Fiction
"Mr. Rudley?"
"What is it, Tiffany?"
"There seems to be wine spilled on the floor in the wine cellar."
"Well, clean it up!" Rudley bit his lip so hard his eyes crossed. He regretted quitting smoking. Smoking made dealing with this group of ninnies much easier. Worse, he knew he was probably responsible for the unlocked door and the spilled wine. He had pulled a bottle halfway out, got distracted, and ran out, forgetting to latch the door.
"Sir."
"Yes." Rudley hunched forward over the counter, arms rigid, jaw thrust forward.
"You told me never to go into the wine cellar."
"I'm saying you can," he said through clenched teeth.
After Tiffany hurried away, he reached under the counter and took out a battered package of Benson & Hedges. He turned his back to the sign that said No Smoking, Maximum Penalty $2,000, and lit up. He was standing there, trailing smoke through his nostrils when Tiffany reappeared. She stared at him, her chin quivering.
"Now," he said, "I suppose you're going to tell me there's a dead body down there."
