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| Thank you, Aileen Aroma |
The prompt here is used as the title. Here again, I couldn't use a memory. This was much more fun.
Half a dozen people sat around a
green, cloth covered table playing cards. Some were smoking, others
drank light brown alcohol from short glasses tinkling with ice.
One of the women squinted past
the smoke spiraling ceiling ward from the stub of a cigarette
dangling from red painted lips.
"I'm thinking of killing her
off," she tossed down a queen of hearts.
A bearded man picked it up,
discarding a one eyed jack. "Why? Did she piss you off?"
The others chuckled lightly as
the game progressed.
"No, it just has to happen
for lives to move onward. She's an obstacle, a nuisance. No one
likes her."
They nodded agreement, six heads
bobbing in unison.
"So, how did you figure to
do it?" A well dressed, handsome man next to her said quietly.
"Stabbing," the woman
replied, grinding the cigarette out. "With and antique Scottish
Dubh."
"Stabbing's messy," a
younger woman with long red hair wrinkled her nose. She sat opposite
the cigarette smoking woman.
"She's right," the well
dressed man agreed.
"Is it premeditated or a
crime of passion?" The bearded man wanted to know.
"Oh, it will be very well
planned ahead of time."
"Knives are for crimes of
passion," the well dressed man interjected. "I'd use
something neater."
"Shoot her," the
redhead contributed.
"Then I have to dispose of
the weapon. And the powder residue is a dead giveaway."
"Do you want it to look like
a murder?" A pretty blonde next to the redhead had been silent
until now, waiting for her turn to play.
"What do you mean?" The
smoking woman lit another cigarette with a blue lighter, inhaling
deeply.
"Well, some contract killers
use drugs to make it look like a heart attack. Much less messy. No
one knows the difference. It's the same drug they give you when they
work on you at the hospital, so it doesn't show up on a tox screen."
"Clever! I like that. What's
the drug?"
The blonde looked puzzled. "You
know, I don't quite remember. You can spray it on, though. I saw that
on TV."
"Hmm, have to research
that."
"Set her house on fire,"
the bearded man said calmly, resuming game play.
"That doesn't look
accidental."
"It does if she smokes in
bed."
"She quit twenty years ago."
"Drunk driver killed in
fatal crash," a dark haired man said enthusiastically, holding
up his hands as if announcing a newspaper headline. Everyone groaned.
"Dammit, Barry! I just saw
your hand," the bearded man complained.
They tossed in the cards. The
redhead shuffled and dealt as the well dressed man refreshed their
drinks.
"You never answered me,"
Barry reminded the smoker as she lit another from the stub of the one dangling from her lips.
"Quit smoking and drinking
when her dad died."
"Does she have any vices?"
The redhead looked alarmed.
"None."
"The woman's a saint,"
the bearded man objected. "Why kill her off?"
"That's what bugs people.
She's too damn nice!" the smoking woman complained.
"An old lover returns, stabs
her in the back for jilting him." Barry said, taking a sip from
his drink.
"It's not a crime of
passion," the redhead reminded him.
"Well, yes and no. It's
metaphorical. She stabbed him, so to speak, so he's returning the
favor."
"No, I don't think that
would work, but it's an idea," the smoker conceded.
"So," the well dressed
man laid down his cards, ticking off points on his fingers. "We've
ruled out stabbing, shooting, poisoning, fires and car wrecks. That
leaves us strangling, bludgeoning, drowning and what? Fatal fall?
Does she frequent tall buildings?"
The smoker shook her head,
wrinkling her nose. "Afraid of heights."
"Earthquake, cave in?"
Barry added, tossing down a card.
"Oh, you control Mother
Nature now?" The blonde asked sarcastically.
"She told us last week the
woman is a caver. You know, a spelunker thingy. Lots of unstable
caves around. Lure her in, trap her in a landslide."
"What if it backfired,
killing the killer?"
"Tragic irony," he
shrugged, spreading his hands.
Everyone groaned again.
"Dammit, Barry!" The blonde
fussed, tossing her cards at him.
"He always does that when
he's losing," the bearded man grunted as he leaned across the
table for cards.
Barry took the cards, shuffling
rapidly. "I still like the cave in idea."
"Awfully hard to
orchestrate," the smoker countered. "But I haven't ruled it
out. I'm still liking the poison heart attack."
"Lots of research involved,"
the bearded man shook his head. "How soon did you want to do
it?"
"Sometime this week. I've
got to put an end to it. It's been keeping me up at night. Over three
hundred pages and no resolution."
"Once she's dead, won't you
have to solve it?"
"I hadn't thought of that."
"Tragic suicide," Barry
said, nibbling a pretzel. "Nice, succinct, everyone knows she
did it, leaves a pathetic note about how unhappy she's been.
Coroner's inquest to determine cause of death. Badabing, wrapped up
nice and neat."
The cigarette smoking woman
stared at him in wonder. "You know, that just might work! She
isn't happy and she has some tragedy in her life."
"Old lover returns and
threatens blackmail," the redhead said excitedly.
"All her ugly secrets will
be revealed. Maybe she has a child no one knows about!" The
blonde's eyes sparkled.
"Oh, better yet, a secret
child and a husband. Her marriage to this guy was a fake."
"A string of fake husbands,
phony divorces and a secret child," the cigarette smoker
giggled. "That's exactly what I need! Thanks, all of you! I knew
I could count on you."
The table and people faded as the
woman set down her drink. She was alone in her office, computer
screen flickering gently in the half light. With renewed vigor, she
hammered at the keys, putting her new ideas down while they were
fresh. She finished the chapter with a smile, patting the screen
fondly.
"Thank you," she said
to her characters. Thanks to all of you."
With a smile, she shut down her
computer and went to bed.
Indian Summer
Lone Wolf
The Ninja Tattoo
Under the Western Sky
Shakazhan – Lone Wolf series book 2
