"Hello, my name is joy." The woman was just under thirty. She could have been my daughter.

"Hello Joy, what can I do for you?" I asked.

"Sarah Livingston at the shelter suggested I come see you. She said once in a while you help women like me."

"Like you, what does that mean?"

"It means my husband is a violent man. He sometimes hits me when he is drinking."

"Are you living at the shelter now?"

"Yes, I'm afraid to go home."

"Do you have children?'

"Yes a seven year old little boy."

"Do you work?"

"Yes, but I can't afford to pay you. I am saving for a place of my own."

"Do you have a restraining order?"

"Yes, and I have had James arrested. He will kill me when he get out of jail. That restraining order means nothing."

"Actually it does. It means, if he comes for you, he is fair game."

"It won't keep him away, but it puts you on the right side of the law, if things go badly. if he comes after you, kill his ass."

"I couldn't do that," she said with her eyes down.

"If you truly can't do that, then he is going to kill you. Maybe not this time, but someday he is going to kill you. If Sarah sent you to me, she thinks you are serious about ending this thing."

"I'm not going to murder my husband," she said.

"I didn't say murder, but you need to be ready to defend yourself. If that means deadly force, you have to be ready to use it. Otherwise you are wasting my time. All your husband has to do is stay away."

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

"I can teach you how to defend yourself. I can even give you the tools to do it, but I can not give you the will to do what has to be done. If you don't have that, what I teach you will just get you killed."

"I need time to think," she suggested.

"If you come back, be ready to do what has to be done. You need to work out your own reasons for doing it, but be ready to do it."

Two months later an article appeared in the local newspaper.

Carbon City man shot and killed by estranged wife.

James Dunn was shot and killed as he attempted to break into the home of his estranged wife. According to the police report, Dunn broke down the door. His estranged wife shot him with a 12 gauge shotgun. Dunn was pronounced dead at the scene.

There was a long history of spousal abuse according to the district attorney's spokesperson. "Since it was a well documented case of abuse and since Mr. Dunn was in violation of a restraining order no charges will be filed in this case. It seems Mrs. Dunn acted in self defense."

I took no pleasure from the death of James Dunn, but I also did not shed a tear for him. I suppose if the DA were to push it, I might be complicit in his death. I did buy her the shotgun and teach her how to shoot it, just for such an occasion. We practiced the scenario several times. Fortunately she and I are the only ones who know. I doubt that Joy wants to tell.

Flash fiction.

Just in case you are not familiar with the term. Flash fiction is a complete piece of fiction in just a few hundred words. It is stripped to the bone fiction. So it's like this one...


@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

The interstate highway directed most of the traffic away from the old diner. It was still on a US highway but the traffic was mostly local.

I guess that is why the motorcycle pulling into the parking lot got noticed. It couldn't have been the rider, because people were looking out the diner's windows before the rider removed the blacked out helmet to reveal long blonde hair.

With the pitted face, the rider could still have been either sex. It was when she removed the leather jacket upon entering the diner that there was no doubt left in anyone's mind. She walked right up and took a seat at the counter.

"What can I get for you?" the owner asked.

"How about a menu?" she asked.

"That's it," the owner said pointing to a white board with a half dozen items hand written on it. There were two soups and four sandwiches from which to choose.

"It's a good thing I like potato soup," she said.

"Yep," the older man agreed.

"How about the potato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich?" she asked.

"That's a good choice. They are a little better here than when you were in school." the old man suggested.

The blond just smiled. While she waited for her food she looked around. There wasn't much to see. The place was almost empty, as it was most of the day. The cafe did a little business at lunch and a little at dinner otherwise it was empty. The owner was the only employee so he pretty much opened when he felt like it.

They came into the cafe making as much noise as they possibly could, the blond though. There were four of them. Young men just out of their teenaged years. All four worked at the chicken processing plant just across town.

"How about some service they said from the booth."

"You know there ain't no booth service Johnny Wayne," the slightly past middle aged owner said.

"Hell Pop, Looks to me like you got yourself a waitress."

"If I was you kid, I would shut up before your big mouth overloads your skinny ass." The old man he called pop said.

"You pull that bat out and I'm gonna make you eat it old man." The younger men were showing off for the stranger. Pop knew it, but it didn't matter what their motive was, they were showing their collective asses in his place.

"Well if you can do that Johnny, you will be the first one who could. Now son it's time for you and your friends to leave."

"Why don't you ask the bitch if she wants us to go?"

