The Last Laugh

By Donna Wylie

Last Laugh - A murder of comic proportions Think murder isn't funny? Someone thinks it is. Someone with a sick sense of humor is murdering comedians one by one so they can win the competition to be the last comic standing. Someone with an insanely intelligent sense of humor wants to make sure everyone gets the joke; even the cops. Because - you always want to leave them laughing. But that doesn't mean you have to leave them breathing. Especially if you want to have the last laugh. Join detective Fitzhugh and his beautiful partner, detective Lynn Kelly, as they try to figure out the punchline before more comedians die.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donna Wylie
• Release date: Aug 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370974627

Donna Wylie

Donna’s philosophy has always been that life is too interesting to confine yourself to just one genre. Poetry was her first love and continues to be her passion, but she also writes non-fiction books and articles that are focused on educating and helping others. Novels are a more recent interest, an outlet for both her imagination and her sense of humor. If you think murder can’t be funny, you need to read her books. They reflect Donna’s other philosophy – that life is too short to be taken seriously! Her passion and the underlying desire in everything she does is to make the world a better place.

Book preview

Copyright 2017 Donna Wylie

Published by Donna Wylie-Chiwow Media LLC at Smashwords

Cover design by Rick Wylie

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

For all who see humor in the macabre, and for Rick who can always make me laugh.

~donna Wylie

Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Epilogue - The Show Must Go On

Epilogue - Curtain Call

About the Author

Other books by Donna Wylie

Connect with Donna Wylie

Chapter One

AND THE COP SAYS …. I don’t care what the dog said, I’m giving you a ticket anyway!

The crowd exploded with laughter. There were snorts, giggles, guffaws, even some whistles. Some people were laughing so hard they had to wipe tears from their eyes. Their applause seemed to rattle the glassware and set forks to clanging. It was a cacophony of approval.

Chickey ran off stage, ecstatically pumping his fist in the air. He punched the next comic on the shoulder in a supposed gesture of camaraderie, but the blow was deliberately hard and the other man cursed. Chickey laughed cruelly.

Oh man! Oh Man!, he exclaimed to no one in particular as he ran behind the heavy drapes of the stage. Did you see that? I was great! Did I say just great? No—I was fan-freakintastic! I did it! I killed ‘em!

Well of course you did. You had great material after all. A low murmur and throaty chuckle from the darkness caused Chickey to spin around abruptly, nearly losing his footing.

Glancing around, Chickey hissed Luke? A faint chuckle was the only reply. I’m not kidding Luke, Chickey whispered. You shouldn’t be here! What if someone saw…

No one saw me, the disembodied voice interjected. And what if they did?

In the background Chickey could hear laughter and applause. Usually it bothered him to hear one of his rivals getting such a great response but tonight he was grateful for the blanket of noise that muffled any sound from back stage. He glared at his brother – or rather, in the general direction of where the sound had come from.

Go home Luke, Chickey ordered in what he hoped was a convincingly authoritative tone. Your turn will… Chickey paused, distracted by the swell of applause and laughter from the club. Head tilted, he listened, straining to make out words and gauge the crowd’s response. Were they laughing louder? Was the other comic better? Funnier? What kind of jokes was he telling that were getting such big laughs?

He really ought to go check out this guy’s act. Know your enemy, his dad always said. Like dad would know anything about enemies, he scoffed. Rich. Always had been. Prep school, fancy cars, CEO of an already established already – successful company. What could he possibly know about conflict?

Chickey sighed, turning his attention back to the problem at hand.

C’mon Luke, he entreated. Go on home. Work on some new routines for us, okay? I need to scope out the competition, see what the crowds are going for. And make sure I’m available for those camera shots of the crowd. Exposure, right? It isn’t every day we get to be television stars.

Silence. Chickey closed his eyes and concentrated, holding his breath as he listened for any sound. Turning in a slow circle, arms outstretched, he flexed his fingers as if he could sift the darkness and find pebbles of truth. The air felt empty. Luke had departed as silently as he had come.

