Arthur was in Sam’s kitchen doing the dishes as quietly as possible. Sam said that as long as no loud noises woke her, Macy would gladly sleep until noon, leaving Arthur and Sam free for the whole morning.
“Well look at you, being all domestic and such.” Sam wrapped her arms around Arthur’s waist and hugged him from behind.
Arthur laughed. “I didn’t expect you to get up for quite a while. Having to go pick Macy up from her date because Jimmy was too drunk to drive kept you up late last night. Mostly because she made you drive Jimmy home.”
“You were right there with me, why are you up so early?” Sam asked, clearly wanting to change the subject from her cousin.
“I don’t get much sleep these days. Too much stress, I guess,” Arthur answered.
Sam squeezed him tighter. “We should be clear of most of that though, right? What can Priscilla really expect you to do in her insane crusade against Varner?”
A loud knock at the front door interrupted them. Arthur opened the door to greet a fat police detective. “Hello. How can I help you, officer?” Arthur realized that after having killed two people this week he should have been much more nervous about an unexpected visit from a policeman, but frankly he was just relieved that it wasn’t Priscilla or Mr. Varner.
“Arthur Knob?” the detective asked. He sounded bored and a bit hungover.
“That’s me,” Arthur told him.
“Thank God, I’ve been looking all over for you. I’m Detective Quimby and I’m investigating the death of Lester Gearhart,” Quimby said.
“Wait, Lester is dead?” Arthur gawked at the detective.
“I’m afraid so. Tragic, really. It appears to have been some kind of prank gone horribly wrong. An explosive device was shot from a potato gun at the back of Thomas Varner’s grocery store and it bounced off the side of the building just as Mr. Gearhart was entering through the rear entrance. When Mr. Gearhart bent down to inspect the projectile it exploded, ripping a hole in Mr. Varner’s store and pretty much obliterating Mr. Gearhart.”
“Oh my God,” Arthur breathed. It was hard to believe that Lester was really dead. That son of a bitch seemed like the type who was going to live forever just to spite everyone who hated him.
Quimby yawned. “Yes, it’s all very terrible. Do you know know anyone who had a grudge against your landlord? Any arguments he spoke of recently?”
Arthur shrugged. “He was always fighting with his ex-wife...but that’s been going on for years. And I’ve met her. She enjoyed fighting with Lester and needling every penny she could out of him. I can’t imagine she would end that, it seemed like her only legitimate source of entertainment.” Arthur was fairly certain Quimby was just scribbling gibberish on his notepad as he spoke.
“Right...all very helpful for the ol’ investigation. Um...anything else you think of you call me.” Quimby felt all his pockets. “Shit, I forgot to grab more business cards out of my desk. Well, just call the station if you think of anything.” He turned around and waddled away.
“This town’s mortality rate has got to be crazy high,” Sam said after Quimby was gone and the door was shut.
Arthur scoffed. “With Port Haven’s best and brightest on these murder cases? I don’t think Quimby could investigate his way out of a paper bag.”
“Unless there was a delicious donut waiting for him on the other side.” Sam chuckled.
Arthur gave her a level look. “You told me you were going to lay off the fat jokes after you upset Macy so much last night.”
Sam threw up her hands. “All I said was that she needed to stop living on fast food and ice cream if she didn’t want to gain five pounds every day! It wasn’t meant to be a joke.”
“You almost peed your pants laughing.” Arthur crossed his arms disapprovingly.
“Well how does a person gain five pounds in a single day?” Sam demanded.
“I’m pretty sure drinking a dozen beers a night is a good start.” Arthur pointed to Sam’s overflowing recycle bin.
“Are you calling me fat? Because mister, I will kick your ass so hard…” Sam threatened.
“No! Definitely not...shit that was a stupid thing to say.” Arthur groaned.
“You’re damn right it was! Come feel this, do you feel any extra flab?” Sam beckoned him to come feel her stomach. When he stepped closer she punched him in right in the gut. Hard. “And that’s what happens when you imply your girlfriend has gained weight!”
Arthur doubled over in pain. “You know, I hear that a liquid diet can really help the pounds just melt away. Have I mentioned how much thinner you look lately? You really ought to buy some pajamas in the next size smaller, those ones you have on are almost falling off.”