"Cause it ain't her place it's mine. Now move on before you get hurt."

The four of them stood up and moved toward the counter menacingly. They were moving toward the woman, not Pop. The blond was no kid and she kept her eye on them. When they got close, she came off the counter stool like a coil spring being released.

She head butted Johnny Wayne under the chin. There was the sound of bone crushing. His eyes rolled back in his head and then he fell like a tree. The other three tried to circle her but pop hit one on the shoulder with the bat. he found himself on the floor screaming in pain. The blonde hit a second one hard in the diaphram. His breath was gone instantly and he fell trying to get his breathing to start again. The last one tried to run but the woman grabbed his shirt. She delivered a chopping blow to his face. Blood spurted from his nose leaving a splatter on the floor.

The blonde took a deep breath then said, "Guess I better go before the cops get here? What do I owe you."

"Go if you want but I think you would get a citizen of the year award if you stay. As for the bill hold on." Pop reached into Johnny Wayne's pocket. He removed his wallet and took all the bills. "That pretty much covers it."

"I like the way you think," the blonde said. "You gonna be in trouble for the bat thing?"

"Are you kidding? These guys got whooped by a pretty young blond and an old man, you think they are gonna press charges, so the whole country knows about that?"

"I guess not. If you ever get to Camp Lejeune look me up. Just ask for the meanest blonde bitch gunny on base. I expect everyone will know who you mean."

the end

Michael was in intensive care as I knew he would be. Still I wanted to be there for a few minutes at least. He might never know, but I would know. Maybe, if I were standing there, I could also con a nurse or doctor into giving me information. It is so easy to say no on the phone,

"Are you family?" The duty nurse asked.

"Not exactly, Michael is a very good friend." I could see her eyes glaze over. Before she could refuse to give me any information, I decided what the hell. I didn't know the nurse and would probably never see her again anyway. "Michael and I are sort of involved. If you get my meaning."

"Oh, I see. Michael is recovering from the surgery and we are hopeful. He is in serious condition, but we are expecting the next 24 hours to be critical. If he makes it through those, he should be fine."

"Is his family here?"

"His father is over there in the corner."

I nodded my thanks then headed over to Michael's father. "Mr. Monroe, I'm John Abba. Michael is my neighbor."

"So you are the one who got Michael shot?" he asked.

"I might be, but I assure you it was unintentional."

"That female detective said you would probably be here. She also said to tell you nothing. So what is it you need to know?"

"Do you know anyone who might do this to Michael?"

"You mean like a crazy boyfriend?"

He knew about Michael, so I suggested, "That or anyone else who might harbor ill feeling for Michael?"

"No nothing like that. I think it was a case of mistaken identity."

I just nodded, since I felt the same. I left the hospital on the bike. When I arrived home I set the bike's batteries on the charger before I packed the car for the drive to the festival. I was also armed to the teeth, as the saying goes.

It turned out to be a good thing. I saw the same car too many time to be an accident. It looked as though my would be assassin had figured out he hit the wrong man. I surely hoped so since I spent a lot of time hanging around town to give him a chance to work it out. I pulled into one of those rest stops along the highway, Those things are all pretty much alike. Usually there would be too many people around for him to do his thing. That is unless he was desperate. I sure hoped that he was. I didn't much like the idea of hanging around in a public restroom for too long. Since there were no other cars in the parking lot, I hung out at the entrance until I saw the car pull in. I wasn't all that sure, since it was a different car. Still it was the most logical explanation.

I am sure that he was expecting me to enter the men's room do my thing, the exit again. Instead I went inside then immediately out and into the ladies room while he was busy getting out of the car and looking around. Since the doors were opposite each other, I got to watch him through the crack I left. He un holstered his pistol, took one look around the parking lot then turned back to the door. Before he could open it, I was on him.

The snubbie at the base of his skull convinced him that I was serious. "Drop the pistol and don't worry about it going off accidentally, I'm behind you." I waited until I heard the metal on concrete sound before I continued.

"Before you make some hand to hand combat move, let me explain. At the first twitch I'm going to make you an organ donor. Now take one step back, then take one step to your right" He did as I ordered very slowly and carefully. He obviously believed that I would shoot him in the back of the head and he was absolutely right.

"Now lean against the wall." While he was against the wall I pulled a wire tire from my pocket. No I don't carry one all the time, but there are a handful in the car and even a few around the house. Ya just never know. "Now lean forward and put your head down and against the wall" I waited till he did it, then I said, "Now put your hands behind you. If you so much as twitch you are going be leaving a hell of a mess for some poor devil to clean off that wall." It took only a second longer to use the wire tie to secure his hands.

