The Warehouse
Flash Fiction
“What should we do with the body?” Inspector Delroy asked. It was a rhetorical question; he knew Officer Spence wouldn’t have a clue.
“We could throw it in the river,” Spence said.
Delroy gave him the look, the one he was known for, the one that said, You are out of your fucking mind.”
They were in an abandoned warehouse outside Chicago. It was empty, except for two old Chevys rusting in the back. They wore their police uniforms, but they were not there on police business. Delroy had picked up a “side gig” and Spence was along for the ride. Things were going fine until they found the body on the floor behind the blue Chevy.
“Come on,” Delroy said, “step away from it.”
They walked to the center of the warehouse. It was cold and gray. The air smelled like motor oil.
Delroy placed his hands on his ample stomach. He’d been lean and fit once, but over the years his stomach had expanded like a balloon and now he couldn’t help but rest his hands on it. He looked over at Spence, still as lanky as he’d been the day he joined the force at nineteen. “Kowalska will know what to do,” Delroy said.
Spence looked shocked. “What? She’s coming here?”
