A Turn Up For The Books by Kate Twitchin

“What the hell am I going to do with it?” 

“Don’t ask me.” 

“I can’t just leave it there.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s not right, I have to get rid of it.” 

“Throw it in the lake.” 

“What lake?” 

“There’s always a lake.” 

“There is?” 

“Anyway, I thought you said it would just be a robbery.” 



“Burglary. Burglary is housebreaking, robbery is the taking of property by force or threat of force.” 

“You sure?” 

“I think so...” 

“Whatever. Anyway, doesn’t a dead body suggest a degree of force to you?” “Oh God, this is a nightmare.” 

“You got yourself into the mess.” 

“I didn’t know the householder—” 

“The Seventh Earl of Galbrinaith?” 

“Him, yes, would wake up and come downstairs.” 

“You’re kidding me, right?” 

“How d’you mean?” 

“I assumed you’d thought it all through.” 

“Well, yes, but then he suddenly appeared.” 

“Perhaps he was peckish.” 

“It’s no joke. What if the maid stumbles across him?” 

“You said it was her night off, hence the burglary.” 

“Yes, but she’ll be back later and she’s really sweet; I can’t let her find the furniture in disarray, the safe open and her employer with a knife sticking out of his back. She had a rotten childhood.” 

“Maybe she doesn’t come back, maybe she runs off with the bloke she arranged to meet in the summerhouse in the moonlight.” 

“What summerhouse?” 

“There’s always a summerhouse.” 

“And what bloke?” 

“The muscle-bound bloke with the brooding good looks who was illegally fishing for trout in the lake when he landed the decomposing body of the Sixth Earl—” 

“Another body? No, no, no, no, no!” 

“Suit yourself. I’m off to my yoga class; you should come with me, it’s a damn sight less stressful than all this Creative Writing nonsense. See you later.” 

Published in Issue #23

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