After what seemed to have been an eternity Chickey exhaled loudly. Straightening his sequined jacket, he turned and re-entered the club, taking a deliberately circuitous route to his seat. Audience members along his path were rewarded with hand-shakes, back slaps, hugs and kisses. His flamboyant entrance and glittering clothing had caused the expected stir of interest. Heads swiveled in his direction, eyes following as he tip-toed with exaggerated care through the crowd. Ripples of laughter followed in his wake. Finger to his lips, he smiled and winked, shaking a playful finger at the gigglers. It was the loudest ‘silent’ entrance possible and Chickey knew exactly what he was doing.

The comic on the stage paused, and Chickey felt certain he had rattled the man and ruined his flow. Timing, after all, was critical to a comedian. Smiling innocently and pretending to focus his attention on the stage, Chickey sat down.

The two comics let the silence build, an unspoken game of chicken. All attention was focused on the two men as they smiled and stared at one another. The darkness seemed to expand until there was no light but the single spotlight. Seconds ticked away as the crowd held its collective breath. Finally, the man on stage leaned forward, addressing his next comment to his rival.

All settled in finally, Chucky? the comic asked with mock concern. Can we go on now? The audience snickered, the sound unintentionally louder from the whoosh of exhaled breath.

Chickey clasped a hand to his chest and one to his face. Looking around the room, he responded loudly, directing his reply to the audience. I am so sorry! I thought it was intermission. I mean….no one was laughing… He gave an exaggerated shrug and let his voice trail off as the crowd chuckled appreciatively.

The comic smiled thinly. That’s funny, he said. Chickey smirked. You know, I’d heard you were a real wit. The man paused while Chickey beamed at the audience, nodding and holding his arms out in a half bow.

The performer leaned over again, so he appeared to be addressing just Chickey. From the corner of his eye, Chickey saw the cameras moving in for a close up. The comedian paused, smiling and waiting until there was silence, then added- I’d say they were half right!

The crowd roared, their applause drowning out any retort Chickey might have thought to come back with. And just like that the man on the stage regained control. The comic continued with his routine. Smoothly, effortlessly. Who did this guy think he was?

Chickey smiled and applauded, pretending this had all been part of the routine. Surreptitiously, he glanced at the program on the table in front of him. The comic on stage was Rob Tucker. Stage name Rib Tickler. Chickey snorted. Rib Tickler indeed! He thought the guy looked familiar! Rob had gotten older. Well they all had. It had been twenty years after all. Rob must be back in town for the competition. Still chasing fame. He would have to talk to Luke about this guy. This was definitely someone they should keep an eye on. Yes sir, Chickey thought, nodding. Know your enemy.

The emcee’s voice brought him back to the present. Chickey shook himself – he hadn’t realized he was daydreaming. He had completely missed Rob’s exit. A wave of fear crashed over him, and his vision went dark for a moment. Stop it, he scolded himself. Can’t afford to drift. Gotta stay sharp, alert. He looked around, making sure there was still at least one camera panning over the audience. Chickey yawned and stretched elaborately, the sequins on his jacket reflecting off the lights. As anticipated, the audience camera swiveled to check out what he might be up to next.

Looks like our next comic won’t be joining us tonight… The host paused in his introduction, glancing off stage. Uh... looks like Gary Cohen was... uh... unexpectedly delayed and isn’t here so… uh… is there a comedian in the house? the emcee joked weakly. Chickey smiled and began to rise from his seat.

Another quick glance off stage. The emcee’s smile changed to one of relief. Looks like there is a comedian in the house, he crowed. Ladies and gentlemen, you are in for a real treat! Just back from his sold – out performance in Vegas, and only for tonight… I give you James Yellowfish! Give it up for Jimmy the Fish!

The audience went wild, clapping and whistling as Jimmy ran on stage, his theme music barely audible in the background. Chickey groaned, slumping back into his chair. How the hell had they not only found a replacement, but also come up with the accompanying musical fanfare?

Chickey knew Gary was going to be a no-show and he had a second routine all prepared for a ‘spontaneous’ encore performance. He had carefully positioned himself in the audience so he could rescue the evening with a quick hop onto the stage. He doubted any of his fellow performers had the foresight to always have an encore show prepared. Of course, they also didn’t have his inside information. Or his talent for manipulating events.

