OTF Murder Mystery Chapter 6: "Crossing the Border"

TheOriginalHappyGoat

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Yes, that's right. I have been quietly working to finally complete the murder mystery. Please go here to read the first five chapters.

On a sad note, as I reread the mystery, I realized that it may be the best thing I've ever written. Anyway...

Chapter 6: Crossing the Border

The next morning, I got to the office early, carrying my purchase from Ziz the previous night in a brown box. I walked in to find Peachy making coffee.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked. She sounded irritable.

"Could be a busy day. Didn't want to miss anything. What got sand in your vajayjay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's the girls. I think I went too far too fast this time, and they're awfully sore. Price you gotta pay for an awesome rack, though, I keep reminding myself."

"Everything in life requires sacrifice."

"What's in the box?"

"Porn. I'll be in my office."

"No disturbances for three minutes, then?"

"Make it five."

I entered my office and sat down at my desk. I opened the large locking drawer at the bottom and placed the package safely inside.

The day was relatively uneventful. Peachy came in a few times with messages from old clients, making a point to moan and pout each time. Most of them were excuses for why they hadn't paid me yet. One was actually the wife of a former client, whom I had captured on camera in a compromising position for her husband. No, I'm not going to tell you her name, but you probably know her. Anyway, apparently it was burning when she peed, and she swore she wasn't the one who cheated this time, so could I please follow her husband around and catch him in the act? I set that aside as a pretty easy way to make a few bucks when this was all over.

Mid-afternoon I got sick of hearing Peachy whine about her breasts, so I let her have the rest of the day off. Funny, she didn't seem sore at all as she bounced out of there fast as she could. It was shortly after she left that Uber showed up.

"Well, Goat," he said. "We're on."

"Great."

"Just one thing. I gotta tell you, Aruss was acting strange when we talked about what you found out. I know he doesn't always tell me everything, but I've never known him to actually purposefully keep something from me, either."

"So what are you saying?"

"Something about him, I just wasn't sure I could trust." I knew that must have been hard for Uber to say. Aruss was like a god to him. And I mean god. Like man-crush-squared.

"But he gave you the go-ahead anyway."

"Yep."

"I guess we'll just have to be extra careful. Here, I got you something." I pulled the package from Ziz out and put it on top the desk. I opened it up to reveal two strange looking handguns.

"These are two of those Soviet plastic guns they swear don't actually exist. Undetectable with a wand. You can bet we're going to get swept at some point. They're no good if we get patted down, but they give us the best chance of staying armed as long as possible."

"And the bullets?"

"Carbon fiber. Also undetectable." I showed him the rounds. "Well, I think we should wait for dark before we head over. Whiskey?"

"Got any rye?"

"Rye? Uber, you surprise me. You always struck me as a Southern Comfort kind of man. Or maybe cough syrup. Sure, I got some Old Overholt around here somewhere."

I found the bottle, poured a couple of stiff ones and we had a silent toast. In my head, I was toasting my own continued long life. I didn't ask what he toasted.

Just after sundown, we headed out.

"I just don't get it," he said as we walked. "When is a sex scandal worth murder? Everyone knows the Premies are just as big of perverts as we are here. If it got out, it would all blow over eventually."

"Well, there are two things to consider. First, there is the possibility that this isn't some ordinary sex party. I mean, maybe there were things supposed to go on that would actually shock people. Why else would they get tail from the OTF? They've got their own, you know that."

"And the second thing?"

"The only people who had to die are OTF scum. That's not murder to those Premie bastards. It's just cleanup."

Uber just nodded. From the look in his eyes, I wondered if he might have actually been lost in deep thought for the first time in his life.

"Ah," I said. "We're here."

A wrought-iron fence stood before us, marking the end of the OTF District and the beginning of Premieland. Worked into the rails were thousands of depictions of the official seal of the Premie District - Lady Justice lifting her blindfold to peek out with one eye.

"Ready? Let's go."

Next time: Trouble with an Old Geezer

Note: This is actually a rewrite of Chapter 6. I don't think I ever posted the original version, but if I did, it is no longer considered canon, and is being removed from the OTF Murder Mystery Wiki.


This post was edited on 12/26 12:44 AM by TheOriginalHappyGoat
 

Hoops Cat

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Top Notch! Top Notch!.....

I do think you posted a prior version of the last chapter, but nonetheless - excellent!
 

T.M.P.

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You're making me read a damn novel ..

and we really need a picture of Peachys breast, or a better more detailed description. Shape, density, nipple formation and size. These things are important.

Well done though ..
 

McNutt76

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Is Xlibris going to be your publisher, Goat? vbg You are a

good fiction writer. That is not my niche because I am a better nonfiction writer.
 

Rangeline Fan

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Dude...

This is the OTF...Not the NYT Best Seller List.

Give us boobs or GTFO.

Hell, I even worked in a nipple in the Ham/Ketchup thread...
This post was edited on 12/26 4:32 PM by Rangeline Fan
 

TheOriginalHappyGoat

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Thanks...

Writing is all about craft. I think the skills necessary to write good fiction and good nonfiction overlap a lot more than you might think if you've only ever tried your hand at one.

One of my favorite quotations, from Peter Selgin:
People say lawyers write badly. But legal writing, done well, can be gorgeous (see Judge Woolsey's opinion on Ulysses). Bad legal writing isn't bad because it's legal, but because it's bad. To paraphrase Tolstoy, all bad writing is bad in pretty much the same handful of ways...
It stands to reason, then, that all good writing is good in pretty much the same handful of ways, namely, learning proper craft so as to avoid those ways in which writing becomes bad.

goat
 

McNutt76

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My first book (Gauntlet Golf) was fiction. I published it in

2006. While at IU, I earned a degree in journalism with a minor in English. Three of my English classes were creative writing. However, I still think I'm better at nonfiction than fiction. Maybe I'm just not a good liar. vbg
 

crossfire74

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Are we gonna have to wait another two years for chapter 7?

I'm not getting any younger and I have a dangerous profession so I'd love to finish this before I die if possible