Bonnie Murdock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
is_the_motion) wrote2016-10-16 10:49 pm
is_the_motion) wrote2016-10-16 10:49 pm
Who Shot Turtle: Part 5
The nights are long.
Bonnie blames it on the baby, but in all honesty, Billie has been sleeping through most of the night for the last two weeks.
When Bonnie gets up to check on her, she's sleeping peacefully. And that's when Bonnie goes downstairs instead and places her hand on the front door handle. Just to check it's locked.
Of course it's locked.
She heads back upstairs, gets to the bedroom, sits down on the bed.
But.
Hang on.
Sometimes, the door does that thing where the handle sticks slightly, and you can put your hand on it and it doesn't quite go down, but actually if you really push it the door would open.
She gets up and goes back down, just to check. Hard push. All the bolts are across. It's locked. Of course it's locked. Silly old bat.
She drifts off. She wakes with a jerk a couple of hours later.
Was it tonight she checked the door twice? Or was it last night? What if one of the family has been up and unlocked it?
This
Is
Ridiculous
Go
To
Sleep
If you just check it once more, you'll know for certain
***
She wakes early to a loud banging on the door. She shoves on a dressing gown and heads downstairs, because nobody else is going to get out of bed at this time on a Sunday. She undoes the bolts, then the lock, then opens the door.
It's Picket. She slams it shut again, but he jams his foot in it.
"Red, it wasn't me!" Picket wails. "Someone is tryin' to kill you two and it's not me!"
She opens the door. He steps forward, and finds himself kicked hard in the groin and shoved back outside the door, which slams.
"Murdock!" Picket gasps through the pain. "Please listen! I wouldn't shoot Turtle, but even if you don't believe that, you know I'd never shoot you. You took care of me when I was sick or sad, you tried to get me through my high school equivalency, you taught me how to ride a motorbike. You were practically a mom to me. I would never shoot you. I'm not the shooter!"
Bonnie hesitates. This kind of actually makes sense. By now, Stuart and Ted are making their way downstairs, rubbing their eyes, to see what all the noise is about.
"Ted? See this guy through our letterbox? The one you identified at the station. He definitely the shooter?"
Ted looks through the letterbox.
"It looks like him." he says. "But I only saw the shooter for about a second."
"But you knew it was Picket? How?" Bonnie persists.
"Black hair. Wearing Iron Scorpion colours with 'Picket' on the back?" Ted shrugs. "I didn't get a good look at his face but the hair looks the same."
***
She didn't let Picket in. But she sat with Turtle at the kitchen table, and they tried to piece the whole thing together.
"Let's say fer a minute he didn't do it." Bonnie says. "Who would have access to Picket's clothes?"
"He's living with Cassandra, so I guess her." Turtle says.
"But he was with Cassandra, he's got a solid alibi." Bonnie says. "Fourth floor hotel room, fire escape bein' painted and nobody went up or down, lift man and door man both say neither of them left during the time."
"But why would Cass take him to a hotel in the first place, they're both broke." Turtle says.
They hesitate. Then.
"Turtle... I know this is a touchy subject, but you said you've always known your sons with Cassandra weren't biologically yours." Bonnie says.
"Well yeah, black hair, Japanese sort of appearance." Turtle says. "Coming from a blonde woman and a red haired man. I always thought she'd banged that Japanese guy who disappeared just before the internment started."
"They both got black hair." Bonnie agrees. "And yer older one definitely looks Japanese. But are you sure the younger one does?"
"Maybe he looks more like Cass." Turtle says. "But what's your point?"
"Are you sure they have the same father?" Bonnie asks.
Turtle hesitates. "Well, I'm not sure of anything really."
He gets a picture out of his wallet and they inspect it. Bonnie goes to her photograph album and finds an Iron Scorpions picture from their late twenties. She holds the picture of Turtle's sons up against an about twenty-year-old Picket.
"Well, well." Turtle says softly.
"So here's what I think happened." Bonnie says.
"We sued Cassandra fer twelve thousand dollars, money she didn't have. The first people she would go crying to are her sons. Then she turns to an old flame - Picket - and they realise they have a common enemy.
Suddenly, she has the chance to solve two problems in one go. With you dead, your assets pass to your children - Billie, and her sons. She can see enough resemblance fer him to pass as Picket, and takes Picket off to get an alibi while her youngest takes his gun and his colours to murder you, knowing that he always takes a nap after an early shift."
"You think a lad I raised as my own son tried to kill me?" Turtle asks.
"I don't think he wanted to." Bonnie says. "You were incapacitated after he drugged you. It would have been easy to fire multiple bullets or fire one point blank into your head, but he didn't. He shot you once, in the chest, then panicked and ran."