Chickey sighed, fixing his smile in place once more as he feigned interest in Jimmy, watching as the man basked in the adoration of the crowd. The comic was everything Chickey longed to be – successful, rich and sought – after. Everything he could have been if only…

No. Stop it, he reminded himself. What’s done is done. Gotta keep moving, make the best of what you have. No use living in the past. No more family act, the Brothers Foster. ‘Bananas

Foster’ as they had fondly been referred to on the club circuit. Chickey allowed himself the briefest stroll down memory lane, smiling at the thoughts that still raced through his mind at times like these. Man, they had been something! A family comedy act. Totally unique. Young, popular, handsome.

Chickey forced the memories back where they belonged – locked away in the past. Twenty years had passed since that time in college when the world seemed to be theirs for the taking. Twenty years. A lifetime ago, he sighed. More than half his lifetime ago. There was no one left from that time, no one who even remembered the Foster brothers. Except for Gary Cohen... and Rob... He sat up straighter. Focus, he told himself sternly. Watch Jimmy – see what you can learn from his routine.

The world is still ours for the taking, Chickey thought. We just might have to work a little harder at taking it, that’s all. So pay attention. Get all the details so we can plan our strategy. He settled comfortably in his chair, stretching once more to set his sequins flashing.

A good comic is always on stage, Chickey reminded himself. But he couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped his lips as he watched Jimmy work the crowd.

It’s gonna be a long night, he grumbled.

Chapter Two

HEY I KNOW THAT comic. I saw him in Vegas last month. Wonder what he’s doing on an amateur show? The cop who had been snapping photos of the crime scene looked up at the sound of the emcee announcing Jimmy. He reached a gloved hand to adjust the volume on the tv.

This guy is freakin’ hysterical, the cop announced. You ever catch one of his shows, Fitz? The cop’s attention remained riveted on the tv as he addressed the question to the detective crouched in front of the body.

Detective Fitzhugh or Fitz as he was sometimes referred to, was the homicide detective in charge of this murder scene. A veteran of 20 years, he was an enigma to most of his co-workers. His investigative style was unique, bordering on the unorthodox sometimes, but almost always effective. His ability to solve cases was the stuff of legend.

Fitzhugh was an intimidating man, both physically and intellectually. At just under 6’ 4", his stocky build made him appear even larger. His curly brown hair was neatly trimmed and contained just enough gray to hint at his age. His eyes were the green of a bottomless stormy sea. When he fixed his gaze on a suspect, the green of his eyes seemed to burn like kryptonite.

The detective continued to regard the body, seemingly unaware of anything going on around him. I don’t go to Vegas, he replied.

The cop laughed at something on tv and said naw, I know that. He’s been on the tube a lot too. Thought you maybe saw him there. Hey, you almost done Fitz? I gotta take some shots of the body.

I don’t watch tv, Fitzhugh replied as he stood up, and seemed puzzled when the cop laughed.

Be sure you get me pictures of the way the body is positioned, Fitzhugh instructed.

From all angles, the other cop said, finishing the familiar instructions.

Fitzhugh moved to a desk in one corner of the room and began sorting through piles of papers on its surface. Both men worked in silence for a time, the laughter from the tv providing an odd background noise.

Hey—where’s the party? Fitzhugh looked up, blinking owlishly at the woman who had just entered the room. The cop with the camera stopped what he was doing and stared appreciatively at the leggy brunette standing in the doorway. As his eyes traveled slowly up her body, the woman flipped out a badge, holding it at waist level, where the cop could see it before his eyes took the whole tour. The cop blushed and hung his head, pretending to scratch the nape of his neck.

Pleased to meet you ma’am… uh… Ms... Er… Kelly. Lynn Kelly. Detective Kelly to you, Officer.

Stammering yes ma’am, uh Detective ma’am…, the cop busied himself with his camera.

Kelly turned to Fitzhugh, who had been watching her with a bemused expression. Hey Fitz, she greeted her partner. Whadda we got? She turned to examine the body as Fitzhugh crossed the room to join her.

Fitzhugh waited silently while she took in the scene, then said what do you think we have Kelly?

Lynn cocked an eyebrow at her partner. Answering a question with a question was one of Fitzhugh’s favorite approaches. A burst of laughter drew Lynn’s attention to the tv.

So that’s where the party is, she remarked. Was it on this channel when you found the body?

Yes ma’am... Detective. All I did was adjust the volume. I – I like this comic… the cop’s voice trailed off, as if he were afraid humor might somehow be considered inappropriate.

Lynn let him squirm for just the tiniest amount of time before she replied. "I like him