Murder in the Magic City by G.P. Sorrells (speed reading book TXT) 📗

to his left was more construction comingling with the average backstage props. A large hedge blocked the view on his right. He couldn’t tell what was on the other side, but if the structure in front of him was what he suspected it to be, the only way to go was forward.

“… this shit. I’m tired of them acting like they run this place because they know how to hammer a piece of plywood. It’s like, motherfucker, I’ve seen videos on YouTube too. It ain’t that tough!”

Micah stood up from his hiding spot and approached the security guard. The gap between them shrank to three feet, and Micah absentmindedly reached back for his pistol. He had it drawn and aimed at the security guard’s head when the man turned around. Micah held a finger to his mouth. Though the guard liked to act tough, and had the frame to back it up, he had never stared down the barrel of a loaded gun. He didn’t like the visual, and his bladder immediately drained.

“You might want to clean that up,” Micah said.

“Look, man,” the security guard muttered, “I don’t want any trouble, man. Just, just let me know what you need. I can get you money.”

“That’s nice, but I’m not here for that. How many of you are there?”

“What, guards?”

“No, ballerinas. If I had to guess, you’ve got a whole troupe here.”

“What are you talking about?”

Micah felt a brief temptation to pistol whip the guard, but he still needed to make use of the man. “Obviously, I want to know how many guards are here. How dense could you possibly be?”

“Hey, man, I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“I don’t give two shits about what you appreciate,” Micah said. He stepped closer and put the barrel of the gun a mere foot away from the guard’s forehead. A single pull of the trigger, and everything the man had ever known would disappear into the ether. “Look, if you have any desire to walk away from here, you need to do exactly as I say. Understand?”

“Uh, yes,” the man answered feebly. Whatever confidence he had mustered after wetting himself had escaped just as quickly.

“Good. First, I need to know how many of you are on the grounds right now. Who’s patrolling this giant middle finger to PETA besides you and Doug?”

The guard stared at Micah, dumbfounded. He hadn’t the foggiest how the man could have heard enough of his conversation to know his coworker’s name without betraying his presence. “No, no one. It’s just us.”

“Bullshit,” Micah said, stepping closer and pressing the cold steel against the guard’s head.

“I swear, man! Please, you gotta believe me. It’s not how it usually is, we’ve just been having payroll cuts across the park, so they got us running on minimum coverage during the slow days.

Micah stared at the man. It was ingrained in him not to trust anything said by a party he didn’t know, but the man’s performance appeared to be genuine. Why the hell would they leave this much money in the hands of just these two bozos? He considered his options briefly before zeroing in on the path of least resistance. “Look, I want you to tell Doug that you heard a strange noise coming from one of the parking lots. Tell him you want to investigate it, but that you don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Let him know you’ll radio in once you’re back.”

“You’re not gonna kill me?”

“Do it,” Micah snarled. “Before I change my mind.”

“Dou… yo, Doug.”

The silence between radio transmissions lasted longer than the first time around. “Everything all right, Mitchell?”

“Yea, of course. I just heard something by the cars over in Lot A. Didn’t see anything, but I’m going to check it out.”

“Need some backup?”

“Nah, man. I got this,” Mitchell said. He looked up at Micah, hoping to get approval that he was following through as expected. Micah nodded. “Look, I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just some trash from one of the construction sites rolling around.”

“Ok then, partner,” Doug said. “Just let me know what you find.”

“For sure. I’ll radio you once I get back. Shouldn’t take long.”

Micah introduced the butt of his pistol to the side of Mitchell’s head the moment the man’s finger released its grip on the radio. He dragged the unconscious body into the nearby worksite and walked toward the gigantic structure in the distance.

Chapter 24

Osteen rolled his squad car to a halt in a spot behind the office of the Miami-Dade Medical Examiner. He had never been a fan of the place. Or morgues. It wasn’t the dead bodies; he had seen enough of those for a lifetime. You come across one or two, get the unmistakable stench ingrained in your nose, and before long you find yourself a bit desensitized to the whole charade. Something about being surrounded by a multitude of corpses was unpleasant enough. To take things a step further and actively cut into them, like a frog in biology class–it was enough to make him shiver just thinking about it.

It was with measured reluctance that he strolled through the front door, flashed his badge, and followed the M.E. to a room near the back of the building. The room was lacking in the space department, but it was cozy. Cabinets full of various medical supplies lined the walls. A pair of tables were secured to the floor in center of the room with a large spotlight hanging directly above. It had a way of forcing the eyes of all who entered to whatever lay beneath. On this day, it was a pair of bodies. Light blue tarps shrouded both, but there was no mistaking what lie underneath.

“Thank you for joining me today, Detective,” said Dr. Frank Orson. He was the Chief Medical Examiner in the county. Orson grew up in Miami. Upon earning his Doctorate in Medicine, he joined the Medical Examiner’s office to give back to his community. Though it was a job with little