The past is painted in blood and Tangerine.
A Big Problem
For the ‘Accused’ Series
“We’ve got a problem,” Kevin says. Eddie and Ben are sitting with him in the car, hidden by the midnight darkness.
“What happened? Did you find anything at the house?” Ben asks.
“Sort of. Someone moved the big sofa in Theresa’s living room so that they could spy on us.”
“That’s not too surprising, we already figured out that the killer is someone after us,” Eddie adds.
“That’s not the problem.”
“What did you do?”
“I killed a cop.”
“What? AGAIN?!” Ben explodes and Eddie leans back, asking, “What do you mean again? What happened the first time?”
It was about five years ago. Five years? Maybe six, whatever, that doesn’t matter. I was working as a driver for a stripper. So I’d pick her up at about ten pm and drive her from one private show to another. My job was to find the place, set up the speakers before she came out and yell at anyone who was on their phone in case they were taking photos of her.
So on one particular night, we showed up at some fancy house with a long, winding driveway. It was a real nice place with a fountain and a garden and everything. There were about twenty blokes in a huge living room and the show started the same as any show did. Everyone was cheering and drinking and laughing, but one guy got his phone out and pretended to text.
I told him to put it away and he swore at me and I swore at him and everyone was agro, so the stripper stopped.
No one was laughing or having a good time anymore. The crowd dispersed and we had to deal with the organiser. This bloke said he wanted his money back and we argued for a while, but eventually we just walked out. Everyone was yelling and screaming at us and by the time we were in the car, we just wanted to be gone.
I put my foot down and we were off. The car was in third gear while we were still on that long, fancy driveway.
Then the prick with the phone stepped out in front of us. I don’t know what his plan was, he was drunk and I guess he went out to the street for a smoke or something. Maybe he wanted us to stop, I don’t know, but he went straight over the top of the car and landed flat on his back behind us.
Of course, my passenger was pretty worried. She’s already been to prison once and she wasn’t too keen to go back. We watched the news the next day and it turned out we were at some party for a detective. We killed one of his cop buddies and the news report claimed that the perverts were actually at an ‘official meeting to discuss the city’s growing organised crime epidemic.’
So now we looked like a couple of bloody mafia assassins. And to make matters worse, the prick was taking photos, so the cops had images of me and the stripper. They knew exactly who we were.
It all worked out pretty well for me in the end, though. Tangerine, that’s the stripper, did I mention her name before? I don’t remember, anyway, she decided to commit suicide. I said I’d do it too, so we got in the same car we were in when we killed the cop and drove it off a cliff.
Of course, I changed my mind at the last minute and bailed. I thought I’d at least go to trial where I could expose the cops as the liars that they were, but I got lucky. Someone actually saw me in the car with Tangerine only seconds before the event and the car ended up in the ocean, so everyone assumed that whatever was left of my body was washed away.
That’s it, nothing too dramatic. Now you’re all caught up.
“Well, that’s a horrible story,” Eddie begins, “You’re a bloody murderer.”
Kevin just shrugs.
Ben releases a long, aggravated sigh and says, “You don’t have to care, Kevin, I know nothing really bothers you, but you’ve totally screwed us. Before, we were accused vigilantes; we had a chance to straighten everything out. Now it just looks like we’re on a bloody rampage.”