It's Always Midnight

by Carl Tait

About the Author: Carl Tait is a software engineer, classical pianist, and writer. His work has appeared in After Dinner Conversation (Pushcart Prize nominee), the Eunoia Review, the Literary Hatchet, the Dillydoun Review, and others. For more information, visit carltait.com.

Excerpt

Why did it have to be a body on the subway tracks?

It was Tuesday. The worst day of the week. Most people hate Mondays, but I’ve never understood why. On Mondays, you have the afterglow of the weekend warming you up. Tuesdays, you got nothing.

Except for a corpse lying on the tracks.

I’ve been on the force a long time, but seeing a body mangled by a train still shakes me up. The day I get used to it is the day I’m turning in my badge.

I looked at the suspect. Suspect, that’s what we always have to call them, even if they’ve taken out an ad in the New York Times advertising their crime in advance. The suspect had burning, hollow eyes that saw too much and nothing at all.

“Pushing her in front of the train seemed like the right thing to do,” he said, as if apologizing for using the wrong fork at a dinner party.

“Well, it wasn’t,” I said. “It never is.”

The suspect wiggled his arms behind his back. Was he getting another telepathic invitation to nudge someone to an early death? I heard the gentle clicking of the metal links that bound his handcuffs together.

“We’re taking him in, Detective,” said one of the officers. I nodded as they moved away.

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