Why Do They Have to Make It Easy?

by Mike McHone

About the Author: Mike McHone's work has appeared in Mystery Weekly, the AV Club, Ellery Queen, and is forthcoming in Mystery Tribune, and Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine. He currently lives in Detroit.

Excerpt

They gave him life. Life without parole, tucked away in Kinross Correctional in the Upper Peninsula, and yet Carl Hollis is standing on my porch, asking with tears in his eyes, “You mind if we talk?”

My nerves scream at me to slam the door, run, head out the back, but I see the outline of the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans under his thin white t-shirt and my brain tells me what would happen if I tried any of it. He’d put a foot into the doorway, run me down, and blast three slugs into my back by the time I reach the kitchen. Sense holds me there.

“Please, Hal?” he says.

I look across and up and down the street. Nobody. Not one damned soul in a place that should be filled with them. If it were any other day, if I were washing the Vette, tending the flowers, mowing the lawn (or if Sherry were here mowing the lawn in her bathing suit), these rubberneckers would be eyeing every move over here. Especially Mrs. Lyon next door, or Mrs. Florence two doors down. But when I actually need these judgmental bitches? No. Not one eye.

“Hal?” He thrusts his chin toward my living room.

Two choices now. Only two. Let him in or die.

Jesus.

I move to the side. Carl moves past me.

I close the door and hear it latch and the sound explodes in my ears.

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