Flash Fiction by John Bobo
Boston, Massachusetts
“Hey!”
“Yeah?” Mike cursed himself for answering the phone without screening the number, but at noon on his only day off, the pickup was pure reflex.
“It’s me.”
“Oh, OK.” He glanced at the screen. “You calling from a different number.”
“Yeah, a pay phone.”
“Where the hell did you find one of those? Are you in jail?”
“No, no, I’m just….um, I’m… Well, it doesn’t matter. Listen! The police are going to call you in the next hour. Maybe drop by. I don’t know exactly. But, I need you to tell them I was with you all night last night.”
“What?”
“This is really important, Mikey,” he said, slowing his words down as if talking to a slow child. “I need you to tell them I was with you all night last night.”
“Un-huh.”
Silence.
“Mikey? You still there?”
“I”m here.”
“I don’t have much time. I told them I came over last night to watch the Sox play. We had a beer and pizza, but I drank so much I didn’t want to drive home. So, I slept on your couch.”
“And they believed that?”
“Well, they will after they talk to you!”
“Billy, what the hell are you pulling me into?”
“It’s nothing. No big deal. I was with the waitress from Remnant Brewery in Somerville last night, and I don’t want Carla to find out.”
“Cousin, that’s total BS right there. She’s way outta your league!”
Now, it was Billy’s turn to be silent.
“You still there?”
“Yeah, will you just do this one small favor for me?”
“Aww man, I will back your play with the cops, but I will not lie to Carla.”
“Hey, Mikey. That’s the point. I need the whole fuckin’ world to think I was with you last night. The cops, Carla and Jesus Christ, if he asks. Can you do that for me? Don’t forget you owe me for that thing up in Sudbury. You owe me.”
“Oh , you are going way back to dig that up, huh? But you’re right, you’re right, I owe you,” Mikey said. “What do I say to the cops when they pull my phone records and ask who’s calling me from a pay phone?”
“Tell ‘em it’s your sister. Her car had a flat, and her phone died. She was calling from a bodega payphone.”
“It will have to be someone other than my sister. She’s a pain in the ass. You remember when she ratted me out on that beef over in Medford? I’m going to tell them it was the waitress from Remnant.”
“Jesus Christ! Will you take this seriously.”
“First off, you don’t have to call me Jesus Christ, we’re related. Mike or Mikey is fine. And secondly, I do take it seriously, OK? I gotcha on this. Now, let’s talk about the details of selling this. Tell me what you had on, what kind of pizza, and from where. That kinda thing.”
They rehearsed the stories and odd details that would make it sound legit.
“OK, that’s good,” Billy said. “Listen, don’t screen your calls today. I may call you back on different numbers.”
“Wait, why are the cops talking to you? And when did you give them my name?”
“Look it, I ain’t got time to give all that, but this means a lot.”
“No problem. I got your back.”
“Oh, and one more thing. After you finish up with the cops, can you meet about 7 pm tonight in Alford Park. You know, down by the river we went that time?”
“Yeah, of course..”
“And be sure to bring garbage bags, duct tape and bleach. And your reciprocatin’ saw.”
“Wait! You want me to—”
“Oh, shit! Gotta go!”
Click.
Bio: John Bobo is a former investigative reporter, assistant district attorney, and motorsports executive. He loves to push nouns against verbs to tell good stories. His novel Three Degrees From Justice was ranked #1 in Crime Noir Fiction on Amazon Kindle (2014). Learn more at his website. JohnBobo.com . You can also find his short story, Tazer-Burned Badass on Amazon.
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Good one 🙂
Pacey…. like it
Thank You!