Faye, the Assistant DA, and I

A microfiction prompted by a photo I once took

I returned to the KitKat Club just once, right after the indictment that roped in the owner, Buzz, along with all management and staff (and probably not a few patrons). It still had the glamour — the polished floors, the gleaming bar and stainless-steel fixtures.

In a back room, I found Faye, Buzz’s wife. She eyed me like she wanted to laugh out loud, but I knew better.

“Hello, Jack,” she said. “Come to pick over the bones, I see.”

We talked s few minutes more, and then I motioned casually over my shoulder: the signal to the Assistant DA, who put the cuffs on Faye for the TV crews outside.

It took me about a week afterward to finalize the demolition, and then another month to break ground on the high-rise condo tower. It really does pay to line up all your ducks in advance — and if they're the sitting kind, so much the better.