
No Bacon Butty
Form: Microfiction
DI Roberts arrived at 43, Grandmere Gardens. Tyler was there waiting at the front door. “This best be good,” he muttered as he passed his sergeant.
Tyler bit his tongue, no point winding up a chap whose breakfast had been rudely interrupted.
In the living room lay their vic in the form of a naked youth no more than nineteen still attached to the cables that had killed him
“He’s been fried, Sir. The electricity’s off, Sir”
Roberts stared intensively at the boy as if his mental cogs were trying to work something out.
“Tyler, does this remind you…”
“The Penning Avenue murder, Sir”
Word count: 104
©JezzieG2023
Absolutely shocking 🙀
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Seems these two are coming into a writer’s cast list
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Yes indeed 👍
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