Free Whispers in the Dawn by Aurora Rose Lynn Page B

bulldozing is too good for it. Maybe burned. How long is it going to take to clean this place up?”
    “More’n five minutes, for sure.”
    “That’s how long your attention span is, huh?” Brody ribbed.
    “It must have been that guy who was built like a russet potato. You know the one I mean?”
    “Are you going to pitch in?”
    “Nope. Couldn’t have been him. He looked more like a Gala apple, all shiny and red.”
    Brody sighed and wiped a hand across his face. In this mess, he’d have to settle for a beer. He opened the fridge and a greenish-blue liquid oozed out onto the black and white floor tiles. “Maybe bulldozing and burning the place wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
    “That guy was all talk but no substance. That was him.” Jason lifted his shirt and scratched his abs. “Are you going to clean that up or what? What smells like it died in there? Whew! Bad stuff.”
    “I can’t decide whether to bulldoze or burn. Got any suggestions?”
    “Clean the damned thing out. It stinks.” The matter already dismissed, Jason turned away and settled his bulk at the dining table, which hadn’t fared much better than the counters. “He kept telling me some far-fetched story he was a starship pilot, but he didn’t look like one to me. You know?”
    Brody had heard the same set of stories. He could hardly believe Odessa would fall for such a lowlife as Roland Baylon. She had more sense than that.
    Shiny paper stuffed into the cutlery drawer caught his attention. Whoa, what was this out in the open? Grinning, Brody pulled out a magazine. “This belong to you, bro?”
    Jason shuffled his feet under the table and averted his guilty gaze from the glossy cover of the nudie magazine. “It isn’t mine, but yeah I peeked at the centrefold. Nothing criminal about that.”
    Brody sighed.  “You know Odessa would have a fit if she saw this, right?”
    “She isn’t here. It isn’t mine. I swear,” Jason added at Brody’s quizzical look. He lifted a toothpick and closed his lips around the wooden stick. “That russet potato took Odessa. He didn’t look like a starship captain. At least, not my picture of one. Frankly, he appeared oily, like he had something to hide.”
    Brody couldn’t help but leaf through the magazine, thinking he’d squirrel the pages away and take a gander when no one was looking. He set it down at the edge of the table. If the slick magazine wasn’t his, or his brother’s, who did it belong to? He drew back from the table, puzzled.
    “You ain’t listening. What’s happening, Brod?” he heard his twin ask.
    “If said magazine isn’t yours or mine, then it can only belong to one other person.”
    “Uncle Pete,” they said in unison. Then, still with one voice, they agreed, “Naw.”
    Brody knew his uncle inside out. He wasn’t the type to snoop in a girlie magazine. Wasn’t he far too old and wise for a magazine intended for men to ogle, and wish they could actually get their hands on, the female displaying herself?
    Jason got up and looked around the corner into the living room—where the TV blared away—before heading for the fridge. The old man rested in the old leather chair with his eyes closed. Brody knew he was worried about Odessa, but Uncle Peter maintained she would come home on her own one day. “When is he going to invest in a hearing aid so I don’t have to put up with that racket?”
    “Never.” Brody stuffed the magazine back into the drawer. “I wouldn’t open that if I were you.”
    Ignoring him, his twin flung the fridge door wide open. Greenish-blue slime oozed out onto the floor again. As if the mess didn’t exist, Jason reached in, grabbed a beer, popped the tab and drank. The fridge door closed with a thump.
    Brody ran the back of his hand across his mouth. His brother was becoming a whizz at ignoring tasks that needed to be done. “Didn’t you see that stuff?”
    Jason took no notice of him. “He could be our man. But how do we track him down?