Dead Drunk

I don’t know what made me angrier, that the bitch had killed me, or that she thought she could make up for it with some pulpy story of lust and love.

“Listen, cherie,” I said, my words slurred by what must have been a dozen bourbons, “you used me, that’s all there is. Stole away my life even as I live and breathe.”

“You’re dead drunk,” Madelaine said.

“Correction, miss,” I replied. “I’m dead and drunk. Your version’s a noir cliché, mine’s a Greek tragedy. And you know the thing about tragedies?”

“What’s that?”

“Everyone always dies at the end.”

I fumbled in my pocket and drew out my gat, a trusty 1911 with steel plating. Unsteady, I leaned into the counter and took aim at Madelaine’s face, squinting one eye to make sure she was all lined up.

“The end,” I said, and I squeezed the trigger. I squeezed it again and again… until Madelaine silently reached across and took the barrel between her thumb and forefinger. I laughed.

“Guess that bauble protects you after all,” I said, pointing to the pendant around her neck. Madelaine smirked.

“The safety is on, darling,” she said. “Let’s get you to bed.”

After a couple weeks away, this is my continuation of my undead detective story, which I’ve taken to calling the Queen of Hearts. It’s also my response to Andy Black’s Two for Tuesday prompt, which was “dead drunk” this week.

Browse the rest of the Queen of Hearts series here, and enjoy!

Dead Man Walking // X Marks the Spot // Postmortem // Basic Physiology // Les Moelleux // Her Body Begs for Death // The Talisman // Madelaine // Dead Drunk // The Crucible of Death