The Best American Mystery Stories 2016 - Plot & Excerpts
Not really. But you know how people sometimes have just had enough. That’s what I’d meant when I said it to him, “I could just kill you,” the two of us sitting in his old Nova in front of a cheap motel on Route 66—meaning it figurative, even if that might seem at odds with me sliding his pistol into my purse right after I said it. And even though I was indeed thinking hard about taking my half of the money and maybe a little more—literal now, literally taking it—I would not call it a double-cross. Just kind of a divorce and a divorce settlement. Even though we weren’t married. But that’s not the point. Sometimes people are too far apart in their wants—that’s what Mama told me. Sometimes things don’t work out. That was the point. “Why don’t we take the day off?” I’d asked Del earlier that morning up in Taos, a Saturday, the sun creeping up, the boil not yet on the day, and everything still mostly quiet in the mobile home park where we’d been renting on the biweekly.
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