Bunnie Runs Out Of Time

by Diane Dahlstrom

Through the windshield, I zoomed in on Johnson and the slut sucking face outside the motel room. A picture is worth a thousand words and for me a hundred bucks. Suddenly the low battery symbol flashed in my viewfinder. I pressed the shutter button but my lens retracted. I fumbled through my camera case for the spare battery. My phone, vibrating in my shirt pocket, startled me. I jumped and the battery flew from my hand. I caught it with my forearm leaning against the horn. The couple booked. I opened my phone and jabbed send. “What?”

“Freck--” A nickname I loathed from a man I loathed.

“It's Frieda! By the way, I changed my last name back to Perry.”

“I need you, Freckles.”

“I don't have sex with cheating ex-husbands. So long, Micko.”

“Don't hang up. I'm in jail. You're my call.”

“Good. I hope you rot in there.”

“If I get sent to the big house I lose my job—you lose your alimony.”

Hadn't thought of it that way. The extra three hundred a month did help pay the rent and my busting-cheating-spouses-business had been slow lately. “Okay. I can probably scrounge up fifty towards your bail.”

“I can't get bail, Freck. I'm in for murder. Bunnie got killed while we were sleeping last night.”

A chill zipped down my spine. Bunnie, his newest toy, was the Van Camble's—of the Van Camble Frozen French Fry factory—live-in maid. Victim to Micko Maki's rugged charm, she was doomed for disappointment and heartache but dying young shouldn't have been a part of that package. My ex had a gift for tuning out other people's needs but even he ought to have awakened during a murder. “So what happened?”

“The last thing I remember we're in her room doing shots and playing strip poker. I woke up with a skull knocker, rolled over to cuddle Bunnie and felt something hard under me. I pulled it out. It was her clock radio covered in blood. Her forehead was bashed in. There was blood all over us—blood everywhere. I panicked. Jumped into my clothes and hauled ass out of there. I flew past the butler, her brother Henry, on my way out of the kitchen. He called the cops. The cops think I'm an S and M freak, Freck”

Micko Conner might be a loser but he plays nice with his Barbies. “What do expect me to do about it?”

“You're the detective. You tell me.”

“My specialty's catching cheaters. Remember how good I was?”

“Just check out the old man for me, will ya? Him and Bunnie fucked around until the old lady caught them lap dancing in the library. She cut off the geezer's allowance and Bunnie stopped doing him. Kept her job by threatening the old lady she'd go public about the affair. He's not playing with a full deck, Freck. Probably snuck into Bunnie's room looking for a little lovin' and flipped out when he saw us sleeping together.”

“Wishing you dead doesn't make me a murder expert, Micko, but isn't it more likely that he would've bashed your head in?”

“Okay. Check out the old lady, then.”

“Get real! She's ninety. Probably weighs that much soak-n-wet.”

“Then it must've been Henry.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. You're the dick.”

“Backatcha!”

“Mrs. Van Camble'll be desperate for another maid. When the cops are done with Bunnie's room it'll need scrubbing. You got cleaning-lady references. Get your foot in the door. Find out who killed her.”

“Take your alimony and shove it, Micko.”

“I didn't want to play hardball, Freck, but remember that x-rated video we made on our honeymoon?”

My stomach turned. “Like I could forget being stupid. You saw me hammer it into pieces. Let me guess—you have a copy.”

“Burned one at my brother's. Hid it right under his nose. Don't worry. He won't find it—unless I tell him.”

Mackinaw Maki lived in a pigsty that doubled as an underground porn outlet. “I see. You tell the perv about it and suddenly we're the latest feature on his website.”

“Faster than you can say jackshit.”

*

The hawkeyed french fry queen hired me on the spot. I moved in the same day. Lucky for me, Bunnie was a lousy maid. Every room in the house needed cleaning, giving me the freedom to snoop anywhere I pleased. Being a student of Court TV, I knew that the killer would've gotten blood spatter on him or her. So, from the basement to the attic I searched for the bloody clothes. I vacuumed and scrubbed under furniture, into closets, through cabinets with nothing to show for it but a sparkling house.

