Homicide My Own Read Online Free Page A

was a good sign because my theory is that everything tastes better on an oval plate. Short ribs and noodles, fried chicken, taco makings, squares of cake, nothing fancy but plenty of it. We took our chow to one of the small square formica tables. Low rent all the way.
    “I was the one busted ‘em,” said the boonda security guy.
    “Well…congratulations.” I could care less. He told us all about it anyway.
    He had been watching them from the minute they came in the door. Together, they didn’t look right. The legal age was eighteen and it was unlikely the girl was that old. The man was way older.
    How the fugitive lovers found their way to Shalish Island and this funky casino was never fully explained, not that I cared. This was only one of many little casinos dotting Northwest Indian Territory and far from the most inviting. Besides, it was difficult to find, considering the ferry ride. I thought they were surely not looking for a casino, but an island, which has universal appeal both to lovers and harried fugitives. Still, it was the casino they found, and in which they themselves were found, by the boonda security guy sitting with us while we chowed.
    When Houser and his little biscuit went through the buffet line, King George got a cup of coffee and sat nearby, to eavesdrop on their conversation, but for a long time there was no conversation. They joined hands across the table and, heads bowed, offered a long silent grace. King George said he wondered were they listing the items on their plates in alphabetical order or were they taking the opportunity to be grateful for other things as well. As though on cue, he said, their heads raised simultaneously and they dug in.
    “I should, you know, call,” said Stacey.
    “Not a good idea,” said Charles.
    “Just to let her know everything’s okay.”
    “You think everything’s okay?”
    “You know….”
    “It is okay. Everything is fine. We’re together. I’ll take care of you.”
    “I love you so much.”
    “I love you too, Stacey. I’m crazy for you, like literally. I’m insane.”
    “Me too! I’m out of my mind.”
    “There’s no turning back now.”
    They held hands again, but with the free hand they kept on feeding. They were in love, but it had been some time since they’d last eaten.
    “I’m going to have to get a job somewhere,” said Charles.
    “I can get a job too.”
    “What doing?”
    “Anything. At a MacDonald’s, or in a store or something. Let’s go to Hawaii!”
    “All right.”
    “Really?”
    “Whatever you want, sweetie. Only first, we have to get jobs and save enough to get there.”
    “We can put it on your credit card.”
    “I can’t use that anymore. They can trace you through your credit card, map your whereabouts day by day.”
    King George by then had heard quite enough to get the picture and to wonder what role he and his tribe should play, if any, in this little drama. His options? He could finish his coffee, go about his business, and keep one eye on them until they left, which he assumed would be shortly after they had eaten all they could hold. If something unfolded afterwards, however, something untoward… if he killed her or she killed him, or if they held up the cafe or mugged an old Indian, or maybe killed themselves in a lovers’ suicide pact, which was not all that remote an idea since their conversation had turned to the eventual movie of their lives and who should play each of them in the major production, which she decided ought to be Leonardo de Caprio and Drew Barrymore and he countered with the argument that he was too young and she was too old, Leonardo and Drew, that is…if anything like that happened and it was later revealed they had spent some time in the casino, it would all come back to what was an underaged girl doing in a tribal casino and where was security? Or he could go over there and invite them both to follow him to the room where they talk to people, away from the action, which