Sam ruffled his hair. “You’re so cute when you grovel.”
“Grovel is such a strong word. I like to think I appreciate you with appropriate vigor,” Arthur wheezed.
+
Arthur was enjoying his newfound freedom. Not that he was glad that two of his clients had died violently, one of them by his own hand, but still the time alone with Sam was nice. Eventually though, Sam had to go to work at the bar and Arthur was left alone in her apartment with Macy. Macy was in the living room watching television while Arthur hid in the kitchen or Sam’s bedroom.
Luckily, Arthur was in the bedroom rather than Sam’s room when the visitor he had been expecting since Detective Quimby’s visit arrived. “Priscilla,” he said expectantly.
“Don’t you ‘Priscilla’ me!” Priscilla shouted. She stormed inside past Arthur and began pacing back and forth. “I assume you’ve heard about Lester’s unfortunate run in with an explosion, everyone in this town seems to want to make sure you are kept up to date on every little detail.”
“Not exactly,” Arthur told her. “A police detective came by to ask if I knew of anyone who would have a serious dispute with Lester, but all I could think to tell him was that Lester had a perpetual argument with his ex-wife.”
“That’s good. Very good.” Priscilla rubbed her hands together anxiously. “Come with me!” She demanded suddenly.
Rather taken aback, Arthur agreed. “Okay. Where are we going?”
“We need to plan.” Priscilla dragged Arthur out of Sam’s apartment into her car and drove him to her boyfriend’s office.
Mason Anderson was the mayor’s idiot baby brother. No one would trust Mason with any task, no matter how trivial...at least unless they knew Priscilla would take care of it for him. Priscilla had grown up in a trailer park in extreme poverty, but late in her teen years she had attached herself to Mason as a way to improve her economic station. As a way to keep his brother off his back, Mason had started a vending machine business that had consistently lost money until Priscilla had come along. First, she had actually given a damn about the business, which was more than Mason had ever done, and secondly she had discovered Arthur as a means to padding her net profit with his counterfeit dimes.
“What exactly are we planning?” Arthur asked as they arrived.
“The future,” Priscilla declared proudly. Then Mason’s office exploded in a barrage of fire and debris.
Arthur and Priscilla were knocked off their feet and flaming bits of building landed all around them. Arthur’s ears were still ringing too loudly when Priscilla jumped up and shook him violently while yelling frantically things that Arthur could not hear.
“I said, did you know this was going to happen?” Priscilla screeched.
“What? No, of course not!” Arthur assured her.
“Don’t shit me, Arthur! I know how deep you are in Varner’s pocket!” Priscilla accused.
“I swear to God, I had no idea!” Arthur explained heartfeltly.
“A likely story!” Priscilla hissed. “You knew! You son of a bitch, you knew!”
“Then why the hell would I come here with you?” Arthur demanded.
“You...that’s a good question, actually,” Priscilla admitted.
“No one tells me anything until after it happens,” Arthur told her.
“Shit! But Mason…” she moaned.
+
Sam returned home from her shift at the bar to find Arthur more than a little drunk. “I may have gone to the store to buy something a little stronger than beer,” he explained.
“Shit. What happened?” Sam asked.
“Explosions. Mason’s dead...well, probably. I don’t think any official proclamations have been made yet.” Arthur took a long drink from his heavy handed tequila sunrise.
“Jesus Christ,” Sam breathed. “How did Priscilla take it?”
“Badly,” Arthur replied.
Sam winced. “I assume this will mean more trouble for us.”
“Oh yes,” Arthur answered.
“How bad?” Sam asked.
“Bad enough that I’m getting drunk by two in the afternoon,” Arthur told her morosely.
Sam took a deep breath. “What, specifically, is so bad?”
“Well, for starters, she wants me to kill Varner for her,” Arthur said.
Sam stared at him for a moment. “And she was serious?”
“Very. She knows Varner trusts me so she expects me to just walk up and shoot him in the face tomorrow.”
“And does she know that’s suicide?” Sam asked.
“She knows, but with Mason dead I don’t think she cares.”
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