I kept an eye on my housemates for suspicious behavior. Henry just moped through the echoey Victorian with swollen red eyes, fixated on his duties. When Mrs. V wasn't roosting in her apartment size bedroom, she sat at her desk in the study writing and shuffling papers. The old man wandered about with a la-la land grin pasted on is his face advising the plants to vote for F.D.. They were all odd ducks but nothing in their manner said ‘killer'.

I tried pumping the cops for info. They told me to take a hike, forcing me to rely on the media. According to the local rag, the autopsy concluded that Bunnie died from blunt trauma to the head caused by her alarm clock. No defense wounds indicated she was caught off guard, most likely by someone she knew. There was no sign of breaking and entering and the police had fingerprints and DNA evidence incriminating Micko Maki.

By the end of the month, I was still cleaning like crazy and clueless about who killed her. I began to wonder if Micko really did do it. He could've snapped. It happens. And, he thinks he knows how to play me. Maybe he figured I'd frame some innocent doofus to take the fall. But I would never go that far. Even if it meant induction into Mackinaw Maki's porn hall of fame.

I was on my knees polishing an end table in the parlor when Mrs. V. approached me--face to face. She handed me an envelope. “Frieda, you're the best maid I ever had,” she chirped. “I gave you a raise.”

My hands trembled as I ripped the envelope open and pulled out a paycheck. It was written for an extra four hundred bucks. I could get use to that, I thought. I decided to keep the job. I also decided that I had better odds of finding that DVD than I did of finding the killer.

After work, I headed for Mackinaw Maki's to search for and destroy the remains of my idiot days. As the pinkish sky dimmed, I rolled past his unlit bungalow and pulled up to a curb a block away. Grabbing my flashlight, I got out of the car and then walked around to the alley.

I peeked inside Mackinaw's garage. No cars. I tried the back door to the house. Locked. I shined my flashlight along the house and spotted a screened open window.

I cut the screen with a razor knife I'd found in the garage. I wiggled through the window into a bathroom. I crept down a hallway. A door creaked open, slammed shut. I ducked into a closet. Footsteps thudded by me; a telephone rang. “Yeah.” It was Mackinaw's voice that answered it.

Quiet.

“Hey! Don't get your dick in a ringer--it's almost ready. I just gotta edit the faces.”

Quiet.

“I ‘m calling it BUNNIE RUNS OUT OF TIME. I gotta admit I rocked as the naked masked murderer.”

Quiet

“Because she went soft on me. Destroyed BUNNIE DOES GRAMPA. Said the old lady wouldn't pay up. Threatened to fire and blackball her and her loser brother instead. And then the slut falls for Micko. That prick goes after all my bitches. I hope he fries.”

Quiet.

“It was easy. I talked her into doing one more video. She slipped Micko a mickey. The dork didn't know he was role-playing the husband. When he passed out I came in and started doing her right next to him. Then I slammed her in the head so fast she didn't know what hit her. I got in the shower, got dressed, took all the cameras out of the house and left.”

My heart pounded so hard I feared the psycho would hear it. I took a deep breath to try to calm down, filling my nostrils with dusty mothball-air. Suddenly I got the urge to sneeze. I squeezed my nose and the urge expanded, then exploded into billions of germs, setting off a sonic boom. I burst out of the closet and raced to the bathroom to escape through the window. Mackinaw flew in behind me and flicked the light on.

“Long time no see, Frieda. Too bad I'm gonna have to wring your neck, nosey bitch.”

I backed up to the window. Sliding down the wall to the floor as he closed in on me, I sat on something hard. The razor knife.

His paws came at me and the razor flashed as I sliced his fingers, his palms, his wrists. Bleeding like the pig that he was, his eyes bulged into panic. He bucked backwards then ran away screaming for help.

*

Between the video evidence and my testimony, the cops had enough on Mackinaw Maki to throw the book at him.

When Micko got his walking papers he called me for a ride. “ I owe you, Freck,” he said as I pulled onto the highway.

“You bet your ass you do. I want that DVD. Now!”

“Freck…”

“What?”

“I lied. There's no copy.”

I looked in my rearview mirror. Nobody behind me. I looked at Miko. As usual, no seatbelt.

I slammed on the breaks.