The Truth in Three Cigarettes

By Chris Fryer

Beth Florence may have gone a little too far when she stalks the man responsible for her son's death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Fryer
• Release date: Aug 12, 2010
• ISBN: 9781476220314

Chris Fryer

I graduated from Sonoma State University with a Bachelors of English (Creative Writing) and now I live in Sacramento, California. I am currently working on my Masters in TESOL.

Book preview

THE TRUTH IN THREE CIGARETTES

By Chris Fryer

Published at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Chris Fryer

Tell me then—what was your goal, Mrs. Florence? the Detective asked—Tenpenny, his name was—twirling that stupid Florida-shaped keychain around his finger.

Beth still wasn’t sure what the keychain was for, Detective Tenpenny had been fiddling with the souvenir during the whole interview. Maybe it was some good luck charm—could’ve used one of those last night, she mused—or maybe it served as part of the interrogation tactic. A distraction. It bothered her more than it should have, Beth thought, focusing more on the keychain than the question. Do I know someone in Florida? she wondered, finding her thoughts to often segue into other tangents, other concerns, other questions. These past twenty-four hours, her mind had been everywhere but between her ears, as her husband would say—Tom, who still didn’t know what she’d done. Now Tenpenny was asking her questions about motive, about intention—like this had all been some grand plan. There was motive—of course there was motive—and there was an intention. A good intention. It was an impulsive plan, yes, but Beth honestly felt like everything was out of her hands once Dylan Porter showed up in town. Like a gun had gone off, a lightbulb clicked, and Beth was lost to an instinct she’d considered long buried—she felt urges only innocently daydreamed about.

Revenge. Revenge! REVENGE!

Beth Florence didn’t say any of this to Detective Tenpenny, however, because the words just wouldn’t come out. She was still trying to think of friends or relatives who had moved to Florida recently, but came up with none. Next Beth was wondering what the weather was like in Florida during this time of year—probably humid and muggy—and pictured Detective Tenpenny in a bathing suit buying that tourist crap from some street-vendor.

She realized she’d forgotten his question.

The Detective didn’t appreciate her silence, apparently, and stuffed that keychain into his pocket with a groan. "Come on, Mrs. Florence. Please. Give me something, he begged, circling the metal table and then sitting on the edge next to her chair. Let’s start over, okay?"

Beth looked up at Tenpenny. He had big gray eyes like Jason’s, but the Detective’s were worn from age—dimmer than her son’s had been—lacking that promising youthful glow of a nineteen-year-old. That’s what Beth remembered and missed the most: her son’s brightness. The pleasantness he radiated was infectious. She’d loved being around her son—he was God’s little gift to this planet and she missed him so damn much.

I’m Detective Tenpenny, he said with a hand held to his chest. "And I’m here to talk to you about Dylan Porter. I’m aware he was the passenger of your son’s car during the accident, but can you tell me about your meeting with him