I walked him back to his car. I put my hand in his pocket from behind. I found two sets of keys. One had about ten keys but the other had only a single car key. I opened the trunk. "Now get inside." Once he was inside I suggested, "If you would like, I'll shoot a couple of air holes in there after I close the lid." When he didn't speak I went on. "It's time you tell me who you are working for."

He again remained silent. "Now we can play this one of two ways. When I ask you again, you can tell me. In that case I will place a call to him and suggest a better solution to our standoff. Of course you can go for door number two. In that case remain silent, in which case I will drive you to a quite place and begin removing body parts until you decide to talk. No one ever refuses past a couple of fingers. But who know you might be the exception."

"Now who are you working for?" He obviously believed I was capable of it. It was a good thing that he did.

"A man in Jersey. Word is that he is concerned that one of his former associates will mention his name in court. So he wanted me to eliminate the witness, so it wouldn't come to that."

"Why not the one making the threat? It would be a better and more permanent solution."

"He is in jail and the man in Jersey does not wish to have his name, or anyone he knows on the bail bond."

Give me his phone number and I will make him a better offer." It was hard but I didn't say one he couldn't refuse.

I dialed the number. "Hello is the boss around?"

"Who is this?" a voice asked.

"I'm the ex-cop in North Carolina he wants silenced."

"I see should I ask how you got this number?"

"A better question would be, is he still alive?"

"Is he?"

"For now yes. I know what the deal is. Actually Robbie told me to expect you to send someone. I have a rather better suggestion."

"I'm all ears," the voice replied.

"I get your friend sprung and your man here discusses it with him directly."

"You can do this?"

"Yes, but I want some assurances that this will end satisfactory for us both."

"If it doesn't, just pick up the two of them again. I expect that you are capable"

"Here is my deal, I spring your boy Robbie and his brother. Your man here has a talk with them both. Then we both move on. If not, I will take them both out and send the FBI to talk to you."

"You and I are both on throw away phones," he informed me.

"And you think this man won't give me your address, when I start chopping off his fingers and toes. Of course Robbie has already proved that he will talk with that kind of persuasion."

"Then I suppose I have no choice."

"Not at the moment but of course you would change your mind. You might want to think of this. I got this number, how much else do I know. I will be writing what I know in a letter to the FBI, just in case. You do understand?"

"Of course, I would do the same. Let me speak to Marco."

"I'll be listening."

"I would expect no less."



"That's how Robbie and his brother ate the bullets after their release," I said it to an assistant DA.

"I could charge you with aiding. You do know that."

"Why do you think I checked you for a wire. Those hand held wands are the cats PJs" I suggested.

Why go to all that trouble?"

"Oh it was to stay alive, of course. As for Robbie and his brother, I just promised Charlie's wife justice, I never said it would be in court."

"So enjoy your hot dog and lets end this now, I have a plane to catch."

The end.

"Whatever," I said.

I called the hospital. Of course I lied and said I was a cop. So what if they didn't hear the ex part. I was told that Michael was in surgery and would be for a while. I put the phone down and tried to think.

Okay I'm the shooter and I know somebody saw me. That somebody may, or may not, be able to identify the car. Do I really want to take a chance. I need to dump the car and buy some time. Easiest thing to do is to take it back to the rental company. Even better if it is at the airport. The cops will waste a lot of time looking at the planes and searching the airport. Meanwhile I find a place to lay low till the heat is off.

I called around to the airport rental car companies. Again I lied my ass off. I found out that a car had been returned within the last half hour. I got as much information as possible, then advise the clerk that I would be sending a couple of detectives over to take a statement.

"Louise, I found your shooter," I said it into my cheap ass cell phone. "It was hard to make out her reply. "Swing by the Econo car rental at the airport. Looks like your man was there less than a half hour ago." Since I couldn't understand her anyway I hung up without waiting for a reply.

The clerk said that the mooch had used a New Jersey drivers license with a photo that matched. So I made a second call. "John Abba here, is Rose working today?"

"John we have talked on the phone a hundred times and you still don't recognize my voice?"

"It's this crappy cell phone Rose. I need some information. Can you run a NCIC records check on a mooch for me?"

"You know I can't do that John. If I could, what name would you want me to look up?"

"Leonardo Cartelli was the name I got, I hope it is good."

