TITLE: Colour To Die For
GENRE: Funny Mystery/Crime
I’m no stranger to murder. Dead bodies, long hours and skipped meals are the cornerstones of a Private Investigator’s calling. Right now, I’m off-duty and in the mood to murder a donut. Ample is the way you would describe my body shape, particularly the thighs. Ampleness and me – we’re an item. Funny, you can mow down a meadow of celery and the scales won’t even murmur. But run your finger lightly over a sugar-frosted donut, put said finger to tongue and they scream, ‘Two pounds up – hope you’re proud of yourself, Fatty.’
The palm reader coughs. I switch from the perverseness of weighing machines to my date with destiny.
‘Question time, my dear.’ A tight smile interrupts the dark lines of his round face. He’s wearing a red vest over a navy blue shirt; the vest’s hand-knitted pattern stretched to the limit across his potbelly. Of a certain age, probably sixty, his brown eyes look blue.
‘Tell me what you see,’ I say. ‘I’m not interested in how many times I’ll get married, or if I’ll win lotto.’
Like hell. Truth to tell, the blogs I write lately are about the lifestyle of a lonely only. Previews of upcoming partnerships, anything past a one-nighter is worth a look. Although, if Cedric Parakrama is the goods, who needs questions?
Peering intently at my right palm, he says, ‘There’s certainly a second marriage here.’
‘When?’ I scream.
‘It’s a way off yet.’
‘A target date would be good. And, if you can manage it, a mug shot of my intended. Large mole on left buttock, that sort of thing.’