#WIPITUP Wednesday – Death and a Four Foot Shovel! #PNR


Hello Wipsters! It’s that time of the week where I tell you what I’ve been doing. Well, a bit of washing, a bit of ironing… OK, so the excuses are flowing. It takes me ages to get into a new book, but hopefully I’ve written just enough for a little snippet 😉


Reminder: M’s been told that he needs to rescue a certain someone who’s been buried alive (hopefully!) in a coffin and encased in cement. He’s not overly enthusiastic about his task.

As Good As Dead

“Who wants them dead?”

“Four different sets of people, which should make things very entertaining for you.”

“How in hell did they manage to annoy that many people?”

“Time’s a wasting. We’ll discuss the particulars later.”

“And what do I do with them after they’ve been rescued?”

“If this conversation keeps going, that will be a moot point.” The line went dead. He looked at the phone incredulously, with his mouth agape. What the hell! Slowly replacing the handset on his bedside table, he muttered, “Well, I’ll just get out my fucking crystal ball and there’s a negligible chance that it will tell me where on earth I’m supposed to be rescuing her from, right?”

As if his fairy godmother had heard, there was a string of harpsichord notes indicating a text message had been received on his cell. Already out of bed and jogging towards the shower, he scanned the black and white letters of an address, placed them in the correct geographical co-ordinates and committed them to memory. By the time he hit the shower, he knew he had just ten minutes in which to bathe, dress and fuel himself with as much black coffee as could possibly be drunk when at a steamy ninety degrees in temperature.

Managing all of the above in just under his allotted time, he shoved his Sig Sauer P220 in the waistband of his jeans, which would be hidden by the bulky black sweater he now wore, not that it really mattered. The Ruben brothers weren’t going to hang around to lament the death of one of their unfortunate targets and watching concrete set wasn’t one of the most scintillating pastimes known to man.

As an afterthought, he grabbed a four-foot shovel from the shed and hoped to hell the cement hadn’t begun to set before he got there.

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