"36 Hours till Daybreak"
Installment #3 in this thrilling short story
by an 8th grade me
(Start with parts one and two and get caught up.)
New York, 6:30pm
"Blair?"
"Oh yeah, hi Kurt!"
"Sorry to call again but this was an emergency."
"What is it?"
"David Bradley is dead."
"Dead?"
"Yeah. It looks like he was shot while he was starting his car."
"What a way to go."
"Talk about it."
"Well anyways, I wanted to let you know that I might be a little bit late coming home."
"How late?"
"Maybe another week."
"Blair, you know I need you back here to present the story that you did over the air in the subway."
"Get someone else to introduce it."
"Darnit Blair. Carol is on her honeymoon, Jerry already has three stories at once, and Angela... well you know..."
"Yeah I know. Look, I'll do my best to get back by Saturday and you, in the meantime, should look for a sub."
"Okay."
"Well, I need to get outta this house."
"What? You're at Bradley's house??"
"Apparently I was the last person to speak to him, so the police want me around for a while."
"You're not a suspect are you?"
"Heck no. I'm just... here."
"Blair?"
"Nothing. Oh, by the way. Call Nick for me and tell him I won't be able to make it to the marriage counselor on Friday."
"What? You can't call your own husband?"
"I don't need this from you Kurt! Bye."
"Blaire!"
"What?"
"Be careful."
"Good-bye."
Blaire got off the phone feeling very guilty. Her marriage was on the rocks and she couldn't even call her husband. "I am such a coward! It's not that I don't love him, I do... we just are too strong-willed for each other's own good," she thought. When they were first married life was fine. Nick had his job at the college and she was an anchor woman for channel 6. That was in Connecticut. Then she had a miscarriage and Nick decided to go back to school, and they saw less and less of each other. Blair got a job with ABC on Nationwide as a reporter in New York. She had a two hour commute to work. But now she and Nick had been separated for two years.
Her story was her life... but now with David Bradley's death her ticket to the top had been stolen from her. And from what the chief had told her, Blair was beginning to conclude that this murder had something to do with her. Blair was the only one in the house. It was beautiful. Now she had a chance to view it at its full. She had called Kurt while she had been sitting on a white leather couch. The hand of a decorator had graced the walls with flower arrangements and black and white pictures. Rugs lay across the white tile floor. A friendly portrait of the family sat over the fireplace. "Now their world is shattered," thought Blair.
Blair knew she should tell the police everything, but then there would be the risk of her story leaking to the press. She yawned and glanced at her watch - it was almost 7:00 and she was hungry. Maybe tomorrow she would tell Chief Conol.
"Mrs. Stevens," the young sargeant called. "You have a phone call."
"On the Bradley's line?"
"Yes."
Blair walked back into a bedroom where the second line of the house was.
"Hello?"
"Yes. Blair."
"Yes, who is this?"
"I think you know!"
Suddenly the line broke and Blair was left with her fears and a dial tone. It was 6:58pm.
* * * *
Wowsas. I know I can't wait to find out what other things innanimate objects can do. How bout that dialogue? Oh Blair... at least you have your fears AND a dial tone.
