by Allan Martin
I WAKENED up when the phone rang early. I knew it was early because it woke me up, and I usually wake about half seven. I was also in the middle of dreaming and I’m usually finished that when I wake up. My dream was about zombies. I can’t remember what they were doing, but it wasn’t polite.
Neither was my caller. “Miss McIsaac, be so good as to get your ass down here, we’ve got a dead man.” Inspector Gillen. He always had to drag other peace-loving citizens into his investigations. OK, I work for him, but did he really need me at six o’clock in the morning.
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September 2018
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