Rose didn't even put me on hold. "So how's that older brother of yours?"

"Which one I have two?" I asked.

"Simon, he is the one I went to school with."

"Simon is in California. He owns a machine shop out there. I think he said that he rebuilt starters or something like that. Yes Rose, before you ask he is still married."

"Hey getting married again isn't all I think of. It's just the think I think of most." She chuckled. I had to love Rose she was as open and honest a woman as I had ever met.

"Leonardo Cartelli aka Leo the Loop, why I have no idea, has a record for some petty assaults, He seems to have come in contact with the cops up in Jersey several other times but nothing stuck. Looks as though he has links to organized crime, but there is no mention of any particular family. Most likely he's a fringe player. You know a soldier that works for anyone of the groups there."

"Thanks Rose, I owe you."

"Dinner or drinks?" she asked boldly.

"I would say this is a beer and burger favor." I laughed to show that I was joking.

I decided that the shooter just got the wrong victim. I had not intended to go about armed but plans change. I went into my bedroom to change clothes. I swapped my shorts for long pants and then removed the lightweight tee shirt.

I added a air weight .38 special snub nose wheel gun in an ankle holster to my wardrobe. I found my civilian style kevlar vest. It was more light weight than the police version. It was a little less effective, but still would repel small caliber rounds. Cop killer bullets would be slowed to the point of being at least less lethal. It was all about the odds.

Over the vest I added a heaver weight tee shirt. It had to hide the second snub nosed thirty eight in inside my belt. I found my two knives inside a dresser drawer. I never carried them unless I planned to do battle hand to hand. If I had known what kind of fight to expect I probably wouldn't have bothered with the 4" switch blade knife or the Russian Special forces spring loaded one. The Russian knife would shoot the blade ten feet and be extremely lethal.

After I redressed I took the breakdown .30 cal Korean war vintage .30 caliber carbine apart. I loaded it into a gym bag then left the apartment. I took a good look around before I went outside of the house. I locked the gym bag in the trunk of my car. Then I guided the lightweight camping trailer's tongue onto the hitch and secured it.

When the car was ready for my festival trip, I rolled the bike from inside the fiberglass storage building behind my house. I went back into the house for the battery pack. Once the bike was assembled, I climbed on board for the ride to the hospital.

"Whatever," I said.

I called the hospital. Of course I lied and said I was a cop. So what if they didn't hear the ex part. I was told that Michael was in surgery and would be for a while. I put the phone down and tried to think.

Okay I'm the shooter and I know somebody saw me. That somebody may, or may not, be able to identify the car. Do I really want to take a chance. I need to dump the car and buy some time. Easiest thing to do is to take it back to the rental company. Even better if it is at the airport. The cops will waste a lot of time looking at the planes and searching the airport. Meanwhile I find a place to lay low till the heat is off.

I called around to the airport rental car companies. Again I lied my ass off. I found out that a car had been returned within the last half hour. I got as much information as possible, then advise the clerk that I would be sending a couple of detectives over to take a statement.

"Louise, I found your shooter," I said it into my cheap ass cell phone. "It was hard to make out her reply. "Swing by the Econo car rental at the airport. Looks like your man was there less than a half hour ago." Since I couldn't understand her anyway I hung up without waiting for a reply.

The clerk said that the mooch had used a New Jersey drivers license with a photo that matched. So I made a second call. "John Abba here, is Rose working today?"

"John we have talked on the phone a hundred times and you still don't recognize my voice?"

"It's this crappy cell phone Rose. I need some information. Can you run a NCIC records check on a mooch for me?"

"You know I can't do that John. If I could, what name would you want me to look up?"

"Leonardo Cartelli was the name I got, I hope it is good."

Rose didn't even put me on hold. "So how's that older brother of yours?"

"Which one I have two?" I asked.

"Simon, he is the one I went to school with."

"Simon is in California. He owns a machine shop out there. I think he said that he rebuilt starters or something like that. Yes Rose, before you ask he is still married."

"Hey getting married again isn't all I think of. It's just the think I think of most." She chuckled. I had to love Rose she was as open and honest a woman as I had ever met.

"Leonardo Cartelli aka Leo the Loop, why I have no idea, has a record for some petty assaults, He seems to have come in contact with the cops up in Jersey several other times but nothing stuck. Looks as though he has links to organized crime, but there is no mention of any particular family. Most likely he's a fringe player. You know a soldier that works for anyone of the groups there."

"Thanks Rose, I owe you."

"Dinner or drinks?" she asked boldly.

