I burst into his office.
“Governor, where the hell is my partner?”
His voice reached me first, thin and oily like a stench preceding a corpse.
“Have you lost him?” his tone mock solicitous.
“He was coming here.”
“I have to account for warders and inmates, not stray policemen.”
He lounged against the fireplace, rolling a coin across his wiry fingers like a conjurer.
“We know your tally is off.”
“Three prison officers, two inmates.”
“So we go over your accounts – downtown, with me as auditor.”
He straightened as I approached, fingers not missing a beat.
“Know why they disappeared?”
“Save it. Hands out in front”
His fist swept towards me.
The coin glinted as, edge honed like a shank, it caressed my throat.
Eyes like a starving herring gull looked down at me.
“Three warders questioned me. Two inmates challenged me. Two cops did both.”
This story was written for Jeff Hollar's Monday Mixer #30