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. Now 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 off
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!"
"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."
"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."
"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.
©
2018 Dellani Oakes