"I would say this is a beer and burger favor." I laughed to show that I was joking.

I decided that the shooter just got the wrong victim. I had not intended to go about armed but plans change. I went into my bedroom to change clothes. I swapped my shorts for long pants and then removed the lightweight tee shirt.

I added a air weight .38 special snub nose wheel gun in an ankle holster to my wardrobe. I found my civilian style kevlar vest. It was more light weight than the police version. It was a little less effective, but still would repel small caliber rounds. Cop killer bullets would be slowed to the point of being at least less lethal. It was all about the odds.

Over the vest I added a heaver weight tee shirt. It had to hide the second snub nosed thirty eight in inside my belt. I found my two knives inside a dresser drawer. I never carried them unless I planned to do battle hand to hand. If I had known what kind of fight to expect I probably wouldn't have bothered with the 4" switch blade knife or the Russian Special forces spring loaded one. The Russian knife would shoot the blade ten feet and be extremely lethal.

After I redressed I took the breakdown .30 cal Korean war vintage .30 caliber carbine apart. I loaded it into a gym bag then left the apartment. I took a good look around before I went outside of the house. I locked the gym bag in the trunk of my car. Then I guided the lightweight camping trailer's tongue onto the hitch and secured it.

When the car was ready for my festival trip, I rolled the bike from inside the fiberglass storage building behind my house. I went back into the house for the battery pack. Once the bike was assembled, I climbed on board for the ride to the hospital.

Life just slipped by for several more months until it took a turn. It was that moment of terror I talked about earlier. All those terror moment are different, but they all have on thing in Comoros. Each time they stole something from me. This one stole my new life style completely. Since the end of my involvement in Charlie's murder investigation, I had begun to think of myself as retired. Just kind of drifting along peacefully to oblivion.

All that changed when someone shot Michael. It was a drive by shooting, but the car wasn't some gang banger's junk heap. It was a nice mid sized nondescript Ford rental car. I know this due to a lot of unconnected coincidences. The shooting took place early in the morning on a day when I couldn't sleep late. I couldn't sleep because I was excited. Since I couldn't sleep, I was watching the news on TV, when I heard Michael's door open then close.

I saw the shooting up close and personal, only because I wanted to remind him yet again to take care of Dog over the weekend. It was a Friday and later that morning I was headed to a weekend apple blossom festival. When I stepped onto the postage stamp sized porch, Michael was already in the drive.

"Michael," I said. I was about to remind him when I saw the car slow to almost a stop. I saw the window roll down, it just felt wrong. "Get down." I shouted.

The shooter fired three quick shots as the car revved to pull off in a hurry. It had to be two men at least. I rushed to Michael while keeping his car between me and the gunman. I was unarmed so all I could do was watch as the car pulled away. I was shook, but not so much that I missed the rental car tag on the new Ford.

"Cell phone?" I demanded of Michael calmly. "I held my hand over the spot where I thought the bullet had entered his stomach.

I barely managed to call 911 on the fancy phone. 'I need an ambulance and the cops here a man has been shot." I gave the dispatcher the address and stayed on the phone giving her more information as I waited. I was calm enough to ask Michael cop questions. I did it both to keep him in the game, so he wouldn't slip into shock, and to try to figure out what the hell was going on.

Once the paramedics arrived Michael slipped into unconsciousness. I watched them load him into the back of an ambulance. I moved to the porch and dropped to the steps. I sat there as I gave my version of the events to the patrol officer. I had been gone a year so the milk drinker had managed to get past his probation with me ever having laid eyes on him. I didn't know him and he obviously didn't know me.

"How do you spell your last name sir?" he asked

"Abba," I replied slowly.

"So what was your relationship to the victim?"

"He rented one side of my duplex. I live in the other." I went on to tell him what I saw. I gave him the part of the license plate that I remembered. With that and the description finding the rental agency shouldn't be a problem.

The crime scene guys were still working when Brett and Louise showed up. "So what happened," Louise asked. She was obviously the leader of the team. In the months since I had seen them last they must have worked out a pecking order. Louise had the sharper claws I would think.

"So did the kid take one for the gipper?" Louise asked.

"If he did, it was a cut rate job. Hitting the wrong man is strictly bush league."

"Yeah, but you know how hard it is to find good help these days," Brett suggested.

"Well, it does look as though they brought someone in. Maybe Michael just pissed somebody off and it has nothing to do with me."

"Not even you would believe that," Louise suggested. She really didn't like me.