I suppose it could be presumptuous to call it progress, especially since we’re only three days in and I’m already behind the average word count. Oh well. I’m having fun. Below is an excerpt from the NEW and IMPROVED Maxwell’s Silver Bullet (which I’ve decided is a working title; maybe something cleverer will occur; and then again, maybe not).
Much of the rest of the evening was a blur. Charlie was pretty certain she’d had another glass of wine and possibly a crab puff or two. Now, at ten-thirty she stood at her office door fumbling with her keys. It took four or five tries but she finally got the office door open, slipped into the reception area and stepped out of her pumps. Leaving the lights out and weaving only a little, Charlie crossed the room to the door of her private office.
“Ss..strange,” she muttered on seeing the sliver of light along the bottom of the door. “I know I didn’t leave that on.” Charlie grabbed for the door handle and missed. “Dammit! Someone’s robbing me blind and I can’t get the fucking door open!” Focusing, she tried again and this time was able to grasp the handle. For a brief moment she wondered whether she should confront whoever might be in her office or call the Sheriff’s office. Curiosity won out over caution and she flung the door wide. It swung back against the wall, bounced back and slammed in Charlie face. Angry now, she grasped the handle again and shoved the door open, stepping across the threshold ready to face down the trespasser.
Standing to one side of her desk near the French doors was a man. At least Charlie thought he was a man. He appeared to have no neck and for a moment she thought he resembled a life sized Rock’em Sock’em robot like her kid brother had played with as a child. With his hat pulled low it was difficult to see his face but she could tell he wasn’t smiling. The gun in his hand confirmed it.
“Wha…what the hell?” Charlie’s voice trailed away as the blockhead shifted until he was pointing the gun directly at her. Great, she thought, just great. Drunk off my ass and staring down the barrel of a … what the heck is that? Beretta? Could be, but looks more like a Ruger…. Before she could finish the thought he whirled away and dashed through the open French doors. Footfalls pounded across the deck leading to the boardwalk. He was getting away!
“Stop right there!” Charlie thought she shouted it. She started toward the doors to go after him but common sense kicked in as she reached the desk. The body she tripped over might have had something to do with it too.
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