20 In 5 -- Vol. II -- Pieces of Evidence

How many times have you noticed 

it's all about your perspective?

I didn’t see the body until I walked around the ugly abstract sculpture. The dead man’s work, I’m sure. He lay crumpled atop a sodden Persian rug, a once-beautiful piece now rank with the metallic smell of a messy death.


Around the room there were other rugs, a couple larger and one smaller that was exquisite in its detail. Several sculptures were perched on stilty pedestals, monuments to a childless life. Many seemed to be smaller versions of the blockade I’d evaded.


Mid-sixties, stocky, bald, with a ring of wispy white hair that radiated pity in death. The bullet wounds in his back were fist-sized: the holes they’d punched through him had caused massive bleeding. Clinically, I guessed he’d died several seconds after the first shot, long enough to pump some large gouts of blood. I kneeled over the body, looking closely at the hands. Large, stubby hands, a sculptor’s hands now lifeless. I surveyed the room and noted the angle of the body. Looking up, I saw a couple of bullet holes in the wall and a large chip taken from a lintel above a faux fireplace. Whoever fired the fatal shots had to almost wedge himself or herself between the huge sculpture and a massive sofa. That or fire from some impossible angle behind it.


I walked to the sculpture, five pairs of eyes fixed on me. One of them belonged to the captain, who would rather have me be in traction than on his squad. The other four pairs belonged to the suspects. Three men, and a woman who’d caught my eye a few times already. She would flirt with me if she had the chance, I was betting. They watched as I took in the blocky s piece, irregular cubes stacked badly. I bent over to look through a gap and noticed the angle pretty much matched the bullet holes in the wall. I glanced over quickly at the suspects; I couldn’t help it. No one gave away anything.
I called them over, noting that the woman got up quickly, but waited to arrive last. Made her entrance, I’d say. Two of the men were taller than I, topping six feet. The other man and the woman, now smiling shyly, were shorter.


“What kind of rug is that?” I pointed to the bloody rug. I got four very perplexed looks. 


“Persian.” “Oriental.” “A minor piece, but Persian.” “He got it from me.”


I turned to the woman. “Your gift to him?”


She nodded, smiling openly and flipping her hair a bit. Yeah, flirting. “It was my first anniversary gift to him.”


I glanced at the three men. The short was as close to sniffing as a man could get without making a noise. “Still married?” I asked her.


“No.” She dimpled. “Split four years ago. But we’re great friends.” She saddened. “Were great friends.” A pained look crossed her eyes.


“How minor a piece?” I asked the short man.


“Very.” He sniffed even more.

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Continued in Volume II of "20 in 5." Please purchase a copy today to finish "Pieces of Evidence;" available directly from Smashwords in a variety of e-book formats. Or you can purchase it from the Mis Tribus eBook Store. 


Included are the ending to "Pieces of Evidence" along with 19 other flash fiction stories. Brought to you directly by Mis Tribus.