The Tangerine Killer Read Online Free

cleaning products and the mocking orange walls, I was left with a permanent headache. Thank God it would be my last night. Tomorrow I would attend the funeral and then I was out of there.
    I fell onto the sagging bed, exhausted and sore. But not before grabbing the bottle of Jack Daniels I bought from the liquor store on my way home. If I couldn’t have sex, I’d just have to drown out the shitty day with booze. Frank’s words echoed in my head. Even when I closed my eyes his cold, accusing face was frozen in my mind. All that raw emotion directed straight at me. The gun cold and hard, waiting to take me. Then brains splattered everywhere.
    “Sam?”
    A hard knock on the flimsy door followed by my name roused me from a half dead stupor. Shit. I knew exactly who it was. The dumb jerk had tracked me down.
    “Go away Joe.”
    “Come on Sam. Open the door.”
    Joe Fleming. The real reason I had been so eager to flee the comfort of my own home for a little while. The catalyst that prompted me to take on the job I never should have accepted. The son of a bitch had a lot to answer for.  
    “What are you doing here? What do you want?”
    I opened the door only as far as the safety chain would allow. One green eye and a mop of brown hair bobbed back and forth in the gap.
    “You know what I want. Let me in.”
    “Fat chance. Go home.”
    “What’s wrong with you?”
    His voice was filled with mock confusion. As if he didn’t know. He knew all right.
    “Go away. I’m working.”
    “You know how much I need you. Why do you think I came here?” he whimpered through the crack.
    “I told you it was a one-time thing, just a drunken mistake. It can never happen again.”
    I met Joe in a bar while working on my last case and in a severe lapse of judgment, I fell for his charm. I thought he’d be an easy lay but turns out I’m not as unforgettable as I think I am. I just wanted to put that wild, crazy night behind me but Joe didn’t. He poked his head further through the gap and I slammed the door shut.
    “Jesus Sam, you nearly took my nose off.”
    “Good. Now do you get the message?”
    “Message? I’ll give you a message.”
    He slammed against the door with his shoulder and though he was hardly the muscled type, it burst open. The safety chain snapped like a piece of string and there he stood, face red and full of rage.
    My gun lay abandoned on the table beside the bed. I’d have to leap across to reach it. The knife I toyed with that afternoon sat beside it. Never let your guard down. Always be prepared. I should have had at least one weapon on me at all times. I’d become far too complacent. Probably not much of a surprise considering I was kind of wasted. I didn’t think this day from hell could get any worse. Obviously I was wrong.
    “You shouldn’t have just left.”
    He stepped towards me and as he did I backed away.
    “You don’t own me Joe.”
    “Don’t I?” he laughed.
    He sounded crazy. Fueled by rage and fury, I wouldn’t stand a chance trying to fight my way past him. I had to get to my gun.
    “You arrogant bastard,” I said.
    I was done trying to talk sense into people. It hadn’t worked with Frank and it certainly wasn’t going to work with Joe. I wasn’t going to waste my breath. I jumped forward onto the bed, arms outstretched in an effort to reach the gun. Joe launched on top of me and pinned me down.
    I strained for the gun but it was just beyond my reach. Joe pulled my arm back roughly and flipped me over. Trapped by the weight of his body, I spat in his angry face. He just laughed.
    “It doesn’t have to be like this Sam,” he said.
    “Oh yeah? Just wait until I get my gun you asshole.”
    “Fine. I guess it does have to be this way.”
    He ripped open my white shirt. Tiny buttons flew into the air, shining for a moment before they were lost on the bedspread and the floor.
    “Good God Sam, what the hell?”
    Frank’s gun had left a large red welt between my breasts. Blue