Page 1 of It All Started with a Bite

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Dead Men Don’t Snore

Dear Diary,

My life has officially gone to hell.

Abigail West

(Soon to be very hairy.)

The first signthat my evening had gone sideways wasn’t finding the body sprawled across the front steps of Parkside. It wasn’t even my best friend Ellie projectile vomiting into Mrs. Chen’s prized hydrangeas. No, the first sign would be when Bo, my normally friendly Husky, took one look at the unconscious man we’d decided to bring into our place and tried to climb the wall of our apartment.

I blamed the tequila for how long it took me to realize this wasn’t normal behavior for a dog who regularly tried to make friends with anything that had a pulse. But I digress.

We were currently ETA minus fifteen minutes before this entire situation turned into a shit show.

“Ellie?” I kept my voice low, partly because it was two a.m. in our quiet East Valley neighborhood and partly because loud noises tend to attract attention when you’re standing over a body. “Please tell me you’re seeing this too.”

A wet retching sound was my only answer. I grimaced. The last round of shots had been a mistake, but Ellie had just lost her job at Mystical Moments and drowning her sorrows had seemed like a good idea at the time. Watching her decorate the shrubbery in front of Parkside with the contents of her stomach was making me reconsider this decision.

The man on our steps hadn’t moved except to emit a thunderous snore. He wore what had probably been an expensive suit before someone had used it to mop up what looked like pizza sauce. At least, I hoped it was pizza sauce. The alternative wasn’t something my slightly buzzed brain wanted to contemplate.

“This is fine,” I muttered in a calm voice. “Everything is fine. I’ll just call the cops.”

Ellie emerged from the bushes, mascara streaked down her face and fuzzy pink earmuffs askew.

“What are you doing?” she asked, swaying slightly.

“Looking at a body.” I indicated Exhibit A.

Ellie’s eyes rounded. She let out a high-pitched shriek and jumped behind me.

“Is he—is he dead?!” She clutched my arm in a death grip.

“No. Can’t you hear him snoring?”

“Oh.” Ellie slowly let go and adjusted her earmuffs, embarrassed.

I reached for my cell.

“What are you doing?” Ellie said.

“Calling the cops.”

“Do we really need to?” She squinted at the unconscious guy. “He’s probably had too much to drink.”

“He could be a serial killer,” I said leadenly.

Ellie rolled her eyes and almost fell over. “Serial killers don’t normally pass out in front of their intended victims’ apartment, Abby. He might be drowning his sorrows, like us.”

She had a point about serial killers. I was about to stress that she was the one drowning her sorrows when I recalled my recent breakup. My ex’s face swam before my eyes, bringing with it the immediate urge to punch a wall.

Ellie hiccuped. “He looks comfy.”

I sighed. “We can’t just leave him here. Mrs. Chen will have a coronary if she finds him in the morning. Remember what happened to the college kid who passed out in her petunias?”

We shuddered. Our elderly neighbor might look harmless, but she wielded her garden shears like a ninja assassin. The college kid was lucky not to lose an ear.

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