The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.
Day 142: It was more of a statement than a question.
It was more of a statement than a question. Tucker looked at him.
“No,” he said. “Morris is handling the details of the case.”
“So you know nothing about me, yet are supposed to see the threats that could take me down?”
“It seems to be working thus far.”
“Right,” James said.
“Is there something you want to tell me? Something that you think would help?”
James thought about explaining why he was in the program, of letting Tucker know that he had not ratted out a friend or coworker, but decided not to bother. ‘Besides,’ he thought, ‘technically I’m helping them find out the nefarious doings of my stepbrother. I suppose that does make me a rat.’
“Not particularly,” James replied.
Tucker nodded. He finished his slide of pizza. “Well since it is clear that the pizza delivery guy was not a threat, I’m going to leave you. Keep your phone on and call me if anyone else decides to attack.”
James nodded. “I’ll still need to get groceries on Sunday.”
“Call me before you do and we will see how things stand then.”
Tucker walked to the door. James set his half eaten slice down in the box, dusted his hand off on his jeans and followed Tucker to the door. Tucker opened it and stepped out onto the front stoop. “Keep this locked,” Tucker reminded him.
James nodded. Tucker turned and walked away. James closed and locked the door. He walked back to his kitchen and picked up his slice of pizza. James began to eat again. He wondered what happened to Thomas and what would now happen to his compatriot, the inexpert gunman.
‘Maybe they’ll be reunited in a holding cell,’ he thought. ‘Or interrogation room.’
James wasn’t entirely certain what the procedure was for situations like this. It wasn’t like the agents were regular police. Thomas and his friend wouldn’t be taken down town and turned over to the local cops.
‘Thomas didn’t even really do anything I could prove anyway,’ Jams thought. ‘He just showed up and I recognized him. You can’t lock people up for being recognized.’
James felt little guilt over it as the file he perused did not paint Thomas as any sort of saint. James shook off the thought. He doubted the agents would just take Thomas and his friend out behind the building and shoot them. He was certain there was a procedure. He was also certain that procedure didn’t involve him.
He finished his slice of pizza and took a second. “For now,” he told the empty house. “All I’m concerned with is unpacking, getting groceries and performing minor feats of accountancy. James bit into his slice and as he ate he moved to his next box, working to uncover kitchen treasures he only vaguely recognized as he ate.
“Multitasking at its finest,” he told himself as took another bite and set his slice on the counter. He pulled out a coffee mug and began unwrapping it. As he did, something on the newspaper caught his eye.