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    Bad Return
    Bad Return
    Bad Return
    Ebook82 pages1 hour

    Bad Return

    By Martin Price

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    About this ebook

    Hawk Morgan owns a watch that his grandson, Joey, finds and falls in love with. Given the watch's disturbing history, Hawk feels compelled to tell Joey about how, many years ago, he accidentally killed a woman, and how Joey's grandmother came back from the dead. Only for a moment, but it was the strangest and most terrifying moment in Hawk's life. Around 20,000 words, Bad Return is a story of love, regret, and of one old man's battle with depression. And there's the watch, of course. A watch that can bring back the dead.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMartin Price
    Release dateFeb 21, 2015
    ISBN9781310756733
    Bad Return
    Author

    Martin Price

    Price writes mystery and suspense. His latest novels are The Reason I'm Still Here, and Becoming Hugo Forst, which is Price's first literary / contemporary fiction release. His new novel, We all Kill in the End, is now available.

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      Book preview

      Bad Return - Martin Price

      BAD RETURN

      A short story by Martin Price

      Also available:

      STEAM

      LUVYA GETCHA

      FLOWERS FROM A DIFFERENT SUMMER

      MARSHA'S BAG

      AS THE FLIES CROW

      A TWISTED PAIR ( Marsha's Bag & As The Flies Crow in one book )

      AFRICAR ( Short Story )

      SAD'S PLACE ( Due in 2015 )

      Copywrite 2015 Martin Price

      Smashwords Edition

      Thank you for downloading this e-book. It is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author. If you enjoyed this e-book, then please encourage others to download their own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work. ©

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and events are all from the author's mind. Any resemblance to persons either living or dead is purely coincidental.

      For Katie. Luvya Getcha, always

      Time is the real monster. Forget the vampires, the werewolves, the zombies, and the things that go bump in the night. Time just keeps coming at you, day after day, night after night, until finally it catches up with you and flings you to your death. I have no love for time, but then again, time has no love for me.

      Norris Hawk Morgan

      Table of Contents

      Bad Return

      The Writer's Field

      The End / Back to Top

      Bad Return

      A watch tells the time, and time is a strand, be it short or long, that we all fall off. It's just a fact. It was no different for Eva Morgan...apart from one thing. She fell off that strand on Friday the 3rd of March 1989, but reappeared on it on the fourth anniversary of her death: Wednesday the 3rd of March 1993. Just for a moment, but it was the strangest and most terrifying moment that her husband, Norris Hawk Morgan, had ever been through.

      Yes, a watch tells the time, all right, unless you own a Mauvais Retour, which is French for Bad Return, although why any company would want to name their watch Bad Return was beyond Hawk Morgan. At least, it was at the time, when he first bought the watch, but that time was now behind him, and other shit had filled in the space. Namely Brian Deeks, who turned up every couple of weeks at Hawk's Bazaar, to rob Hawk blind. Just the way he was doing right now.

      'Got a nice haul of goodies here,' Deeks said, smiling. There was a scar, like a railway track, running along his jaw, all the way up to his left ear. His eyes were small shifty brown dots. He put what he had in his arms on Hawk's desk. 'There's three necklaces, a couple of rings, and a brooch. The stones are paste, but the settings are nice. Made in the sixties, by the look of them, and the sixties sell well at the moment. Yes, indeed. Then we have a salt-and-pepper set, made of crystal and hallmarked silver. Lovely. And how about this here, eh? Don't know how you do it, Hawk, but yes, we've got another winner: the original Corgi model of the James Bond Aston Martin DB5, complete with the box, and no missing parts, either. Splendid. I also like the cricket bat, the one over there, up against that hat stand?'

      'Yep, I know the one,' Hawk said, leaning forward in his chair, then wiping his nose with a handkerchief. 'Want that, too, do you?'

      'I do if it's an original Fred Trueman, which, according to the label on the handle it is. But I don't think I've got the money on me right now to cover that. Still, put it to one side for me, would you? I'll probably come back for it tomorrow.'

      'I'll do that,' Hawk said. He nodded at the stuff on the desk. 'So what are you willing to pay for that little lot?'

      'Well, I'm feeling generous today, Hawk. I reckon a hundred's a fair deal, don't you? I should really offer you eighty, but yeah, I'll give you a hundred, and you'll take it. Damn right you will. Snap my hand off for it, no doubt.'

      'Snap your hand off for it?' That was Joey Morgan, Hawk's grandson, who was twenty-one. He'd been sitting on a pile of junk near the door ( he was clutching the case the watch was in, the Mauvais Retour ), but now he came over to the desk. 'I'm no expert, but I learn fast, and I've learned from the best: my grandfather. That stuff on the desk there is worth a hell of a lot more than a hundred measly quid.'

      'So it is,' Deeks said, surprised but remaining calm. 'But the thing is, you don't know anything. If you did, you little twat, then you'd keep your tongue in your mouth and only bring it out when you're kissing the girl of your dreams.'

      'Don't call me a little twat.'

      'I'll call you what I like. The same as I call your grandfather Killer from time to time. Don't I, Killer? Killer Morgan, the Mother Thief.'

      'There's no need for any of that,' Hawk said. 'I'll take your hundred, Brian, and gladly, and we'll call it all square.'

      'Of course you will,' Deeks said, taking out his wallet. He counted out one-hundred, then took twenty back. 'But I've been embarrassed, haven't I? Embarrassed and inconvenienced. That shouldn't have happened, Hawk. You and me, we have an arrangement. That arrangement involves me paying you a little for a lot. It's an arrangement that's worked well for the past twenty-five years. But today, all thanks to your grandson here, it all went a little pear-shaped, didn't it? I hope that's not going to happen again. If it does, then I might have to do something about it. Are we clear on that, Hawk? Are we crystal clear?'

      'We are, Brian, we are. In fact, don't even pay me the eighty you've got in your hand there. By way of compensation, you can have that stuff for nothing.'

      'Are you sure, Hawk? I mean, that's very generous of you.'

      'It's the least I can do.' Hawk took out a plastic bag from behind his desk and put Deeks's haul of goodies into it. Handed it to him.

      'Jesus, this is ridiculous,' Joey Morgan said. 'If anyone's a thief around here, then it's you, not my grandfather.'

      'Better ask your grandfather about that,' Brian Deeks said. 'For clarification, that is. Just to put the record straight. After all, if you're old enough to talk, then you're old enough to listen. That's my view. Is it yours, Hawk?'

      'I suppose it is,' Hawk said. He sneezed into his handkerchief, then looked at his grandson with eyes that were watery and sore. 'Just leave it, Joey. What happens between me and Mr Deeks is our business. Best you stay out of it.'

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