"It's a theory." Turtle admits. "We still have to prove it."
Bonnie blames it on the baby, but in all honesty, Billie has been sleeping through most of the night for the last two weeks.
When Bonnie gets up to check on her, she's sleeping peacefully. And that's when Bonnie goes downstairs instead and places her hand on the front door handle. Just to check it's locked.
Of course it's locked.
She heads back upstairs, gets to the bedroom, sits down on the bed.
But.
Hang on.
Sometimes, the door does that thing where the handle sticks slightly, and you can put your hand on it and it doesn't quite go down, but actually if you really push it the door would open.
She gets up and goes back down, just to check. Hard push. All the bolts are across. It's locked. Of course it's locked. Silly old bat.
She drifts off. She wakes with a jerk a couple of hours later.
Was it tonight she checked the door twice? Or was it last night? What if one of the family has been up and unlocked it?
This
Is
Ridiculous
Go
To
Sleep
If you just check it once more, you'll know for certain
***
She wakes early to a loud banging on the door. She shoves on a dressing gown and heads downstairs, because nobody else is going to get out of bed at this time on a Sunday. She undoes the bolts, then the lock, then opens the door.
It's Picket. She slams it shut again, but he jams his foot in it.
"Red, it wasn't me!" Picket wails. "Someone is tryin' to kill you two and it's not me!"
She opens the door. He steps forward, and finds himself kicked hard in the groin and shoved back outside the door, which slams.
"Murdock!" Picket gasps through the pain. "Please listen! I wouldn't shoot Turtle, but even if you don't believe that, you know I'd never shoot you. You took care of me when I was sick or sad, you tried to get me through my high school equivalency, you taught me how to ride a motorbike. You were practically a mom to me. I would never shoot you. I'm not the shooter!"
Bonnie hesitates. This kind of actually makes sense. By now, Stuart and Ted are making their way downstairs, rubbing their eyes, to see what all the noise is about.
"Ted? See this guy through our letterbox? The one you identified at the station. He definitely the shooter?"
Ted looks through the letterbox.
"It looks like him." he says. "But I only saw the shooter for about a second."
"But you knew it was Picket? How?" Bonnie persists.
"Black hair. Wearing Iron Scorpion colours with 'Picket' on the back?" Ted shrugs. "I didn't get a good look at his face but the hair looks the same."
***
She didn't let Picket in. But she sat with Turtle at the kitchen table, and they tried to piece the whole thing together.
"Let's say fer a minute he didn't do it." Bonnie says. "Who would have access to Picket's clothes?"
"He's living with Cassandra, so I guess her." Turtle says.
"But he was with Cassandra, he's got a solid alibi." Bonnie says. "Fourth floor hotel room, fire escape bein' painted and nobody went up or down, lift man and door man both say neither of them left during the time."
"But why would Cass take him to a hotel in the first place, they're both broke." Turtle says.
They hesitate. Then.
"Turtle... I know this is a touchy subject, but you said you've always known your sons with Cassandra weren't biologically yours." Bonnie says.
"Well yeah, black hair, Japanese sort of appearance." Turtle says. "Coming from a blonde woman and a red haired man. I always thought she'd banged that Japanese guy who disappeared just before the internment started."
"They both got black hair." Bonnie agrees. "And yer older one definitely looks Japanese. But are you sure the younger one does?"
"Maybe he looks more like Cass." Turtle says. "But what's your point?"
"Are you sure they have the same father?" Bonnie asks.
Turtle hesitates. "Well, I'm not sure of anything really."
He gets a picture out of his wallet and they inspect it. Bonnie goes to her photograph album and finds an Iron Scorpions picture from their late twenties. She holds the picture of Turtle's sons up against an about twenty-year-old Picket.
"Well, well." Turtle says softly.
"So here's what I think happened." Bonnie says.
"We sued Cassandra fer twelve thousand dollars, money she didn't have. The first people she would go crying to are her sons. Then she turns to an old flame - Picket - and they realise they have a common enemy.
Suddenly, she has the chance to solve two problems in one go. With you dead, your assets pass to your children - Billie, and her sons. She can see enough resemblance fer him to pass as Picket, and takes Picket off to get an alibi while her youngest takes his gun and his colours to murder you, knowing that he always takes a nap after an early shift."
"You think a lad I raised as my own son tried to kill me?" Turtle asks.
"I don't think he wanted to." Bonnie says. "You were incapacitated after he drugged you. It would have been easy to fire multiple bullets or fire one point blank into your head, but he didn't. He shot you once, in the chest, then panicked and ran."
"It's a theory." Turtle admits. "We still have to prove it."