Right place
Motive, means, but what about the opportunity
“How about that Taylor character, Jenkins?”
“Taylor? Well… he certainly had a motive.”
“Yeah, victim grassed him up for that bank job.”
“An’ ‘e ‘as previous for fancy knife work.”
“He certainly has. Only one problem…”
“Yeah, he’s banged up. 18 stretch in Frankland High Security.”
“Wasn’t he out on compassionate, for his mother’s funeral?”
“Yes, guv, but under escort.”
“No matter. It’s enough to question him. He has friends on the out. Could’ve put out a contract. Call up that Percy in Legal. Tell the posh bastard I want a warrant to question Raymond George Taylor, suspicion of murder.”
O ~ o ~
Just FYI, this author's middle name is not George and I have never served a stretch in HMP Frankland...
My inside time was spent at HMP Pentonville in London.
This Drabble, a story in 100 words, was originally written for the Facebook Group: Writers Unite!
About the Creator
Raymond G. Taylor
Author living in Kent, England. Writer of short stories and poems in a wide range of genres, forms and styles. A non-fiction writer for 40+ years. Subjects include art, history, science, business, law, and the human condition.
Keep reading
More stories from Raymond G. Taylor and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Far far away from me
Sedna made the final approach, unaware of her proximity to the icy, rocky comet. Her solitary mission: the first ever comet walk. Suspended animation was necessary for the three-year flight, to preserve water and oxygen and to protect the astronaut from the effects of isolation until she could be reawakened.
By Raymond G. Taylor26 days ago in Fiction
Off the Book
It ended like every other stupid idea. Badly, and alone. I’m researching digital confession ethics, he said. A tech ethicist. He gestured at floating data I couldn’t see then pulled out a physical notebook. Actual paper, fountain pen. He held it up like he was showing me scripture.
By Nicky Frankly3 days ago in Fiction
Compound Growth
The first thing Marcus noticed was Derek's skin. It wasn't dramatic—not at first. Just a certain smoothness to his colleague's face during the Monday morning standup, a tightness around the jaw that hadn't been there Friday. Derek had always been soft, doughy in that way of men who'd stopped caring somewhere around their second divorce. But now his cheeks held a new geometry. His neck no longer folded into his collar.
By Destiny S. Harris4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Oh, and now I wanna know what happens next!
Oh thank God it isn't you hahahahahaha. Loved this!
Nicely written ❤️ 👌 Great Job...