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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2233430-Flash-Fiction-2
by Runei
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Mystery · #2233430
"How much is it worth?"
Detective Bingham scanned the scene of the shooting. The lights flickered and painted the underground garage in staccato images.. Too late again, he thought, and read the text on the note in his hand again - not that it would help.
"How much is it worth?" he mouthed and frowned. How much is what worth? The note had been delivered to his office together with a red rose. Signature item of the kidnapper left at all the five kidnappings so far. Well.. six now. Why had he taken this job? Rent of course. Food on the table. On and on the hamster wheel of the world goes.
He stepped around to the side of the car and saw the dead body of the driver still in the seat. The windshield revealed no less than six shots fired at the car.
Through side window he could see the bodyguard sprawled half out of the opened door of the passenger seat. Bingham frowned. He walked around the car to stand above the second corpse. The guy had his gun in his hand. Bingham bent down and smelled the end of the barrel. A few shots against the kidnapper?
Bingham straightened and squinted as he looked down the rows of parked cars. A pool of blood? The tinkling at the back of his neck made him reach for the revolver inside his coat. He felt the cool metal against his palm and took a calming breath. Then he slowly walked toward the dark blotch on the ground.
With a quick step he brought the space between the cars into view and pointed his revolver at the point where he assumed the wounded kidnapper would be.
Nothing. Shit. He felt the hard point of a gun at his back.
"What's it worth?"
"Wha... I don't know what you mean. How much is what worth?"
"Take your pick. Your life. The contract. How much is it worth getting involved in this whole affair?"
Bingham searched for an answer. From somewhere outside the garage, the muted sound of a police siren reached them.
"Shit! I'm sorry Bing..."
"Stop! Wait!" Wasn't that..? The crack of the gun reverberated in the enclosed underground garage and deafened him. Then his legs gave way and he crumbled. Like a sack of potatoes... like...
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2233430-Flash-Fiction-2