Claudia Must Die by T. B. Markinson

study the drinks.
    “Ah, my favorite customer. I missed you,” the short Italian cashier told Claudia, in a heavy accent.
    She smiled a pitiful smile and looked flustered, clearly not knowing how to respond. How does one confess to getting the wrong person killed?
    Claudia ordered a pepperoni pie with banana peppers. “Lots of them, please.”
    “Sure thing. Would you like a drink?” The cashier punched a few keys on the cash register.
    Claudia turned to the fridge, where Boyd stood. Something about the man seemed familiar. However, his face didn’t register any sign of recognition, so she turned back to the Italian.
    “Uh, no drink today. Thanks.” Claudia pulled out a twenty and handed it over. When the cashier gave her the change, Claudia told him she’d be back in a few minutes to pick up the pizza.
    Boyd watched out of the corner of his eye as she crossed the street and slipped into the CVS Pharmacy. He grabbed a Mountain Dew and paid for it.
    “Here, drink this.” He set the bottle down in front of Otis. “I’ll be right back,” he said over his shoulder as he rushed out of the store.
    Otis didn’t say a word. When Boyd said wait, Otis waited.
    He twisted the cap off the soda and glugged half of it. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he watched a man mosey into the store. The man gave him a half-wave. Otis stared in return.
    “Ah, there you are.” The man slid into the booth opposite.
    Otis raised the Mountain Dew to his lips.
    “Didn’t Boyd tell you I’d be keeping an eye on you?” The man’s face showed no emotion, but he reached under the table and gave Otis’s thigh a friendly squeeze—much too friendly.
    Otis shot up, the rest of his Mountain Dew fizzing out all over the table.
    “Geez, Otis! Why are you so jumpy today?” The man swabbed the table with paper napkins from the dispenser on the table. “Here.” He passed some for Otis. “Don’t leave a mess for others to clean up.”
    Otis did as he was told.
    The man looked at his watch. “I have to run. Please tell Boyd I’m sorry I missed him.” He ruffled Otis’s hair tenderly on his way out.
    Otis didn’t move a muscle. The man behind the counter rang the bell, and called out that Otis’s order was up. The younger brother still didn’t budge. He stood next to the booth like a statue. The pizza owner shrugged and went back to the ovens.
    When Boyd reentered Gordy’s and saw the look on Otis’s face, he immediately wondered what in the hell had happened.
    He snapped his fingers in front of Otis’s face. Nothing registered, not even the flicker of the eye. The pizza chef motioned to Boyd that his pies were done.
    After sitting down, Boyd handed Otis a paper plate containing a single slice of pizza. Otis looked at his brother, and the tiniest of tears glistened in the corner of his left eye.
    Silent, the brothers ate, neither of them tasting the food.
    Claudia returned, seized her pizza box, and left before anyone behind the counter had a chance to acknowledge her.
    Boyd, knowing he couldn’t leave his brother alone at the moment, let the opportunity slip by.

Chapter Eleven
    Francis jumped when he heard his cell phone buzz on the table next to his rocking chair. He had fallen into a stupor while contemplating killing everyone involved.
    “Yeah,” he grumbled into the phone.
    “The brothers. They’re back.”
    “Where?”
    “Cleveland Circle.”
    The phone went dead, and Francis slammed it shut. “Shit!” He had to act, and he had to act now.
    Francis stood and calmly walked to his car, not letting on that he was in a hurry.
    Pulling in front of the student’s apartment, he scanned the street. He didn’t see any imminent danger—and that made him jumpy. Everything seemed too quiet on Commonwealth Avenue at three in the afternoon. Usually, the air was filled with honking, screeching subway car wheels, and rambunctious Boston College students. Had he missed the apocalypse?
    When a subway car finally screeched