Chapter Eleven: Balloons

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Want some sad? Play "Cover Me Up" by Jason Isbell. You'll know when:)

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"The case of The Manhattan Murders, November 12, 2023. Questioning criminal, Elmer Kasprzak."

"Morning, guys." Elmer sat with a grin on his face, battling Davey and Jack's rather grim greetings. "When a guy says "Hi", most Americans tend to reach the same amount of enthusiasm."

Davey mumbled tiredly, opening his notebook and placing it onto the table, twirling his pencil between his fingers. "Why are you so chipper anyway?"

"My death date was pushed back a day", he informed them, and Jack blinked at him. Davey didn't know if it would be appropriate to clap. "I get one last day on earth with you kids."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Elmer", Jack nodded. Elmer could tell he was more on the fence about him than before, possibly less so than when they first met. He wondered what Albert would think of Jack, whether or not he'd like him. He thinks so. "I feel like the more we do this, the longer we spend talking."

Elmer shrugged. "I figured you enjoyed my company at least a little."

Neither Davey or Jack said anything, and Elmer waited for a response. He didn't expect to receive one, nor did he believe he deserved it—anymore, at least—but for someone to compliment his communication skills then refuse conversation, it made sense to want Jack gone. Not to kill him, but to get him out of the room before Elmer said something he'd regret.

"Let's start off from where we were last month", Davey sighed, flipping through pages in his notebook hurriedly. "Harry Binkin—now dead. What happened? What was, uh, the thought behind his murder?"

"I don't think we should do it at his house", Albert tried, and Elmer furrowed his brows. "He lives on the richer side of Manhattan—the police will be all over that."

He was right, Elmer knew—the police always rushed to the rich and famous, and left everyone else in the gutter. If they had to choose between Elmer and a rapist, the police wouldn't choose him. "That makes sense. Could we lure him somewhere?"

"Not easily", Albert mumbled, running a hand through his red hair. He paced throughout their apartment, and Elmer watched him methodically, as if Albert's way of thinking mediated his own.

"Could we bring him here?" Elmer emptily suggested, believing it to be a joke. "Who'd follow us all the way here?"

The apartment wasn't much to look at, Elmer admitted, despite his immediate fascination with the interior upon his first move in—Albert's apartment, at the time. It's become more homely over the years, and Elmer's no longer afraid to walk on the floors without tennis shoes, but it wasn't exactly a mansion. "I love our home but it's not..."

"It's not Cape Cod, I get it", Albert waved it away, and he stopped pacing. Elmer almost feared he had an idea. "But that's not a bad idea."

Elmer stared at him. "But...what if we get blood on the rug?"

Albert chuckled and walked over to his boyfriend, and Elmer smiled softly when rough hands touched his cheeks, and he found himself staring into the puppy-like brown eyes of the man he'd wanted to spend life with.

"I'll buy one hundred thousand rugs, baby", Albert grinned, and Elmer giggled. "You're so smart, you know that? You're like, uh, a beautiful Einstein. Hell, you're smarter than the guy."

Elmer couldn't keep the grin off of his face. Elation filled him like a water balloon, and Albert was the hose feeding into it on a hot summer day. Time would only tell for how long it would take until it exploded.

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