SKETCHY EVIDENCE - DES NNOCHIRI
Garber smiled and slapped the notebook on the table. He flipped it round, so Nash could view it right-side-up.
“See how she’s got the gas pumps, the cashier’s office—”
Vitale, grinning, butted in. “Me, I especially like how she got YOU, the .38, and the necklace. Oh, and the, uh, the look of terror on the old girl’s face - she died, by the way - as you were ripping it off her neck.”
“14-carats,” Garber said. “The stone in the center. And the chain? 24. Pure gold, my man.”
Nash grunted. “I’m not your man. This guy, maybe.” He jerked his chin toward Vitale, then slid the notebook back to Garber.
“This all you got? A sketch?” Nash smirked. “Forget what I said. I won’t be needing my lawyer, after all.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t slip that dime back in your pocket just yet, Mr. Nash,” said Vitale. “Security cameras. You may have heard of them? Lot of gas stations have them these days.”
Garber nodded. “Quite the coming thing, I understand.”
Vitale agreed. “Um-hmm. Well, the one you pointed your gun at and tried to blow away? Seems you missed. So—”
Garber finished for him. “So, in addition to the lovely sketch from the art student who happened to be in the convenience store opposite the gas station? There’s crystal-clear, 14-carat digital video. Of you.”
Nash squirmed, in his seat. “I wanna call my lawyer.”
Garber nodded. “No doubt, you do.”
BIO: Desmond (Des) Nnochiri spent his early years traveling with his parents, and was educated in England, the USA, and the Republic of Ireland (Eire). He writes freelance now, and has taken his first steps into the world of screenwriting. He has contributed stories to A Twist of Noir, The Flash Fiction Offensive, and Powder Burn Flash. He has just started blogging, at Des Nnochiri’s Write to Speak.
FFB LET HIM GO
10 hours ago