Hell Hath No Fury (Part 1)

by ajackson7

The door was open. He didn't like that. Of course, the body on the floor inside the house didn't make his day either.

His cell buzzed. "What?" he whispered. "Why are you calling me?" He was not happy with this. "I had to warn you."

It was Jonesy. God, he hated this guy. "It's a trap. You'd better abort." He looked at the body. "Too late now," he replied. He turned off his cell. He wanted no more interruptions.

As he walked into the house, the smell was overpowering. It wasn't what he expected. "Jungle Gardenia?" It had to be. Ever since Mariah, the smell haunted him. As he got closer to the body he knew why it was so strong.

He didn't know which was worse: the perfume or the smell of decay. He wished he had a handkerchief like the cops on tv always had. He looked around again: something was new, besides the body of course---the cell phone on the hall table. As if on cue, it rang.

He couldn't believe who was calling. "It can't be." His hesitated, then hit the "Answer" button.

”Go to hell,” he said bitterly.

"Been there," she said. "They kicked me out." She laughed. He always hated that laugh. He heard that when he blacked out before. "Be sweet," she purred. "If you're not nice, I won't tell you where the bomb is."