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One Fingertip by Peter DiChellis

Hey. You ever hear about me? I’m a murder victim. A dead man. I’m a murderer too. What else am I? A wealthy liar and a brazen thief. All that.

Want to know what happened? I can’t spill everything. Because you might whisper my wicked secret to your best friend or yap about it on Facebook or goddamn tweet it or something. And I can’t let you do that. I will share a tiny morsel of my story, though. Just one sweet taste. And only for you.

I used to work in the money-cleaning business. Drug dealers in the Brooklyn mob paid me to turn their dope money legitimate. Make it untraceable. I had a business partner, a former Bahamian banker who lived uptown. Then one day he told me he decided to hold onto some of the money we’d cleaned. Said he needed time to think.

But here’s the thing. In the money-cleaning business nobody needs time to think. You just need to move the fucking merchandise and keep your mouth shut. So when people hold onto money and say they need time to think, I get nervous. And that’s why I did what had to be done.

The cops got an anonymous call about a suspicious odor coming from my apartment. I used an old pay phone in another state to make the call. Wiped my prints from the coins first. Wore gloves. Told the cops the putrid smell in the apartment must be a couple of dead rats who should have known better. That’s why the stink reached all the way to another area code, I said.

I didn’t leave much evidence in the apartment. My blood-smeared bathtub, of course, scarred with deep cuts in the sides and on the bottom. From the ax and the meat cleaver. Some of the blood was mine, but most was my business partner’s. All the bone chips and specks of soft tissue were his. I also left behind half a pack of heavy-duty trash bags, with no prints. I didn’t need to use the whole pack because my business partner wasn’t an especially large man.

And in the bathtub drain, I laid the tip of one of my fingers, hacked off at the top joint. Soon enough, some CSI genius used that one fingertip, the only body part they’ll ever find, to identify me as one of the victims, not the killer. By now you probably guessed the cops had my prints on file, so my fingertip made it easy for them to ID me. I’ll bet you figured out I kept the cleaned dope money, too, though the cops don’t know anything about that.

Maybe I told you too much already, but let me tell you one more thing. Just so we have a clear understanding between us. Next time you’re out somewhere, in a bar or coffee shop or anywhere really, maybe you’ll see a man with one fingertip missing. It might be me. Don’t stare. And don’t reach for your phone. When people stare and reach for a phone, I get nervous. And then I do whatever has to be done.

You understand, right?

 

DiChellis bw smallPeter DiChellis writes short mystery and suspense fiction. His sinister tales appear at Over My Dead Body!, Shotgun Honey, YELLOW MAMA, and other popular online ezines, and in the mystery anthologies The Shamus Sampler (Volumes I and II) andPlan B Volume III. Peter is a member of the Short Mystery Fiction Society. For more, visit his site Murder and Fries athttp://murderandfries.wordpress.com/

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NEWS…..

First I must apologise for the lack of activity with the mag. I don’t like it just as much as you but it is what it is.

Work, family (and sporadic writing ) have been full on for the past few months. Some things have to give when it gets like that and the magazine has suffered – badly.

So, what’s going to happen?

Well, here are my plans…

1. I’m going to be giving the place a dust down and maybe change things up a bit.

2. I’m going to clear the whole submissions inbox and start afresh. Everyone with a story in there (if they’ve not already got fed up with waiting and sent it elsewhere) will get an email.

3. Submissions will re-open in time for Halloween and we will take it from there.

I know some folk will be a little pissed off with me for not getting back to them regarding their stories but life is just too hectic sometimes and I’d like to extend my full apologies to them.

Thank for your support and an announcement will be made shortly regarding submissions.

Peace…..

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AJ Hayes Writing Contest at Noir @ the Bar L.A.

Updates on the Aj Hayes Writing Contest. It looked a great night…

AshEdit—News About Books & Writers

The essence and style of AJ Hayes was very evident last night as crime writers and readers hoisted toasts at the bar, read excerpts of his work, and celebrated the winners of the first annual crime writing contest named after him. It was an event within an event, hosted by Noir at the Bar L.A. and held at the Mandrake Bar in Los Angeles. First, the Hat…

To the side of the stage, a battered chair sat with a brown fedora on the seat. This was the designated place of honor for AJ's hat.

To the side of the stage, a battered chair sat with a brown fedora on the seat. This was the designated place of honor for AJ’s hat. Just a few seats away, in the front row, sat Thury Hayes, AJ’s beautiful wife, anxiously waiting to hear the names of the winners.

Thury & Nestle

Eric Beetner(L) announced the talented recipients of cash prizes made possible by the excellent promotion and publicity of Steve Weddle and the Do Some Damage crew.

Angel Luis 
1st Place: Angel Luis Colon…

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