“De-sensitized” Excerpt from currently titled
soon-to-be-released cozy mystery, Message of Mayhem, by Lisa J Lickel
Note: in this stripped scene, you’ll find a lot of
“telling.” The layers of detail, particularly those that use as many senses as
possible, are what “shows,” or ties, the experience with the reader. I’ve added
visual cues here from the original scene.
“Ivy!” Martha Robbins called to me from her stoop next door. I stopped at
the end of the driveway, still facing the orange glow on the horizon. “Do you
know what’s going on?”
Her kids were wrapped in a blanket. “Dale was called to the station, but
he didn’t say where the fire was.”
“At True’s store,” I ground out. “I have to go.”
“Oh, Ivy. I’m so…” Her voice faded as I started to jog. Two blocks later
I slowed to a very fast walk. The evening was humid. Soon I slowed as I met up
with throngs of people who gathered to watch and wait for news.
I headed toward the alley behind True’s place only to find the entrance
taped off. A squad car, lights stabbing the night, sat empty, close by, as
Officer Larken spoke to people a few feet away. I moved in their direction,
dodging sightseers. A spray of water arced high over the building, which stood
sooty but intact, billowing black smoke from broken windows and vents. At least
any flames appeared to be out.
“Officer! Officer Larken! Where’s True?”
“Miss Preston. Good eve—”
“It is not!” I snapped. “I need to know what’s happening. How bad is it?
Where’s Mr. Thompson?”
“Here, Ivy. I’m here!”
“Oh, thank you, Lord, thank you!” I rushed to him. “I was so worried. I
just ran. Are you all right?” I cupped his face in my hands. “How bad is it?”
“The fire burned mostly upstairs, my apartment. The firefighters did a
good job. Lots of smoke damage, and of course, water damage. I don’t know about
the store stock, but I wouldn’t be surprised if—” He had to stop to catch his
breath. The front of his shirt wiggled.
“Isis . Oh, baby.” He opened the edges of
his vest so I could see her. I petted her. “She’s safe, oh, she’s safe.” Isis had no intention of letting True go. She even nipped
at me.
“She was already outside,” True said. “She wouldn’t let anyone grab her,
but came to me when she saw me.”
“I wonder how she got out?”
I was tired. Smoke hung heavy, everywhere, blotting out some figures and
creating other images that wafted, ethereal.
“Why don’t you stay with my wife and me?” Hanley, True’s business
partner, offered. “Our son’s gone for the weekend, a camp outing, so you can
use his room. In the morning, we’ll figure out what to do.”
Cal Stewart dashed up. Just in time to save the day.
“Hey! What’s going on?” Stewart asked.
“Thompson’s coming home with me tonight,” Hanley told him. “Why don’t you
stop in for a while, too?”
“Uh, okay. Sure.” Stewart said.
“Can I drop you off at home, Ivy?” Hanley asked. True looked at me
intently, as if willing me to do something. But what?
“No thanks. I walked here. I’ll just walk back. Clear my head. Good
exercise.” True nodded ever so faintly, so I had guessed the right answer.
Goody for me.
“Can you take Isis for me?” True asked.
“She knows you and you have food and supplies.”
“Sure. Fine.” True came close, transferring the uncooperative feline from
inside of his vest to me.
“Don’t believe everything you see,” True said.
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