January 14, 2017 by dellanioakes
“How the hell did you recognize him, Mr. Stewart? I’ve probably seen him half a dozen times and didn’t know it was him,” the cop said.
“His tie,” Deacon groaned, trying to find a more comfortable position on the ground.
Deacon nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain. “It’s the ugliest tie I’ve ever seen. Stevens always wears them. The other lawyers,” Deacon motioned to his chest like he was straightening a tie. “Their ties match.” He tried to shrug, but it sent a spasm of pain up his back and into his left shoulder.
The policeman started to laugh as the paramedics pulled up by the curb. “By damn! That’s the first criminal I ever heard of who was caught by his own bad taste!”
“Fashion police,” Deacon said and passed out.
© 2017 Dellani Oakes