"The Right Man" is a crime/detective fiction short story.
“Asa! Are you alright? Gosh, darling, you’re just falling over everything.” She let out another one of her heavenly giggles. She was sporting a pair of blue jeans and a green pastel polo. A white and pink headband held her pretty brown hair in place. I stood up and hobbled back to the bed; Sally Mae handed me my clothes.
“How are you feeling?” She asked. “You’ve been out cold for quite some time. What were you doing anyway?”
The day’s events came back to my mind in an instant. I recalled the drink, seeing Tomas’s body, and the handgun! I reached into my pants pocket and felt around; both were empty. I looked up at Sally Mae, her smile had disappeared and now a look of uneasiness spread across that adorable face of hers. She knew what question was coming next.
“Sally Mae,” I began, “where’s everything that was in my pockets?” She looked down at the bedspread. The color had drained from the normally pink face.
“I put everything on the kitchen counter.” She said. “Wait here, I’ll bring all of it.” She got up and walked out of the room. Bless her heart; she was trying so hard to conceal how terrified she was. How was I going to explain everything to her? Had she called the police? More importantly, had the police connected me to Tomas yet?
Sally Mae came back into the room with that same ashen gray color and petrified look on her face. What she held in her hands she laid down on the bed. She put down my wallet, my keys, my cell phone, and a pen. There was no revolver.
For a brief second, I felt a brief glimmer of hope that maybe the gun had fallen out of my pocket when I fell and Sally Mae hadn’t found it. The look on her face, however, told another story. She’d found it; and she was praying desperately that the gun wasn’t used for what she thought it might be used for.
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