Free Death by Facebook by Everett Peacock

looked around, then added “crazy?”
    Larry
tried not to take insult, being a jungle dweller himself. “Well,
Dave, define crazy.” He was staring up at the blinking
headlamp on Dave's head.
    Dave
got the hint and quickly pulled off the head lamp. “Well, not this kind of crazy. The oozing open wounds bleeding in a bar asking me to
lick up the blood kind of crazy. You know, real crazy.”
    Larry
looked back to his beer for just a moment and laughed. “Yeah,
well, that is pretty crazy. I don't know. I didn't see that.”
    Dave
tilted his head a bit in confusion. “Well, you walked in with
her tonight. She sat in that booth over in the corner.”
    Larry
turned in his chair to face Dave now, frowning a bit. “That
guy with the short military haircut?”
    Dave
nodded. “Yeah, that was her. She cut all of her hair off, who
knows why? Maybe got tired of cutting her hands. But that was her
alright.”
    The
bartender was back and leaned up to the bar as Dave continued.
    “ I
saw her hands tonight. Same crazy chick,” Dave put some more emphasis on crazy.
    “ See
Larry, I told ya. Dave here had a close up,” the bartender
laughed. “Too close maybe?”
    “ I'll
say!” Dave said a bit too loud. “Hey, good meeting you,
I'm going to go back and finish my hot wings.”
    The
bartender watched Dave put his head lamp back on and make his way
back to his table. Turning she leaned in toward Larry. “So,
that redhead actually said she was Private James Turner?”
    Larry
nodded.
    “ And,
she took the telegram from you?”
    “ Yep.”
    Both
of them stirred the silence with their own private thoughts for
several moments. There had to be some kind of explanation, but
neither of them could fashion one.
    “ You
know,” Larry began. “I just thought it was one of those
Don't Ask, Don't Tell cases. He did look a bit effeminate, or she
did, of course. I mean, if you're gonna put your ass on the line who
cares which way you swing, right?”
    The
bartender glanced quickly around her tables and caught an eye of the
headlamp crew waving wildly for more beers. “Look Larry,”
she said as she was forced to go back to work. “I agree.
People do a lot of strange things that I don't understand. But, I do
know this: Private James Turner has not been in my bar yet.”
She turned, poured six Lavas and carrying them like they were popcorn
headed for the flashing red lights.
    Larry
couldn't get an angle on this mystery so he waited, waited for the
next puzzle piece to appear. In his experience another one always
did.
    The
macadamia nuts on the bar were almost gone and as he picked up the
last one he saw his friend Alex, from the front desk, walk in.

    ~~~

    Agatha
found herself getting antsy in the soda shop. Burr's was obviously
the place to be if the center of the social universe was your goal.
Every happy person in Sacramento must be in here, she thought,
laughing, talking and enjoying all the commotion.
    On
any other occasion this would have been fun, she had to admit. Just
not now. She had spent practically every ounce of her will power to
propel her soul into this adventure, and she was aching. Any further
delay in talking to him would torture her further.
    Obscenely
big ice cream floats were being placed on the table. Apparently,
they all had one, some kind of signature thing he had ordered for
everyone.
    She
was watching him. It was all she could do if conversation was
impossible. Watching him closely, and replaying every word of their
Facebook chats, messages and emails, she reviewed what he must now
know of her. She was a widower, still lived in the same
neighborhood, had adopted a boy who was now in the Army, drove an
early Prius and had three lovely cats: Tahoe, Reno and Truckee. He
was divorced, some ten years now, had no kids, worked for a defense
contractor at McClellan Air Force Base and had just bought a fully
restored 1972 Camaro convertible.
    For
just an instant, and really not a moment longer, she felt the same
manic