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Happiness Is a Warm Gun

By Josh Covington

HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN. Copyright ©2009 by Josh Covington. All rights reserved. United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Happiness Is a Warm Gun

Police lights draped over the night, silhouetting the world in a haze of blue. Media had already enveloped the place, bustling about like frantic insects. I cased the scene from the outskirts, careful to stay in the shadows, waiting for just the right time to move in to avoid being caught by their flashbulbs. That was the last thing I needed.

I made my move sometime after 9:00. The number of cops around the house had reached critical mass by then, making it the best time for a guy like me to slip inside amidst the confusion, unnoticed and unaccounted for. With my fedora pulled down over my eyes, I walked toward the house, trench coat tailing behind me. I reached the front door, flashed a badge at a cop that didn’t look old enough to have been to the prom, and I was in. Just like that.

Inside, bulbs popped, illuminating the scene with explosions of light. The air was filled with the bitter stench of fingerprint powder and adrenaline. What looked to be a dozen officers, some uniformed, others dressed in the distinctive jumpsuits of the forensics unit, milled through the house. No one seemed to notice me.


Two cops both wearing stark, solemn expressions stood off to the side, seemingly avoiding the havoc on purpose. They looked worn and flustered, like parents at the end of a child’s birthday party.

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