Silent but Deadly
by Alexis Kypridemos
Detectives Richard "Dick" Tuggs and his partner Detective David "Davie" Croquet scaled the six foot high wall that ran the length of the mansion belonging to Lauren "Larry" Fuhrer, their prime suspect. They dropped to the grass of the courtyard inside the property.
They drew their guns and moved to the house.
Inside the mansion, Tuggs and Croquet snuck into Fuhrer’s luxurious living room. To keep quiet, they communicated with hand gestures while walking on the squeaking wooden floors. They started to sort through Fuhrer’s things, in search of the incriminating evidence.
"Don’t move," a man's voice said behind them.
Tuggs and Croquet whipped their heads around to see that Fuhrer was aiming a pistol at them.
"Take your guns out," Fuhred ordered. "Slowly. Use thumb and forefinger only."
Tuggs and Croquet obeyed, holding their revolvers like soiled nappies.
"Right. Now throw them away. Carefully."
Tuggs tossed his gun onto the floor. Croquet threw his less carefully. It crashed through the window. A cat screeched.
Fuhrer jerked his gun in the direction of a small couch. Tuggs and Croquet squeezed into it. Fuhrer sat across from them, on an inflatable chair bought from the telemarketing channel.
"Looking for this?" he asked. He reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a small notebook.
"Every single name you've been looking for. And now you'll never have them." Fuhrer chuckled with sadistic glee.
"You make me sick!" Croquet said, and vomited.
"Sick? Sick?" Fuhrer said. "Let me tell you something about myself, Detective; I'm Danish."
Tuggs eyed a half-eaten pastry on the coffee table.
"I grew up in Europe." Fuhrer said, disgusted. "Do you have any idea what that’s like? Cars have miserable one litre engines. Soda cans are barely shy of twelve fluid ounces, just to piss you off. When you flush the toilet, you don't get the twenty gallons of water you get here. It doesn’t even swirl.
Croquet cocked his head, puzzled, like a dog that heard an unfamiliar sound far away. "No swirl?"
Fuhrer took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and managed to put one in his mouth while keeping his gun trained on Tuggs and Croquet the whole time.
"But there is one good thing about Europe. You can smoke."
He lit the cigarette and drew on it hedonistically. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and rested his hand on the armchair. The tip of the cigarette touched the chair.
The chair exploded. Fuhrer was thrown ten feet into the air. Tuggs and Crocket were pushed out the French windows behind them and onto the lawn outside. They landed in a cloud of broken glass, burnt furniture, and, well, Fuhrer.
Author Notes: "Silent but Deadly" is part of "Fiction Fix," a collection of 46 short, funny stories, plus 196 bonus micro fiction budget stories, available at http://www.fiction-fix.com.