Who Unkilled Johnny Murder?-4
538 Words
Unfortunately, no amount of pretending he wasn’t there made Daffodil/Antifreeze go away. No matter how fast I walked, he always stayed right beside me.
Talking.
“I’ve battled zombies before, you know,” he said. “The key is research. Knowing their habits when they were alive, because they’re creatures of habit.
“Research is key. Also plenty of rock salt.”
I hurried across Decatur Street, crossing against the light in the hope Starbulk might get tagged by a rent-a-car.
He didn’t. “Not to worry, Gerald,” he said, clapping me on the back. “If I can handle Sven Yula and the Thrice-Born Guillotiness on my own, the two of us will have no trouble at all with that louse Johnny Murder.”
I picked up my pace, but Starbulk stayed by my side. The more he talked, the more convinced I became that the guy was a flat-out lunatic.
“The only thing that has me worried is the possibility that Mr. Murder is something other than a zombie,” he said. “He could be a shape-changer, after all, or some other sorcerous creation. That would be a whole other kettle of fish, my friend.”
Though I said nothing, Starbulk kept right on talking. As we crossed the streetcar tracks and walked up the steps onto the platform, I seriously considered punching his lights out before the streetcar rolled up.
“The fact is, if the man Ms. Deschannel saw is some kind of ensorcelled doppelgänger, things could get hairy.” Planting himself in front of me, Starbulk touched my arm and stared at me with an expression of grave concern. “Now, listen, Gerald,” he said. “I’d like nothing better than to team up with you, but you might be in over your head on this one. I want you to know there’s no shame in bowing out of this case.”
I hadn’t said a word since leaving Destine’s table, but I couldn’t let that one go without comment. “Funny,” I said, brushing off his hand and folding my arms over my chest. “I was just about to tell you the same thing.”
“Actually,” said Starbulk, “I have another cause for concern about you. I have doubts about your objectivity in this case, given your history with the zombie suspect.”
I swear, if the streetcar hadn’t come along just then, I would’ve gone ahead and slugged him. “My objectivity’s just fine,” I said slowly.
“Murder killed your girlfriend,” said Starbulk, “and three of the street performers who were under your protection. Can you honestly tell me that won’t negatively impact your performance?”
“The only thing negatively impactin’ me right now,” I said as the streetcar stopped at the platform, “is you.”
I pushed past him into the streetcar, and for a moment, I thought maybe he’d stay behind. Unfortunately, as my change rattled down into the farebox, I heard his cowboy boots clomping up behind me.
“That’s all I needed to hear,” he said. “As long as your personal history isn’t a factor, I feel confident in keeping you onboard.”
Sighing, I slumped onto a bench, and Starbulk dropped down beside me. “This all reminds me of another adventure,” he said. “Just as in this situation, I worked with someone who had a history with an adversary. In the end, I was able to help Dr. Cuppet defeat the Inner Demon as well as his own thirst for revenge.”
I got up and moved to the bench on the other side of the streetcar, but Starbulk followed. Though the ride to Harrah’s would be brief, I had a feeling it was going to seem a lot longer.
I was right.
- Writer
