Free Murder is the Pits by Mary Clay

Guthrie on the seat as gently as
a feather.
    “I’ll stop by later to pick up Guthrie’s
things. I can’t thank you enough for looking after him.” With that
Timmy peeled off to the hospital.
    Penny Sue was standing in the doorway when I
returned. “What an Adonis! Laa, he’s about the best built man I’ve
ever seen. And he’s in love with Guthrie! What a loss for
womanhood.”
    “Opposites attract,” I said, heading down
the hall, Snickers on my mind.
    “C’est la vie.” Ruthie turned on her heel
and followed me.
    “Yeah,” Penny Sue said loudly, but it’s a
real pisser. She fanned herself, chomping on a candy bar. “It’s
getting hot in here.” She peered out the window. “It’s stopped
raining. Let’s walk around the complex and check the damage.” She
glanced at Ruthie. “What about the beach?”
    “Half of the first dune is gone.”
    “Could have been worse. One and a half is
better than none.” Penny Sue snagged ice from the cooler and poured
a diet cola.
    We went out the sliding glass door to the
deck and followed the public boardwalk for the complex. From that
angle, we had a better view of the condos’ roofs, many of which
were missing large swaths of shingles.
    Ruthie pointed to the three-story unit on
the far side of Guthrie’s duplex. A man sat in the corner of the
second story balcony. “Someone else braved the storm. Do you know
him?”
    I squinted in his direction. “That’s one of
the condos that recently sold. I wonder if he’s the new owner.”
    The man stood, raising his arm. “Seems
friendly, he’s waving to us.” Penny Sue waved back.
    Then, we heard a muffled pop. The man
lurched against the handrail, the railing collapsed, and he crashed
to the ground.
    “Magawd,” I croaked, my hand fluttering to
my heart. Ruthie froze, eyes the size of saucers.
    Bless her heart, Penny Sue hailed from
heartier stock. Probably the result of all the firearm, Tae Kwon
Do, and terrorist avoidance driving courses she’d taken. In any
event, this was one time I was happy for Penny Sue to take control.
“Ruthie, run get a cell phone. Call 9-1-1. Leigh, you’re with
me.”
    Huh? I wasn’t good with mangled bodies. She
grabbed my arm and yanked, I had no choice.
    The man had landed face down in the sand,
with one leg folded under his abdomen and one hand bent backward.
Penny Sue felt his neck for a pulse and grimaced. “Help me roll him
over. I’ll try CPR.”
    One look at his contorted hand and my mouth
filled with the taste of Snickers. I gritted my teeth and swallowed
hard. “You can do this,” I told myself. “You have to do this!”
    I placed my hands on his torso, and rolled
him to his back. Poised on her knees ready to administer CPR, Penny
Sue gagged at the sight of the bullet hole in the middle of his
chest and sat down hard. A handgun that looked a lot like Guthrie’s
Glock was under the body. Blood oozed from the hole in the man’s
chest. CPR forgotten, Penny Sue and I scrambled away from the
corpse. At that moment, Ruthie barreled up with her cell phone. She
took one look, whirled around, and vomited. Penny Sue and I held
our noses and crawled to the side of the building.
    “Toss me the cell phone,” Penny Sue called
to Ruthie. “We’ll take care of this. Go back to the condo and clean
yourself up.”
    Ruthie threw the phone and made a
half-hearted attempt to kick sand over the vomit while Penny Sue
dialed 9-1-1. “You just got a call about an injured man. Yeah,
that’s the one. Send the police. It’s a gunshot wound.”
    A patrol car and fire truck arrived
simultaneously. A female officer bounded from the patrol car, gun
drawn. She slowly turned in a circle, searching nearby balconies,
while her male partner stooped beside the paramedic. The
examination only took a minute. There was no doubt in anybody’s
mind that this man was dead as a doornail.
    Huddled against the side of the building,
Penny Sue whispered, “His gun must have gone off when he fell.