Death by Sarcasm

Twenty-seven

Duct tape was really an unfortunate invention, Mary thought. It seemed like a crutch for people who didn’t know how to fix something properly. Take tying someone up, for instance. There were all kinds of things a person could use. Rope. Plastic ties. All much easier to use. But David Kenum, he was a duct tape kind of guy.

“Big surprise,” Mary said under her breath. Yeah, no duct tape across the mouth yet. But Mary figured that would come next.

“I didn’t catch that,” Kenum said.

Mary studied Kenum for a moment. He had the body of a forty-year old. Lean, but muscular. Only in his face did he look his true age. He had a shaved buzz cut. And sleeves of tattoos. He smelled nice, though. Hugo Boss?

“I just said how much I like duct tape,” Mary said. “Perhaps the world’s most versatile product.”

“Smart ass, huh?”

“Me? Smart ass? No. Great ass? Yeah. I don’t like to brag, but...”

Kenum didn’t even smile, just gave a small nod. “Funny. You remind me of Coop. Brent. Your uncle.”

“I hate it when people say that.”

“He was a dick, wasn’t he?”

“I can’t speak ill of the dead. My religion prohibits it.” She paused. “At least he didn’t turn some young girl into sashimi like you did.”

She watched him but he showed no reaction. Apparently prison didn’t turn you into an emotional open book. News alert.

Whether Kenum was pissed or not, Mary didn’t know. But for some reason, he wasn’t adding a swatch of duct tape across her mouth.

“I bet you’re wondering what happened on the boat,” she said. “You were probably thinking I’d be turning into a piece of coral by now,” he said.

Kenum didn’t answer.

“I’m a big fan of Baywatch,” Mary said. “So I asked myself, ‘what would David Hasselhoff do?’ Answer: I doggy paddled into some kelp and waited for a Jet Ski. It worked. I still can’t believe a shark wasn’t tempted. I’ve heard that I’m absolutely delicious.”

“Fascinating.”

“And now ol’ Dicky Kay is dead.”

“Who?”

“Don’t be injurious to the dead, my ex-convict friend,” Mary said. “That’s bad karma.”

Kenum looked at her, sharp interest in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean someone took a filet knife to him and butterflied him. Put some lemon and butter on him and he’s ready for the grill.”

“Huh,” Kenum said.

“Let me guess, you had nothing to do with it?”

Kenum sighed. “I thought prison was violent. This is ridiculous.”

“Hey, you mentioned my uncle earlier, why did you kill him?” Mary said. “Was he really that bad on stage? I mean, I’ve heckled people for bad shows, but come on.”

Kenum gave a soft laugh. “That’s funny.”

“Glad you think so – otherwise you’d probably kill me.”

Kenum pulled a chair up across from her swung it around and sat backwards on it, facing her and the door.

“So now I’d like to ask some questions,” he said.

“Shoot,” Mary said. “By shoot, I mean ask. Don’t shoot me. I’m too young and pretty to die. Plus, I’m wearing dirty underwear.”

“Let’s start by you telling me why you’ve been looking for me.”

Mary smiled. “I just though since Brent was my uncle, and you killed him, that we have a lot in common. Maybe we could be friends. Start a book club. Take some Thai cooking classes together.”

Kenum shook his head.

“I didn’t kill your uncle,” he said.

Lies, lies and more lies, Mary thought. But he didn’t look like he was lying. And why would he? How could she possibly be a threat to him now?

“No?” Mary said. “Then why did you pay the kid to send me to the boat and have Dicky turn me into bait?”

“I didn’t.”

“Mm hmm. Just like you didn’t kill that girl way back when.”

“I didn’t.”

“Spoken like a true convict. Prison is filled with innocent men, right?”

Kenum shook his head. “No. It’s filled mostly with rotten, guilty f*cks. But there are a few innocents in there. More than most people think.”

“And you’re one of them, right?”

“I’m guilty of a lot of things. But I didn’t kill that girl. And I didn’t kill your uncle.”

“Then who did?”

Kenum looked at her, but then his eyes lifted over her shoulder. His expression didn’t change at all. But she sensed something was wrong.

Mary turned in her chair.

Six figures wearing identical blue suits stood behind her. They all wore Richard Nixon masks.

“I’m guessing they did,” Kenum said.