took a chance.
The text
zoomed back quickly. Boy, was she smoking! Thirty, blonde, great skin, eyes!
“You’re very
pretty.” Clean, simple, didn’t want to turn her off.
“Thank you.”
JUSTME kept a
head shot on his phone—his cousin who died a few years back. Sad, the handsome
ones die young. But now that his poor cousin, Ricky, was gone, he’d never know.
Nor care. JUSTME couldn’t send her a photo of himself, not with first-degree
burn scars on the left side of his face. Not that it mattered; once he spotted
JASMINE and followed her home, the rest would be easy.
“Wow, I hoped
you would be handsome, but you’re more than I thought,” JASMINE wrote. “Can’t
wait to meet you. I’m Brooke, by the way.”
“Ricky, a
pleasure, Brooke.” Why not use his cousin’s name too?
“When will you
be in town?”
“Tuesday.” Plenty of time to drive from
Florida to Tennessee. It was Saturday night. Another reason he could tell
JASMINE, uh, Brooke, was single. She would have been out with her boyfriend or
husband. And she wanted to meet—
“Perfect. How
about we meet at the Gatlinburg welcome center at 7 pm?”
“Works for
me.” It always worked for him. Another sinister laugh. “Well, until then,
Brooke.”
“Looking so
forward to meeting you in the flesh.”
Flesh.
*****
An older model
Ford Focus crept along the main strip in Gatlinburg. Perfect timing. He pulled
up about fifty feet from the welcome center and snapped up his binoculars. Yep,
there she was standing, looking out at the street as though looking for . . .
me, JUSTME. My JASMINE, my Friend, you’re as beautiful as your photo! His eyes
locked on her as he dialed her cell. A moment passed before she dug into her
handbag and answered.
“Hi, I’ve been
waiting.”
JUSTME tried
to control himself. He wanted to leap out of the car and—
“Hi to you
too. Listen, my car broke down, and I’m afraid I’m going to be an hour late.”
“Oh, that’s
too bad.”
“I can call
you when I arrive. Is that OK, Brooke?”
She looked at
her watch, then shook her head in a sad motion.
“It’ll be kind
of late.”
“You’re right.
I’ll check into my hotel. We can schedule our date for tomorrow.”
“Sure, tomorrow.”
But he sensed she was disappointed.
“Could I be so
bold as to ask you to meet me in the hotel lobby, just to say hello?”
He saw a big
smile. He had her.
“Sure, I could
do that. Where are you staying?”
His eyes
darted around until he found what he was looking for. “The Country Inn.”
Her eyes gazed
up and she smiled again. “Perfect. Call me when you get into town.”
The
streetlight cast a glow on her. He just couldn’t believe it. She was gorgeous,
sexy in a green backless party dress. Forget the lobby, how about a room? Only
there would be no room. He waited for JASMINE to walk a few blocks away and was
about to take off when a car pulled up and lowered the passenger window. The
guy waved with a map. “Can you help me? I’m lost, and everything in this town
looks the same.”
Christ, not
now! He tried to keep one eye on JASMINE,
but she disappeared. Where did she go? “I’m from out of town myself, can’t help
you. Can you move your car? I’m in a hurry.”
“Sure, sorry.”
JUSTME jerked his car forward and headed for JASMINE. Shit, shit, shit, shit,
shit! Where are you? He drove a few blocks until he found a restaurant parking
lot, where he jumped out of the car to hightail it back to where he last saw
her. She wouldn’t recognize him, but what would he do if he found her? Say,
“Hi, I’m Ricky and lied about the way I look.” No more Friends, let alone the
“motel room.”
She was gone.
Defeated, he trudged to his car and put his head on the steering wheel. What
next? And then his phone rang. He frowned. Who? But then he smiled. “Hey, I was
just thinking about you.”
“Me too,”
JASMINE said. “I’m a little worried about your car breaking down. Are you OK?”
Sweet! “Kind
of. I mean, I just called the inn and they’re full. I guess I should have
called and—”
“Oh no. Look,
I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I lied about living in
Gatlinburg. I’m here because I broke up with my boyfriend a week ago and needed
to get away. I actually live in North Carolina. I’m so sorry, Ricky, for lying
to you.”
“Oh, that’s
OK. It was very nice—”
“No, no,
that’s not what I mean. It’s dead with him. I’d like to see you. I’m lonely and
confused. Could you maybe just come by my hotel so we can chat? If you’re
really a nice guy, I’ll let you sleep on the sofa. And if you’re not, you can
kill me.” She giggled.
Christ, what
an invitation! “Sure, but only if you are OK with it. I mean, I’m a gentleman,
so you don’t have to worry about me taking advantage. It sounds like you’d like
to talk. I’m a great listener.” And taker!
“I’m staying
at the Valley Inn, just outside of town toward Smoky Mountains National Park.
I’m in room 201. And thanks for listening ahead of time.” She giggled again.
Ricky
calculated quickly. “Be there in an hour.”
JUSTME stood
in front of her door and inhaled. He counted one, two, three, and knocked—not
too hard, not too soft, just a friendly knock.
