Dead Larry

11/4/15

Norman rustled his mustache.  It smelled like coffee, and begrudgingly, his upper lip.  It smelled like coffee and his upper lip, which worried him.  Did his upper lip smell bad from coffee, or did he have a smelly upper lip?  

The body lay in the swampy grass, about fifty yards from the patrol car.  The door was still open and the radio could be heard bumbling muffedly.  This is not how Norman wanted to spend his final days before retirement.  He leaned in close and could see blood was still coming out of Larry's mouth.  Dead faces looked more peaceful than Larry's, even murdered faces.  

He hoisted himself back up and examined Larry's full body.  

Could be the bullet lodged behind his ear.  Could have surprised him.  Could be the exit wound in his armpit.  Suppose they got him twice. Terrible time to retire with Larry like this.

Norman rustled his mustache.  He traced his way back to the patrol car.  Larry's nightstick was on the ground, as were his glasses and a pack of cigarettes.  Larry didn't smoke, so the cigarettes must have belonged to the killer, or the killers, but the glasses, those were Larry's for sure.