Page 23 of Cursed By Fate

“Mind if I take a peek in your bedroom?”

“Sounds like you’re going to do it no matter what I say.”

“I am. I was being polite.” I continued to his bedroom and started with the dresser drawers. No sign of other weapons.

I opened the closet door.

“This is a violation of my rights. You know that, right?”

“No, Mr. Musgrove. It isn’t. When you signed the paperwork to join the Neighborhood, you waived those rights.”

I moved aside a tall golf umbrella. Bingo.

“Mr. Musgrove, why do you have a shotgun hidden in your closet?”

“A what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I retrieved the weapon and held it up for inspection. “This is a serious offense, Mr. Musgrove.”

“I’m swear, I have no clue who put that there.”

“You live alone. Are you saying someone snuck into your condo and hid this behind your umbrella?”

He scratched the back of his head. “Must’ve belonged to my roommate, Milo. I’d tell you to ask him about it, but he’s dead.”

“And he conveniently hid his shotgun in your closet?”

“Looks that way.”

“For what purpose?”

He shrugged. “I guess he knew it was against the rules and didn’t want to be caught with it.”

“Milo had severe arthritis, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, so?”

“And you expect me to believe the man kept a shotgun?” I clucked my tongue. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Musgrove. I’m feeling generous today. You tell me where you acquired this weapon, and maybe I’ll forget to submit the paperwork that identifies the rules you’ve broken.” I paused for effect. “I should mention that 3(a)(ii) comes with a hefty fine and possible relocation to one of the stricter islands.”

His hard swallow was audible. “If I tell you where I got it, you swear there won’t be any consequences?”

“Before I answer you, I need to know whether I’ll find any more weapons stashed away in your condo.”

“No, ma’am. This is it. I swear it. Please don’t send me to one of those prison islands.”

“It isn’t a prison island.”

“That’s not what I heard. Some of those places don’t even allow alcohol.”

Who knew the prospect of no beer would scare him more than a hefty fine? “Why did you feel the need to have this?”

He stared at the carpet. “I used to hunt, back in the real world. I miss it.”

“We’re still in the real world, Mr. Musgrove.”

He grunted. “You think so, do you? Trapped on an island, ripped away from our normal lives.”

“With all due respect, none of you were living normal lives. That’s part of the problem.”