Odd Prompts: Wonderland Snippet

I've given up trying to write this coherently. Flash pieces, and scenes, is the best I can do right now. I'll come back later and put it all together like stitching up a quilt. Or Frankenstein's monster. I'm just busy and tired. Mostly tired, and we are entering the Dark Season. I don't do well unless I can get some sunshine, and the work schedule means I get to see sunrises and sunsets. On my commute. 

Part 7 

Shelby hesitated in front of the door, glancing at Johns, who was standing slightly behind her. 

He smirked, “It's your turn.”

 She rolled her eyes at him and raised her hand and rapped on the door. Nothing happened. Shelby waited, while thinking she was going to have to knock again when the door creaked open, revealing a very large man in carpet slippers and breathing heavily. He held a small oxygen tank in one hand, tendrils of tubing curling off of it and up to his face. 

“Come in!” he snarled, “Is cold out there. Shut door behind you.” He turned and shuffled toward a cluttered living room. 

Johns closed the door as he came in and Shelby paused, looking around her. The house was very warm and humid and had a definite smell - not strong, but unpleasant. She wrinkled her nose and met Johns’ eyes; he nodded. They both recognized that. 

The big man plopped into an overstuffed recliner, panting from his brief exertion of having gone to open the door. The two detectives came into the living room. 

 “Have a seat. Clear off any of them.” He said irritably  from the chair. 

 Johns said, “we can stand, thank you.”

 Shelby saw that clearing off something was going to be a task. It wasn't as easy as just moving a couple of things -  stacks of books, papers and unidentifiable detritus were on every surface of the room. Although all the floor was relatively clear and clean. She and Johns stood in front of his recliner blocking the line of sight between him and the modest television mounted to the wall. That device was mercifully turned off. Shelby couldn’t remember how many times she tried to conduct questioning in a room where the TV was blaring.

 The man in the chair looked up at them. His face went on forever, rolling in folds of fat into the stretched out neck of the ancient T-shirt he was wearing under a velveteen robe of a particularly bilious shade of green. Shelby was suddenly reminded of a very large caterpillar - or a slug. 

Shelby asked,  “Abdul Yassim?” 

“Yes, yes, that's me,” He rasped, “why you come bother an old man?”

 Shelby and Johns changed glances. It seemed improbable that this man would be connected to the body that they had found.

“Your name came up in connection with the case we're working on.” Shelby told him. “I'm detective Shelby Carroll, this is my partner Detective Johns.”

Yassim’s eyes shifted, “no first name?”

 John's grinned, showing his teeth. “Detective Mr. Yassim, my first name is Detective.”

Yassim laughed until that ended in wet coughing. “You -  I like you.” He finally managed. “So you're working a case you think this old man can help?”

“They said that you used to work with the dead woman.”

“A dead woman? I have known a lot of women,” he leered at Shelby. “And I am old enough some of them are surely dead.” 

Shelby tried not to let her cringe on her face. “I'm sure you have. However, this is the woman that lived at 1261 Wonderland Drive.”

 Yussim managed something that looked physically impossible - he settled back even further into the recliner and pressed the cannula closer to his nose, taking shallow breaths as though he were trying to inhale as much oxygen as possible. 

“You know that address?”

“Yeah, I know that address.”

“Were you aware, there was a body buried in the backyard?” Shelby asked as his eyebrows rose a little on his nearly bald head. 

“The body,” he coughed and cleared his throat, “in the backyard.”

 Shelby was a little tired of the man just repeating what she said. “And a body in the house. The woman who owned the house was found dead after a welfare call.”

Yussim shifted, and spoke very softly. “So the Queen is dead.”

He didn't follow this up with Long live the Queen as Shelby half expected after her encounter with the strange man in the house. 

Instead his eyes got very distant. “I didn't kill him.” He said finally. 

He closed his eyes. 

“Mr. Yassim?” Shelby prompted after a long moment of silence, wondering if he had fallen asleep. 

Without opening his eyes, he spoke again, “we were supposed to meet to work out a deal. She said that a gang war for her was not healthy for business, and she was not wrong. As much as I hated to admit it, and to try and make a bargain with mine enemy.”

 There was another long pause. Neither Shelby nor Johns spoke, waiting. 

“The time and the day were set.” Yassim panted as little, as though the effort of speaking this much was difficult for him, and it might have been. He seemed to be pretty far gone into whatever had destroyed his lungs. 

“When I showed up...” He stopped pressing the cannula to his face again. “When I showed up, he was already there sitting on the bench, leaned back against the wall of the shed.  With his head in his lap.” Yassim’s eyes flew open. His skin was pale gray. “He kept his appointment or at least his body did.”

“Did you report it to the police?” Shelby knew he hadn’t already. The body found buried underneath the shed was too far gone to be identified yet. Perhaps Yassim could shed light on that as well as the possible identity of the killer. If he was telling the truth about the punctually dead man.

****

This week I was prompted by Leigh Kimmel with "Man makes appt. with old enemy. Dies—body keeps appt." 

I prompted Leigh in return (luck of the draw!) with "Her lungs filled with water, and with one last convulsive gulp, she was sinking… Her gills opened, then." 

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