[After a longer-than-expected hiatus, below is a recent publication.]
“What do you mean you kinda shot Jolene?”
Franklin – he hated Frank or Frankie – stood leaning against a cracked kitchen counter, arms crossed over his stomach, waiting for a response from his half-brother, Red, short for Redford. A metal stepladder stood, legs spread, under a bulb-less fixture. A replacement bulb, still in its cardboard container, waited on the counter next to a well-used toaster. A cast-iron skillet sat on the gas stove. A center island separated him from Red.
“Well, you see, she surprised me when she came into the kitchen while I was cleaning my Glock.”
“You own a Glock?” Franklin said, pushing away from the counter.
“Bought it at a flea market.” Red puffed out his chest. “Best part was I didn’t have to do it on that internet thing,” Red said, bouncing on his toes. “Even got a discount on a silencer.”
“Why on Earth would you need a Glock?”
“We got a rabbit problem.”
“A rabbit problem,” Franklin said, and stared at Red with unblinking eyes.
“Yeah. They keep eating the vegetables in Jolene’s garden.”
“It’s winter time,” Franklin said. “There aren’t any vegetables in Jolene’s garden.” He began to wonder, not for the first time, if inviting Red to stay with him and Jolene while searching for a place to live was a good idea. Especially since he’d been mooching off of them for eight months and counting.
Sweat formed on Red’s forehead as his rehearsed story began to fall apart already.
Tired of waiting, Franklin continued. “Wouldn’t a shotgun be better for your needs?”
“Probably,” Red replied, “but a Glock is more fun.” Red took a deep breath and continued. “Anyway, she came into the kitchen and stood across the room looking out the window at a pair of blue jays bickering over something that was a mystery to me.” Red’s shoulders relaxed as he felt more confident in his tale. “When she turned around, I asked if she wanted to see my Glock. A big smile formed on her face, and she said sure. So, I opened the junk drawer, reached way in the back where I hid the gun, waved it around like I was shooting a bunch of bad guys, and . . .”
“And you shot Jolene,” Franklin said.
“Well, yeah,” Red said, “but it was an accident. Like what you see all the time on the TV news programs.” Red offered Franklin a weak smile.
“So, you bought a Glock to kill rabbits and instead shot my wife — your sister-in-law. Have I got that right?”
“Almost. You forgot the part where I said I didn’t mean to.” Red backed away toward the door to the dining room, one hand behind his back.
“But you did.” Franklin took a step forward, as Red raised the Glock and pointed it at Franklin’s chest.
“So, where’s Jolene?”
“In the garage, in the bed of your truck, wrapped in a painting tarp.” Red’s gun hand began to shake. “You know, she’s kinda heavy for a such a skinny thing.” Given the look on Franklin’s face, Red decided he shouldn’t say anymore. Instead, he straightened his arm, raising the barrel of the gun higher and slipped his forefinger over the trigger. “Sorry, Bro, but you know too much.”
Red hesitated pulling the trigger. That gave Franklin time to lift the cast-iron pan off the stove and hold it in front of him. The gun finally fired knocking Red back a step. The bullet struck the cast-iron pan, ricocheted off the ladder, and ended up diagonally in Red’s chest.
Franklin kneeled down on the opposite side of the blood pool forming near Red’s heart. It was then he saw the second blob of blood. Jolene’s blood, he assumed. “Well, Red, you’ve done it now, haven’t you. I’d tell you how sad I am at your impending passing, but I’m not.”
“Remember that internet thing you bragged about not using? Well, I used it after I saw the way you two ogled each other when you thought I wasn’t looking.” Franklin stood and flexed his knees. “I wondered if you two were doing the dirty, so I put little cameras all around the house to spy on you and Jolene every time I was out of town.” Franklin took his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed 911. “You were much more inventive in bed than I would have guessed, Red.”
“And, so you know, you made things easy for me. My plan was to come over while the two of you were in bed and kill you both—with that Glock you hid where any idiot could find it. But you did the job for me. Thank goodness. I’m not sure I could have pulled the trigger.”
This piece first appeared at https://www.arielchart.com/2024/01/a-family-threesome.html.
