Shoot the Messenger

Smoke drifted lazily from the barrel of the Ladysmith.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Kathryn’s gaze fixed on mine.

I glanced at the body sprawled out beside her and chuckled. “I know. It’s just kind of fun.”

The waitress sidled up to me. “More coffee, sir?”

“Sure, sure,” I replied. “And another serving of those wonderful hashbrowns, if you please, with my compliments to the cook.”

“Certainly!”

Kathryn smirked. “She didn’t even look at the body. I think they’re a little too accustomed to your routine.”

“Of course they are. If Marj wouldn’t keep sending those damned messengers at breakfast…” I replied.

“Still, you really don’t need to keep shooting them.”

I shrugged. “I don’t like the messages they deliver. The day Marj sends one I like is the day I get out of this business.”

“The business of shooting the messenger.” Kathryn’s delivery was deadpan.

“You know what I mean.” I sounded petulant. I didn’t care.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll ease off. For now.”

“Thanks.”

Helluva way to start the day.

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