Mystery and Crime Fiction posted March 25, 2020 Chapters:  ...8 9 -10- 11... 

This work has reached the exceptional level
Granny attempts to escape

A chapter in the book Justice Best Served Cold

Fight or Flight cont.

by Mistydawn

To my faithful reviewers
You didn't like the idea of Granny killing a cop. So, I've written this part hoping to make it up to you. If you find it acceptable, I'll add it to Granny's section of the previous chapter. 
Thank you so much for all your help and support. It always means the world to me. 

Please stay safe, dear friends.
Summary of the last chapter.
Granny killed two young teens with her lipstick dart gun for beating a dog. A man dressed in an officer's uniform came up on the scene, she killed him so she could get away.

The sun sits high in the cloudless, afternoon sky. The heavy traffic whizzes down the road beside her. The stench of rotten food continues to waft through the warm gentle breeze. Flies noisily swarm around the piles of garbage on either side of the alley. Granny scrapes the battered creature from the ground. Blood is spewing from its nose, mouth and a large portion of its frail, boney body. "Let's get you some help, little guy." Seeing her last victim by her feet, Granny shakes her head. "I don't know who you are but one thing for certain, you're not Detective Rylan like your name badge claims." Her mind drifts back to a cold stormy, mid-afternoon day a few weeks ago.
Returning from the grocery store, she sloshes to the rear of her car. With her umbrella in one hand, she tries to unload the groceries from the trunk with the other. I may have to carry them in one at a time, she thinks, teetering one bag in her hand.

"Here, let me help you," a deep voice says.

She turns to find a six-foot-plus dark-skinned gentleman beside her. The distinguished, twentyish young lad is dressed in navy police garb. His curly, midnight black hair is cut a mere inch from his head. His soft puppy dog eyes scream a sweet, trustworthy soul. He takes the bags from the trunk and then sprints up the steps. "Ladies first." He opens the door and smiles. His cute little dimples could melt any girl's heart.

Is he just being nice, or does he know what I've been up to? She eyes the young officer again. He would've arrested me on sight if that was his plan. Granny closes the trunk. "Thank you." Brushing past him, she waddles to her apartment. White, chip painted brick walls run the full length of the dark, musty hall. She glances over her shoulder to find the officer is just a few feet behind. Maybe he's trying to get my guard down and then ask me a bunch of questions, hoping I'll incriminate myself. I have to act natural, think before I speak. Sweat pops out across her forehead. Her heart beats furiously in her chest. Did I put the dart pellets and lipstick gun away? Her stomach balls up into a hard knot. Her body begins to tremor at the thought. I sure hope I did.  Her heart pounds harder, faster the closer she gets to the door. It's probably best if I don't let him in just in case. Taking a big breath of courage, she turns around. "You can put them down there." She points towards the floor.

"The bottom of your sack will get soaked if I do."

She looks over to find a small puddle of what she hopes to be rain accumulating in the corner. Her neighbor's teacup poodle likes to mark his territory every chance he gets. "I guess they will." She gulps. I hope he doesn't find anything suspicious. Her key ring jingles when she takes it from her pocket. Please let this turn out alright. She silently prays. She holds her breath as she tries to unlock the door. The keys fall to the dingy tile. Granny stares at the defiant object not sure how to explain. "I...I don't know what's wrong with... With me." Scooping them up, she steadies her hand and tries again. The object drops in front of her a second time.

"Here, let me help." Handing her a bag, he picks them up and unlocks the door. The sweet scent of floral air freshener wafts through the air when the barrier slides across the mint carpet. "Ladies first, he says, stepping aside.

Taking a big gulp of courage, she steps through the entryway and quickly inspects her surroundings. Not seeing her weapon on the glass coffee table, or the matching end tables she sighs with relief. "The kitchen is this way." She scans the counters for possible evidence as she wobbles through the room. A cream-colored stove and french door refrigerator sit on one side of the walkway. The double bowl sink and oak cabinets are on the other. "Anywhere is fine." She plops her bags and purse on the small oak table. 

He sets the bag and keys on the counter.

The keyring lands with a loud thump, Granny jumps. "I don't know why I'm so jittery." She nervously chuckles. "I bet it was the dinner's coffee. I asked for decaf, but it tasted like regular to me." She rattles on.

"My Nanna says she's as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers if she has more than one cup."

"Oh my, I haven't heard that saying in years." Granny laughs.

"Nanna has a lot of colorful sayings."

"It sounds like you care a lot about her."

"She's taken care of me since I was a young lad."

Her mind drifts back to her grandson and how she started caring for him when he was just a few months old. I wonder what he would've become if he'd lived. She wipes the tear from her cheek. "I appreciate all your help, Officer..." She tries to read his badge, but the print is little and he's too far away.

"Rylan, but my friends call me Ben."

"Thank you for your help, Ben."

He smiles. "I'm glad to do it, ma'am." Smiling again, he turns and heads towards the door.

Granny glances down the road again. "I do hope Officer Ben is alright."

Sirens howl in the near distance. Granny feels her blood pressure rise. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears. Her body begins to shake. I have to get out of here. Glancing down the alley a final time, she darts out of sight.


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