MURDER (in bad Movies)

an excerpt from my published paperback novel

The next morning, I read the paper. Mr. Gilbore had been murdered at his own party, the one we'd just attended. I shook Bod awake in hysterics.

"Lay off the coke," he said.

"No! It's true!"

"Gilbore? Dead?" Bod was doubtful, in too much shock for it to register.

"Murdered?"

I shoved the headlines in his face. "Look! I had just been talking to him and then he was murdered! He was talking about Os having kids somewhere. One burned down. Another one, I don't remember, something about Mexico."

"Gilbore can't be dead! We were just there. He was alive last night; he was rude to me."

I read aloud. "Gilbore found dead in fountain with nose removed."

As Bod silently read the rest of the article, I said, "I wonder if it was the guy in the rubber clown mask."

"No, the paper says he didn't do it. It says right here."

"How would they know?"

"The FBI told them," Bod explained.

"How would they know?" I asked. "At least so soon?"

Bod shrugged. "The government is always spying on those porno people. They know who did it. It's all a cover up."

"You think so, or are you just hung over and paranoid. But I'd have bet the clown did it. It was a rubber mask that wiped out Snako, you know. A rubber mask! But then this guy was a relative. Gilbore told me just before we left, and he wasn't afraid of him. How many people wear rubber masks around here these days? Is this really some new fashion around town? Should I start wearing one?"