Chapter 3

The microwave hummed away as the apple pie went round and round.
Within one second of the beep, Tim had swiftly got the pie out and onto a place.
Once Tim was sitting down, the phone rang. It rang a few times and the answering machine picked up.
"Tim, are you there? ... It's all over the news... the El Alacrán, found in an empty warehouse, no bullet wounds or anything, where were you last night?"
Tim sighed, and picked up the phone. "Look, man, my pie's going cold, what do you want?" Tim said, with a voice of steel.
"I'm watching the news. Where were you last night?" the guy repeated, his voice low and concerned, "They'll know it was you. It's always you."
"I'm fine, okay? They can think what they want. They wouldn't know their arse from their armpit," Tim replied, crudely and hung up.
Bitterly, Tim warmed up the pie again. He liked it hot.