Tuesday 1 November 2011

A Fine Day in Huntsville ~ 470 Words ~ Wayne

There are things that don't exist. Things that only a conspiracy theorist could believe in.

Then there is a middle aged women, her flaming red hair the obvious product of a bottle. She's carrying an furled umbrella and holding the hand of a small boy. "No Michael. Nana will not buy you ice cream. You can have ice cream when we get home." This direct address held his attention.

The man walking towards them on the Huntsville sidewalk smiled. It was hard not to. The little boy was looking at his Nana with total adoration on his face. “With strawberries?” he asked.

As he edged past them on the sidewalk carefully, he felt something cold in his shoe.

“Oh, my word, I’m so clumsy today!” The woman extracted the tip of her umbrella from his shoe. “Trying to keep track of this little rascal,” looking down at the boy, “Yes, strawberries Michael." To the man beside her, "I hope I didn’t damage your shoe?”

“What? Oh.” He wiggled his foot. “Not in the slightest. It is a wonderful day to take the young one for a walk. Your grandson?”

“I’m Nana’s oldest grandson,” Michael piped up with a high pitched voice.

“She nodded with pride. “Yes, as you can see. I have one a year younger, and three granddaughters, ranging from three to ten. My girls have been busy, and it keeps me busy. And you?”

He shrugged his heavy shoulders, settling his suit jacket. “Never married. At least not yet, and at forty it’s getting a bit late. I’m married to my job I’m afraid.” With that he saluted her, and strode along the Main Street sidewalk towards the bridge.

The woman and the boy walked slowly up the hill, and as they turned left onto West Street she darted a glance over her shoulder. The man they’d been talking to was now staggering, like he’d had too much beer to drink.

She tugged Michael to a stop, and gave him a lollipop. While he was sucking it avidly she pulled out her Android Smart Phone, and sent a short text message.

Then the two of them continued to the house, where Michael had ice cream and strawberries, not noticing that his Nana was quite busy sending a list of SMS messages would have terrified law enforcement if they’d been able to read them.

But law enforcement didn’t have a key to break the code, even if they had any reason to worry. Even worse, the evidence had disappeared. The umbrella had been left in a trash bin. The assassination target had been picked up by some of his work buddies in a white van, who were swearing that they were going to drink Huntsville dry with him.

Curiously the white van wasn’t seen near any of the open pubs that night...

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