Gilda's Roses

Bradly stood in his front yard watering Gilda's scarlet-tipped white roses. He had faithfully watered the roses every day for the past ten years, ever since their last big argument.

"Excuse me, Sir," came a male voice from behind him. "Is this the home of Gilda Rosie Hardcastle?"

Turning around, Bradly came face to face with a man in a Navy uniform. "Who... who are you looking for?"

"I ask," said the man noticing Bradly's pale expression. "If this is the home of Golda Rosie Hardcastle? I'm her brother Jacob."

"Hardcastle was my wife's maiden name." He tossed the still running hose into the rose bushes. "Why don't you come into the house for a drink while we're waiting for Gilda to return home."

In the living room, Bradly walked to the bar and, with his back to Jacob, poured them both a tall glass of Johnny Walker. Next, he dropped four small piles into one of the glasses before taking them to the couch and setting them on the coffee table.

"Where is Gilda," asked Jacob, taking a sip of the whisky,

"She went shopping, but she aught to be back soon" Smiling, Bradly watched as the sedatives began to take effect. Soon Jacob was passed out on the couch.

"Where am I going to bury him? There's no more room in the front yard. Gilda's bones are buried there and I can't afford to have that nosy Mrs. Jones see me digging up any more of the yard. I'll just have to put him in the freezer until I figure out where to bury him."

Word Count: 267