340 Unnatural Causes

Rick "Ricochet" O'Shea was the kingpin of East Jesus, Missouri, but Jesus had nothing to do with it. And West Jesus, just across the bridge, had nothing to do with him.

Until he had "protected" all of the businesses of East Jesus.

His eyes turned west, across the River of Troubled Waters. Unknown there, he needn't fear "falling" on an icepick, slipping on cement galoshes by mistake, or landing on a grappling hook in a cold storage facility. All of the things he was famous for in East Jesus; all the things that would cause a heart to "fail"; the things he called death by "natural causes."

The coroner knew different; all he needed do was threaten her once via a whispered phone call. In West Jesus she dutifully did Coroner business for both towns straddling the troubled waters. Self-preservation ensured compliance—labelling all mysterious deaths from the east thusly:

Cardiorespiratory arrest—heart failure. That's why she was shocked to see him barge through the morgue doors.

"Dr...?" he began.

"Scalpellini," she answered.

"I'm—"

"I know you, Mr. O'Shea," recognizing him from newspaper pictures. "How can I help you?" She was intrigued, finally meeting him.

"In the neighborhood, so thought I'd drop by."

"Oh?" she asked with a sultry look.

God! She's beautiful, he thought, and then he proved quite the conductor for the thunderbolt. He was in love. And he knew that look. She had her hook baited. He was ready to bite.

"Never seen a gorgeous Doc before," he said.

"You never crossed any rivers. And...?"

"I heard a rumor that you had Winkie Tuttle on the slab. I just wanted to check on 'im."

"Friends?"

"Sorta."

"He met a piano from above—three stories up—"

"So..."

"Oh, yea," Dr. Scalpellini said. "He's played his last chord. No more winks from Winkie." She winked.

"Heart failure?"

"''Fraid so," she agreed, so he loved her even more.

"Dinner?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

She approached him. Her face very close to his, she said breathily, "Love to."

And then she made her incision from his xiphoid to his pubis, spilling his bowels.

It wasn't his evisceration that killed him. It was her breaking his heart: heart failure.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Thursday, December 5, Day 340 of the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge.

366 WORDS (without A/N)

26 DAYS TO GO! THE STORIES KEEP HOME-STRETCHIN' ON IN THIS VOCAL CHALLENGE, 366 WORDS A DAY.

There are currently three Vocal writers in this 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. (Natural) Schäfer

• Rachel (All natural) Deeming

• Gerard (GMO) DiLeo