All Due Respect Issue #2 by Owen Laukkanen, David Siddall, CS DeWildt, Eric Beetner, Joseph Rubas, Liam Sweeny, Scott Adlerberg

convinced Loraine that a gun would never do. Too loud, too messy. She handed Loraine Roger’s straight razor. At first, Loraine blanched. “Won’t it be too…too much clean up?”
    “Let me handle that,” Dottie said. “I take the sheets, the pillow and his clothes down to the incinerator and it’s all over in a flash. If I have to go digging a bullet out of the woodwork, I’ll have the landlord asking questions I don’t want to answer.”
    “What do we do with the body?”
    “Has anyone besides you found Anthony?” Loraine shook her head. “Well, there you go. We deep freeze him. Then you parse it out, bit by bit, with the scrap and bone chips.”
    “But those all get sent to the dog food factory.”
    “And so will he. Don’t he deserve it?”
    Dottie worked hard to keep the fire in Loraine burning. She could see her protégé was losing steam.
    “And in exchange,” Dottie went on, “you and I split the store and whatever else Anthony left you in the will. He did leave a will, didn’t he?”
    “Yes, he did.”
    “Okay then.” Dottie held out a hand to shake on the deal. Loraine looked dubious, but slowly moved her hand to take Dottie’s.
    “When do we do it?”
    “Come back tonight. I’ll make sure I don’t nag him about his drinking and he’ll be passed out by ten o’clock.”

    Roger was out by nine thirty.
    Dottie stripped the bedspread off, leaving only the old sheets on the bed, then paced around the apartment smoking. She was lighting her third Chesterfield when she heard a timid knock.
    Loraine stood in the hallway, dressed in black. Her collar was turned up and she looked like she’d been up for days. Dark rings hung under her eyes.
    Dottie took her by the arm and gently pulled her inside.
    “Okay, let’s go over this again,” Dottie said. “Where were we?”
    “At the movies.”
    “What picture?”
    “ Kiss Of Death .”
    “Right. What time did we get back?”
    “Eleven thirty.”
    “I’ll go down and slam that door shut real hard around then. Old lady Eastway is sure to note the time so she can lodge a complaint. I’ll have everything in the incinerator by then and we’ll be home free.”
    Loraine looked pained. Dottie put a hand on her arm.
    “Look, chances are slim we’ll even need a story like that. Who’s gonna file a complaint about a missing husband, me? No one will even know he’s gone. Lord knows we got no kind of social life. Who’s gonna miss him?”
    “Dottie, I don’t know if—”
    “What’s to know? You just go in there and take care of the guy who chopped your husband with a cleaver. You didn’t forget that part, did you?”
    Loraine slowly shook her head. “No.” Dottie watched her bring the razor out of her pocket. Loraine took slow, shuffling steps toward the bedroom.
    Dottie had left the lights out. Only the deep neon red of the Zucco Meats sign lit the room. Better to hide the blood, Dottie thought.
    Dottie waited in the doorway and Loraine made her way deliberately to the side of the bed. Roger’s drunken snores filled the room. Between deep, rattling breaths the only sound was the buzzing of neon through the glass.
    Dottie wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to watch. She chewed a fingernail as Loraine got closer.
    Loraine thumbed the handle on the razor and it unfolded in her hand. Roger’s head leaned half off the pillow, his passed-out pose making his neck a perfect open target for her. She had thought about whether or not she’d have to lift his chin to get at his neck, or if she’d have to roll him over on his back.
    What she got was a pig ready for slaughter.
    Loraine stopped, looming over the sleeping figure.
    Dottie clenched her fist. Just do it, already .
    Loraine didn’t move. The razor hung loosely in her hand. Her breathing started to match the steady rhythm of Roger’s.
    Dottie shifted her feet. The red glow and faint buzz started a headache behind her eyes.
    Loraine watched Roger’s chest rise and fall, a line