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Tag and Lori are the couple on the top of the wedding cake. Everything about their relationship is perfect and they're both deliriously happy -- except for one tiny little, earth-shattering problem.Her name is Marcie and despite the fact that Tag likes to think of himself as a pretty decent guy, he just can't shake his desire to do some... well, some not so decent things with her.When his obsession with Marcie gets to the point that he finally breaks down and confesses his struggles to Lori, Tag is touched by her compassionate and understanding response. He breathes a sigh of relief -- until the next day when Marcie turns up dead.Could sweet, dainty, couldn't-hurt-a-fly Lori be a... be a... Tag can't even bring himself to think it. But could she? Detective Steiner doesn't think so.Detective Steiner first joined the force because as a kid he loved watching cop shows. Then he spent the next 20 years learning that cop shows aren't very realistic. When his investigation leads him to Tag, he sees in him the potential for the type of cop show cat and mouse game that he's always dreamed of. But Tag wants no part of that -- he's not even sure if he wants to know the truth himself.Of course the truth may come out anyway if Susan keeps poking around. Susan is Tag and Lori's recently widowed next door neighbor whose hobbies include gardening, drinking and hypochondria. She also has a thing for Tag and she's not afraid to show it, so if Lori was suddenly out of the picture, that would probably be alright with her.On second thought, Tag and Lori have more than one tiny little problem.… (more)
First officer on the scene says it's a simple rear-ender, no fatalities or major injuries, but the force of the crash pops the front car's trunk open and, surprise surprise, also shakes up the fresh stiff they got hiding in there.
Quotations
I never thought a death sentence could be romantic, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
To give away flowers you have to literally cut off their life supply: “Here you go, it’s pretty now, but it’s rapidly dying and will decompose before your eyes.” It’s like giving someone a pet fish without the bowl.
I suspect that many of the horror stories about jail are greatly exaggerated, but still, I wouldn’t want to pass out in one.
My mom always used to say, ‘A watch pot never boils,’ and I never knew if that really was something people used to say or if she just made it up, but I understood it either way.
I think we could be friends on the outside. He really appreciated the makeshift vision test I gave him, and I appreciated the pointers he gave me on how to fool a Breathalyzer. It turns out he never knew he needed glasses and I never knew how much I could do with a penny. Well come to think of it, he did say he was in on a D.U.I., so maybe his method isn’t quite as reliable as he thinks it is.
I walked into Clyde’s room and found him sitting there all peaceful and serene, like he just found out his mother got into heaven. Where was the nervous putz I met at the scene? He had to be in there somewhere, and all I had to do was find him: “So I gotta tell ya’ buddy, it’s not looking good for you and your Mrs. at the moment. I got a fender bender with a stiff on its way to a dirt nap, body practically falls out of the trunk, dead only a few hours, caught red-h…”
“I want to make a full confession,” Clyde said. Excuse me? You what? “I did it. I did it all. By myself. No one else knew anything about it. And I’m not sorry. I’ll tell you everything you need to know including how I did it, why, and where the others are buried. Now give me something to sign of my own free will.”
Wow. Take that, Bonnie. Wait… did he say, “Others?”
“Did somebody die?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Who?” he asked, starting to freak out. I pulled out my notepad and asked him if he knew a Marcie Tucker.
“Marcie? Hm, Marcie, it doesn’t ring a bell but… Oh yeah, the temp who’s filling in while my regular assistant is out, I think her name is Marcie. In fact, she was supposed to be here today. I was actually starting to worry that… Wait. Is she…”
“Unfortunately yes,” I said, “Marcie was found in her apartment late last night uh… no longer alive.” My bedside manner has never been my strong suit.
Dr. Taggart looked distressed and began to ramble incoherently for a minute. I let him work through it though, I figured it was his way of grieving. I wouldn’t have even paid attention to it except for the fact that it was kind of goofily, ineptly… well, poignant:
Oh, uh, Oh my God. That’s terrible. I uh… I hope she didn’t have any family. I mean, I don’t hope she didn’t have any family, what I mean is, if she uh… if she didn’t have any family then there would be nobody to get all bummed out about this and uh… you know, when something like this happens, you always think about the poor, heartbroken family, so uh… if she doesn’t have any family then uh… the bright side would be that nobody would, you know, have to be all bummed out.
Hm. I guess I never thought of it that way. Awkward wording aside, he’s kind of got a point there.
Wait. What the hell am I doing? Am I doing what I think I’m doing? How is it even possible that I’m doing what I think I’m doing when all I’m trying to do is not do what I think I’m doing? And more importantly, how do I stop doing what I think I’m doing when the more I try to stop, the more I do what I think I’m doing? What am I doing?
I know what I’m doing. I’m panicking. The first thing I should do is stop panicking. But that’s not a thing to do, that’s a thing to stop doing. Hey, maybe that’s why I’m getting all worked up. I’ve been putting way too much emphasis on what I should be doing when often the real question has been what should I stop doing. So the first thing I should stop doing is asking the wrong questions. The second thing I should stop doing is panicking.
I remember one time a guy planned out his entire crime and made a checklist to keep himself on schedule. I have to give him credit too, the list was very thorough. It stopped just short of saying, “Kill my girlfriend on this date at this time.” He even drew a helpful little diagram of her apartment. I appreciated the gesture.
When he finally looked up, he glared at me as if I’d just told him I’d killed his puppy. With a hammer. On purpose.
I looked over at Tag — he definitely wasn’t having a nightmare. He was sleeping like he was dead. I checked just to make sure.
Last words
Then I smile and relax, taking comfort in the fact that we're still together. Just like always.
Tag and Lori are the couple on the top of the wedding cake. Everything about their relationship is perfect and they're both deliriously happy -- except for one tiny little, earth-shattering problem.Her name is Marcie and despite the fact that Tag likes to think of himself as a pretty decent guy, he just can't shake his desire to do some... well, some not so decent things with her.When his obsession with Marcie gets to the point that he finally breaks down and confesses his struggles to Lori, Tag is touched by her compassionate and understanding response. He breathes a sigh of relief -- until the next day when Marcie turns up dead.Could sweet, dainty, couldn't-hurt-a-fly Lori be a... be a... Tag can't even bring himself to think it. But could she? Detective Steiner doesn't think so.Detective Steiner first joined the force because as a kid he loved watching cop shows. Then he spent the next 20 years learning that cop shows aren't very realistic. When his investigation leads him to Tag, he sees in him the potential for the type of cop show cat and mouse game that he's always dreamed of. But Tag wants no part of that -- he's not even sure if he wants to know the truth himself.Of course the truth may come out anyway if Susan keeps poking around. Susan is Tag and Lori's recently widowed next door neighbor whose hobbies include gardening, drinking and hypochondria. She also has a thing for Tag and she's not afraid to show it, so if Lori was suddenly out of the picture, that would probably be alright with her.On second thought, Tag and Lori have more than one tiny little problem.
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