I Woke Next to the Corpse by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Page 88

The battery in my car was dead, two tires were flat, and the gas gauge was on E. I could have sworn that I filled up just the day before, but I didn’t dare call anyone for fear of being placed near the scene of the crime.

Margie can be quite persuasive under the circumstances of desperation. I wasn’t two blocks from Elsa’s Jersey City waterfront triplex, when she honked the horn of her new, red Alfa Romeo heap at me, saying; “Need a lift?”

Double entendre ignored, since I did, I never stopped to wonder why she just happened to be in the area at the time, and was suddenly acting as if we were old friends. And I wasn’t entirely sure that it was her. On the few occasions we had briefly met my

I Woke Next to the Corpse