JASMINE opened
the door with a smile that crashed to fear. She tried to close the door, but
JUSTME planted his size-10 sneaker to block it.
“I can
explain, JASMINE, I mean, Brooke. Just give me a chance.”
“You better leave,
or I’ll call the police. You’re … nothing like your photo. How could you,
Ricky?”
He started his
sob trick. “I’m so sorry, Brooke. I knew you’d never want to meet if you saw
what I looked like.” He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. “I just wanted to meet
a nice woman, show her I’m more than looks, someone like you.”
She hesitated
but gripped the door. “You came all the way from Florida, or is that a lie
too?”
He shook his
head. “True. I’ve never done this before. I’ll go.” He turned to leave.
“Wait, you
can’t sleep in your car all night.” She sighed. “Come in, we’ll figure it out.
I wasn’t exactly honest either.”
He turned
back. “So sorry,” he whispered.
As they
talked, he confessed his real name was Alan and his face was burned at a
factory, which allowed him to collect disability. He lived alone ever since his
brother committed suicide by jumping off a bridge. OK, he never had a brother.
But he wanted her to relax, build up confidence in him.
Brooke handed
him a glass of chardonnay. “To a better life,” they toasted.
As Brooke told
him about herself, he nodded, not caring if she was telling the truth. He was,
after all, just after a piece of ass. That was the game: seeing if his true
looks could snare women after finagling an introduction. And it worked; they
always feeling sorry for him. Brooke was next.
After a few
hours of talk and wine, Brooke took his hand and kissed it. Then she kissed his
lips, his face. He tried not to be too aggressive. Actually, he was feeling …
light-headed. Too much wine.
“Let’s make
love,” she whispered.
He nodded with
a silly grin.
She smiled and
walked to the bathroom. “Be right out.”
He stripped
down to his underwear, and stumbled onto the bed.
Brooke joined
him in a thin red bra and matching panties. “Hi.”
He smiled.
“Hi.” His eyes drifted to her hands.
Handcuffs?
Oh, boy, this
was going to be fun.
“You mind,
macho man?”
His wily grin
answered for him. He felt the clip against his wrists and then against the
bedpost. Snap.
“You look a
little wasted, Alan. Do you think you can last all night?”
“Think so—”
“Wrong!”
He blinked.
“Did you
really think you could just show up from wherever you’re from and have sex with
me? You, like that cheater boyfriend of mine, think you can take me at will.
Well, you can’t. How many words is that, Mr. Letters With Friends?”
Alan blinked
harder and yanked at the cuffs. What the hell was happening? “I thought—”
“You thought
you could have sex and move on, didn’t you?”
“No.” OK, his
intentions weren’t that bad. He was a good guy, just trying to win over a
woman, like Letters With Friends. He wanted, no, needed to WIN!
“Guess what,
Alan, you’re not going to have sex with me or anyone else. Not after tonight.”
His eyes
bulged. “Oh God, please, I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again, I swear. Just
take off the cuffs, and I’ll never bother you again.”
“It’s a little
too late for that, honey.” Brooke shook her head, then strutted over to her
handbag and pulled out a serrated knife. She pointed it at his underwear. “My
stepfather wanted sex too, the bastard. I swore I would kill him someday.” A
snare. “He’s not around anymore. Nor Patrick, the cheat.”
“Who?”
Her glazed
look terrified him. “My boyfriend, stupid. Haven’t you been listening?” She
paused. “And now you.” She sliced off his underwear and chuckled. “So small. It
looks frightened, like you.”
“I beg you,
Brooke.”
“Right, beg.”
“Why me?”
“Oh, right, a
reason. Well, for one, I don’t like to lose. You’ve won every Letters with
Friend game, so I’m guessing you’ve been cheating. Have you been using a
cheater’s dictionary, Alan?”
“No, I swear.
I’m … good.” He started to smile but thought better.
“I pictured
that smug look you must have had every time you beat me. I almost stopped
playing, but had a better idea.” She clicked her teeth. “Temptation made it so
easy.”
Calm down. He would get out of this . . . he
needed a plan. But Brooke worked the knife in her hands back and forth like she
was experienced. He wanted to plea more, offer her his disability money,
anything, but remembered she mentioned her stepfather and boyfriend. He bet she
cuffed them too.
“Please.”
Tears—real this time—formed and streamed down his cheek. “I don’t want to die,
even with this face.”
“Shush.” She
raised the point to her tongue. “I can’t wait to taste blood.”
Alan closed
his eyes, prayed.
“Good-bye,
JUSTME.”
He held his
breath, bracing for the slice on his manhood. Or worse. The room felt deadly
still.
Do it
already. Kill me!
His breathing
labored for what felt like hours. And then he sensed her one last time.
Movement. A door . . . opening?
Alan slowly
opened one eye, then the other, then blinked.
JASMINE was
gone.
It was JUSTME.
If you enjoy the story—you will, I promise—spread the word and
then ONE click will bring you to Amazon. MURDER WITH FRIENDS is
only $1.99. A very good deal and lots of fun reading!
Pass
the freebee to your friends.
Thanks.
