Silver Lining - A Carpelli Adventure: Sequel To The Bestselling Thriller Fatal Mistake Read Online Free PDF Page A

there and when I handed it to him, he looked at me as if I were a bug he was about to smash. After a moment he snarled,
    “What, no tip?”
    “I...ah…well…” I stalled as I dug in my pocket for a ten sure he was about to rip me off and sure as shit, he grabbed the ten and walked away without giving me back the five. “I thought you’d return the five and change,” I limply called after him.
    “Fuck you, very much.” He shouted over the cat calls from the corner, as he walked away.
    While I paid for my drink, the biker who had been hassling me had walked down to the other end of the bar, listened as the guy down there said something to him and was now walking back towards me. I watched him as he came. He had a look in his eye that said he was going to be real trouble. I slipped my hand into my coat pocket and grabbed hold of my taser, just in case.
    “Drink up, cupcake, it’s time to leave.” The biker barked when he was still ten feet away.
    “But nobody’s said anything. I need to have something to write about,” I whined.
    “Write about how you were ripped off and barely escaped with your life,” he growled, “now drink up and get the fuck out of here.” It was obvious playtime was over now that the guy at the end of the bar was here. The biker stepped up to within a foot of me, on the side with my taser in the pocket and stood glaring at me. I took the shot in my other hand and started to lift it up, as if I was going to drink it, but then I set it back down in front of me. I leaned in close to the biker and asked.
    “So who’s the guy at the end of the bar, is he like the club president?”
    “No one you’ll ever talk to,” he snarled and then demanded I drink up by shoving the shot closer. There was no way in hell I was going to drink that shot, so I had to come up with some other kind of stall, until I could get a look at the guy at the end of the bar.
    “So where exactly did the guy, buy the farm?” I inquired.
    “What?’ The biker grumbled, but kept he face contorted in a snarl.
    “You know, “kicked the bucket list’?”
    “What?” The biker’s face now showed complete incomprehension.
    “Kicked the bucket.” I crooned, but he was still lost. “Started his new life as fertilizer?” The bartender snickered at that one and stepped a little closer.
    “What the fuck are you talking about?” the biker guy obviously had a very short fuse and was about to explode, so I push things. It’s just my nature.
    “Oh, come on, ‘He went to sleep with the fishes’? Or how about, ‘He’s joined Jimmy Hoffa’s gang and is now a pillar in the community’? No, have you ever heard the saying, ‘He went to meet Jesus’?” the biker interrupted me here and cemented his place in the record books as maybe the dumbest person I’ve ever met.
    “Meet Jesus? Do I look like I go to church?” He barked as he reached behind him, for what I thought would be a knife or a gun, but the Bartender stepped up, stopping him and told him to show me where the murder happened. After a moment of thought, he actually smiled. That was not a good sign.
    “You want to see where the body was found?” The biker asked with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.
    “Yeah, that would at least give me something to write about. Do they still have any crime scene tape up? It’d be great if I could get a picture of the crime scene with the tape still up.” As we walked towards the back of place I asked him, “You were just pulling my leg acting like you didn’t know what those euphuisms meant, right? Like when someone says, ‘He bought the farm’, it just means he’s dead and they’ve bought him a burial plot, which is land and after your dead and buried it’s rumored that you become worm food. So you’re actually going to be buried in the dirt so the worms will feast on him. He’ll be a worm farmer then.”
    “I was just putting you on,” he stated unconvincingly.
    “I really liked your comment about not